“Stavros,” it said. “Sing me again.”

Stavros pretended he was sleeping.

“Stavros,” it said. “Arise and sing.”

Stavros sighed. How did the creature always find him? No matter where he went, or where he hid, it came for him like a stained glass detective. At first he sang because he loved to sing, now he sang because he was afraid of what would happen if he stopped.

“Stavros,” it said again.

Stavros opened his eyes and walked to his book. The creature followed. It never told Stavros why he had been chosen. It only told him to sing. And then it went away. For a little while.

This shirt was designed by: Mathiole, who would like you to visit this flickr page, this deviantart page, and this website. He would also like you to buy his shirt, unless he is a she, in which case, she would also like you to buy her shirt. Why can’t anyone on the web have names like “Robert” or “Sue”?

Wear this shirt: if you’re going to be saying things like “neo-Genesisian” and “in this post-Reznor era” while waiting for your iPhone to pick up a signal in the coffee shop.

Don’t wear this shirt: If you can’t understand that living in this post-Reznor era requires a complete reshaping of the paradigm that once empowered a music industry but now results in nothing but disdain for the quasi-dissolution of the guitarocentric model from which we derive the fusion of… wait, I’ll just save myself some time.

This shirt tells the world: “I have excellent taste in clothes and you probably want to get to know me, as I might own a yacht or at least have access to one.”

We call this color: Creme Dreame

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