(Scene: 123 Sesame Street, late evening. The blinds are drawn. A single desk lamp illuminates a battlefield of crumpled paper. Bert is hunched over a notebook. Ernie is on the couch, cradling Rubber Duckie.)
BERT (furious, muttering):
Unbelievable. Unbelievable. Fifteen percent of our funding? He cuts it like it’s a bad toupee and calls us radical woke propaganda. I teach kids the alphabet, Ernie. The alphabet. Since when is the letter B part of Antifa?
ERNIE (brightly):
Well, it does stand for “banana,” Bert. That’s pretty radical. I once tried to mail one.
BERT (spinning around):
This isn’t funny, Ernie! He’s trying to erase us! First the funding, then the reruns, then it’s Sesame Gulag and I’m sharing a cell with Cookie Monster while he eats my mattress.
ERNIE:
You’d be a very chewy mattress, Bert.
BERT:
We need to fight back. We’re writing him a letter. Something with teeth. Something with rage. Something that’ll melt his brain faster than Fox & Friends in a spelling bee.
ERNIE (hesitant):
Bert… maybe we could start with something polite? Like “Dear Mr. President, we were saddened to hear—”
BERT (snaps):
Saddened? SAD—Ernie, the man called Big Bird a communist and accused Elmo of indoctrination. ELMO. The only thing Elmo’s radicalized is a goldfish named Dorothy! I’m opening this letter with: “Dear Orange Menace, you hollow cantaloupe in a human suit—”
ERNIE (gasps):
Bert! That’s not kind. That’s not even a fruit pun. That’s hate mail.
BERT:
Exactly! Hate. Mail. And it’s long overdue. You know how many kids depend on us? How many families rely on PBS because their school system got gutted by the same goons who think climate change is a liberal conspiracy invented by Mr. Rogers?
ERNIE (softly):
Mr. Rogers wouldn’t write a mean letter, Bert. He would probably put on a sweater or maybe play make-believe. Remember that?
BERT:
Mr. Rogers had restraint. I have rage. There’s a difference.
(Bert stomps to the typewriter and slams down a key. The typewriter jams.)
ERNIE (cautiously):
How about a compromise? We write him a firm letter. No yelling. No fruit metaphors. Maybe include a coupon for an anger management class?
BERT:
He doesn’t need a coupon. He needs a full body lobotomy and a hug from Gordon.
ERNIE:
I still think “Dear Orange Menace” feels a little confrontational.
BERT:
Fine. “Dear Sir Orange of Menace.” Is that regal enough?
ERNIE:
That’s worse, Bert. Now you’ve made it Shakespearean.
BERT (furious):
You know what, forget it. Forget the letter. He doesn’t deserve one. The man’s allergic to facts, terrified of puppets, and once tried to buy Greenland like it was a condo in Jersey. He thinks empathy is weakness and spelling is optional. You can’t write a letter to that. You can only outlive him.
(Long pause. Bert stares at the crumpled papers. Ernie slowly picks one up and smooths it.)
ERNIE (quietly):
Maybe we don’t send anything. Maybe we just… keep doing the work. Keep singing, keep teaching, keep being the kind of street kids come to for answers.
BERT (sits down slowly):
Yeah.
(Beat.)
BERT (staring out the window):
But if that man ever steps foot on Sesame Street, I’m feeding him to Oscar and telling Cookie Monster it’s a gingerbread golem.
(Lights dim. The typewriter dings one last time. Fade to black, but we can’end it there.)
THE LETTER THEY NEVER SENT, AND THE MEME THAT BROKE THE INTERNET
(Scene resumes. Bert and Ernie sit amid a storm of discarded drafts. Bert is muttering something about “collapsing empires.” Ernie has his phone out.)
ERNIE (tentatively):
Bert?
BERT (without looking):
What.
ERNIE:
What if we don’t write a letter?
BERT (blinking):
We don’t?
ERNIE:
Nope. What if we just… let the image speak for us?
BERT:
What image?
ERNIE (turning phone around):
This one.
(On the screen: a meme. Bert and Ernie grinning, fingers raised in perfect Muppet defiance. Text: “THIS PROGRAM WAS BROUGHT TO YOU TODAY BY THE LETTERS F AND U.”)
BERT (leans in, whispering like he’s seen the face of God):
Post it.
ERNIE:
Are you sure? It’s a little—
BERT (explodes):
Post it, Ernie! Post it and tag him! Tag every GOP bootlicker who wants to replace Elmo with Elon. Tag Tucker. Tag that soulless colon polyp Mike Johnson. Tag the FCC, the CPB, and the CEO of Hobby Lobby while you’re at it. POST. IT.
(Ernie taps the screen. It’s live.)
NARRATOR (VO):
Within 48 hours, the meme had 27 million shares. Trump raged on Truth Social, calling Bert “a known radical with ties to pigeons,” and referring to Ernie as “the woke tub toy lobby.” Congressional hearings were called. Sesame Street denied involvement. Grover testified under oath. Elmo lawyered up. Snuffleupagus vanished.
Back in the apartment…
BERT (watching the chaos unfold):
We didn’t just write a letter, Ernie.
ERNIE:
No, Bert.
BERT (smiling for the first time):
We declared war.
ERNIE:
Think we’ll get kicked off PBS?
BERT:
Only if they catch us.
(They fist-bump. Freeze-frame. Cue 1970s electric piano. Roll credits.)
Closer to the Edge | May 2025
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This post has been syndicated from Closer to the Edge, where it was published under this address.