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Blues
Clues Uncovered
My
days of summer were narrowing down so I made of it what I
could. In other words, I made sure my mornings began at 1
p.m. and that it would last till 7 p.m. That gave me the
right to walk around in my pajamas until I had to put them
back on. Making me the reigning king of both efficiency
and laziness at the same time. Intense…
 Anyway, I was eating frosted Cheerios at 3 p.m. and
watching Nick Jr. When it had occurred to me…Somewhere
along the line…Nickelodeon had seamlessly slipped it by 3
million or so toddlers that Steve was no more. NO
QUESTIONS ASKED! It was like some sort of film splice
where no one can tell what the hell happened. Personally,
My world was flipped downside up and a new figure took
shape (as well as the household.)
How
could Blue just switch masters like that? It’s as if hell
had swallowed up one of the fundamental personalities on
this morning kids network programming and without further
inquiry, we are to welcome this new stranger into our
lives like a wretched, anonymous stepfather. This guy had
a generic name just like Steve and posed no threat. Joe
had stepped in and passively begged for acceptance at the
foot of a nation of youngsters. I was angered. With my
anger came curiosity. I wondered what had happed to my
beloved Steve and his silly faces. My quest had begun.
Like a
wolf I sniffed around for the foul odor of other dog’s
urine and feces…I mean Steve’s whereabouts!!!…. I sniffed
around for Steve’s whereabouts. Anyhow, I tried to think a
while. I wondered: Where would I be if I spent several
seasons on a kids show talking to inert household
objects…I ran to my local Loony Bin (a.k.a. – asylum for
the mentally deranged [a.k.a.- Stupid people place.] )
I
entered the sterile gray building. It reeked of used
syringes and idiots. Oh, the stench of idiot. It will
never leave my tongue. At any rate, just to have a little
fun, I fell to the floor and began shouting conspiracy
theories and spitting at the water fountain. The friendly
staff didn’t find my prank too amusing. After 4 hours of
convincing the resident physician that I was an
“investigative reporter” they let me off the hook. I spoke
to the person in charge of records and told me that there
was indeed a man by the name of Steve that was admitted
several months ago.
 Apparently, Steve Nugla-Me Quan (of the east African tribe
of Quan) had spent some time in there but was transferred
to a more extreme facility. They were not authorized to
give me his current residence so after another 4 hours of
giving hot oral sex to the 340 lb., Phillipino lady in the
records office, I was on my way to the Los Angeles,
California Institute for really really ridiculously F***ed
up people. I’m serious man; the sign actually said that.
It even had the little asterixes and stuff. This
institution held the most demented and unbalanced people
and being LA There were truckloads. I saw famous faces
like Tony Danza, Gary Coleman, Jean-Claude Van Damme, and
Roger Rabbit. Wash-ups of the industry. After endless
minutes of pointing and laughing at their dirty and soiled
careers, I wiped away a laughter tear and looked for that
man that had lit up my morning so many times. I stormed to
the front desk and pounded on the safety glass yelling in
Latin for Steve. After 4 hours of convincing the resident
physician that I was an “investigative reporter” they let
me off the hook. The staff led me to their most secure
chamber and I saw the horrors of what had happened to him.
His stretchy, happy, horse-like face had become now sad
and pale, yet still rather horse-like. In his padded
vault, he spoke into an imaginary camera and referred to
his bed and latrine as Mr. Beddie-bye and Mrs. Pee pee. A
single tear ran down my face. I had to face what was true
and I had to come to terms with the new face on blues
clues. My pain was felt especially on behalf of those
thousands of children who had this man plucked from their
lives. I can just see them crying on their living room
floors yelling at their television sets for their friend
to come back, hitting the walls with their juice cups;
just as I had that one day in late July...last year.
Pondering on this, I soon began to wonder what Joe’s flesh
would taste like if it were just torn from his aching
body. The juices of his liver bathing my tongue and
dancing on my tonsils with delicious delight. Eyeballs
smothered in lymph juice and his thick eyebrows tickling
my small intestine. I then realized that Anthony Hopkins
playing Hannibal Lector was in the adjacent cell and I
told him to shut the hell up!
I went
back home and back to my television set to turn it off. I
decided that I would wait no longer for my friend to
return. Kids were receiving Joe more and more by the
dozens and I had no more argument. Steve was gone. My
next plan of action was obvious. I was going over to that
cartoon house, wherever it is, knock on the pastel colored
door and kick Joe’s frikkin’ ass with my special hurting
device. It was a wooden plank with a nail through it. I
would then take Blue, Magenta, slippery soap, and the Salt
and Pepper family back to my place so I can solve all of
Blues clever elementary problems by ourselves. No studio
audience or nuthin’. Just me, Blue, my rented duplex, and
our thinking’ chair. Next week, we’ll play Blue’s Clues to
see what we spend our food stamps on.
P.S.
- In reality, no one really knows what happened to Steve
I think. I mean, I guess I could have researched it online
or something and given you a straight answer but I’d
honestly rather not waste my time. Rumors indicate he was
on heroin or something. Who cares? Really… not me.
The
entire staff at Splitplug.com would like to say thanks to
Steve for a truly trippy ass show. We salute you.
- Jethro |
