Yellow Tales in a Mcdonald’s on Utica Ave. PIKACHU!

A tale.. of a yellow tail.
A stomach….a big fat yellow stomach.
A balloon sword…. maybe 10.

How do you know the birthday party is going to be ghetto?
There are 3 obvious hints.

1) you can hear the house music from down the block. the birthday child is 3.
2) the party for the 3 year old is at 9 o’clock at night.
3) It’s at a Utica Ave., Brooklyn McDonald’s at 9 o’clock at night.

So I arrive, todays quest is to be a pokemon.

Upstairs I go, bathroom I go, big yellow suit I put on.

I’m pokemon dammit.

I appear and the kids go crazy, they all come running up to hold my hands or hug me or pull me somewhere.. or maybe pee on me. (actually that’s usually the mothers..)

So it’s party time. There’s a certain method I have down to clockwork for these 1 hr. shows, I could do it with my eyes closed. (I often did.) So, it’s mingling time, it’s black folks, it’s NY, I’ve got some room here for liberties. I sit on a few guys laps, I rub a bald head. I make a few guys feel atingle, maybe even aroused by the confusion of yellow fur and breasts.

I work the room, and now a woman and an older girl are handing out ice creams… I don’t know if it was the pikachu lapdances or just a wariness for furry people with a fathead, but the woman is not amused.

“Maybe Pikachu wants some ice cream.” says the little girl.

Pikachu wants air conditioning. 
The woman looks at me.
Dirty. Nasty. Stank. Deadpan.
“Pokemon I know you be makin’ good money, I ain’t givin you no ice cream.”
The little girl looks confused.
From behind the yellow-furred facade I am returning the stank look.
The woman: “I DONT LIKE YOU POKEMON” 
Aww shit, don’t hate me for my fursuit mama, hate me for my game.
Stank black lady gives me a few more ups and downs.. and I move on.

My favorite thing about being pokemon is I don’t have to speak. Pokemon said all of 1 thing. 
PEEEEKA and CHU.

Kids have lots of questions. 

kid 1: pikachu, pikachu! what do you like to eat?
me: PEEEEEKA. (somewhere btwn a shriek and a growl)
kid 2: Pokemon Pokemon! I goto school. and I have all your cards. I love you. Do you like hamburgers?
me: PEEEEEEEEEEEE-kah.
kid 3: pokemon, pokemon, be my friend. Let’s play in the ball pond.
me: PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKA. (translation: let’s do it.)

Pikachu in the ballpond!!
Pikachu on the slide!!
Pikachu taking pictures!!
Pikachu and her big yellow be-hind.

I’m the best damn pikachu in the universe. I defy physics. I play everything with the kids. I give hugs, I peeka peeka, and I sweat my ass off.

20 minutes left. balloon time!

Pump and bag in hand I start to make swords, hats, hearts and crowns… now as i said, i have this down to a science: how many kids x how much time I have= quality of balloons.. I am sweating my ass off and it’s closing in on time to go, so I start making the cheap shit. The problem here is seamlessly switching from quality to cheap without anyone noticing… Oh but wait! Here comes stank-lady fucking up my program as she annoys the shit out of me for a balloon. She sees one of my hearts on a braid, and she’s on it.

Bitchy black woman: POKEMON! I WANT a heart on a stem.
me: (ignoring her.)
bbw: I SAID. i want a heart on a stem.
me: (ignoring her.)
bbw:

I know you heard me.

me: muttering and cursing behind the head and giving the evil eye.
bbw: POKEMON….I WANT A HEART ON A STEM
me: staring at her with lasers coming out of my eyes. (one of my better tricks.)
me: shoving a cheap heart at her. Now leave me alone.
bbw: I want a stem.
bbw: POKEMON wheres my stem? 
me: glaring at her from behind plastic black eyes, sweat, and yellow fur.
me: twisting a yellow sword.
bbw: looking at me warily.
me: pointing sword at her.
her running away screaming.
me chasing her around the top floor of a mcdonalds, tail in tow, fur in the breeze, yelling PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKA! 
PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKA!!! PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKAAAAH. 
everyone else: laughing their asses off.. 
I chase her around the top floor doing laps, she’s screaming, and I’m still trying to stab her.

• Please see the following ven diagram to understand the equation:

the moral: Who is the person inside the suit your fucking with? and where’s my tip?