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                              SESAME ST. POSSESSION 

                                  by  Swamp Rat

                      >>> A CULT Publication......1988 <<<
                        -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-

        This story was written for a test in my senior (HS) English class.  I
hope you like it.  The teacher did....

        John was twelve years old.  It was summer vacation and John had been
enjoying his time, wallowing in boredom.  What better to do than sit on the
living room floor and watch the local PBS station on the family TV?  Ah, bliss.
After several hours of this, his eyes and mind began to glaze over as "Sesame
Street" eventually came on.  Little did he know the program was to be his
ultimate downfall into a new world of bizarre occult nightmares....

        After an extended period of watching fuzzy puppets with speech
impediments tell bad jokes to small, inarticulate minority children and
indigent senior citizens, a strange feeling came over John....  He began to
see visions in his head, visions he'd never seen before... visions of plump
puppets; impaling each other with forks, suffocating themselves with oven
mitts, and flying kites with large yellow birds.  Then, the image of a dozen
red ladybugs hopping around in a circle, counting, burned itself into his
brain.  John imagined himself to be a ladybug and began to circle around the
room on the plush carpet.  "...ten eleven twelve... and they all gathered
'round... at the ladybugs' picnic!"  The words screamed immutably from his lips 
along with bits of spittle in his excitement.  John was changing...

        Bubbling, John rushed to the kitchen, and with a histrionic voice began
beating with his tender young fists on the garbage can underneath the sink.
"Oscar!" he yelled, "Oscar!  The sun is the north!  The time is now!  Rise,
Oscar, rise!"  Mad with rage, he then lurched for his bedroom, grabbing a large
knife from a counter-top rack on his way out.

        "Die!  Die, you pagan bastard!"  The words exploded with passion and
shook his once-peaceful room.  John incessantly began to stab his Fred
Flintstone Bop Bag with the blade of gleaming stainless steel.  "Die die die!"
... his screams continued to ejaculate from his furious mouth as the cheery
yellow inflatable toy became a sullen pile of deflated, insane hatred on the
floor.  John grinned....

        Impervious to rational thought, John was now a slave to Oscar the
Grouch.  Climbing on the bed, John projectile-vomited his Oatsy-Toatsy-
Spiffy-Puff Cereal(tm) on the wall for good measure, which glistened upon the
glossy wallpaper as it flowed to the floor.   Satisfaction would be his.
Laughing hysterically, he dashed to the garage where he rummaged among the bits
of miscellaneous trash until he found it... the gasoline container.  Barely
able to control his shaking hands, John managed to uncap the container which he
raised high above his head and saturated his body with the flammable liquid.
John's laughter had become an inhuman shriek as he struck the match....

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 (c)1988  cDc communications  by Swamp Rat                            7/5/88-63