The Worst Mascot Story in the World

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You see, I had been invited to perform in a small town parade somewhere in Alabama (and by invited, the school made me go). This was not very uncommon as the mascot was often times requested for appearances ALL OVER THE HORRIBLE STATE OF ALABAMA. For free. In the summer. Which was hot as ball$.

I drove down to the small town in my red Acura Integra hatchback and found a parking spot, which would conveniently double as my changing room.

I can’t remember how, but I did get the mascot suit on by myself and headed toward the parade. Just a man in a tiger costume walking down the street. Carpe Diem.

The parade started and I bounced around the different floats along the route annoying entertaining the crowd. At one point, I decided to hop on the back of a fire truck to be funny (and by funny I mean because I was tired, hot and bored out of my dumb brains).

The truck rolled along the parade route and I decided to climb up the back and onto the top where all the hoses are stacked. Why? Because it beats walking around in a faux-fur tiger costume unable to consume oxygen because the head is constructed with only two air holes each the size of an ant fetus. That’s why.

As I sat atop the fire truck waving to the people along the parade route, we came to a turn in the route. You see, the parade veered left, but the fire truck keep going straight.

A bit of a conundrum for tiger-man.

I watched the parade get smaller and smaller the further we got away. I also noticed the fire truck turned on all the lights and sirens.

Joy.

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