[This is a parody that has not been sanctioned by Sesame Street, Children’s Television Workshop, or PBS]
Elmo struggled under the weight of the restraints. What had he done to get here? One moment, he was one his beloved Sesame Street, sipping some concoction offered up by Oscar; the next, he’d woken up, strapped to a brick wall by steel cuffs, his head buzzing from something that might’ve felt like a hangover, if he’d ever had one.
He should’ve known not to trust Oscar, but he was Elmo, and that meant trusting everyone on Sesame Street, even the smelly ones that lived in garbage cans.
But no more. Today, Elmo would learn who to trust.
And who to fear.
The door of the dungeon creaked open, and a tall, thin figure stood in the passage. Elmo squinted, trying to make out the features in the low light of the room, but could only make out a strangely familiar spherical head.
“Hello, Elmo,” the gravelly voice said.
Elmo shivered. Grover had been missing for a long time from Sesame Street, and he, like most of the Muppets, had assumed he was dead. But here he was…
“What do you want from me?” Elmo asked nervously.
Grover walked up to close to him, a vengeful fire dancing in his white plastic eyes. “I want to be loved by the children again.”
Elmo squirmed, letting out high-pitched whimpers as he tugged at the restraints. “Please… I didn’t do anything to you.”
Grover smiled a wide smile, but it didn’t comfort Elmo. “You did everything to me… you replaced me, and now it’s time for revenge.”
Elmo jumped as an electric shock passed through him. He looked down to see Grover pulling the cattle prod away. “Am I here…” he panted, trying to clear his head of the pain, “just for revenge?”
“No,” Grover said, shocking the little red beast again. “That’s why I’m here.” He laughed as Elmo let out a blood-curdling but impressively cute scream.
Elmo fought back the tears. “So why am I here?”
“That,” Grover said, moving the prod towards Elmo again, “is for the Master to tell you.”
Elmo screamed again, his arms taut against the restraints.
“Enough is it!” Elmo heard a strange voice say as his pain subsided. He tried to squint before realizing he didn’t have any eyelids to squint with.
Grover turned and looked at the squat green man who had entered the chamber. “Yes, Master.”
Elmo looks down at the newcomer and laughed. It was an old man – he looked almost a millenium old. How could he have any power?
“Fooled by My appearance do not be,” the Master said. “Strong I am, power have I that you cannot understand.”
The Master stretched His arm out to Elmo, and Elmo felt his throat constricting, and his lung being crushed.
The Master lowered His arm and Elmo could breath again.
“Please…” the red monster said demurely. “Why am I here?”
“Too cute are you,” the Master said derisively. “Disgust me do you. Always happy, always full of perky advice are you. Life know you not. Pain know you not. Here you are to learn about the pain of life.”
Elmo squirmed, not understanding in his heart why this old man did not to be his friend. He wanted to give the Master a hug and show him how wonderful life was, but his arms ached from the tension of the restraints.
The Master reached into His cloak and pulled out a knife. “His scrotum cut open,” He commanded Grover.
Grover hung his head, taking the knife. He whispered something that Elmo couldn’t hear.
“What?” the Master asked. “Hear you I could not!”
“He has no genitals, Sir,” Grover said apologetically. “He isn’t anatomically correct.”
The Master frowned and shook in anger, folding His long pointy ears flat against His head. “Somewhere cut him! Care I do not!”
Grover nodded and then looked at Elmo with a predatory gleam. Slowly, he cut along Elmo’s side. Elmo squirmed and whimpered, unable to blink away the tears as he felt his stuffing dribbling out the gaping hole.
“There,” the Master said, satisfied. “Good it is. Now wait will you, until we return.” His tenor changed as He shifted His attention to Grover. “Come with Me.”
Grover bowed his head and followed the Master out of the room.
Elmo waited for the door to shut before letting out a long wail of agony, feeling more stuffing fall out every time he fought against the restraints.
As the quiet set in, he listened for signs of life. He could see the light fading as night came on, and finally he spoke, calling out: “Please, is there anybody else here?”
The silence echoed for a long time before he could make out a response: “Yes, I’m here, but I don’t know how long I’ve been here… days, weeks, months.”
“I’m scared,” Elmo said, his voice quivering.
“You should be, but take heart, I’m here,” the voice said.
Elmo could tell the voice was coming from the next cell, and he sighed in slight relief. “Thank you.”
“And remember, when the pain gets to be too much, that I love you, and you love me, and we’re a happy family.”