The summer after I graduated from high school, I was the rat at Chuck E. Cheese pizza in Goodlettsville, TN.
My last day was Friday, August 13; the next day, I was to begin packing for college. I’d worked all afternoon in the gameroom and only had about 15 minutes left before I would end the chapter of my life involving ratsuits and pizza when Greg, the manager, asked me to suit up.
Me: “How come? I thought Joni was doing it today.”
Greg: “Well, I’d rather you go, because the pizzas are going to that group in the back there, and I’m afraid they might get rowdy. Their pizza is late, they’ve been drinking a lot of beer, and have been yelling a good bit. Steve will go with you.”
I looked towards the back of the restaurant. There were four or five large men, probably high 20’s or low 30’s, several half full and empty pitchers of beer, and at least 20 screaming kids at the tables around them.
Me: “Okay. I’ll be out in five minutes.” I was not happy about this assignment.
I went into the small room adjoining the kitchen, pulled on the legs and belly portion (held up by suspenders), slid on the top, and dropped on the furry rat head. Steve agreed to carry the pizzas, so I followed, danced around to the Chucky theme song, and patted kids on the head as I sashayed towards the back tables. The men started yelling at Steve about the pizza’s lateness. The kids jumped up and began grabbing my legs and tugging at my shirt as they screamed “Chucky….Chucky….Chucky! Gimme some pizza! Where my pizza at?”
Then, one of them reached his hand up under the rat head towards my neck.
Sidebar: I’ve had issues with having hands on or near my neck for years. It freaks me out.
Second Sidebar: Chuck E. Cheese forbids the wearer of the ratsuit to ever speak. It would scare kids horribly to hear a person’s voice–especially a male’s–to come from the lovable furry creature that is Chuck E. Cheese. At least, that’s what they told me during training.
I grabbed the kid’s hand, pulled it down to my waist, and squeezed it as hard as I could. He looked up into the rat’s mouth–my face–with tears in his little brown eyes and said, “You’re hurting me Chucky!”
I looked back at him and replied, “I know I am, you little bastard! Now keep your damned hands out my mask!”
The boy turned a petrified white, as did several other formerly black kids within a 10 foot radius of me. They screamed, cried, and sprinted back to their tables to wait on their pizza slices while I quickly made my exit, never to return to Chuck E. Cheese pizza again.
Are you sure all chucky’s aren’t supposed to talk, or just you? : )
Are you available for children’s parties?
kirsten, yep, it’s ALL chuckys. but, i’m sure the rule is even more stringently enforced now.
dorky dad, ABSOLUTELY!
You are the wind beneath my wings.
That story was beautiful.
I wish you would have done that to one of my kids so he’s never want to return putting me out years of misery.
That one never gets old.
i’m picturing you running out of there with the “uniform” on, being chased by an angry mob.
You know? That kid is grown now. Probably looking to exact revenge on the rat who held his wrist down to the “waist”.
However “waist” does sound less frightening than “penis”.
Dan, glad to hear it! I can’t say I’ve ever received such praise. It makes me want to find the nearest beaches.
Meg, I’m not sure that’s a good idea psychologically.
F’Head, Yes, you heard my account of that evening w/in minutes of its occurring. Score!
HBloom, I did run out and didn’t look back. I’m hoping the parents were too drunk to realize what happened to their kids.
FWeasel, you are sick and freaky.
Dude that’s awesome, totally what I would have done too. I worked at a summer camp back in the day and once snapped and told a 10 yr old camper that her teeth looked like Chicklets. Her mom wasn’t pleased with me.
Chuck E. Cheese is terrifying. My son likes going there, but anytime Chucky comes near him, he hides and screams. He is not afraid of blood, total strangers, getting hit by cars, or anything else…but chuck e cheese is pretty scary to him.
I like this story. Although I may have had a thing or two to say about the rat if he did that to my kids. But on the other hand, my children are semi-well behaved and wouldnt have been trying to cop a feel on the ol’ chuckster.
Acorn, I’m confident that kid’s teeth did, in fact, look just like chicklets.
Chelle, your son will never make it through exterminator school. Sorry.
Froggy, if only all parents were like you. Perhaps I would’ve foregone lawschool and stayed at Chuck E Cheese. Then we’d all be better off.
I love this story. How I wish I could’ve been there.
I never knew Chuck E. Cheese was a rat. I thought he was a . . . well, hmmm. I don’t know what I thought. A bunny?
JD at I Do Things
You just THINK it’s the end of ratsuits and pizza…
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Ahhh, how I love a story about the Rat. I married one, they never get old.
That’s flippin’ Awesome!
WeaselMomma’s last blog post..The Summer Zone
I read this to my husband..we laughed til we cried, even while we were sayin, “it’s gonna scar that kid forever!”
“you’re hurting me chucky!” hahahaha!