After weathering the storm of positive comments and stone temple dart traps, I stand here triumphant with my last submission score and a bloodied stump where my brush pen used to be. But this week-long run for cover has not been without pain. Whereas I didn't used to smoke, I now consume eight casket-shaped cartons of "Olde Glasse Tobacco Stickes" per day and have bitten the fingernails on my left hand down to the second knuckle.

Now, sitting in a safehouse outside of Duluth, I await hearing whether my efforts have paid off or if a Threadless Strike Team is honing in on my location with a plane-load of giant enraged alligators (and a handful of free stickers).

The smell of the perpetually burning swamp to my left is overwhelming my thought processes, but I'm left wondering...

What's the best score that never became a t-shirt? What's the worst score to become a t-shirt? How do designers save their lungs and fingers during the arduous voting process?