I thought I’d seen everything when I went to Kilimanjaro. I’d been bitten by every snake, shot by every dart, swallowed every frog, had each and every type of tooth in my leg as I held fast to the edge of my seaplane screaming JACQUES! JACQUES! PULL THE LEVER! and each time I’d narrowly escaped. But when I saw the beast, I knew there was no place to run. For as it wobbled toward me on impossible legs, the long ears flapping in the breeze, I could see the owlish determination cross its trunk, and I knew right then that Nature was the cruelest month of all. For it was her thirty days that bred this zooomniulent congealestomy so far beyond what man had ever seen that I had no choice but to fall into the giggles. And as I felt the hot sweet breath against my throat, I knew a venom that had no anti-toxin. The venom of… my own laughter.

This shirt was designed by: a fine Portuguese gentleman known as Buscarov (aka Paulo Vieira). These things run wild in his jungles, or so the legend goes. Even the leopard fears it.

Wear this shirt: when you’ve been eaten by a monster but somehow still need to narrate a story.

Don’t wear this shirt: to the Island of Doctor Moreau. He’ll want to make one of these and that will get him in legal trouble since he doesn’t own the design. He can’t afford that, he’s still paying off his student loans.

This shirt tells the world: “I am the Ron Paul of Taxonomy.”

We call this color: Asphalt Jungle

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