So we mentioned in our last post that Chuck the Duck got some body art to commemorate his first trip to The Rawk on Saturday. Chuck is wildly proud of his tattoos, and we’re sure you’re dying to see them in more detail.
His first tattoo is this one:
Yeah, you read that right — it’s Gel-O’s autograph! He sauntered up to us while we were milling about the Fire Lounge after the game (okay, maybe he sauntered across the Fire Lounge, and we intercepted him), and was unflappably game about being asked to autograph a small, homemade stuffed duck in a Devils sweater. His first comment was, “Is that a ping pong ball?”, and then even won us over a bit by remarking on the amount of work that had gone into making Chuck. While struggling with the none-too-easy task of signing a name as long as his on a small surface of wool felt, Gel-O regaled us with tales of the old Lucky Duck (he was auctioned off for charity, and raised a princely sum in the doing) and the real-life Chuck (apparently the Chuck the Duck film segments are done with local crews when the MSG team is on the road. It seems the local production guys are often a bit baffled by Chuck. Philistines). We were very impressed with the final result, though — Gel-O has great penmanship.
Chuck was so thrilled with the look of his tattoo that he quickly decided he needed an offsetting one on his other flank/tail region. So we waited for the crowds to clear, and handed him and the sharpie over to Chico.
Chico’s immediate, cheerful response was, “I’ve never signed a duck before!” (He had just posed with the Flat Stanley the woman behind us had introduced to Chuck during the second intermission, and we’re happy to report that when confronted with the little paper kid, Chico’s immediate, cheerful response was, “Oh! It’s one of those!” We wonder how many Flat Stanleys Chico has posed with over the years.) He then wondered whose autograph was already on Chuck, and honestly, Chico, Gel-O wrote it out in block letters. Just read it! Pookie was standing closest to Chico, and ended up basically being the one he was talking to, and she froze up completely; she had no idea what Gel-O’s real name was. The question was met with panicky silence. He asked again. Pookie’s mind was visibly racing. The moment grew long and awkward, while Boomer and Schnookie hung back, thinking, “Just don’t say ‘Gel-O’…” Finally Pookie managed to blurt out, “Uh, Steve?” That satisfied Chico. He tattooed Chuck, handed him back, tried to keep our pen, then gave that back. And just like that, Chuck’s time of hobnobbing with the rich and famous came to an end. The memories — and ink — will last a lifetime.