You might be a Redshirt. Doomed to die in the most horrifying space-deaths possible and your only reward is a old country doctor telling your Captain that your dead, Jim.
Okay, you might not actually be a Redshirt, flying around on Space ships, enjoying Mr. Sulu sword-fight imaginary pirates naked, or enjoying the thrill of a transporter. But now you can smell like one. Did I saw smell? YES, I DID!!
Introducing RED SHIRT....

Cologne for the tragically doomed, yet plot significant.
RED SHIRT: Because Tomorrow May Never Come...
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