When Michelin let him go, Bibendum thought he would be fine. That lazy brother of his, Bonhomme, had been pestering him to take over his duties at the Quebec Winter Carnival for years, and the gig paid well. (Though Bibendum finally understand why Bonhomme wanted to be in the Caribbean in February.)
But the money had run out, and he hadn’t found any other work for nearly a year; he’d ended up crashing on his other brother’s couch. Eventually, even the Pillsbury Doughboy kicked him out on his ear.
“Your croissant sucks!” Bibendum had told him when he left, but it wasn’t true — they were delicious.
Then his agent had called with an idea: sumo wrestling.