You know how kids are better than you? They dream big. You cannot tell this kid that he won’t be a firetruck when he grows up, or that kid she can’t marry Simba from The Lion King.
I had a lot of seemingly impossible goals as a mini Cheekster, but one major thing that sticks out to me was…
ONE DAY APPEARING ON THE BOZO SHOW.
How’d that turn out, you ask? Or even if you don’t ask?
One word: FAIL.
I never got to be on the show. Talk about a dream deferred… or um, deadened (seeing as how the show was canceled).
Ok, backupbackupbackup. For those who don’t know that young Bozo Show (look at me rhyming!), it was children’s programming featuring comedy sketches, games, and other miscellaneous fun times. And it was taped in the Chi! If ya don’t know, now ya know.
Man, I can’t even explain how much glee and anticipation I had when I turned on WGN to see this show. I wanted to sit in the audience* and be near Bozo’s affable essence. I wanted to taste the pies that constantly got slapped in someone’s face (even though I’m pretty sure these joints were made of shaving cream). I wanted to be in the Grand March at the end of show while Bozo twirled his fabulous baton.
But, what I wanted more than anything? More than life itself?**
To be on the “Grand Prize Game.” Woooo, chile. I just knew this was my destiny. So, basically, the whole premise is that a random number generator picks a kid from the audience and they get onstage to play the best game in the history of Old Maid. The aim of the game is to toss a ping-pong ball into 10 buckets, each bucket in a line with the next bucket being a little further from the previous one. Or this for you visual learners. Yes, I dropped two different types of education. #NoPincherLeftBehind
Other than possibly having the best “Show and Tell” presentation in my entire school for being on TV, I had my eyes on the grand prize (the name was apt, eh?): a crisp 100 dollar bill.
Yes, the inclusion of “crisp” is important. Because that’s how they sold it. Like that joint came straight from the U.S. Department of Treasury. And, of course, that aspect made it all the more appealing to me. But, aside from that… 100 bucks, yo! Any kid would think they’d be ballin‘ on Jim Jones levels with a Benjamin. I swore I was gonna use my winnings on a trip to Disney World, a super computer, those really expensive Barbies in the glass case I could never get, and buy Grandma and Mama Cheeks a little something with whatever was left over.
But, nooooooo, I didn’t even get to sit in the audience, let alone become lucky enough to have my number called to play the game. Thinking about it, though, it’s probably good I never saw the show live. Because if my number hadn’t gotten picked? I probably woulda been heckling the kid that did get picked by coughing loudly when they threw the ball and/or laughing when they missed the first bucket (even at the really young toddler-sized kids that got a pity second-chance when they missed the first bucket. yup, I was an asshole even as a kid. *sweet smile*).
*sniff* I’m still hurt about this, as you can tell. In fact, I’m ten trillion percent positive that this one thing not happening is the reason why I’m not married right nah.
Pinchers, do you remember The Bozo Show? If so, did you also long to play the Grand Prize Game on TV? Did you get that chance? If so, get off my blog because I will hate on you so fiercely can I rub you for good luck?
Love ya like Hugh Jackman loves showtunes,