The Worst Homecoming Ever

It was homecoming.

Gonga growled to himself. Better call it “Leave-taking of your senses.”

This was the last thing he wanted to deal with this weekend. Apparently it was extra worse because it was an extra “special” homecoming since it was number 100. If they would only change things to a binary number system for a week, then it wouldn’t be so special. Then maybe people would leave him alone.

No chance of that.

Of course, he could just try to avoid the football stadium…and anywhere within a five mile radius. The roads were packs, the coffee shops were packed, and the streets and sidewalks were packed. Why oh why did he have to be here today!?!

He glowered behind his mask.

Smoke from the thousands of tail-gate grills drifted into his face and his eyes started to water.

True, the energy was awesome to watch. So many people packed into such a tiny space, and all ready to scream at the top of their lungs if you shouted the right combination of letters.

Gonga twirled the tiger tail attached to his gorilla costume and shouted “M-I-Z.” The result was deafening.

So what if he could predict things? So what if he got exactly the reaction he expected? He still hated being at the game.

But The Textbook Game wanted him there. Why, he couldn’t fathom.

They wouldn’t even let him wear his Textbook Game t-shirt. He had to wear a tiger-themed shirt. Even worse, he was wearing a tiger tail.

Great. All they needed was a darker, furrier version of Truman. With two of them at the game, how would the Iowa State fans know which one to target? The uglier one, right?

Gonga glowered again.

Today was a good day to hire a rain cloud to hang out over his head. Maybe then people would know to give him space.

Three more people jostled him in their mad rush toward the stadium.

No, better yet, make it a lightning bolt. This crowd wouldn’t notice anything less.

Gonga and Football

You would think that a gorilla would be good at football, right? I mean, anyone around 6 foot tall weighing three hundred pounds should be great. Just stick him down front and center and tell him not to let anyone get through.

Oh it’s a great plan all right. Until you realize that he’s not really three hundred pounds. Try half that and you’d be closer. I know. All that fur. It’s very deceiving. It certainly keeps him warm in the winter. And nice and sweaty all summer. But it weighs about two ounces. And that doesn’t go very far when it comes to football.

In that case, why not make him a wide receiver? Let him stay on the outside, away from all the plows, and use his wilderness sharpened speed to get right where the opposing side doesn’t want him?

Except that the opposing side really won’t care where he is after they see him try to catch the ball. Those hands are better suited for crushing blows to the skull than catching anything.

But he plays an accordion! He’s got to have some sort of dexterity.

Yep. He fumbles the accordion just like a football. Ever wondered why he usually has it on a strap around his neck? If you could just strap the football around his neck like that, you could send him from one side of the field to the other and no one would catch him. Unfortunately, the rules don’t allow it.

Which is why you’ll see Gonga on the sidelines on game day, yelling at the band to play louder, shouting at the players to run faster, and trading hugs with Truman the Tiger every time he comes by. Some of the kids actually like Gonga better than Truman. It does seem that Gonga’s face would be more frightening than Truman’s. But maybe it’s the relative size of the thing that makes the difference.

If you see Gonga at the next game, go try to shake his hand and ask him why he doesn't play football. Actually, better just give him a hug. Those hands don't always behave as expected!