You’re talking about a guy who’s been an award-winning balloon animal creator. I don’t back away from challenges.
When the opportunity came to fill the position of mascot for a semi-pro baseball team, I leaped at the chance. I shed 10 pounds so I could fit into my armadillo costume. At the zoo, I watched everything the armadillos did, especially their mood swings. Under stress, these under-appreciated creatures could rise up and honk like hellions. So I practiced honking. I spoke with an animal expert at a nearby university, read books, watched DVDs on the subject; thoroughly prepared myself.
That first game I was nervous. Perhaps it was a mistake trying to calm myself with two tequilas. Maybe three.
A lot of it is a haze. There was the little boy who tried to pet me and received a tongue lashing in return. The parents who proclaimed me ugly and had to duck a right cross. Our first baseman who kept telling me to get out of the way. The manager who politely asked me to stop giving him strategic advice. (The imbecile ignored the hit and run.)
By the fourth inning, patrons were referring to me as the Killer Armadillo as I let loose with a vicious series of raucous honks. The last thing I recall is getting into a wrestling match with the other team’s mascot. Do you know how humiliating it is getting pinned by a flamingo?
I was fired after one day. Now I’m back in my comfort zone surrounded by my beloved balloon animals. Though an armadillo is not in my repertoire and I’ve put this behind me, I do enjoy honking at kids when they’ve got a mouthful of food and watching them upchuck in fear. My therapist claims this is a step backward.
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