Please enjoy this taut and thrilling exploration of the darker side of children's television by a staffer who wishes to remain anonymous, for reasons that might soon become apparent.
The mission was clear and simple. Get in, get out, no dicking around. Brian hoped this was all worth it. The operation hadn't been easy, and the doctors had almost thought he wasn't going to make it. Some idiot somewhere (probably a darkie, he didn't trust them and their shifty ways) had written that the fusion should occur at his ass. Luckily, the mistake was caught before irreparable damage occurred and Brian could never go to the bathroom again. After a month of recovery, Brian finally removed the bandages from his chest and gazed down at it.
God damn undercover work, he thought. God damn it to hell.
"Time for Teletubbies! Time for Teletubbies!" the obese baby in the sky screamed out.
"No," thought Brian. "Time to die."
The mission was clear and simple. Get in, get out, no dicking around. Brian hoped this was all worth it. The operation hadn't been easy, and the doctors had almost thought he wasn't going to make it. Some idiot somewhere (probably a darkie, he didn't trust them and their shifty ways) had written that the fusion should occur at his ass. Luckily, the mistake was caught before irreparable damage occurred and Brian could never go to the bathroom again. After a month of recovery, Brian finally removed the bandages from his chest and gazed down at it.
God damn undercover work, he thought. God damn it to hell.
"Time for Teletubbies! Time for Teletubbies!" the obese baby in the sky screamed out.
"No," thought Brian. "Time to die."
He had been hired by the government to assassinate the menace to the
nation's children, the Teletubbies. Fat pieces of shit, what did they
ever do? The TV on his chest was supposed to help him blend in, get
close, so he could take them out forever. As he made his way to their
unholy domain, he prayed to whatever god would listen that this stupid
plan would work and that he'd make it out in one piece or die trying.
3 weeks later...
Fuck. How had be let himself get in this mess? Brian usually prided himself on his stone cold heart, the heart of a killer. But the unthinkable had happened. He had fallen in love. They say no one can help what the heart feels. Or what the dick feels. He certainly couldn't do anything about the latter and now he was stuck with the desire of the former.
She was just so perfect. Everything about her. Her eyes, her yellow skin, that goofy antennae on her head (oh the things he had done with that antennae). He loved all of her, worshipped her like the baby-faced goddess of his dreams. And she loved him too. He knew it. Brian knew deep in his heart that he couldn't carry out the mission now.
But should he tell Laa-laa the truth? What would she think of him? He saw the way she looked at Tinky Winky. Would she leave him for that purple freak? Honestly what man (or man like thing) carries a purse? It was just obscene.
A week later...
"Laa-laa, honey, I have something to tell you."
"What dear? I hope it's nothing bad, I've really been enjoying our milk and mutton. I don't know why more people don't eat them together."
"I haven't the slightest, my sweet lemon. But this is really important and difficult for me to say. I...am not who you think I am. I was sent here as an assassin. To kill you. To kill all of you. But I can't! I've fallen in love with you! You mean everything to me! Let's run away to Mexico together and live out our days in mojito-soaked happiness! I don't even care about all the lazy brown people there! I just want to be with you."
"Oh wow. I...actually, I have to tell you this. I wish I was surprised, but you see, I already knew this. That's why I poisoned your milk with strychnine. We're going to let the giant baby sun eat your dead body. He does that sort of thing."
"But...what about our love?"
"I'm sorry, Brian, didn't you know? I'm a Teletubby. We don't feel love."
The last thing Brian ever saw was the sight of four Teletubbies in dark hooded cloaks, the sound of a baby cackling with cannibalistic glee his final lullaby.
3 weeks later...
Fuck. How had be let himself get in this mess? Brian usually prided himself on his stone cold heart, the heart of a killer. But the unthinkable had happened. He had fallen in love. They say no one can help what the heart feels. Or what the dick feels. He certainly couldn't do anything about the latter and now he was stuck with the desire of the former.
She was just so perfect. Everything about her. Her eyes, her yellow skin, that goofy antennae on her head (oh the things he had done with that antennae). He loved all of her, worshipped her like the baby-faced goddess of his dreams. And she loved him too. He knew it. Brian knew deep in his heart that he couldn't carry out the mission now.
But should he tell Laa-laa the truth? What would she think of him? He saw the way she looked at Tinky Winky. Would she leave him for that purple freak? Honestly what man (or man like thing) carries a purse? It was just obscene.
A week later...
"Laa-laa, honey, I have something to tell you."
"What dear? I hope it's nothing bad, I've really been enjoying our milk and mutton. I don't know why more people don't eat them together."
"I haven't the slightest, my sweet lemon. But this is really important and difficult for me to say. I...am not who you think I am. I was sent here as an assassin. To kill you. To kill all of you. But I can't! I've fallen in love with you! You mean everything to me! Let's run away to Mexico together and live out our days in mojito-soaked happiness! I don't even care about all the lazy brown people there! I just want to be with you."
"Oh wow. I...actually, I have to tell you this. I wish I was surprised, but you see, I already knew this. That's why I poisoned your milk with strychnine. We're going to let the giant baby sun eat your dead body. He does that sort of thing."
"But...what about our love?"
"I'm sorry, Brian, didn't you know? I'm a Teletubby. We don't feel love."
The last thing Brian ever saw was the sight of four Teletubbies in dark hooded cloaks, the sound of a baby cackling with cannibalistic glee his final lullaby.
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