Bubba tossed back his head. It was soon followed by a similar motion from a smooth green bottle containing the remnants of an old MoonShine batch aptly named: NecroNeurosis.

The true to its title liquor had the necessary numbing effects for Bubba to continue on his quest. He’d been tirelessly trekking through arid lands for weeks based on the rambling rumours he’d previously heard from a hedonistic heretic back in Trounce Alley.

There was talk of a man who lived out of a shack in the Northern regions of the Dessert Desert, a place where the sun is at its highest for 8 hours a day and even the thought of water evaporates. Meaningless as this information sounds, it soon turned significant as Bubba learned this hermit was a man of great skill. A skill passed down through generations in the Welsh countryside, that of knitting Wool from the hillside sheep.

Bubba hadn’t a particular penchant for knitting per say, but the fine product produced by this Artisan was one that Bubba wanted to procure.

As the sun rose on another blistering, cloudless day in the DD, through the mirages and sand storms Bubba began to make out the hazy outline of a shanty setup, sheltered only by a lonely, leafless palm tree. Bubba trudged on taking it one paw at a time and soon through the dehydrated daze that had cemented itself into his psyche, Bubba arrived at the shack.

To his dismay, Bubba entered to find the expert craftsman slumped over a table, head in a bucket, up to his ears in his own blood. As Bubba pulled the man's head out of the bucket, feet of intestine poured from the hermit’s mouth; he had not drowned but been suffocated.

Finally the toll tethered to Bubba throughout the Dessert Desert took over. He too slumped over the table, his body pulsing with regret he had not come sooner or quicker. All he wanted at that moment was to feel the comforting fibres of a freshly shawn sheep, woven into perfection and placed upon his head. Clearly the heat had had its way with him.

But now, with the master maker gone and secrets taken to the grave, Bubba feared he would never get the noggin nourishment he so rightfully required. As he lay there stupefied and sullen he gathered one last gall of strength and sent the entrail laden pail flying into the wall with a swift backpaw.

*KLONK* “What the fuck…” Bubba was not expecting the hollow sound to echo through such a small dwelling, it did not resonate that it was an appropriate reverberation. Perplexed and puzzled Bubba did what he did best, he fucked shit up. Pots, pans, shoes, booze bottles, a few nozzles, trinkets, biscuits and ink bits all got tossed aggressively and accurately at the odd sounding wall.

Once the dust had settled and so Bubba’s temper, a lone box stood in a secret space within said wall. Much to his delight, Bubba found 31 light grey, dark brown and blended Wool hats, a final supply run left from the old hermit but to what end was unknown.

Needless to say Bubba tossed one atop his brow and let the wonderful Wool nestle between his ears. And at peace he was again.

These are the remaining 30 for your adorning pleasure.

Wool Hat - Dark Brown

C$40.00Price
  • - 100% undyed yarn

    -Farmed, spun & knitted in the UK

     

    Grown in the Penines, UK, the yarn for these hats is spun from 100% natural, undyed, British sheeps wool, from non-mulesed flocks. Using the original colours of the British wool pure breeds.