Solar Flare Centaur Origin Story
When Carl the Flamingo recently traveled to Bradenton, Florida to take a tour of an orange juice factory, he stumbled upon a magical world when he accidentally flushed himself down a urinal with a motion sensor flusher (long story).
After a turbulent, chaotic journey of swirling darkness through the factory’s plumbing, Carl emerged from a huge drain on a sandy, sundrenched beach. It was a pristine paradise. Lush, fragrant citrus groves flanked white sand beaches. The sky looked like melting rainbow sherbet, its sweet shades of deep pink and orange dotted with cotton candy clouds of limon.
Herds of centaurs were singing as they picked ripe blood oranges from the groves, their baskets overflowing with scurvy-defying goodness. Their muscular bodies glistened in the sun. Their tails occasionally flicked away flies, and the scent of their equine musk wafted through the air. They paid no mind to the soggy flamingo walking between the rows of trees. Carl came upon a volcanic rock formation at the edge of the grove. A river of thick, pulpy, deep orange citrus juice flowed over the black, craggy surface into a deep pool below. But where was this vitamin C-rich manna coming from?! He wondered.
Carl shielded his eyes from the sun as he gazed towards the top of the waterfall. It was there that he could see the centaurs squeezing the juice from these precious blood oranges using the strength of their enormous biceps. Some placed the oranges in their armpits, squeezing the juice out like they were doing front lat spreads, while others placed the oranges on their biceps and squeezed the juice out as if they were doing front double bicep poses. Carl looked at his own flimsy wings and couldn’t imagine even being able to squeeze the juice out of an overripe grape with his non-existent biceps.
An ominous-looking centaur appeared at the top of the cliff and blew a deep, haunting note from a conch shell that resonated through the landscape. The centaurs all dropped what they were doing and gathered around the sticky pool of juice. A large mechanical dish perched on the cliff turned toward the sun and directed a large beam of electromagnetic waves towards the pool of juice through a giant crystal obelisk. The pool of juice began to vibrate, and the liquid began to form peaks and crystallize as if it were ferrofluid. The light became intense and blinding, illuminating the surroundings in a brilliant flash. Carl supposedly passed out from the white-hot glow of the radiation.
A few hours after Carl disappeared from the orange juice factory tour, our office receptionist received a phone call from the Dade County Police Department to let us know that they had found Carl giggling in a ditch off Interstate 75, almost 88 miles away from the factory. No one knows how he got there. Apparently, he was out of his mind after taking counterfeit gas station boner pills and babbling about “solar flares” and “centaurs” in a “magical citrus grove.”
So, yeah, that’s what inspired these orange BFGs with blood-orange gradient lenses. Carl says they’re guaranteed to make you the “centaur of attention” at any social gathering and that people “won’t be able to resist your electro-animal magnetism.” (Whatever that means.) We can’t validate these claims, but we can tell you they won’t slip or bounce while you violently squeeze the juice out of oranges with your biceps to show off at your next frat party or job interview.
