You buy it to flex at your cousin’s bar mitzvah. The stacked logo glares like a Walmart security tag. By 3 AM, it’s stapled to your soul. You flex in the mirror. The retail fit hugs your dad bod like a hostage negotiator. *“Main character energy,”* you lie. The tee snorts: *“NPC. Confirmed.”* Next morning, your Uber Eats driver wears the same tee. His logo pulses like a Geiger counter. He hands you cold nuggets and a note: *“Tonz El audits Venmo histories.”* You tip 50% out of sheer panic. That night, you’re bench-pressing expired milk jugs. A figure in a Legacy Gold Snapback appears. *“Don Tonzo silk-screened this during a tax evasion trial,”* he growls. *“Wear it. Fail. Repeat.”* The logo flares. You wake up in a Dave & Buster’s ball pit. The tee’s spotless. Judging you.
