Man-Eating Shark Adult Costume
Costume includes: Over the body shark costume with legs sticking out of shark's mouth.
Wearer's own arms manipulate legs so that person being eaten appears to be kicking.
- One size fits most
Dr. Thorpenstein: Yeah, awesome, what a great way to party. You could just be a giant prop.
Zackula: Maybe you can get people to just throw drinks at the red part and then you can suck the alcohol out of the fabric.
Dr. Thorpenstein: You can't really see, you can't really walk around or hold a drink or talk to anyone, but hey, people will respect your decision to be the one guy at the party willing to fucking commit to the costume.
Zackula: "Wearer's own arms manipulate legs so that person being eaten appears to be kicking." I'd prefer if my own arms could manipulate some beers up to my fucking face, but whatever.
Zackula: I'd love to flail around some old shoes for hours.
Dr. Thorpenstein: It's perfect for a designated driver, too, except everyone will just get drunk and forget there's a human being inside that retarded shark costume and they'll just take their keys and drive home hammered while you wiggle around on the floor in a puddle of your own pee because you tripped six hours ago.
Zackula: Not only that, but this is totally the sort of costume that gets set on fire when you bump into someone's cigarette. It looks like it's made out of the same shit as the soundproofing at that White Snake concert.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Better hope the party's not at your house, because you'll be lying there for weeks, helpless as a tortoise, and finally your family notices you haven't been showing up for Christmases in a few years and the cops break down the door and say, "Looks like he left years ago, must not have been able to stand the smell coming from that stupid shark puppet."
Dr. Thorpenstein: Case closed, they'll sell off your belongings in an estate sale and some hobo will use your dessicated, shark-clad corpse as a couch for the next few decades.
Zackula: Until a stray ember from a passerby's cigarette sets you and the poor hobo ablaze.
Dr. Thorpenstein: And future civilizations will come across the charred remains of a bullshit retarded shark costume with two dead bodies fused to it, and they'll get a pretty goddamn accurate picture of what our society was like.
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.