THE POOPTRIX

A Tea Party Hell © Production

Jennifer tapped her pencil mindlessly onto the desk, causing several people nearby to glance over, annoyed, to see where the noise was coming from. She was indifferent to the reactions surrounding her, consumed in boredom, and no way out. Whatever. It's not like it mattered. In exactly one minute and thirty two seconds…thirty one…thirty…okay the point is- that in a short amount of time she was going to escape English class. Only problem was, this was only the beginning of her assigned torture.

The bell rang and everybody swarmed out of the class, though Jennifer lagged behind and looked stoned before turning the corner and heading for Life Sports. Ppppt. What a retarded class. Okay, well she was going to have to deal with it, and honestly, nobody gave a shit how Jennifer felt.

It wasn't that Mr. Cerny was a bad guy or anything…it's just…he…he didn't understand what it was like for kids who absolutely despised physical activity. Lets face it- some of us were meant to sit around on our asses, yet P.E. teachers are all known for being in denial about it. As usual, she didn't do the stretches, ignored the teacher's continuous pleas for her participation, and sauntered mindlessly across the shaded area of the track while the others jogged and chatted in the hot sun. She liked to look off to the side and eye the little stream outside the fence, while cans and various plastic wrappers floated down it to the sewers or got caught up in soggy leaves to the side. Her eyes mournfully averted further down her path to the bitchy girls walking some ten or twenty feet ahead, when suddenly she stopped, and listened to the gentle swaying of the trees. She was standing all alone…when…when she heard a rustle in the bushes and a stir in the grass. And no ordinary stir- that of a living being, for sure.

Her eyes wandered mindlessly through the brush. There were patches of shadowy dirt, and fresh evergreen leaves that stood thick in each direction, but she spotted a stout figure peering from a patch of golden branches.

When it was sure she'd noticed it, the desperation to hide faded away, and it took several steps through the greenery.

It was a puppet. And no ordinary puppet: the Count from Sesame Street. Her face fell before his eyes- she stood awestricken by the fence. His body was still, but the black cape over his shoulders flapped slightly in the wind. "Oh. Hello." She didn't say anything. Her startled eyes were transfixed on his fuzzy purple face. "What? Never seen a puppet before?"

"N…Not one standing up on its own and suddenly emerging from trees to scare the hell out of me."

"Okay um…that clearly wasn't my intention."

"Well then-"

"I was hiding." He interrupted.

"Why would you hide in some brush conveniently beside a high school track?" She asked skeptically.

"Well…listen to you asking me this question. Obviously, you weren't expecting it at all. And the point of hiding is to go somewhere where people can't find you."

"No, seriously. Why are you back there?"

"I'm not joking you!" He stated, a bit agitated, but quickly lost the tension in his forehead. He casually stepped towards the fence and caused a clinking noise as he clung to the sides with his short cotton fingers. "Look, I really was hiding. I have a very hectic lifestyle nowadays and I needed a break." She raised her eyebrow.

"What?"

"The guys and I aren't doing the show much as of last year. Sinking too deep into the wrong crowd. I was taking a walk down the side of the road when I came across an opening to the forest and decided to wander around for a while to think." Jennifer raised her eyebrow.

"O-kay…"

"So how's it going?" He asked, still standing behind the fence. The comment reminded Jennifer that she was, in fact, still in Life Sports, and the teacher might start wondering why she'd suddenly stopped to talk to a puppet hiding in the bushes.

"It's going- Wait a second. I can't be talking to you. I have class right now. I-I-I-I gotta go." The Count looked disheartened. His large sharp eyebrows fell dramatically.

"Wait." He softly voiced.

"Whaaaaat!"

"I just…I…well I get lonely out here." He voiced pitiably. Jennifer was about to head off when she stopped again, and the puppet took a few steps to stay parallel.

"I thought you had a bunch of friends. You know, Snuffleupagus and stuff?"

"Well…yes…but…they are not very nice to me."

"Uhm…but…you get along so well on the show."

"Yeah…yeah…television can do that." Jennifer did indeed feel bad for the Count, but she had to shrug it off.

"Well, I'm sorry. But…you know, I have to go and stuff. Maybe I'll…see you later or something."

"Okay…" The Count seemed caught up in whatever issues he was currently dealing with, so as he continued to saunter down the grass by the fence, she jogged off to join the group. Creepy puppet. In reality, she expected, and very much hoped she would never see him again.

Later

"I've had about enough of your excuses, Big Bird! A raspy voice screeched. "You've had us hanging by a thread for months now! Either you get your big fat feathery ass in gear by next weekend or the deal's off. Consider it a failure. There are asses on the line here- there are people dying! And all you do is drink booze, get high, and pester little children!" Big Bird was standing in the corner, clad in a bandana and sunglasses. He shook and looked discouraged by the remarks of the figure in the shadows, but after the brief pause, he cowered:

"I've tried! You don't understand! I-"

"Friday evenin'! I swear to God, If you don't bring us the chosen one we're gonna pop a cap though your enormous grill!" It smirked at him through dim light, and then hopped off towards the beaten down graffiti-ridden door, clanking each time the contraption in which it clung to landed in the cement floor. At that, Big Bird seemed ultimately defeated by the unknown malicious puppet that had just left, but a look of determination returned in his sturdy steps. He thudded down the hallway and ripped open a door, where inside, Bert, Ernie, and Grover were sprawled out over empty bottles and cigarette packs. They indifferently continued to watch Three's Company and pass the bong around, however Big Bird was ultimately exasperated.

"Helloooo!" Big Bird voiced with frustration, raising his arms and then tapping his foot. Grover casually turned to the large yellow canary with steam bursting from the top of his head.

"Oh, hello Big Bir-"

"Shut upppppp." Big Bird cut in. He stepped into the room with his hands on his hips, twisted his neck around to eye the startled housemates, his feathers swishing in the smoke-inhabited air. "Is this what we've become! Lousy gangster-wannabes who spend all day getting wasted? We have to stop this! You have to get up and get on with your lives!" Ernie was just about to take another swig of vodka when Big Bird smacked it the moment it met his lips, and it spilled over his striped sweater. "Are you aware that we had a mission!" Ernie looked disgruntled at this; he glared up to Big Bird for soaking his only shirt. Just then, Bert lifted a finger, his eyes curiously averting up to Big Bird's face.

"Wasn't it that thing about getting the special person and taking them to the-"

"Yeah. It was! And you all just forgot about it! There are people starving!" He pronounced each syllable carefully. "There are people begging for their lives! This is ridiculous!" Big Bird quickly jerked his head towards the window. "Where the hell is the Count!" They all stared at him wide-eyed. He left the room in a fit of rage, his fluffy tail bobbing up and down as he stomped back down the hardwood floors. As he turned the corner, he saw a black figure sitting at the bar, hunched over and pouring himself a shot-glass of tequila. Big Bird marched right up and smacked the glass out of his hand. It shattered into the wall, and the contents dripped down into the dirtied linoleum. The Count eyed him with outrage, but Big Bird continued the assault by snatching his wrist and dangling him up in the air. "Where have you been! I told you to get the groceries!" He shrieked.

"I…I…I…I forgot where the store is!" At that, Big Bird shook him like a rag doll.

"We've lived here for five years! How could you forget where the store was!" His grip tightened on the small purple wrist, so much that the Count got out a helpless shout of pain.

"Okay, okay! I didn't forget, I just went for a walk!" Big Bird shook him vigorously again.

"Why!" He practically screeched.

"Please! Let me go!" With this whiny bawl, Big Bird felt a pinch of sympathy, and decided to fling the Count into some boxes and coffee-ring covered magazines which served as the couch-side table. He laid still in the pile, cowering with his cape fallen over his vulnerable puppet body. "I just wanted to be freed from this house for one day! Not two or three or four! One day…" He shriveled up into the fetal position.

"What do you mean!" Big Bird roared.

"Your abuse!" He cried. Big Bird's face fell into a disgusted gaze as the Count continued to quaver.
"Ahhhh come onnnn." The Count did not respond. "Don't be so dramatic!" Just then, he poked his head out defensively.

"I'm not dramaticcccc!" At that, Big Bird could see visible tears streaming down his face, their paths obstructed by the little bits of fuzz that rose from his worn felt skin.
"Oh God…listen. Tomorrow's your last chance to get the godamn chosen one, now take the books and the address on the counter, and be gone before we wake up tomorrow. Got it!" The Count sobbed a 'yes'. "Now stop whining like a 12-year-old girl and drink your tequila." Big Bird tossed the bottle far enough to land in the cushioning of his cape over the floor, and then sauntered off to join the others.

The Next Morning

He started up the sidewalk. It had been a long night, but now the sun had rose. His short legs paced swiftly through the chilly air, swishing past the flapping cape that fell down his shoulders. He dragged his black formal shoes over the concrete, causing bits of rubble to tumble in his path. All of this business caused him to mutter to himself and let out a heavy sigh.

It was easy to get up before the others did- they all slept until three or four in the afternoon anyway. Long ago, Big Bird had given him specific orders, and today they would have to be carried out. Otherwise, he would have his neck. He'd take away his share of the beer, and he knew how much he needed it to continue on nowadays. But damn…there had to be a different way to get what he wanted in life.

He turned the corner, glanced at the house before him, but steered himself away from the discontenting thoughts that began to swarm in his head the moment he saw it. But it just…It was nerve-wracking; never seeing this 'being' he was supposed to retrieve in his entire life but having to whisk them away the moment they answered the door… But finally, he reached the porch and knocked twice.

He could faintly hear the thuds as whoever it was came to answer the door and unexpectedly meet their destiny standing squarely on the porch that morning. He took a few more deep breaths, and then the door opened. He froze. She froze. The two froze with the intensity of a thousand ice sculptures. (Hehehohoho yeah, I know that sounds really funny and original.) "H-hi. How did you find my house?" She asked.

"Well…this makes things a little easier." The Count muttered.

"Makes what easier! Seriously! How did you find my house! I thought I was never going to see you again you creepy retard!"

"What! You told me that you…you…" She covered her mouth.

"I…I didn't mean that. But…but…I…what are you doing here!" She asked. The Count suddenly felt very discouraged…like she had hit a place in his already wounded heart…

"I have come here to take you somewhere. I think that it was very much fate that you and I met just yesterday. Please, step outside." He reluctantly spoke this, still feeling the ache of her harsh words. However, the girl was not very willing.

"Uh…no…no, I…" She clutched the door. "I'm getting ready for school right now. You'll have to come back…uh…later."

"No, no you must come right now." The Count insisted. Her brow lowered.

"Seriously. I would just love to go out and screw around with you right now but I have a half hour to get dressed and get my stuff packed up." She seemed like she really wanted to close the door, but still clutched it, ready at any moment to slam it when he had concluded his hopeless plea.

"Surely you could just step outside for a moment. I really must talk to you! I have come all this way just for a little chat, I promise." The Count pled. As a dramatic effect, he clutched his arms in the chilly air.

"A little chat about what?"

"I can't tell you near the house. I just need you to step out for a teensy little moment." He brought his index and thumb together and squinted his right eye, so much that the girl threw up her arms, exasperatedly.

"Allllll righttt." She stepped out on to the deck and closed the door behind her, and the two strolled down the steps and up the driveway, whereupon they stopped at the mailbox. She eyed the Count suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Well…I…" He twiddled his fingers a little and stared down to his feet.

"Hmmm?"

"Well you see there is something very very complicated that I'm going to have to explain in a nutshell, a-a-and you are going to be very overwhelmed when-"

"Just say it!" She barked, and then crossed her arms.

"You are Jennifer, are you not?" She spoke nothing, wondering why the hell this former Sesame Street puppet knew her name and where she lived. "I've come on a mission. It is a very long process that is useless to square with at the very moment, but you are needed in…in a place that you never ever thought existed." The two stayed silent in the mourning air. The Count kept a stern face, his fingers laced together before his long Jewish nose. But before long, Jennifer was stifling unbelievable laughter.

"Ahahah! Ahahah! AHAHAH! OH GOD! Are you kidding me! Ahah!"

"Nooo! I am not! I have come with some serious news! You must listen to me!" Just then, the Count struck his hands into his pockets and shuffled them around a bit, then held out two different pills; one blue, and the other red.

"I am taking you to an alternate reality. If you do not accept one of these pills, I will have to make you by force." The Count stated weakly. Jennifer tried her best to eye him seriously, but her lips came together stiffly like she had just sucked a lemon and vibrated as she exhaled a laugh and spat into the Count's face. The Count did not look too amused. He continued to hold the pills in front of her. "Please choose red or-" Again, she giggled. The Count scoffed a little under his breath, then inhaled deeply. "Please choose-"

"Ahahahahahah!" He paused again, hoping Jennifer was letting out the rest of her childish amusement.

"Please-"

"Pppppppppphahahahh…"

"This is ridiculous! I'm going back home!" The Count screeched. Jennifer attempted to calm her facial muscles, but they continued to contort into silly gestures and snickers that nearly choked her.

"No, no no no…" She extended her arm out, while the other fell down to her knee and she bent over to swallow and breathe. "Don't go…I'm just…" She rose to full height again, this time with her arms behind her back. "Okay. Now what was it you were asking me?" The Count didn't speak right away. He gave her a disappointed glance, and then lifted up the pills again.

"Please choose red or blue. Red will take you to the Pooptrix. It is an uncharted dimension, and the red pill allows you to enter a state of…euphoria…it will take you to the Poop-"

"Excuse me…did…did you just say…the 'Pooptrix'?"

"Well…yes, but…"

"Okay you know what? You're wasting my time. We can play Sci-Fi on ABC Family during the weekend or something."

"What?" Folds in his startled brow began to surface. But Jennifer headed off back down the driveway. Just then, the Count unleashed a desperate act. He sprung towards her and clutched her arm. It barely retracted her an inch, seeing as he only weighed about five or ten pounds, but it was enough to catch her off guard. She swung around swiftly.

"What the hell are you doing! Don't ever touch me again!" She shrieked, and then headed up the steps of the deck. The Count scurried behind her.

"No PLEASE! Please! Stop it! I am serious! I have tried again and again to complete this one little mission for Big Bird. You have to listen to me!" She tilted her head.

"W-w-w-what kind of drugs are you exactly on right now?" This blew the count's last straw.

"I am not on drugs!" He exploded into her face. "I am perfectly sane and all I'm asking you to do is take a freaking pill and meet me in the Pooptrix! Take the red pill! Please!" He huffed and puffed, his head turned down, while his arm elevated before her eyes, the red pill in his palm. She shook her head.

"I will not accept a pill that some puppet tried to give to me after arriving at my doorstep at 7:30 in the morning. I'm sorry, Count, but I need to pack my lunch. You've wasted ten valuable minutes." Before he could speak again, she slammed the door and did not come back, even after his desperate pleas. After several minutes, he sunk down onto the doormat and covered his face with his cape, sobbing uncontrollably and occasionally kicking the wooden panels of the deck to relieve some stress. Still, she did not respond.