Life On The Roof; The Bluie Story

As has been widely reported by the media, the Blues' manimal mascot, whom we call Bluie The Giant Blue Rat, went up on the roof of the DrinkScotch Center on Friday, April 10th after the Blues clinched a playoff spot. He remained there until the Blues sold out their first playoff game, which occurred on April 15th.

What isn't widely reported is that the poor soul who lived inside that sweat-and-ass smelling costume kept a journal while he was in isolation. We present it here for your enjoyment.

April 10; 10:07 pm: Wooooo! Wooooo! Woooooo! Blues in the playoffs! I'm on the roof with my airhorn and the fans leaving the rink are all yelling and hooting and hollering. Lots of waves from the crowd for me too. Barely any finger-salutes this time.

Can't help but notice that they don't all seem to be going around front to buy playoff tickets, though. Still confident that we'll sell this thing out quickly and I can get off this roof within a few hours.

April 10; 11:45: I'm pretty sure everyone is gone. The door is definitely locked, I do know that. Also, it's getting cold and all I have to wear is this bear costume.

I should have brought something to drink.

Saturday, April 11; 2:30 am: I am freezing. Also, there's no bathroom up here. I've taken to peeing over the side, but we're gonna have a much bigger issue here in the next few hours if someone doesn't come check on me.

I should have brought my cellphone. Stupid no-pocketed bear costume.

April 11; 6:45 am: This is officially a terrible idea. I tried to find a spot that was out of the wind, but it's far from perfect. Plus, when the wind does come, it whistles when it enters through the mouth-hole. I can't sleep. I'm freezing. The no toilet thing is gonna come to a head here within a couple hours.

April 11; 12:30 pm: I've been trying to get someone's attention all morning with the airhorn and by waving my arms. Does anyone come downtown when it's not a weekday? I haven't seen a non-bum in hours.

I have, however, seen lots of bums' asses. If I'd known before how many people shit in that little park by the Metro station I would never have ever walked through there.

Speaking of shitting, I'm down one sock now.

April 11; 2:45pm: I thought I made a good call when I decided on the down-wind side to be the home of the new latrine, it doesn't seem to matter, smell-wise. This is definitely going to get worse before it gets better.

April 11; 6:30 pm: I'm friggin' starving. What the hell kind of half-baked idea was this? Isn't anyone in charge of checking on me? I haven't seen a homed-person all goddamn day! Is anyone even taking ticket orders?

What is going ON!?

April 11: 11:30 pm: Down two socks.

Sunday, April 12; 3:30 am: Tired. Hungry. Cold. Thirsty. Possibly beginning to hallucinate.

April 12; 5:45 am: Just slept for 13 minutes and 22 seconds. And then the smell of my own shit woke me up. I'm going crazy.

April 12; 8:45 am: My airhorn is dead. I hurled it at the bums. I missed.

April 12; Noon: Was there some sort of non-bum killing bomb that was dropped on this city? Where does everyone go during the weekends? Is anyone buying any fucking tickets? What is HAPPENING!?

April 12; 2:35 am: I am now down a t-shirt as well.

April 12; 6:30 pm: I have started a war with the bums. They may be fashioning some sort of device to scale the walls. I have a large amount of poo and I have gravity.

You wanna get nuts? Let's get nuts.

April 12; 11:55 am: I no longer need food or sleep. I am becoming my own god.

I am a vengeful god.

Monday, April 13; 9:30 am: Someone who claimed to work for an organization known as "The Blues" opened the unopenable portal. She paid with her life.

She was delicious.

April 14; 12:45 pm: The humans seem to be concerned about their missing person. Where was the concern for Bluiegod? You had your chance. Now none can save you.

April 14; 11:30 pm: The humans seem to be increasing their numbers and their efforts to get to me. There is much blood.

Also, poo bomb supplies running low.

Wednesday, April 15; 8:45 am: The end is soon. The numbers are too great, my poo bombs too few. I can hear them at the portal and there are helicopters in the sky and the streets are teeming with soldiers of the Army of St. Louis.

This war was not started by me, but it will be ended by me. This will be my final entry. My followers, make sure this battle is not in vain. Fight on as brother Kaczynski said in 'Ship of Fools': The ship will continue to sail north until it is smashed between two icebergs.