Pistol Pete stares… Pistol Pete waits…
I am subject to sleep paralysis just about every night, and the sleep paralysis demon normally either presents itself as either Foghorn Leghorn or Brad Keselowski with the bat. But from time to time, I see the demon as one of the many mascots of my childhood collegiate athletics conference, the Big XII. Due to my years of experience with the demon, I feel like an effective authority on the subject, and I’ve come to determine which of these mascots is the most horrifying to see staring at me from the corner of my bedroom at 2:44 in the morning.
TIER VI – NOT SCARY
Baby Jay (Kansas) –
Baby Jay is an absolute angel. On the rare nights when Baby Jay manifests, it’s an absolute delight. My skin clears, my headaches go away, and I’m energized for the next day. Baby Jay is a lovely little bird and I will say no bad about her.
Boomer (Oklahoma) –
Boomer, which is the red Oklahoma mascot, is fine. He just chills and sits in my computer chair.
Hook ‘Em (Texas) –
Hook ‘Em, I’m sure, would love to be scary. He’d love to intimidate me to the point where I shit my pants during the sleep paralysis. But he’s a damn cow who wears a little hat. There has never, in the history of time, been a cow what wore a little hat that wasn’t the cutest little thing ever. You can’t put a hat on a cow and make him scary. This is Hook ‘Em’s curse, and he must live with it every time he’s in my bedroom at 4:22 AM.
TIER V – SCARY (A LITTLE BIT)
Sooner (Oklahoma) –
Sooner’s mostly fine, it’s the weird hands that get me. They shouldn’t be like that, and the fact that he stands with them up in the air, just kinda tingling the fingers like he’s trying to will a free throw into a basket.
Big Jay (Kansas) –
Big Jay and I are cool, only scary thing about Big Jay is the one time he came over to our section, took a french fry from one of my friends and put it inside the little slit between the bottom of his head and the rest of his body, and I remember that sometimes
Marigold (Baylor) –
I think it’s just that… y’know… Baptist Mom energy you get from Marigold that I don’t care for. She’s never done anything bad per se, other than spilling Dr. Pepper all over my carpet, but I get the sense that if I put too much of a lisp on a word I struggle to gasp out she’ll send me to conversion therapy camp
TIER IV – SCARIER
SuperFrog (TCU) –
There’s a wetness… like a dampness… which just like radiates from sleep paralysis SuperFrog that I really, really don’t care for. It’s an unpleasant and ultimately pretty scary situation whenever I see him.
Bruiser (Baylor) –
Bruiser whispers things in German. I don’t know what they are, but I can tell they’re of a vengeful nature. I picked up the phrases “R.J. Hunter” and “Blake Bortles” in there a few times.
Raider Red (TTU) –
My brain melded Raider Red and Yosemite Sam long, long ago. Raider Red stands in the corner, muttering phrases like ‘Dag-flabbit’ and ‘Consarnit’ while spinning the revolver. Spinning, spinning, spinning the revolver. Spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, and muttering.
III – HIGH OCTANE NIGHTMARE FUEL
Cy (Iowa State) –
BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. BIRD TEETH. Also the eyes are fucked up too?
II – LESS SCARY, MORE ‘SMELLING OF JACK DANIELS TENNESSEE FIRE AND TRYING TO CONVINCE ME THAT JFK IS STILL ALIVE’
The Mountaineer (WVU) –
Yeah, I just, like, don’t care to be around this one. The terror with sleep paralysis is the way that my body can’t make any sort of noise, really, and with other demons, I want to scream or cry out for help. But with him, I just can’t get him to stop. Normally I’d be like “yeah, bro, totally” or “huh, interesting, man” or “do you care if I stuff this lit Camel Crush between the cushions of your musty couch and go get a Mountain Dew” and it’ll get a guy like this to stop going on and on about the grassy knoll and the body doubles and the plot to frame Lee Harvey Oswald. But when I’m in sleep paralysis, he just keeps going, and going, and going, and I hate it, I honestly can’t deal with it.
I – AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, AAHHHAHAAAAAAAA, AAAAAAAAAAHHH, AAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAA (AAHAHHHHHH) –
AHHHHHH! WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK PISTOL PETE’S BACK AGAIN? HE’S BACK? HE’S STILL LIKE THAT? WITH THE BLACK EYES AND EVERYTHING? THE SCOWL, THE BEARD, THE FUCKED UP UNHOLY EYES? WHAT ABOUT THE STENCH? WHAT ABOUT THE DARK ENERGY THAT SURROUNDS HIM? WHAT ABOUT THE SCREAMS OF DEATH WHICH ONE FEELS BUT COULD NEVER POSSIBLY GIVE WHEN HE’S IN PRESENCE? WHY, PETE? WHY? WHY, PETE?
Willie (Kansas State) –
Willie makes me uncontrollably horny. It’s nice for a little bit but the sheets just get ruined, like beyond the point where washing will make a difference, I have to go buy new sheets the day after every time he appears, which is an annoyance. Categorizing what happens when Willie appears as a ‘nocturnal emission’ would be akin to calling the Exxon Valdez accident a ‘minor oil seepage’ or the Boston Molasses Incident a ‘confectioner’s truck springing a leak’. So, I guess I like seeing him, but my wallet doesn’t care for it.