My New Friend/Piñata: Remo

Remo is about as joyful as a Piñata can get.  That means not really joyful at all.
Sure, Piñatas put on the razzle-dazzle, but deep down, they're miserable.
I thought he fit surprisingly well in my knapsack, but he complained all the way home.

I tried to win Remo something out of the Candy Crane to cheer him up on our walk, but I
couldn't beat the machine.  "It's rigged," said Remo, "Just like everything else in life."

Rewind about a half hour.  There I am at the fruit stand in Corona, trying to choose the right Piñata for me.
This is where they mug it up, and try to get "adopted", like some kid in an orphanage.
This one who looks like Dale from Rescue Rangers seemed a bit drunk.

This pink goat was nice, but he hammed it up too much.  He was a phony.

This dragon-goat-bird almost had me but then he revealed that he was a huge soccer fan.
I don't wanna hang out with some sports-loving Piñata who probably would love nothing more
than to get busted open during the World Cup.  It's indecent.

So I picked Remo.  Rubbish James thought that he was modeled after Ernie from Sesame Street,
but I don't really see it.  

I was attracted to Remo's sense of color.  His stripes.  His foily bow-tie.

Purple shoes.  You gotta be feeling yourself to wear purple shoes.

I liked his hairdo too.  Remo doesn't try to hide anything.  He tells it like it is.  Sure he's balding a little,
but, like he says, "It doesn't matter.  Existence is all an illusion."  Heavy for a piñata, I know.  

"It's hard being a positive guy," says Remo.  "I mean, here I am, some cheap Piñata, I've been hanging
in some weird fruit stand for what seems like an eternity, my scalp is killing me, and it doesn't
seem like I'll ever get adopted. But then I think, do I really even want to be picked by some little
sap who desperately wants to beat me to death in celebration of his birthday?  Well, I'm a Piñata,
so I actually really do want to be the center of attention at the party, I wanna be
smashed open, and I want to have the kids ravage my guts and intestines.  To them, it's candy.
But to me, that's my heart and my lungs, and last night's pizza.  I don't really want to die, but
in a weird way I do, too. It's what I was made for. Life's messed up like that."