Sheep do not understand the preoccupation with the Super Bowl. Why is it normally sane humans become caught up in this almost inhuman behavior over a football game? Bertha went to a game once, terrible experience. She won tickets from a radio call in program. The limmo picked us up, took us to the airport and away we went. Nobody warned us it was casual attire, so we were horribly overdressed. Then there were the unruly fans, one who spied Bertha in the lobby of the hotel.
It goes without saying, she was not amused. The beast wore green war paint over his body, did not have a stitch on, minus socks and shoes. terrible. It burned the eyes. The beast was all pumped up on booze and adrenaline and god knows what else. As Bertha made her way to the desk, the beast grabbed her from behind, spinning her around to face him. Bad move. Bertha gave him a swift hit in the clapper and sent the beast off wailing. Nobody grabs Bertha in body paint. It got worse, following that horror, the concierge proceeded to eye us. He had never seen sheep in drag before, much less trans gendered sheep. ” May I Help You?’ he asked in a condescending manner. Bertha showed him her tickets, passes and he was forced to give us the presidential suite. Up we went, the elevators crammed with more of these sports crazy fiends. Sounds of grunting and cursing could be heard throughout the ride. Puppy was frightened and held onto his produce. No telling what these guys were into.
Just as we arrived at the room, the bellman arrived with our bags. The dog entered first, hiding his prizes for nobody to find. We slammed the door, and looked at one another. What the hell was that in the elevator and why must men behave like grunting pigs? What makes you humans lose all forms of sanity? It is just football, not the end of the world, not the cure for cancer, proctology exams, just football.
We were hailed to appear in a booth to watch the game. Bertha was taking this chance to unwind, flaunt them, and let them breathe. Good move for the opposition, bad move for the favored team. Just as the game got under way, the giant camera festooned Good Year balloon focused in on us. Puppy was busy doing his thing with produce, Bertha was straddling a chair, bent in an odd position, nude, doing her toe hooves in bright pink. As she bent over, she spied the cameras staring at them and snarfed. The cameras zoomed in, catching all of us with our pants down. Just as the players were about to make a serious move, there was a collective ” What the Hell WAS That?’ heard around the stadium. The players stopped, stared, some cheered, and the ball went foul. Never in the history of a football game had the cameras captured anything like it. Some just stood there trying to figure out what the puppy was doing to that squash. Others were covering their kids eyes, while men just drooled. Bertha gave the middle hoof, and mooned them all. Coaches were beside themselves as there wasn’t anything in the play books about this, or what to do in such cases of a team losing focus over trans gendered sheep.
The opposition took advantage of this and chose to grab the ball, punting it over the line. Touch Down! We could not understand the dirty looks we were receiving. They were spying on us, not the other way around. Bertha made it her business to go down to the locker rooms to have a word with the team’s owner. Palpitations were visible as he spied her. Not wearing a stitch, but her toe polish and lipstick, she demanded to know what the cameras were doing in their booth? Had they no manners? Could sheep not just let their hair down, in peace without such a fuss being made at a public event? The owner just stammered. Then in came some players who gasped. “What is that?” one asked. Another looked at Bertha breathlessly and said he had never seen a woman like that before. She winked at him. As only Bertha could, she sashayed her behind out of the locker room back to her booth. “Call ME?” was heard in the distance. The owner gave the player a Gibbs, and told him to take a cold shower.
Football should not turn people into animals. We get it, you all like to get together, get drunk, tell lies, be back woods quarter backs, scarfing chips and nachos, wings. But why and how could one game turn people into fiends needing to see sheep letting them breathe? We admit some of us needed a wax, and to have our implants redone, but would you stare like that at us in a bar? If Twinkie and foodie named person du jour entered wearing toilet paper, would the result be the same? We sheep don’t think so. It has got to be the game.
Touch Down and May the Best Team Win!