Decapitating Elmo

I was at a water park slash playboy mansion and didn’t really know anyone there. Somehow though, I made friends with this one guy, and over the course of the dream I came to trust him. He had a friendly face and a soothing voice and was just an average guy. Or so I thought.

At one point, he took me aside and explained to me that he was actually the lead killer of a cult that kills Sesame Street characters, and Elmo was the last on their list. I dunno, apparently Elmo was the baddest mofo of the bunch. Who’d’ve thought? Anyway, Elmo was at the party somewhere, and it was our mission to find and destroy him.

My nameless friend then persuaded me to nearly sever my head off my shoulders, as an initiation ritual to prove that I was true to the cult. I don’t know why I trusted this guy and fell for his evil ploy, but I did. So I actually sat there and allowed him to slice the back of my neck about two centimeters deep, from ear to ear. It wasn’t as pleasant as it sounds.

So I’m lying there, nearly decapitated, while he goes over the plan: I go look for Elmo, buy him a drink (which I will obviously poison with the date rape drug), and bring his unconscious body back to my friend. Together, we will tie him up, wait for him to wake up, and then torture him into giving us information and eventually decapitate him. Decapitation is the signature killing style of my new cult, in case you didn’t get that yet.

Off I went, in search of Elmo. On my way, I encountered many drunken naked people, and I went on a few water slides as well. But my time was running out, because with each step I took, I got weaker and weaker. I was losing so much blood from my neck that it filled the entire hood of my hoodie. Gross. But I had to continue.

After a ride that somewhat resembled Jumeirah Sceira, I rounded a corner and found Elmo, with a heroin needle still in his arm. He was on the verge of unconsciousness. But when he saw me and my neck, he flipped the fuck out. “What has he done to you? Don’t listen to anything he says, it’s all a trick! Get away from me! Run while you still can! Goooo!” Elmo’s voice already creeps me out, but when he’s tripping balls on heroin, it’s even creepier. So I ignored him, and gave him some laced water, which immediately made him pass out. I then schlepped his body all the way back to the base where my friend was waiting.

“Well done, I’m proud of you,” he said to me with an evil half-grin and a killer look in his eye, “Now help me carry him upstairs.” I could no longer stand on my own two feet though. So my friend ended up carrying me on one shoulder and Elmo on the other.

Just as we were about to enter the backdoor of the house, this old red Jeep Grand Cherokee pulls up in the driveway at the front of the house, and the driver does a double take and then immediately slams on the brakes and jumps out of the car, running in our direction. “Fuck, they found us!” my friend said, and quickened his pace up the patio stairs, through the door, and into a closet, which he then locked and bolted.

The dude from the Jeep caught up to us not long after, and started pounding on the door. “Open up, I know you’re in there!” No shit dude, who else would be in a locked closet? Anyway, I asked my friend why this random douschebag was after us, and he informed me that the guy was the dad of one of the little girls he killed a few weeks ago. Apparently, my friend sent a huge bag of poisoned German candy to a fourth grade class, killing everyone who ate a piece (which was, in fact, everyone). And now the dad is rightfully pissed.

“Ron Ron! Open up the door, it’s me, your beautiful princess Ten Ten!” my sister was saying from the other side of the door. “Come on, just unlock it and come out, you won’t get in trouble. Neither will Elmo. Only the bad guy who’s in there with you. Trust me!”

“Don’t trust her, you fool. That’s not really your sister!” my friend was telling me from inside the closet. “It’s a trap! Don’t open the door!” But I felt so bad, and I didn’t want Ten to think I didn’t trust her, so I opened the door. And it was a trap. My sister wasn’t there, it was the douschebag Jeep-driving dad of the dead girl, toting a huge ass rifle. “It’s payback, bitch.” he said in his normal tough-guy voice. And then he cocked the gun and I woke up.

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One Response to “Decapitating Elmo”

  1. bob?!? Says:

    wow…. waited for the new blog…………………………………….> amazing how the subconscience f*cking works! not too sure which is more interesting/fascinating the mind or the dream… taking into account the dream is based on the minds subconscience which in its self is a basis of normality and appreciationi in its self, if that makes sense…

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