Conversations With Elmo

elmo is a cat, he has 4 ears.



(When Elmo came out of the house, he was joined by three women who were the size of Gilbert Grape’s mom. They were speaking in a foreign language. I wondered what it was.)

Elmo: That’s tongues, bitch!

Me: Are you psychic?

Elmo: Among other things.

(Then, Elmo and the three enormous ladies did the dance from Waterfalls until the ladies got tired and went inside.)

Me: You forgot my lemonade.

Elmo: I forgot jack squat. The problem with you and all of your problems is that you’ve been coddled.

(He slapped me in the face.)

Me: Ouch!

Elmo: You feel that?

Me: Clearly I did!

(Elmo began beating his chest like a caveman and howling.)

Elmo: Look inside your furriest cavity and the truth you will find is that you never even needed that lemonade.

(Elmo helped me out of the hammock.)

Me: You’re strong.

Elmo: Yes and also I have an impressive center of gravity. I’m going to put my penis inside those puffy ladies, but then - we drive on, listening to Dee Snyder’s secret acid jazz project.

Me: Gross.



Elmo: I requested the artist include my swollen mammaries in this rendering. Sadly they did not oblige. 

Elmo: I requested the artist include my swollen mammaries in this rendering. Sadly they did not oblige. 


(I woke up covered in sweat, not pregnant and in a hammock that was gently swinging. I felt claws in my butt. It was Elmo, rocking me.)

Me: What the heck-meats, Elmo?! Am I not pregnant anymore?

Elmo: Quiet silly-butt, I am lullabye-ing you.

Me: But - you said I was full of your kittens? Before? In California?

Elmo: Yeah, you hallucinated pretty bad. We were doing peyote in the car with Owen Wilson before.

Me: I don’t remember that.

Elmo: On account of how I used the date rape drug on you first?

Me: Date rape drug?!

Elmo: Ha ha yeah, GHB! In your milkshake!

Me: This stamp on my hand - were we at a club?

Elmo: A strip club! Wings, son! ‘Member? Some nice well-fed lady named Tiffany kept mouth kissing you and I think you said you’d gay-mom adopt her son Duwayne.

Me: My head hurts.

Elmo: Yeah. You fell pretty deep down a K-hole when Owen Wilson and I were practicing our round-house kicks.

Me: My face and spine feel numb.

Elmo: You keep rocking in this hammock near my grandmother’s house. I’ll get lemonade.

Me: That’s. That’s decent of you.

Elmo: I’m pretty okay at times.