Gritty reboot of Sesame Street

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Koishi Komeiji

*Bad guys are doing drug things in a dark warehouse*

The Count: ahh! ahh! ahh!

Bad guy: Wha? Who's there's?

Other bad guy (pointing): It's da count!

* A hail of bullets hits all the bad guys except one who ducked. The last bad guy reaches for a gun someone dropped but right before he can reach it the Count is suddenly there pointing a gun at him.*

The Count: I know vat you are thinking. Did he fire one two three four five shots or one two three four five six shots? Even the Count loses Count sometimes! ahh! ahh! ahh! But this is a forty four caliber magnum that's four tens and four ones, so, do you feel lucky punk?

# ? Jan 3, 2018 01:47

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# ? Apr 25, 2024 17:50

Koishi Komeiji

*Sesame Street is buzzing with activity, lot of muppets and humans doing gritty things, enter Big Bird slowly walking down the street*

Everyone all at once: "Big Bird comin." "Yo Big Bird comin ya'll." Grab your stuff Big Bird comin"

*Sesame Street is suddenly completely empty and quiet.*

Big Bird (knocking on a door): Snuffy, todays lesson is manners. When someone knocks on the door it's polite to answer. (long pause) If you don't learn it today Big Bird will come the next day and the next day and the day after that.

*Aloysius Snuffleupagus slowly and sheepishly opens the door*

Aloysius Snuffleupagus: H-Hiya Bird.

# ? Jan 3, 2018 02:07

Pot Smoke Phoenix: Smoke 'em if you gottem!

L.L. Kool Mo don�t be takin� no tickles from NO ONE, son!

https://i.imgur.com/QKTkerO.mp4
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# ? Jan 3, 2018 02:33

cda: by Hand Knit

A hearty thank you to anyone who can link the thread this gem was from:

misty mountaintop posted:

Oscar sat down on the stoop, looked out blankly at The Street, lit the joint, inhaled. A little after noon on a Thursday, out in public with a J in his hand, he might have been wary, but he wasn�t. He had grown up on The Street, knew its rhythms, the systole/diastole of its people, its traffic. 5-0 never rolled down The Street.

Three blocks north, now that was the ghetto. The ghetto ghetto. The cops couldn�t get in there fast enough. Couldn�t get out of there fast enough either � come in hard on the heels of another burglary, another mugging, another murder, and then before they�d even got the chalk all the way around the body, a new call would come in and they�d scatter to their cars and zoom away.

But that was three blocks north, not The Street. The Street wasn�t exciting enough for cops.

Oscar took another hit. Beneath his legs, behind him, he could almost feel the brownstone breathe. Inhale: hot summer air, garbage stink, gasoline. Exhale: a floating conversation, a sharp laugh, sweet grease, baseball play-by-play. F�lix Mill�n rounds first on his way to second. The throw comes in and�he�s safe! The cheers of the crowd. Inhale: weed tang at the back of his throat. Exhale: smoke into the clear blue sky, a lazy, unsuccessful attempt at rings.

Grover was late. Cookie, too, but you expected Cookie to be late. Grover, though, that cat was punctual. Except today.

Oscar considered heading to Hooper�s bodega for a Yoo-Hoo but decided against it. Better to just wait and watch.

Under the heavy August haze, inside the bright green fuzz of his high, The Street seemed to move syrup-slow, like a snake coiling itself for sleep. On the other side of The Street, kids had opened a fire hydrant. They danced in the spray. Scraps of water flashed off of them at all angles: shapes like spun glass, rough diamonds. Oscar had woken up in a bad mood, but now the sunny day was chasing his clouds away. He hummed a little, a thing he liked to do when he was in a good place, improvising the lyrics as he went:

Oh these are the people in your neighborhood
In your neighborhood,
In your neighborhood,
Oh these are the people in your neighborhood
The people that you meet each day.

�What up Oscar?� It was Cookie. He flopped his rail-thin body on the stoop next to Oscar and gave him a familiar fist bump. �Sorry me late. Mom said me had to watch Telly till she get back.�

Nobody knew Cookie�s real name. Scratch that. They knew his real name: it was Cookie. So far as the inhabitants of The Street were concerned, he�d been Cookie since day one. Nobody knew where that weird-shaped head of his came from either. Prairie Dawn said it looked sort of Chinese and Cookie probably had some Chinese blood back up in his mother�s side. For a whole year in Middle School she�d called him Fortune Cookie until one day he snapped and tried to fight her. Oscar had to hold him back. That afternoon, Grover went to have a talk with her. Oscar didn�t know what Grover said, but she was nice to Cookie after that.

Oscar himself suspected that the head thing had something to do with Cookie�s brain. Cookie had a lot of half-baked ideas up in there. Sometimes the ideas were trouble, sometimes just funny as hell. Cookie was none too bright, but he was a good friend. He�d always had Oscar�s back.

Oscar held the last third of the joint out to Cookie and nodded like, go ahead brother, take a hit.

�Nah, man. You know that poo poo give me the munchies and me have nothing to eat.�

Oscar let it linger in front of Cookie and waved it back and forth like a hypnotist�s watch. He wiggled his eyebrows conspiratorially. He had thick, expressive brows.

�Alright.� Cookie took the joint and sucked in a huge hit that burnt it down to the roach.

�drat, Cook. Take it easy.�

Holding the smoke in, Cookie said, �That how me am. When me got it, me get it till it gone.� He blew the smoke out slowly through pursed lips, emphasizing how big the hit had been. �Where Grover?�

Oscar shrugged and leaned back against the steps. That was the question. That was always the question. They tried to play, him and Cookie, like they were something without him, like if Grover didn�t come, they�d find something to do, find a way to make the day worthwhile. It just wasn�t true. Without Grover they were just two idiots sitting on the stoop, blazing their youth away until�until what? Oscar had no loving clue.

Grover was the best of them. He was smarter than Oscar, more loyal even than Cookie. For Oscar, The Street was a place to look across, to observe, to live in, but for Grover, it was first stop on a way out. Everybody knew that. Oscar couldn�t figure out why he wasn�t gone already. Any opportunity out there, Grover could take it.

He�d heard The Count was looking for a couple of guys to run some corners. Grover could do that in a heartbeat, work his way up. poo poo, Oscar was thinking about it himself and Oscar was only just clever enough to know he was a dumb motherfucker. That was the problem. There was a saying on The Street: �You gently caress up the count, The Count gonna gently caress you up.� Oscar knew he wouldn�t be able to keep it all straight. He dreamed too much. Got too fuzzy. But Grover knew how to stay sharp.

Oscar�s thoughts were interrupted by someone saying �Excuse me.� Oscar looked up and saw Earnest standing in front of them, waiting for Cookie and him to move out of the way so he could go up the steps and into his apartment.

Earnest was one of the only white guys on The Street. A recent, weird addition. Why the young seminarian had thought The Street would be the place for him, Oscar couldn�t understand. He didn�t talk to most people. Looked ridiculous in his clerical shirt and collar. Mostly, he just seemed to be waiting for someone to say something to him. He had a way of looking at people like he knew something was up. It made Oscar want to punch him.

A lot of things he did made Oscar want to punch him. When he�d first met Earnest, Oscar had thought he would be murdered within a week. Everything he did seemed calculated to give offense. But after observing him, Oscar started to realize that the dude was just seriously inattentive. It was like he had been holding his breath since he was born and most of his energy was being spent just stopping himself from taking that first breath.

This �excuse me� junk was typical. Oscar and Cookie were only taking up half the stoop. Earnest could have just walked around them. The two friends looked at each other meaningfully and scooted the absolute bare minimum to allow Earnest to pass between them.

�Thank you,� the seminarian said, a little too happily, as he went up into the building.

�That guy a human being.� Cookie said when the front door closed.

�He�s all right. He�s a pain in the rear end but I don�t think he can help himself. Don�t give him trouble, ok?� Oscar wished they had some more weed. And he really wished Grover would finally hurry up and get here.

�No, Me mean he a real human being. For real.� Cookie slapped the stoop. �He a fag human being.�

�Man, Cook, how do you know?�

Cookie shrugged. �Me just know.�

�Well what, did you suck his dick, huh? Is that how you know? I bet you did.�

Cookie got up and pushed Oscar, not too hard, but hard enough. �What you trying to say.�

�Nothing. Don�t worry about it. I was just loving ar-.�

Oscar couldn�t exactly remember the last time he�d actually seen police on The Street, but all of a sudden, they were there, fast and loud. Three cars blaring. Some of the hydrant kids just barely had a chance to get out of the way. They came screaming down The Street and were gone, leaving behind only the sound of the sirens, growing a bit more distant now but filling the space from all sides like a cloud that wouldn�t lift.

�What do you think that�s about?� Oscar asked.

�Me not know,� Cookie said, �Some poor motherfucker is gonna get it, though. Someone going to have some big problems.�

�Yeah. At least it�s not us.�

What Oscar didn�t know yet, but was just about to find out, was that it was them. The sirens were beckoning, calling them out of their safety, drawing them on past their daydreams, out into the world and into adulthood, heartbreak, loss, the disappearance and return of everything they�d ever known.

Away from The Street, back to The Street, always The Street.

Three blocks north, Grover lay handcuffed and unconscious in the back of a police van.

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# ? Jan 3, 2018 02:56

The X-man cometh

Oscar, withdrawn from the world in his can, taking notes and smoking cigarettes.

"These days are always cloudy and gray, and there ain't no sunny skies coming to sweep them away."

# ? Jan 3, 2018 02:58

Kthulhu5000: by R. Guyovich

Off in a side alley...

Benny Rabbit: You got some money or not?

Telly Monster: Come on, man. You know I'm a little short. Hook me up, man.

Benny Rabbit: Muppet, hook you up? gently caress outta here.

Telly Monster: Man, I got these cheeseburgers. They some double cheeseburgers.

Benny Rabbit: Muppet, I just ate. I just ate. If you ain't got no money, you just assed out.

Telly Monster: [as Benny Rabbit was leaving] Come on, man. I'll suck your dick, man.

Benny Rabbit: The gently caress you just said?

Telly Monster: I said I'll suck your dick, man. Come on now.

Benny Rabbit: [shoots Telly Monster] Suck on that, you bitch-rear end trick.

[to Herry Monster]

Benny Rabbit: Anybody want a hamburger?

Herry Monster: I don't want no motherfucking hamburger.

Benny Rabbit: I got it from that basehead muppet.

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This thread brought to you by a tremendous dickhead!

# ? Jan 3, 2018 03:04

alnilam

cda posted:

A hearty thank you to anyone who can link the thread this gem was from:

that was a great thread, as is this one, sorry though i don't know where the old one is

# ? Jan 3, 2018 03:41

Dungeon Ecology

grover leans up against a lamppost and takes a drag off his cigarette. somewhere in the distance a police siren wails

# ? Jan 3, 2018 03:42

Starman Super DX: This title text is surprisingly sturdy.

Does anyone else remember that old, old, incredibly old rear end .wav (I think it probably was) that was supposed to be the sesame street gang getting high?

It was the brother prehistoric internet audio meme to "South Park meets Starcraft"

Tell me more!
btw ty Birdcon for the sweet spring sig

# ? Jan 3, 2018 03:43

alnilam

The X-man cometh posted:

Oscar, withdrawn from the world in his can, taking notes and smoking cigarettes.

"These days are always cloudy and gray, and there ain't no sunny skies coming to sweep them away."

I'm lookin for a place called Sesame Street. Funny thing is, nobody seems to wanna tell me where it is. *Tosses cig away, suddenly turns violent and grabs grover by collar* how bout you, kid? Does this look funny to you, HUH? Tell me how to get there!!

# ? Jan 3, 2018 03:45

alnilam

Detective shakes his head. "Another day, another letter, eh Donny?" On the ground is a chalk outline of a B

# ? Jan 3, 2018 03:47

Dungeon Ecology

Starman Super DX posted:

Does anyone else remember that old, old, incredibly old rear end .wav (I think it probably was) that was supposed to be the sesame street gang getting high?

It was the brother prehistoric internet audio meme to "South Park meets Starcraft"

did u just say 'Kramit?'

# ? Jan 3, 2018 03:53

Pot Smoke Phoenix: Smoke 'em if you gottem!

cda posted:

A hearty thank you to anyone who can link the thread this gem was from:

Never mind, it�s my own quote, I think it was gold mined and no longer linkable

Pot Smoke Phoenix fucked around with this message at 04:04 on Jan 3, 2018

https://i.imgur.com/QKTkerO.mp4
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Sig File protected by SigLock. do NOT steal this sig!

# ? Jan 3, 2018 04:01

Dads Dip Cup

the disgruntled regular at the restauraunt where Grover waits tables part-time has donned a suicide vest and taken the other patrons hostage! can Grover meet his demands for a cheeseburger with 1 patty, 2 slices of cheese, and 3 slices of tomato to avert disaster?

# ? Jan 3, 2018 04:41

Macnult

Koishi Komeiji posted:

*Sesame Street is buzzing with activity, lot of muppets and humans doing gritty things, enter Big Bird slowly walking down the street*

Everyone all at once: "Big Bird comin." "Yo Big Bird comin ya'll." Grab your stuff Big Bird comin"

*Sesame Street is suddenly completely empty and quiet.*

Big Bird (knocking on a door): Snuffy, todays lesson is manners. When someone knocks on the door it's polite to answer. (long pause) If you don't learn it today Big Bird will come the next day and the next day and the day after that.

*Aloysius Snuffleupagus slowly and sheepishly opens the door*

Aloysius Snuffleupagus: H-Hiya Bird.

# ? Jan 3, 2018 05:21

The X-man cometh

Dads Dip Cup posted:

the disgruntled regular at the restauraunt where Grover waits tables part-time has donned a suicide vest and taken the other patrons hostage! can Grover meet his demands for a cheeseburger with 1 patty, 2 slices of cheese, and 3 slices of tomato to avert disaster?

# ? Jan 3, 2018 06:27

Macnult

Ernie: "So I uh, don't see what the issue is here if you really are innocent."

Suspect: "I'm not saying poo poo, I haven't done poo poo, I wanna speak to my lawyer."

Ernie: "You're being pretty difficult, y'know. I don't think I can do this alone."

[Ernie calls in Bert]

Suspect: *pffft* "The 'good cop bad cop' routine? Seriously?"

Ernie: "Uh oh... I uh, I dunno if you wanna call it that. Bert's sensitive about being typeca-"

Bert: *kicks chair aside and slams his fist on the table* "Think you're the first person to try and play that game?"

Suspect: "I... I'm just sayin' that I think it's pr-"

Bert: "What I am just sayin' is you're a weak poo poo-talking punk rear end bitch who better fess the gently caress up about what really happened at 123rd East this morning."

Ernie: "Hey Bert."

[Bert eases up]

Bert: "Hey Ern."

Ernie: "I was wondering if maybe we should go easy on this guy, maybe not interr-"

Suspect: "Finally someone's being reasonab-"

[Bert slaps the Suspect]

Bert: "You deaf? Did you not hear my partner just now about interruptions?"

Suspect: *spits* "Whatever, man. I want my loving lawyer. Angry fuckin' Jim Hanson lookin' rear end."

[Bert's eyes turn grim]

Ernie: "Uh oh... Um, Bert?"

Bert: "Ernie..."

Ernie: "Hey Bert."

Bert: "Lock the door."

Suspect: "What now?"

Ernie: "I'm sure he didn't mean it, Bert. Besides, a lot of people still think y-"

Bert: "Do. It. Now."

[Ernie locks the door. Outside the interrogation room, everyone is going about their usual business.]

# ? Jan 3, 2018 06:39

Jedrick: There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. Some kind of high-powered mutant never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.
Smoke weed every day.

Okay, but what if the puppets were black and sold drugs??

# ? Jan 3, 2018 09:44

Farecoal: There he go

cda posted:

A hearty thank you to anyone who can link the thread this gem was from:

I hate this because I want more

# ? Jan 3, 2018 18:27

Kthulhu5000: by R. Guyovich

Hoots the Owl plays a slow, subdued saxophone number as New York City neon reflects off the black hood of a police cruiser. Police detective Bert pilots it down the gritty streets of a new Sodom, stone-faced, intent, serious. Always the butt of a joke, but no one can say they've seen or heard him tell one.

The cruiser silently glides past dive bars, past adult bookstores, past the brazenly junk-dealing Gonzos right outside of Hooper's Market, the junk-buying and trick-seeking Prairie Dawns on the corners, well-known vagrant Oscar the Grouch sleeping by some newspaper vending machines. He's not in his can, it's long gone, but there is a shiny, fresh syringe poking out of his neck.

Bert keeps on driving to his destination. The light at the intersection down the block goes yellow, red. Cross traffic immediately begins to move long before he reaches it. He slows the cruiser to stop, sharply exhales in exasperation. Normally, he'd be making an immediate turn or slowing and then gunning it through the intersection, no matter the light color.

On the corner, he hears unintelligible rambling. Animal is on the corner, his pants down at his ankles, having a psychotic episode. Been a lot of those, ever since President Eagle approved funding cuts for mental health treatment. Bert knows the new department guidelines, that he can only carry his service-approved revolver and shouldn't immediately treat the mentally ill as violent. But old habits die hard, especially when they've been hardboiled into one's soul by years of working on edge at the edge of society. Bert reaches inside the flap of his trenchcoat, feels for the inner pocket, raps his four yellow fingers around the grip of the snubnose .38 that he's not supposed to have, the one he "confiscated" from an Electric Mayhem MC member. Just in case.

The light changes to green. Animal has been rambling to the sky through all of this. Bert relaxes, decides he's crazy but harmless, and puts his hand back on the wheel. After a few minutes, he pulls up to the Fix-It Shop, illuminated in red and blue, green and purple, orange and yellow light from the lightbars on the police vehicles that have already arrived. Bert gets out, walks up to police officer Ernie (holding a beat-up looking pump-action shotgun), asks for the site report. The Fix-It Shop's owners, Luis and Maria, are standing outside of their business. Luis is looking up at the sky, as if he's looking for something a thousand yards away, while hugging a distraught Maria close.

Turns out the shotgun is Luis'. It was recently fired (Bert notes the yellow, numerical photo markers behind a cordon of police tape in front of the shop, designating the location of ejected shotgun shells) in an act of self-defense against an armed robber. Luis thinks his shots made contact two, three times. He claims he was just trying to graze and wing the robber. Bert walks into the cordon, goes down the street a bit, and sees a smear of blood on the pavement, leading into an alley. He sees a collapsed muppet body, laying in front of a pile of crack pipes, syringes, whiskey bottles, used condoms, adult magazines, and handgun ammunition casings of various calibers. Bert takes out his flashlight, flicks it on, and walks in to the alley.

Shining the light at the body's upper area, Bert sees that it's Elmo. He lets out another exasperated sigh. Emotional exhaustion, another day, another dead kid. Breaking department protocol some more, Bert pulls a flask of Figgy Fizz from his coat and takes a pull. Swallowing it down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to steel his nerves, he shines his flashlight on more of the body. He almost throws up; Elmo's midsection is just a gooey mess of stuffing, blood, the weird neon green of muppet meat.

Bert's tough. He's seen some truly heinous stuff. But this time, his mind can't help but think of the smear on the sidewalk that he followed into the alleyway. This kid, Elmo, it wasn't quick for him. Bert can't help but think of him crawling on his hands and knees to die in the discarded refuse that accumulates in the societal underbelly, mindlessly clinging to life when he had to know, had to literally feel as his muppet guts were spilling out of him, that it was impossible.

Every so often, this kind of feeling happens. Things get to Bert. He takes another pull of Figgy Fizz, swallows his nausea down with it, gets back to work. He leaves the alley, jots down the some notes, and directs an arriving ambulance to the body. He signs off on its removal by the EMTs, hears them curse as they shoo away the pigeons that have been congregating to peck on the body. It's only been forty-five minutes since the call came in, since Elmo's armed robbery and subsequent death, and the sky rats are coming down in force to feast. Seems like they're always getting faster and more furious at it, as the years go by.

He gets in the car, looks at his notes, makes a few edits. The police radio squawks at him; he's needed at the scene of the latest kill by this inane serial killer, one "Helly Telly". Bert puts away his notepad, buckles up, starts the car. He reaches into the center of the cruiser's front bench seat seat, takes out some cigarettes, and puts one in his mouth. Lighting it with the Zippo he had bought at the Da Nang PX back in the day, he thinks "Screw the kids. Screw being a role model. It doesn't do any good."

And then he pulls out, his lights flashing a rainbow of color off the darkened fronts of closed shops and burnt building, as he speeds to his next stop in this long-running, up-close tour of American hell.

Kthulhu5000 fucked around with this message at 22:42 on Jan 3, 2018

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# ? Jan 3, 2018 22:38

HUSKY DILF: aggressively chill

alnilam posted:

Detective shakes his head. "Another day, another letter, eh Donny?" On the ground is a chalk outline of a B

# ? Jan 4, 2018 04:10

cda: by Hand Knit

alnilam posted:

Detective shakes his head. "Another day, another letter, eh Donny?" On the ground is a chalk outline of a B

Lol

# ? Jan 4, 2018 12:40

Manifisto

cda posted:

A hearty thank you to anyone who can link the thread this gem was from:

https://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3790371&pagenumber=2&perpage=40#post464323020

ruthlessly gassed by fluffie

not that the thread was otherwise very memorable

ty nesamdoom!

# ? Jan 4, 2018 14:18

Twenty Four

Oscar the Grouch lives in a garbage can.

# ? Jan 4, 2018 16:47

Twenty Four

Cookie Monster but instead of cookies it's heroine.

# ? Jan 4, 2018 18:46

The X-man cometh

When Mr Hooper died, Big Bird learned to mourn.

And then Gordon and Luis taught him how to murder those corporate bastards who drove Mr Cooper's store out of business.

# ? Jan 5, 2018 19:10

Shifty gimbal: Hey you... I got something to tell ya

Starman Super DX posted:

Does anyone else remember that old, old, incredibly old rear end .wav (I think it probably was) that was supposed to be the sesame street gang getting high?

It was the brother prehistoric internet audio meme to "South Park meets Starcraft"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjZGssSyXg8

----------------
This thread brought to you by a tremendous dickhead!

# ? Jan 7, 2018 00:43

google THIS

Elmo: What do you think, Dorothy? Yeah, Elmo thinks so too! Now, let's ask a baby!

Doctor: We're sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Mo. Your son is lost in his own little world.

# ? Jan 8, 2018 21:57

Darkman Fanpage

yo you hear grover got shot?

# ? Jan 8, 2018 22:46

The X-man cometh

Groverhaus something something

# ? Jan 8, 2018 23:29

Kthulhu5000: by R. Guyovich

Big Bird and Bert are sitting in their cruiser in a Skid Row strip mall parking lot.

Big Bird: If we're gonna crack this drug case, we gotta start asking questions.

Bert: You think these druggies are going to have answers?

Big Bird: Only one way to find out.

The duo exit their cruiser and begin walking around to the back of the strip mall.

Big Bird (under his breath): Lotta trash on these streets...and I'm not talking about the drugs or shattered whiskey bottles.

The duo finds Oscar the Grouch in a dumpster, lethargically leaning over its rim.

Bert (approaching Oscar): Hey pal, you hungry? You got a minute?

Oscar the Grouch: I don't know anything, and I ain't got anything to say, cops. Why don't you just scram?

Big Bird: So who says we're asking about anything? We're just friendly neighborhood police detectives, you know? On patrol and looking out -

Oscar (interrupting Big Bird): Bullshit.

Big Bird suddenly grabs Oscar the Grouch's arms and pulls him out the dumpster. Oscar lands to the ground on his belly, but before he can react, Big Bird kneels, flips him over, and begins rifling through his fur. He finds a bag of pink crystals and a beaten-up syringe

Big Bird: Don't know anything? Got nothing to say? Huh? Where'd you get this poo poo?

Oscar (weakly): You can't do this. Just...just let me be.

Bert (nervously): Bird, let's just leave him alone.

Big Bird stands up. He looks down at Oscar, laying on the ground, panting. He pulls back one of his big orange feet and then slams it forward into Oscar's abdomen

Big Bird (in a psychotic rage): WHERE DID YOU GET THIS poo poo?

Bert (reaching out to restrain Big Bird from behind): Bird!

Oscar gurgles and moans. Bert is trying to hold onto to Big Bird, but he's outmatched. He is shaken off, and Big Bird delivers several more swift kicks onto Oscar.

Big Bird (yelling and pulling out his service pistol, aiming it at Oscar): Spill your loving guts, you junkie piece of poo poo! Who's supplying this garbage?

Oscar is holding himself tight in a fetal position, rocking left and right and letting out a soft, moaning sob.

Big Bird (becoming calm, speaking in a quiet voice): gently caress this prick.

He turns around and begins walking out of the alleyway, back to the parking lot. Bert, hesitant, stares back and forth at his retreating form and the pathetic, beaten Grouch on the ground. With a conflicted, distressed look on his face, he begins walking briskly to catch up with Big Bird. They get back into the cruiser, but don't start it. Bert stares straight ahead for a minute, while Big Bird buckles up and starts fumbling with the car keys.

Bert (in a neutral tone of voice): Is that what you meant about getting justice for Snuffy's death?

Big Bird (annoyed): Don't say poo poo to me about Snuffy. He was my partner, my friend - not yours.

Bert (in a prosecutorial tone): Do you think he'd be happy with you right now? Are you happy with yourself, right now?

Big Bird turns his head away, staring straight out of the windshield at the shutdown clothing consignment store they're parked in front of. He looks up at the roof of the cruiser's cab, a mulling expression on his face. After a moment, he looks back down and turns his head to face Bert's

Big Bird (coolly): Yeah. Yeah, I think so.

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This thread brought to you by a tremendous dickhead!

# ? Jan 9, 2018 04:33

Drink-Mix Man: You are an odd fellow, but I must say... you throw a swell shindig.

Hi, ho. Kermit the Frog here. *Pimp slaps a ho*

# ? Jan 11, 2018 19:27

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ? Apr 25, 2024 17:50

The X-man cometh

Sesame Street News Flash
We take you now to reporter Kermit the Frog

I'm Kermit the Frog and I'm investigating the deadly opioid addiction crisis ravaging our streets. And more importantly, why pharmaceutical lobbyists are pushing local government to make it worse.

This actual scene from 1970s NYC is actually pretty gritty for Sesame Street.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBDrSuKvfAM

# ? Jan 12, 2018 16:28

The Something Awful Forums > Main > BYOB: BYOB BYOB BOYB BBOY YOBB YBOB BBYO?? > Gritty reboot of Sesame Street