Me, You, and Meme Reviews REVISITED: The Three Wolf Moon Shirt (p. 2)

Yup, yup, yup, Buttercup. We’re rolling in the Three Wolf Moon shirt again!

Forget the preamble, here come my reviews:

Brother- a wolf helped found Rome, brother.

My liege, a wolfpack is only as strong as its weakest link.

They can’t stain the wolf name forever, sire. We shall rid the world of the Peter, and the Pigs, and that Red Riding Hood!

My eyes crack open, vision blurred. I smack dry, cracked lips as my surroundings come into focus. Exposed joists above. Cold cement floor below. Light filtering in through well windows and from a half-burnt Rolling Rock sign. License plates and beer cans. An old tube television.

Television! What was it that I was watching last night? Some sort of televangelist, with a- with a t shirt and mirrored shudder shades. What the hell had he been saying, that sounded so true?

I rub my eyes and flinch in pain. My hands are tender, sore, and holding my palms before my eyes, I see why. In bold black letters, one hand to the next:

No one likes, a lone wolf

I sit up, my heart starting to race, and only now do I notice the smell. Stale something. Dirty something. Old, filthy, rotten something. One moment it’s beer, the next bread, then cheese, sour cream, sour meat, sour beer, a sickening cycle that almost sends me to my back again.

But shaky, I rise, and I realize I am not alone. Two men in tattered old recliners, the fabric frayed on one, the fake leather peeling off the other, sleep in the dim wash of tv static.

Between the license plates and beer cans I see a John Belushi poster, scarface, Pamela Anderson’s feature film Barb Wire. And pictures. So god damn many pictures. Each with three men.

Three men in polos with collars popped. Three men smoking, holding fishing poles like dicks. Three men at a party, with gum visible in their open mouths. The bile began to rise in my stomach.

I steady myself on the bar a moment, the particle board – warped and sticky – yields under my weight. Breathing. Breathing. I open my eyes and notice a hall to my right. A way out. A way away. A way gone.

Stepping slowly, my head hurts, but with pace, my joints ache, it’s laborious but with determination. Just as I reach the end of the hall, I see steps leading up and light from above, a door swings open to my left.

I look to the stairs, then to my left. Maybe someone else needs to get out. Maybe. I step into the pitch.

And then I see him. Shudder. Sh-sh-shades.

I don’t think he’s seen me. It’s so dark and he’s got those shades on. And he’s so old and probably asleep and-

“There can only be three.”

My breath catches in my throat.

“Only three, those are the rules. And it exacts a toll, y’see, being the alpha. And that’s why you’re here.”

He points a bony finger at me and laughs a horrible, hellish, howlish laugh. And though it’s so dark, I see it there in his mouth. Gum.

I turn to run and the other two are behind me. With strength I didn’t think I had, I push them aside, cracking the ancient wood paneling of the hall, splintering the door frame as I tear up the stairs.

Now in a kitchen, I see a simple door, and though it’s chained and padlocked, I rip it off the hinges and am outside. But it’s not day like I thought. It’s night. A perfect, bright, full moon night.

I hear the laughs and coughs and howls behind me and I run. I hear BROOO and I run harder, faster than I ever have before. Spittle gathers at the corners of my mouth and my lungs burn, but the cool night air feeds me, invigorates me, sends my blood and heart pumping in this pure animal cause, escape, escape, live.

It’s amazing how well I can run in… are these chino shorts? And- and sperry’s? I stop at the mouth of  a cave. Taking hand to beating heart, I feel something else. A tiny embroidery of a man on a horse, playing polo. A polo….. I didn’t feel the thick, dense material because I have something on underneath it.

I grab the neckline and tear the polo off my body. And I see what I’m wearing. Three wolf moon shirt.

Bro! BROOOOO! HOWLLLLLLL!!

They appear from over the hill, coming down on either side of the cave.

“You can’t run from this”

I already know he’s behind me. Shudder shades.

I feel so hot, eyes stinging, nose twitching. A burn in my throat.

And though my brain is boiling, in some last act of human instinct, I understand why.

They draw closer and closer. I bring my foot to the old piece of wood before me, turn it over with my toe. Soloman Shephard’s Silver Mine.

And I break into a dead sprint inside, clawlike hands scraping against the walls, burning, searing, purifying. I hear them calling after me, but they dare not follow.

Rocks and ore and dust fall around me, they would blind me were it not for the darkness. But no matter. I can feel myself again, I feel human, good, alive. When the rocks pile up higher and higher behind me, I don’t care, I’ll just go deeper or else I’ll die in here and kill this sickness with me.

I raise my hands, bloody, to the heavens far above. the message torn from where they’d left it.

I am not a member of their wolf pack. I am not a lone. Wolf .

I… Solo man…. I am a solo man, the choices I make, the life I lead are my own. They belong to no fraternity of so-called men or wolves or devils or animals.

Whatever shepherd saves you, though I know not if this one saves me, but remember, whoever and whatever you follow, you should never have to change yourself, never have to destroy your values for them.

Be your self.

I’ve had this shirt for over three years now and it still looks and fits well. No fading, no stretching, nothing that makes me think, “boy, this is a cheap shirt.”

No, it’s really not. And at around thirty bucks, I’d hope it wouldn’t be.

Is there anything special about it? Well. I wore it to a callback a week ago, thought I did pretty well, and wouldn’t you know it- I still haven’t heard a peep. Did women flock to me? Man, I’m head over heels in love with someone who makes me feel more strongly and deeply than I ever thought possible, I’m not out here chasing tail. If that’s you, well, you could do better, but I guess you could do worse.

This shirt doesn’t look gas station/state park gift shop bad. It doesn’t look boy scout/hippie mom cringe. Maybe it owes that to its sleek black tie dye effect and dark design, instead of like a brassy orange cocker spaniel on a bright blue tie dye. You can at least pair this shirt with a leather jacket or something and achieve a look that I would call cool. In a semi-ironic way.

But no, it’s not gonna change your life. And I think that’s for the best. We own the things we buy, they don’t own us. Be safe out there, there’s a lot of jokesters and d-bags chewing gum.