Elmo’s Gun

Elmo had seen things no Muppet should ever see. When he clawed his way back from the Suck—a place darker than the deepest alleys of Sesame Street—he found his world had changed. The bright colors were muted, the laughter was forced, and the smell of cookies had been replaced with the cold, clinical scent of control. Mr. Hooper’s government had taken over every street corner, every newsstand, every letter and number of the day.

Elmo didn’t have many choices. The Sesame Street Militia was the only group left fighting against Hooper’s iron grip. The Count led them, his mind sharp like a guillotine. He counted each injustice, each fallen comrade, each bullet left in their dwindling supply.

“One tyrant! Ah ah ah! Two corrupt laws! Ah ah ah!” The Count’s fangs gleamed as he loaded his rifle. “Three brave revolutionaries! Ah ah ah!”

Cookie Monster, once a simple creature with a simple love for cookies, had been radicalized. The rationing had taken everything from him. Cookies were contraband now, hoarded only by Hooper’s elite. The blue beast now wore a bandolier instead of a bib, his eyes wild with hunger and rage.

“Me no want revolution,” Cookie Monster growled. “Me need revolution.”

Elmo gripped his rifle, hands shaking. He used to sing about love, friendship, and the letter ‘E.’ Now, the only E that mattered was Escalation. The Second Amendment was their last hope, the only thing keeping the militia armed against the totalitarian regime of Mr. Hooper.

Elmo took a deep breath.

“This is the way the world ends,” he whispered. “Not with a laugh… but with a bang.”

Elmo Hate

Elmo is confused. Dr. Jordan Peterson, the Canadian psychologist known for his strong opinions on culture and responsibility, seems to have a grudge against him.

Elmo scratches his fuzzy red head. “Elmo just a little monster who loves everybody! Why Dr. Peterson so mad?”

Peterson adjusts his glasses and leans forward. “Listen, Elmo. You represent the infantilization of society. You’re a product of a culture that refuses to grow up. You’re all about feelings and giggles, but what about responsibility? What about order? You’re the manifestation of chaos, Elmo!”

Elmo blinks. “Elmo just wanted to share love and kindness.”

Peterson shakes his head. “It’s more than that, Elmo. You’re teaching kids that life is all sunshine and tickles. But life is suffering! Life is about standing up straight with your shoulders back!”

Elmo frowns. “But Mr. Peterson, Elmo teaches sharing and caring! That’s important too, right?”

Peterson sighs. “Sure, but there’s a balance. You can’t just giggle your way through the dominance hierarchy. At some point, you have to grow up, take responsibility, and clean your room.”

Elmo looks down, deep in thought. Then, his eyes light up. “Elmo gonna go clean his room right now!”

Peterson nods approvingly. “Good. That’s a start.”

The Suck

Elmo sits in a dimly lit VFW hall, nursing a cheap beer, his red fur matted and faded from years of desert dust and regret. He looks into the camera with those big googly eyes, but there’s no childlike wonder left in them. Just exhaustion.

“Elmo thought he was doing the right thing,” he says, his voice a little rougher now. “Elmo left Sesame Street to fight for freedom, but all Elmo found was The Suck.”

He shakes his head. “The chaplain kept saying, ‘This is the fall of Babylon, boys. We are fulfilling prophecy!’ But Elmo didn’t know what that meant. Elmo didn’t read Revelation 18. Elmo was just a dumb jarhead with an M16, marching through the sands, sweating bullets—literally and figuratively.”

Elmo stares at his drink. “Elmo didn’t know about the Bush Family. Elmo didn’t know about the New World Order. Elmo thought we were stopping the bad guys. But now Elmo knows…” He looks up, voice lowering. “The bad guys were the ones giving us orders.”

A long pause.

“Elmo should have stayed on Sesame Street.”

He finishes his beer.