STH Story Time...
We're all about continuing to push the envelope here at STH. In an effort to involve you, our readers, or at least just to have some fun amongst ourselves, this week will mark the first (and possibly only?) installment of STH Story Time. The concept is simple. I'll get the ball rolling - the rest is up to you. As always, everything is printed in good fun and we take no responsibility for any animals harmed nor hearts broken during the telling of this story.
I awoke to the unmistakable sensation of a warm moist tongue running over my skin. My sheets were on the floor again - and there was Sebastian trying to chew my toes off. For a dog that Julie dropped off for a "one night stay" who was supposed to be "no trouble at all," Sebastian was certainly making quite an effort towards wearing out his welcome. Though I considered admonishing this rambunctious 1-year-old Golden Retriever on the finer points of morning etiquette, I realized that his interest was waning...and this was not the morning for lectures. Following a rewarding bowl of Cocoa Puffs and one last glance toward Katie Couric, I gathered what wits I had left and slipped out the door into the chilly autumn morning. As I strolled down the sidewalk to the bus stop, I checked my duffel bag one last time. Cell phone...check. Bottle of water...check. Crossword puzzle...check. Wallet... Machete... Seeing that all was in order, I slouched into a seat near the back of the bus, realizing for the first time that Sebastian had been strangely quiet this morning. Perhaps he was bored with me already. Perhaps he realized the patent absurdity of a talking dog in the eyes of the "civilized" world. More likely, I'd like to think he knew that no lecture, however impassioned, was going to distract me from doing what I needed to do today...
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My mind wandered back to the summer I had helped my step-father replace the sieve of a roof we had suffered with the preceeding spring. Actually, I did more watching and listening than helping. He had a mantra when working on big projects. "Measure twice; cut once." His cadence and inflection snuck the words past my casual indifference and nested them in my subconscious mind. Unfortunately, this job wouldn't allow me the luxury of measuring twice before I cut, if I got the chance at all.
As the bus crawled from one stop to the next, a rage grew within me. The incessant itching sensation below my left knee would drive any sane individual to the edge. I should have know that this chicken costume was a bad idea...
One decision among many I had to make today-the day that might change everything. It came down to the chicken suit or the orangutan get-up. Thinking I would appear less menacing, I opted to invoke the poultry gods for a day. However, I didn’t realize I practically invited a near-death experience from heat exhaustion-never mind being dragged to the brink of insanity from this damn itchiness. Sigh.
I must focus.
I can’t afford to make any mistakes today, only one shot at this, I thought as I walked to the front of the bus, accidentally knocking someone up side the head with my tail feathers. Preparing to debark I reminded myself, Remember, you look crazy, but not menacing. They will believe you if you keep your cool. They will believe you.
It is true my outfit was worthy of compelling attention. But that was exactly what I needed for my plan to go accordingly. Like Jane Goodall with the gorillas, I must assimilate and gain their trust. Mascots from all over the country would be assembling in less than 2 hours at the convention center. They’d be attending feeble little seminars with titles like "More Zing, Less Sting" and "Avoiding Hostile Crowds With Your Dignity Still Intact." What suckers. While passing a window, I caught my first glimpse of a molting left wing. So that’s why this costume was on clearance. Good thing I paid cash…non-traceable.
Again, my concentration began to dissolve. This time my thoughts were back on Sebastian. Did I remember to feed him? Should I have filled his kong with more peanut butter? Crap, I forgot to hide my socks! Surely they are lodged in his small intestine by now. He’ll be as good as dead by tomorrow afternoon. Oh poor Sebastian. Why did she name that cute innocent puppy after a saint who was crucified by a firing squad of archers? This macabre visual was enough to regain my focus. The truth was if my crime goes awry I will face a similar fate. As I swallowed the massive lump in my arid throat, the reality hit me. Today is the day. I must do this…for Julie…for us.
That statue was all we had left by now. The last remaining symbol that our eyes ever met on that soggy Octbober afternoon. The Sox were in town, and while our chances at an extended season were all but dashed I couldn't bring myself not to show. The cool stench of soggy turf loomed heavy over the sedate crowd. The beerman couldn't make his rounds quick enough to drown the sorrows of the disappointed fans. Amongst the wallow there she was. A beaming Sox fan, happy as hell that her boys were making a mockery of our hometown heroes. It took all I had not to heave my oversized Bud Light at her and ruin all her fun. Hell, I needed that sweet nectar. Yet, there was something strangely intoxicating about the way she heckled, it was almost sexual. Like a temptress taunting me with her navel. Oh Julie, I'll never forget that fire.
Snap out of it fool! You daydreaming bastard you've lost your window. The quiet way is not an option now. I'll have to be quick. Quick and dirty.
I feel the familiar dull ache begin to settle in the pit of my stomach. It has always been this way. No one grows up wanting to be a hit man. No hit man wants to open that manilla envelope and see that a figure beloved to them since childhood is to be the next target. But self-doubt is not something I can afford at this moment; mine is not to wonder why. I have chosen this path because it keeps me in the manner to which I have become addicted. The Philly Phanatic gets whacked tonight.
i had to think of a master way to take out the beloved mascot, the first think i thought of ewas to cut out thtat tounge, like a new years toy, whirlling in and out at the those damn philly fans, who all respond like a crowd of six years olds...excited over the dun=mbest tricks...
oh geez back to realty I almost missed my stop, pulled the chain the familar ding of the bell told the brainless driver to stop..i grunted bye at him and made my way off he bus just before he closed the door on my chicken tail...time to blend into the sea of people and mascot at the convention center
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