The Death of Oscar The Grouch

Young enough to sell lemonade but too old for stuffed animals, I talked my brother and sister into gathering all the toys we no longer wanted to sell at the end of the street. I thought we could make money on pencils, candy, or erasers bought at my school's Secret Santa Extravaganza; anything that would buy us gum and magazines at the local old school strip mall. We grabbed a box from the garage and rummaged through our closets, blasting rows of toys to the side in search of board games, clothes, re-gifts, anything that we deemed unsuitable for our elder years.

There we were, standing at the stop sign at the end of the street with a sign:
25¢ per toy.

We stood, waiting for the first customer. Cars passed. We frequently assessed our goods, making sure it was all there, arranging it so it would look most appealing to prospective buyers. And then, a growling truck rolled up. It was a pick up. He stepped out, the strapping sixteen year old red head with eyes of diamonds, excited at the possibility of purchasing not one, but fifteen stuffed animals!!! He picked through every one, we said farewell to each, in gratitude that they were going to a good home.

Then, after choosing his favorites, he wrapped string around the neck of each animal, tied it to the hitch of his truck, and drove away, dragging each animal, by the neck, to his death. And who suffered the most? Oscar the Grouch. He bobbled to and fro, green fuzziness licking the gravel each time, seeming to say "you screwed me!!!" We stared, and our tears fell like the fall of burning coal off Half-Dome in the 1800's. Our memories, our pubescent childhood, all popping from the pavement as each waved goodbye, reminding me that I should have loved them more.


Watching each animal on a cascading line from the hitch of a big kid's truck, I saw each of my fuzzy friends blend into a tangled pulp of suburban hamburger for 25 cents a piece. I decided from that day I would love all my toys, even the ones I outgrew, so they could never again be pulled behind the obese gas guzzlers of sixteen year old boys.