FRANKLIN THE TURTLE MUST DIE

By Truth or Derrick

 

Franklin the Turtle, as far as this columnist is concerned, can stick his dumb little head in his shell and be kicked off a cliff.

 

Helping your community is always a good thing.

 

I recently had the pleasant experience of helping my community by pretending I was Franklin the Turtle at a local elementary school's Book Fair.

 

It all started when a woman from my church invited me to walk around as Franklin the Turtle and pat kids on the head and stuff at this Book Fair. I immediately accepted the invitation because, after much contemplation, and I realized that deep in my heart of hearts being a costumed man at a fair is something I've always longed to do.

 

So when the day of the fair arrived, the sun was shining brightly in the sky, its blaze sizzling the creatures that were not in the shade, but there was a slight breeze so the weather was nice. I went into the bathroom to put on the big, floppy turtle feet; the legs, torso and arms; the gloves; the 100-pound turtle shell; and finally, the head.

 

Everything from the neck of the costume down can best be described as extremely heavy, warm material. The neck up was a giant, green, furry fishbowl which I am sure had a vacuum inside to suck out any air needed for my brain to function. There was also one hole, out of which I was expected to see, which was covered with what looked like three different screens.

 

The first thing I noticed upon exiting the bathroom and entering the outside world was that I walked like a top-heavy idiot wearing these huge green feet.

 

The second thing I noticed was that I could not see anything except that which was directly in front of my eyes.

 

The third thing I noticed was that this fishbowl had absolutely no motivation to stay in place on my shoulders. Every time I struggled to make a step with those big green feet, Franklin's head bobbed wildly around. My arms were mostly there to hold my head on my shoulders.

 

To make matters worse, after walking around a couple of times, I came to the realization that no one cared I was there except a couple of middle-school-looking-aged girls who wanted to take a picture with me, Franklin the Turtle.

 

Why?

 

Honestly, what makes them want to document that they actually met Franklin the Turtle? Did they think that I was the real Franklin? Did they want to get "the hook-up" with one of those cute costume-wearing losers? Whatever the reason, they were the only attention I got for the beginning of the fair, so I took what I could get.

 

Suddenly, without warning, my body fully comprehended the heat I was putting it under, and retaliated by activating all the sweat glands above my neck. I reached my arm to my head to wipe my forehead.

 

Thud.

 

My arm hit the fishbowl head, and I realized that my head was protected by a fuzzy fishbowl, and could not be reached. I tried to pretend I was just imagining the intensely salty liquid rushing into my already allergy-puffed eyeballs, but my attempts at denial did nothing for my visibility, lucidity, or ability to walk straight.

 

There was something about how I now looked like a blind, drunk Franklin the Turtle, struggling in vain to keep my head on, that made the kids finally pay attention to me and want to go up and talk to me. Meanwhile, my mind was preoccupied with fantasies where I would throw off the woolly fishbowl, jump on it with my green fuzzy feet, chuck it against the wall and scream "YES! IT IS I, DERRICK CLEMENTS, WHO IS THE TRUE IDENTITY OF THE TURTLE!! FRANKLIN THE TURTLE IS DEAD!! YOU HEAR ME, LITTLE GIRL?? DEAD!!"

 

As the first few children came up, one of them wanted to know who I really was. I wanted to get him really close, hug him tight, and let him know who I really was. I was an incoherent reptile of wretchedness, and I was not about to be questioned by an insignificant demon of infancy!

As you can probably guess, my mind didn't work as well under these conditions.

 

I really shouldn't complain. Lots of "normal" people work as characters at amusement parks and walk around under the blazing sun, pretending to like the children that torment them every day.

 

Hey, at least they get paid for it.