Sesame Street is horrific

I was a college intern on the ABC television show, “Madigan Men.” It was terribly unfunny, and it only lasted one season, but the cool part was that it taped in Kaufman Astoria Studios in Queens, formerly home of the Cosby Show. Sesame Street also filmed on the far side of the building. 

I loved Sesame Street as a kid. I have fond memories of Grover, Big Bird and all the lovable characters who taught me how to count and read. One night, I found myself working late, and the building was nearly empty. We were instructed to stay away from Sesame Street. It was a private set, and it was rumored that everyone who worked on the show was cultish and weird. Still, I HAD TO GO. 

I wandered through the hallway, staying in the shadows and wary of cameras and security. I pushed open the metal stage door and was magically transported to Sesame Street. The lights were off, and the set looked like it was lit by moonlight. Seeing my childhood brought to life sent chills through my body. It was all here: Mr. Hooper’s store, the famed steps next to Oscar the Grouch’s trashcan, and the little paved playground where kids learned valuable moral lessons.  

You may not believe what I’m about to tell you next, but I promise it to be true.

A brown mass hung from the ceiling. I inched closer and saw Snuffleupagus, the brown furry elephant, dangling twenty feet in the air. A blanket covered his head and upper torso, revealing his trunk and lower half of his body. He was suspended with rope as if he was killed by the Mexican drug cartel, and they left his lifeless body in public view to warn others. 

I ran to the parking lot; the visual seared into my memory like a hot iron. I never told anybody at work what happened because I feared being reprimanded, but I’ve faced my demons to warn you. 

If anybody ever tells you how to get to Sesame Street, don’t go. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.