welcome to the funzone (#2)

In my former post, Theophilus, I told you about the time when I was a big yellow dog called Funzone Freddy. I was drafted into the position unexpectedly, forced by the hand of fate.

As it happens, my Funzone antics were well-received, and I was asked to don the sweaty, hot costume again on a few different occasions. One such time came just before Easter of 2010, at the school my church had adopted.

This story is going to take a somewhat shocking turn, so I want to spell out the moral right now: Respect people wearing full-body costumes. They are very vulnerable and uncomfortable and may resort to drastic measures in the name of self-preservation.

OK? I want you to keep that lesson in mind.

Anyway, our church was planning a large-scale party for the kids of the elementary school on Easter Sunday, complete with singing, dancing, an Easter egg hunt, and so on. The most buzz-worthy event of the day, however, was that we would be having a drawing for a free Nintendo Wii.

In order to drum up interest, Pastor Rodney asked me to join him in visiting the classrooms at the school and telling the children about the Wii giveaway. I would be appearing not as myself, however, but as Funzone Freddy.

So Rodney and I got to the school and I donned the yellow costume. He then led me from classroom to classroom, sharing with the kids the news of Easter extravaganza. The response was near-unanimous across ages and grades – gasps of wonder and awe as the children saw me enter, then Rodney would announce the Wii drawing and the kids would erupt into cheers, applause, and top-of-their-little-lungs shrieking as they jumped up and down.

After an hour or two of this, we had made our way through the whole school and were trying to walk back to where I could remove my Funzone disguise and return to my street identity. On the way, we stumbled upon a rowdy group of kids on recess. Most of them were fifth grade boys, but for some reason a three or four year old was in their midst as well. (As I remember the story, this detail doesn’t seem to make much sense, but the toddler was there.)

Now, fifth grade boys aren’t as easily won over by mascots. They do like big animals, but more in the way that they like piñatas – they want to see how much abuse they can inflict before the character collapses.

Somehow I got separated from Rodney, who, in addition to being my guide, had sort of been my bodyguard. The next thing I knew, the fifth graders had surrounded me, and they pulled on my tail, punched my ribs, and tugged at my big dog-nose. “Hey, who is that inside there?” they yelled. “Hey, does this hurt?” one boy screamed as he tried to rip off Funzone’s head. I considered fighting back but didn’t want the news to get around that the church’s dog mascot had punched an eleven-year-old in the face.

In the midst of the chaos, the four-year-old somehow got into the midst of things and just wanted to touch Freddy. I looked down at the little guy and noticed that in spite of the madness, the older boys graders were being protective of him. So, I resorted to a last-ditch doomsday plan.

I reached down and grabbed the little toddler and hugged him. I held him close to me and he giggled. And as long as I held him in front of me, the fifth graders wouldn’t touch me. They tried to push the baby away, but I just pulled him back. The little one was my only hope.

Finally Rodney found me and dispelled the fifth grade mob, and whisked me to the supply room where I changed back into my regular clothes.

And that’s the story of when I used a four-year-old baby as a human shield for my own protection against a mob of fifth grade boys.