I talked to the McElroys for 15 goddamn minutes and Griffin told my parrot to go fuck itself
Buckle up kiddos, this is a story for the ages
Last night, I went to the Chicago live show, and in short it was one of the best nights of my life. I laughed so hard I choked on my Fancy Theater Sprite™. Cosplayers frolicked amongst people in Shrimp Heaven T Shirts amongst people in their Sunday best.
Towards the end of the show, the boys traditionally asked for questions from the crowd, and immediately over 1000 hands shot up. I was up in the balcony, but I raised my hand anyways for kicks. No waving, no movement. My hand was a beakon, a goddamn lighthouse in the middle of a swarming see of desperate fans. Travis and I locked eyes. I felt my stomach drop.
“The person in the…purple hoodie?”
“You mean this?” I said as I stood and my crimson cosplay robe fell around my shoulders.
In a blur I made my way to the aisle as quickly as possible, people clapping me on the back and whispering “don’t mess up” all the while. My hands were shaking so bad that I couldn’t hold on to the railing as I climbed down three flights of stairs and walked down the aisle to the microphone.
And immediately caused someone to face plant into said microphone out of our combined clumsiness and panic (she was ok but boy shitting howdy do I feel bad). I waited for my turn slowly being consumed by blind terror. Everything I said was going to be forever embedded into podcast history for all of eternity. I Could Not Mess Up.
As they called me forward I mustered up every drop of comedic timing within me, every tactic of improv I could remember. I stepped up to the microphone. “So a little over a year ago, we bought a parrot, and it was, like, a cool pet…”
“yeah, AS OPPOSED TO THOSE SHITTY DOGS, RIGHT?” Griffin interjected. The crowd roared for what felt like years, until it was finally quiet enough for me to continue. Dead silence.
“Boys, now I have 7 parrots. Please help.”
In all my years, I will never forget the look on Griffin Andrew McElroy’s face as the realization hit him. It was like he was hit by a motherfucking monster truck, and the monster truck was being driven by my seven birds of the apocalypse.
For the next 15 minutes I talked to three of the coolest people alive as all four of us ragged on my 7 horrible, horrible birds. Highlights include:
“WHAT MADE YOU THINK, AFTER SIX GODDAMN BIRDS, THAT YOU NEEDED A SEVENTH?”
“YOU HAVE A FUCKING BIRD NAMED PIKACHU?”
“BIRD NUMBER 4 WAS LONELY?”
It was the best night of my entire life and I physically cannot wait until the episode comes out.
