Conversations With Elmo

elmo is a cat, he has 4 ears.


(We stopped outside of a pizza place. ELMO put the truck in park and slipped down from the seat. I quickly followed.)

ELMO: I haven’t eaten food in eleven days.

ME: I know for a fact that isn’t true.

ELMO: Incorrect. I have been fasting for eleven days as it says to in the bible that I have.

ME: You’re religious.

ELMO: Sometimes.

ME: You’re breaking your fast with pizza?

ELMO: “And verily did Jesus say, hand tossed deep dish thin crust and anal leakage-“

ME: I will wait in the car.

ELMO: “and neither shall you partake of the flesh of the emu, for the emu is in trangression with the meteroid Helen - the fierecest of all meteoroids and also Jesus’s possessive ex-girlfriend.”

(ELMO continued reciting to himself as he walked into the pizza place.)



(We had driven on some time in silence. The sun was setting. Elmo began to speak.)

Elmo: Whatchu thinking ‘bout?

Me: Nothing really.

Elmo: Now ask me what I am thinking ‘bout.

Me: What are you -

Elmo: Chocolate bars. Life. The farcial nature of the gods. Also thongs and the men who wear them.

Me: Do you know a lot of men who wear thongs?

Elmo: I knew a man who wore a thong…once.

Me: Do you want to talk more about that?

Elmo: No.

Me: Okay.

Elmo: His name was Juan Carlo and he first appeared to me in a dream. When we met in life on a steam ship approaching the Suez canal it was like my destiny had been realized.

Me: That’s really beautiful.

Elmo: Later in the aft-chamber he ripped the corset from my nubile form and boned me, boned me hard.


Elmo: That is a sextion of the erotica for sexually frustrated teens I am writing.

Me: Do you mean section?

Elmo: After he plundered my maidenhead, we both ate Kraft Singles.



(Once Jason calmed down, Elmo leaned back towards him.)

Elmo: Hold the wheel -

Me: I can’t drive -

Elmo: I ain’t asking you to, honkey!

(I held the wheel as requested, Elmo removed Jason’s wig-gag and began eating it, Jason kept crying.)

Elmo: Sometimes I think, that of all the cravings, the only things worse than a craving for the knowledge of what ants think about, is a craving that I get for the smack of wig hair on the roof of my mouth meat.

Me: That’s weird.

Elmo: Who asked you? You smell like a jizz-filled toaster strudel.

Jason: Whoa.

(Elmo stopped short and opened up the door and kick Jason out of the car.)

Elmo: Ain’t no one gonna talk to my boob-havin’ lady companion of letters that way! Get your ass over to 1-95 and find yourself a Roy Rogers!

Jason: I hate Roy Rogers!

Elmo: Dance with the womenfolk ain’t yours, and you summon a fate surrounded by descending shades of beige-ass contemplation, diet coke, and chicken fringers, hombre.

(We left Jason to consider his fate and drove off down the road.)

Me: Thank you for defending my honor, Elmo.

(He batted at a loose string dangling from the velvet padding on the roof.)

Elmo: Love’s a cold war, lady fair.

(After that, we drove in silence.)