Look how warm and friendly he is. Hello, Mr. Bear! What’s that? Put you on and absorb some of ur urresistibly ursine essence? Only 18 ml of a thin watery essence and the fabric is a little stiff and papery, but I’ll take your word. Whatever you say ::bashful giggle::
OH, SWEET JESUS– Mother of God, what is this horror?!
I–I–can’t get him off. Haaaalp! Oh no, he’s got Renee, too! I CAST THEE OUT, SATAN! …Fast forward 15 minutes. I’ve wrestled him off–not that difficult considering that the fabric’s not that clingy and his ears and chin don’t adhere well.
I’m hoping for at least some radiant skin to justify trading my soul. (Because then it’d be totally worth it, amirite?) Sadly, hydration is only moderate and plumping is practically nil. The red pimples that began developing earlier in the day are bigger and redder the next morning. Should I have expected anything else in this deal with the devil?
Because I bear you no ill will (bear, ahaha!), I wasn’t going to tell you where to find this monstrosity. But perhaps you have some mortal enemies, so here’s the manufacturer’s page. The page also shows flowery Sakusui skincare, all dainty and pretty, but they’re in all likelihood the equivalent of Chucky dolls, just like the Kumamon mask. UPDATE: Renee got this mask at a Watson’s in Taipei, which probably isn’t even there any more, the way that you go back to the creepy antiques shop to return an accursed scarab and it’s now an Apple Store where everyone swears the antiques store never existed.
I could not side-eye this mask any harder.
Pros: Doubles as a Halloween costume. Guarantees no repeat trick-or-treaters. Perfect fit if your face has the same dimensions as a dinner plate.
Cons: Eats souls. Very little essence and not very good essence at that. Grave insult to the real Kumamon and the people of Kumamoto Prefecture.