The Mascot Incident

My best friend since kindergarten, Jordan, convinced me that volunteering as the school mascot would be "a total vibe." Spoiler alert: it absolutely was not.

"Dude, it's just a costume," Jordan said, hands stuffed in those cargo shorts everyone wore. "You put on the bear head, you wave, you get free admission to the game. Easy."

I should've known better. This was the same person who talked me into dyeing my hair purple before picture day.

The game was against our rivals - you know the type. Their student section was already chanting something about our mascot being "total mid" when I waddled onto the field in this hot, plastic bear costume that smelled like every sweaty sophomore who'd worn it since 2019.

That's when their actual mascot showed up. A bull. And this bull was clearly on something, maybe the adrenaline of knowing they were about to crush us in football for the fifth year in a row. The bull started charging toward our cheerleaders, probably planning some sick viral moment.

My mascot instincts kicked in. I didn't think. I just started running - okay, waddling violently - toward this bull, arms outstretched like I could actually stop anything in this suffocating bear suit.

The collision was inevitable. We went down in a tangle of fake fur and whatever material bull costumes are made of. The student section went absolutely feral. Both sides.

But the best part? When I finally crawled out of that bear head, gasping for air like I'd just surfaced from underwater, I saw it.

A cat. A literal cat had wandered onto the field during the chaos, and now it was sitting there, looking at me like I was the weird one. The video of me, a bull mascot, and this random cat all in a pile on the fifty-yard line? Yeah, that's still circulating.

"You're literally iconic now," Jordan told me afterward, passing me a Gatorade.

I guess that's one word for it. At least nobody noticed I forgot to wear my lucky socks. Small wins, you know?