Sunday Side Job Hell.
Well, I had intended to go out drinking, but that didn't happen, I got a call for my side-job, which I will describe for you here.
Ok. I do Spider-Man appearances at children's birthday parties. I have a keen costume, and "webshooters" that shoot silly string. I get a job doing this about once every couple of months, I don't advertise or anything, it's primarily friends or friends of a friends that this gets done for.
Several Rules I follow include never drinking, smoking, or cursing in costume. Spidey has to maintain an image, you know, set the example.
Basically I show up, dance about, shoot some silly string, do some cartwheels and stuff. If the roof is low enough, I'll make an entrance by jumping off it. I drop off a present, and then generally spend the rest of the time as a babysitter.
Now. These are sort of cool things. However, there are some sort of bad things that always, always seem to happen.
1) Invariably, half the children go dead quiet upon my appearance. The other haf begin to scream. This usually takes about an hour to overcome.
2) Some child leads an attack on principal, and causes all the children to try to unmask me.
3) Some lady who has had too much too drink tries to fuck me. Ahem, Spider-Man, not me.
4) Some man (usually the wife, husband, or lustful cousin of the woman trying to fuck me) picks a fight with me.
Sigh.
Yesterday went alright, with the exception of mising a cartwheel and nailing my feet on a chunk of concrete that busted them both up pretty badly. It hurts to walk. Oh, and super-heroes get crap health insurance. The docs frown on secret identities I guess.
After the party I limped back to the car, and changed back into Dave.
Wow, that was really fucking wierd to say.
Anyway, I went to the bar. There's no smoking in bars in El Paso anymore, but we were all doing it anyway. I guess living in an area of town the cops don't come to has its perks in that way. I ended up sitting there staring across the bar into the mirror at myself while listening to someone play Bob Marley's entire catalog on the jukebox.
Didn't have a drop to drink, just water.
My legs are tired and sore from crouching and jumping about. And my feet, of course. The rest, I don't know. Rib's a little tender, I guess I'm not healed up all the way after all.
Oh, and no Mary Jane to webswing home to sucks.
Ok. I do Spider-Man appearances at children's birthday parties. I have a keen costume, and "webshooters" that shoot silly string. I get a job doing this about once every couple of months, I don't advertise or anything, it's primarily friends or friends of a friends that this gets done for.
Several Rules I follow include never drinking, smoking, or cursing in costume. Spidey has to maintain an image, you know, set the example.
Basically I show up, dance about, shoot some silly string, do some cartwheels and stuff. If the roof is low enough, I'll make an entrance by jumping off it. I drop off a present, and then generally spend the rest of the time as a babysitter.
Now. These are sort of cool things. However, there are some sort of bad things that always, always seem to happen.
1) Invariably, half the children go dead quiet upon my appearance. The other haf begin to scream. This usually takes about an hour to overcome.
2) Some child leads an attack on principal, and causes all the children to try to unmask me.
3) Some lady who has had too much too drink tries to fuck me. Ahem, Spider-Man, not me.
4) Some man (usually the wife, husband, or lustful cousin of the woman trying to fuck me) picks a fight with me.
Sigh.
Yesterday went alright, with the exception of mising a cartwheel and nailing my feet on a chunk of concrete that busted them both up pretty badly. It hurts to walk. Oh, and super-heroes get crap health insurance. The docs frown on secret identities I guess.
After the party I limped back to the car, and changed back into Dave.
Wow, that was really fucking wierd to say.
Anyway, I went to the bar. There's no smoking in bars in El Paso anymore, but we were all doing it anyway. I guess living in an area of town the cops don't come to has its perks in that way. I ended up sitting there staring across the bar into the mirror at myself while listening to someone play Bob Marley's entire catalog on the jukebox.
Didn't have a drop to drink, just water.
My legs are tired and sore from crouching and jumping about. And my feet, of course. The rest, I don't know. Rib's a little tender, I guess I'm not healed up all the way after all.
Oh, and no Mary Jane to webswing home to sucks.
posted by The Lion Sleeps Tonight at 10:22 AM
1 Comments:
Okay you so NEED to post the pics of you as Spidey - then folks will know why the ladies are after you ^.^ HHHHOTTT :P
Post a Comment
<< Home