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| Sir Purr watches ... and waits. |
Halfway down a dark hall in the bowels of Bank Of America Stadium, Charlotte, Panthers wide receiver Robby Anderson dawdles toward the exit.
The night has set in, and Anderson is the last to leave the facility.
Or is he?
A creaking sound startles the Panthers star. He turns. Looks ...
Nothing.
"Yo ... who's there?" he calls out.
Then quick footsteps.
A grunt.
Suddenly, the lights in the hallway flicker off. The green exit sign offers some light, so Anderson peers toward it desperately ... his focus is interrupted by a gravelly voice.
"Heard you called me a bear ..." the voice says.
"Huh?"
"Huh! Huh! You think a bear can move the way I do genius?"
"Wha...? Sir Purr ...?"
"Listen bub, you're new around here so I'm gonna cut you a break. But don't go around calling panthers 'bears', we don't take too kindly to that sort of thing."
"You gotta be kidding me ..."
"Shut-up! Nobody's kidding here! You think mascots are simply working for your amusement pal? I'm not just some anthropomorphized cat?! I have little mascot mouths to feed too, sweetheart. Trust me, this a tougher assignment than pussy-footing across a park. You try lugging this suit around in the sun, pretty boy."
"Okay, okay. Sorry. You looked like a bear from where I was sitting ..."
Suddenly a big furry arm wraps around Anderson's neck and yanks him backward off his feet.
"How about now? Do I look like a friggin bear now?"
"No!"
"No-what?"
"No ... Sir?"
"That's better. Now give me your keys."
"Huh?"
"Your keys ... hand 'em over, Shirley. I gotta a hot date downtown and my golf cart is in the shop "
"But ..."
"Next time you'll think twice about being a wise ass won't you ..."
Sir Purr digs into Anderson's pocket and takes his keys. He heads for the exit, leaving the stunned wideout on the ground, nervous and sweating.
"Here's some change." He tosses Anderson a few coins.
"The bus leaves across the street. See you at practice, princess."
He leaves. The door slams and the lights flicker back on.
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