They kidnapped me because they thought I would make a perfect mascot for their traveling motor sports show. I would be lying to say I wasn’t a little bit flattered. I’ve always had at least one paw in show business. Hell, when I was in college I took a bit part I’m not very proud of in a Stanley Kubrick horror flick where I gave a butler a blow job.
Anyway, I spent the better part of a month with these guys. Things got off to a rough start, however. We pulled into a Wendy’s, and I was feelin’ some Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers™, like maybe 400 of them. I don’t speak any English, and they didn’t understand Bear, so I ended up with 3 Fish Sandwiches™.
On top of that, everyone in the parking lot was taking my photo. And then half of the Wendy’s staff came out to get pictures with me, Abu Ghraib style. There I was, sitting naked in a cage, with this uniformed nincompoop grinning for a picture. I hope Dave Thomas’s ghost court-martials him.
