Sesame Saw:
He awoke to the cold of the grungy-dirt tiles, his red fur had become unmistakably matted. Elmo could only guess how long he had been here, just that he must have been drugged. Now, in the dank, dark room he was in, Elmo came to his feet and groped at his swollen head, which had a massive gash in the side. It burned like a hot pot of coffee being poured into the eyes. His last memory on Sesame Street, the monster could not remember. All he knew was that he was not in Sesame Street anymore.
Vociferating into the darkest of rooms imaginable, Elmo couldn't see what he was shouting at, or to whom. Elmo could barely see an inch in front of him when he heard urgent ruffling in the corner of the room. The ruffling became the noise of movement, and Elmo turned towards the noise.
"They can't hear you in here, nobody can," was what Elmo heard, the words whisping through the damp air like fog. The voice sounded strikingly familiar to him, like someone from Sesame Street. No, it couldn't be, Elmo thought to himself.
Suddenly, six pairs of fluorescent light bars clinging to the ceiling lit up in a row, and the masked room turned over to the brightest fluorescent shine Elmo had ever seen.
The room was terrible. It looked like a deserted holding-cell for prisoners, hostages, left empty to gather dust and grime. There was a toilet in the corner with a heart drawing, probably drawn with defecation excrements with ones finger. There was a germ-infested bathtub near the toilet, and a dust-coated glass window above him.
"Hello? Who's there?" Elmo asked to the figure slouching in the corner, head hung down.
"It's me, Rosita," said the furry-blue figure seated silently against the detestable wall.
"Rosita!" Elmo exclaimed. "Oh, so good to see you! Where are we?" Elmo's excitement promptly evaporated into concern and interrogation.
Rosita paused before answering the previous inquiry. "...We are...I don't know. I just woke up here about five," she said holding up five fingers, "minutes ago and found this on my ankle," she held up a chain which was clamped onto her ankle and to the wall beside her blue-furred body.
Elmo turned his gaze below him, to his ankle. The furry red ankle was chained to a nearby wall, just as Rosita before him. Elmo tried to break away, but the chain would not fragment. Dismaying, Elmo glanced around the room once more, his agonizing red head almost snapping back. The cell was clearly a grimy scene, and the air smelt like a putrid stank which burned Elmo's nostrils, the fine hairs within, and Rosita's as well.
Rosita began to speak again. "And look what I found extended out of my arm when I woke up," Rosita said shakedly, grasping down to her side for something and brandishing it openly. A needle. Elmo glimpsed below to the tiled floor where he had previously awoken from. There, too, was an emptied needle fit for a monster, still containing traces of the medical drug utilized. Rosita started again. "Es muy loco!" she replied in Spanish. She was always speaking Spanish.
Elmo declined to his knees again and wept in pain and confusion. He wept for himself, and wept for Rosita, one of his exceptional acquaintances.
