It was the ’80s and I was a Junior in high school. Although familiar with the wonders of alcohol, albiet in the form of wine coolers and peppermint schnapps, I had recently been introduced to Mary Jane, and was right in the middle of my honeymoon phase- I was riding shotgun, (as always; I had no car) in my friend Mark’s Ford Tempo, sorrowfully playing with my pocket rolling machine and bemoaning the fact that I had no marijuana to roll with it- Mark didn’t partake, and was tired of my whining- “Jeez dude, just buy some already, Freddy’s got some”, he said, handing me a warm wine cooler from the paper bag at his feet- “How would YOU know?” I grumbled, “and it doesn’t matter, I’m broke as a joke”- I had recently quit my job at I Can’t Believe It’s Yogurt. They had but one cassette that would just repeat all day everyday; Richard Marx’s godawful debut- I hated it with every fiber of my being- I wish I could say I yanked it out of the Panasonic tape player and threw it out the back door, or stomped it to pieces, or pulled the tape out and wrapped up my face like Boris Karloff and continued to serve customers, but no, I just quit and didn’t even bring it up- The manager wasn’t so bad, and he really loved that terrible album- I had recently gotten my lifeguard certification from the Red Cross, but had yet to find a job- “How much IS pot, anyway?” Mark asked- He cracked his window; an ominous sign. This was before the days of the lactose intolerance diagnosis, and he was obviously lactose intolerant but he didn’t know it yet- “I can get an eighth for 20 bucks”, I answered, cracking my window as well- He startled me with a vigorous dashboard slap- “I GOT you! Blockbuster has piece of cake gig, 2 hours, 20 bucks!”

So the next day I rode my skateboard up to the video store at 5:40 as instructed by Mark’s manager Betsy- 20 minutes early seemed a bit much for a one-time job, but I was already warned by Mark to be wary of Betsy – I didn’t want to start out on the wrong foot- Mark was there so I headed to his register- I heard his trying-to-sound-older voice as he gave a critique of Howard the Duck to a bored college girl- He gave me a quick glance, pointed to the manager’s office, and resumed his sad flirtation attempt- It wasn’t the usual glass-windowed manager office of these places- It was just a door that said “employees only”- I nervously knocked- “Come in,” a voice answered- I entered the cramped little office- It smelled like sweat and applesauce- Sure enough there was an almost empty bowl of applesauce and what looked like cottage cheese on the paper-strewn desk. Betsy stood beside it, her back to me, furiously scribbling on a dry erase calendar- “Fuckers”, she mumbled- I cleared my throat- “You’re in the suit today?” she turned and looked down at my jeans- “Shoulda worn shorts…well, you can take those off”- “Uh it’s fine” I answered, blushing- “In JEANS? I don’t think so”, she said with an ominous chuckle, pointing to a purple and green fuzzy heap in the corner- “I’d ditch em,” she said, looking at my jeans- No way in hell I was going to take my pants off in this flourescent-lit awkward situation- “I’ll be fine,” I said, hoping she’d drop the subject- “Whatever- I gotta get out there,” she shrugged, dropping the dry erase marker onto the desk- “So you put it on, walk around, wave to the kids, and don’t talk, unless you can do the voice”- “The voice?”, I interrupted- I hadn’t seen the cartoon- She gave me a look, “Yeah, don’t talk- 50 minutes you get a 5 minute break to get out of the suit”- She looked at her Swatch- “I gotta get out there,” she repeated- “Take your time getting into that- Cuffs go in the front”- I noticed some yellow plastic chain amongst the fur and what looked to be a massive headpiece underneath it all- “And drink some water,” she said, patting the top of a nearly empty old water cooler- Then she walked out the door, shutting it behind her- I realized she hadn’t even asked my name, nor told me hers- What a jerk- Maybe she had a reason- I figured I wouldn’t be very pleasant if I managed a video rental store at age 40 something- So I headed to the corner to figure out the costume- As I picked it up I realized this was where the sweat smell was coming from, not her, or maybe in addition to her- It was heavy, very heavy, and the huge headpiece was attached to the fur costume- There were big floppy purple bare feet, also attached, and the paws were cuffed together with big yellow handcuffs- The headpiece was hideous; giant bug eyes, big rubber fangs in a stupid grin, and a huge blue nose the paint had mostly worn off of- The zipper on the back was already down, so I slipped off my shoes, looked around for phantom moral support, and climbed in- The first thing I noticed was the wetness- The inside was slick thin rubber and whomever was My Pet Monster last was a sweaty one- The immediate 2nd observation was it was not made for someone of my height- The big headpiece was pushing down on the top of my head, so I had to hunch a bit to stand up- This made vision out the eyeslits difficult if not impossible- It was already getting hot in the thing and I hadn’t even zipped up yet- My hands were cuffed, in big wooly attached paws, so how WAS I going to zip up? That’s when Betsy returned, gave me a glance, and said, “turn around I’ll zip you up”- 5 minutes later, I was staggering out of the office, the door held open by Betsy as I couldn’t manage any doorknob with those mitts on- It was HOT, and I was adding my sweat to the last guy’s at an alarming rate- I saw Betsy pass me through the tiny vision slit, back up to the front of the store- I felt abandoned, and my anxiety kicked up another notch- What was I supposed to do in this thing? I painfully lifted my head up enough to see where I was in the store and where the kids’ section was- Some folks were starting to notice my presence there as I shuffled through the New Releases- I saw a kid and attempted to wave, but my hands were cuffed, so both arms went up in an awkward gesture that she didn’t understand- She gave me a smirk and went back to examining whatever movie she was holding- “Whatcha got?”, I asked, forgetting the no talking rule already- “Um,” she replied, backing away a step, “You smell like farts”… I bristled, “What did you THINK a monster would smell like?” “Come on honey,” a voice came from my right, then took the hand of the child- I tilted my head up to see the Mom, and was met with a shooting pain down the back of my neck from the weight of the headpiece’s relentless push- I grunted in surprised pain, and the Mom asked as she left my field of vision completely, “You OK?” “No,” I replied, then realized they were gone- I figured I should get to the kids’ section, so continued by journey- Sweat was now dripping into my eyes, so my vision was further handicapped- I shook my head to clear my eyes, but that left the head a bit sideways askew, so my left eye was now looking out the right slit- I was afraid to shake the head again to try to get my impaired vision back- I left it as it was and started moving again to the kids’ section- I took the wide center aisle, slowly- The last thing I wanted to do was bump into someone and call further attention to myself- I was hunched over and with a bit of a side step to best utilize my one eyeslit- I imagined if Betsy saw me she’d be impressed that I was behaving in character- Then again, I had never seen the cartoon- What if My Pet Monster WASN’T a slow, lurching character, but a hyper creature with head held high? I pushed the thought out of my head as I finally made my way into the kids’ section- There were a couple kids on beanbag chairs watching some Disney movie- Otherwise, the section looked vacant, which was fine by me- I was starting to get dizzy from the heat, so planned to be a human/monster statue and wait out my sentence- I instinctively lifted up an arm to check my watch; of course a futile attempt as my watch was underneath damp purple “fur”- Then a tug came from behind, and a small sneering voice, “This fur is fake!”- What was he yanking on? Did I have a tail? I grunted and tried to turn around to see this kid- I wasn’t supposed to talk anyway- As I turned around, the kid came around the other side of me, so I was facing The Muppets Take Manahattan, no kid in sight- The voice again came from my blind side, “Who ARE you anyway?”- “Leave him alone and pick out a movie,” an adult voice interrupted- I tried to tilt up to view the parent- Once again, the flash of neck pain, so I quickly abandoned that attempt and turned my one-eyed gaze back down and prayed to be left alone- I stood that way for what seemed an eternity, sweating, and imagining rolling up a joint with my rolling machine in my girlfriend’s car- It was pure fantasy of course, as she didn’t approve of marijuana- Maybe I could impress one of the cool art chicks that hung out by the school parking lot? Just my luck, I’d get busted by the school cop though… I was interrupted in my reveries by Betsy’s voice- “Break time”- I tried to remember how to get back to her office- I wasn’t thinking clearly from the relentless HEAT, but managed to shuffle back there by following her Reeboks- She shut the door, and instructed me to turn around to unzip me- “You got 5 minutes, drink some water,” she said as she unzipped the back- She saw my drenched-with-sweat shirt, “You might want to take those jeans off”- “Yes yes yes,” I mumbled as she left the office- Freed from the costume, the world was bright and deliciously cold- “Good GOD,” I exclaimed to nobody as I flung down the wet purple and green fur- I immediately tore off my shirt and jeans, and went to the water cooler in my underwear and socks- I was shaking as I gulped down as many cups of water as I could- Before what seemed like barely 2 minutes, the door cracked open and Betsy let me know breaktime was over- I looked down at the wet pile of fur at my feet and shuddered- Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad now that I was practically naked? I thought briefly of balling up my shirt to pad the top of my head, then realized adding anything would just be further reducing the amount of headroom I had in there- What if the balled up shirt unraveled and slipped down over my face? Whatever, I only had an hour left; I’d tough it out- If the suit was damp the first time I donned it, now it was sopping, but at least it was MY sweat- The rubber was slick on my exposed body, and I felt like I could move a bit more fluidly, pardon the pun- And I was hydrated, so as Betsy zipped me back up, I felt a flicker of hope that this last hour might even be fun- Then the heat came back, fast- The cool wetness now was warm wetness, and the difference was grossly distressing- Once again, Betsy bolted to regions unknown, and I stood outside her office, wondering where I should go- I didn’t want to deal with any kids, so their section was out- Also, it was prime rental time, so the place was twice as crowded as it had been an hour ago- What section would be the least populated? Documentaries! The problem was, I couldn’t remember where they were- I cursed myself for not poking my head out during my break to get a lay of the land, but it was what it was- I figured I could just shuffle around until I found them- I had to hunch, but I had both my eyeslits back in use- I thanked the fates for that small favor- When I finally arrived, I had lurched through every section BUT the documentaries- I was sweating at a furious rate in that furred rubber- I stood staring at a collection of National Geographic films and waited it out- Of course I got more than a few odd looks from customers and occasionally a kid would ask me a question or pull/poke my fur- I was mute and immovable, in a heat-induced trance- I figured if I stayed completely still, the heat would back off- That wasn’t the case- Then my daffy mind siezed upon a last hope of escape- What would happen if I passed out? What if Betsy heard a crash from the Documentary section, and looked over in horror to see me sprawled out over the National Geographics? Maybe a scream or two from some patrons would add to the drama? If THAT happened, surely a mere 20 bucks would seem like an insult! She would imagine a lawsuit even! I pictured Betsy in a panic shoving a HANDFUL of 20s into my wet paw and begging me to forgive her! For the first time since I walked into that nightmare, I smiled- I was still smiling and waiting to pass out when I heard Betsy’s voice, “8 o clock, you’re done- And why are you in the Docs anyway?”