Poodle dreams and stranger things
So, I'm hurrying to get into school on time on Wednesday a few weeks ago, when I get stopped by (I find out later) Mrs. Campbell--the Mrs. Campbell, mwa-ha-ha--and she tells me that I knocked her socks off in Beauty and the Beast; she'd been thinking, all this time, that I was a quiet, unassuming kid, and now that she's seen my hyper side, would I please, pretty please be the Jaguar--the school mascot--for the Homecoming game?
Sa'what?
I tell her, as evasively as I can, that I'll think about it, then sprint off to Algebra with all the grace and composure of an irate rhino. Fortunately, I make it on time.
Mrs. Campbell wants me to dress up in the Jag costume and go gallumphing around cheering on the football team? No stinkin' way! I think to myself. I've seen the poor guy at Chuck 'E' Cheese's who dresses up in that horrid costume, and no way Jose am I doing the same thing.
I think about it for the next week and a half or so, my resolution to not do it slipping, unbelievably, away. Hey, I think, it might be kinda fun, actually. Mrs. Campbell calls me on Wednesday and, oh horror of horrors, I comply. I'll do the Homecoming game, and, in addition (as a bit of a warm up, to get used to the costume) I also agree to jump around a bit at the pep rally the preceeding Thursday.
So, that's how, on Thursday, I came to be gallumphing around in the background, air-guitar jamming to We Will Rock You as my dad, dressed up as what's-his-face from Queen, along with several other members of the faculty, does the same thing.
And then yesterday I found myself in front of the bleachers, jumping around, giving people high-fives, waving at little kids, doing the whole "Oooooooooooooh......First down!!" schtick (once in the wrong direction...how mortifying!), and getting a sore spine from leaning back so I can see properly out of the Jag mask. Funfunfun.
And to think, if I do this whole mascot thing long enough, I could actually wind up with a letter! Imagine that, James Powers, the quintessential non-athlete, getting a letter! Haw haw haw!! I don't think I'll go for that, though. It would mess up my carefully cultivated image.
And tonight I'm going to the actual homecoming dance. Dunno whether to laugh or groan at that. It could be a blast, it could be a hoot, it could be a horror...I dunno.
Excuse me while I go be rebellious by not wearing a suit to the so-called "semi"-formal dance *snort*.
Sa'what?
I tell her, as evasively as I can, that I'll think about it, then sprint off to Algebra with all the grace and composure of an irate rhino. Fortunately, I make it on time.
Mrs. Campbell wants me to dress up in the Jag costume and go gallumphing around cheering on the football team? No stinkin' way! I think to myself. I've seen the poor guy at Chuck 'E' Cheese's who dresses up in that horrid costume, and no way Jose am I doing the same thing.
I think about it for the next week and a half or so, my resolution to not do it slipping, unbelievably, away. Hey, I think, it might be kinda fun, actually. Mrs. Campbell calls me on Wednesday and, oh horror of horrors, I comply. I'll do the Homecoming game, and, in addition (as a bit of a warm up, to get used to the costume) I also agree to jump around a bit at the pep rally the preceeding Thursday.
So, that's how, on Thursday, I came to be gallumphing around in the background, air-guitar jamming to We Will Rock You as my dad, dressed up as what's-his-face from Queen, along with several other members of the faculty, does the same thing.
And then yesterday I found myself in front of the bleachers, jumping around, giving people high-fives, waving at little kids, doing the whole "Oooooooooooooh......First down!!" schtick (once in the wrong direction...how mortifying!), and getting a sore spine from leaning back so I can see properly out of the Jag mask. Funfunfun.
And to think, if I do this whole mascot thing long enough, I could actually wind up with a letter! Imagine that, James Powers, the quintessential non-athlete, getting a letter! Haw haw haw!! I don't think I'll go for that, though. It would mess up my carefully cultivated image.
And tonight I'm going to the actual homecoming dance. Dunno whether to laugh or groan at that. It could be a blast, it could be a hoot, it could be a horror...I dunno.
Excuse me while I go be rebellious by not wearing a suit to the so-called "semi"-formal dance *snort*.
posted by James at
10:35 AM
