The Lost Nirvana Cartoon Episode: Difference between revisions
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I was a pretty big fan of the cartoon, and at first, the theme song wasn't much different from what I came to expect.
"Like most babies smell like butter", It began. "His smell smelled like no other. At first I thought I smelled butter coming from the TV set, but then I remembered that I had left my midnight snack—a family sized tub of storebrand creamed corn—burning in the oven. Also, while the song played, the video showed Kurt Cobain tossing a crying baby out of a window. It landed on a trampoline and landed inside a naked lady's vagina before being sucked in and being reborn. Yep, this was the Nirvana show intro, alright. When the distorted guitar lick faded out, Dave Grohl played a single drumbeat, kind of like a rimshot, before reading out the episode title like he always does. "Tonight's episode: I Hate Myself, and I Want to Die."
The episode began with Kurt Cobain with his hand in his pants, watching what appeared to be the evening news. He had on a homemade Fermented Sloths t-shirt, which didn't surprise me. After all, despite being mislabeled 'The Fathers of Grunge', Nirvana had erected their sound based on the influence of other Seattle grunge bands, such as Mudhoney, Green River, and Grab Her By The Pussy. Kurt had his other hand on the remote control, but instead of flipping the channel, he fiddled around with it. "All the votes have been tallied, and our network is ready to project: We're all dead inside." Kurt let out an inappropriate chuckle. "We were dead before the ship even sank", he muttered to himself, citing what I could only assume was a song lyric to one of his Nirvana albums. The existential Gen X angst from this episode so far was par for the course. But then Kurt Cobain flipped the channel, and
It was an episode of Frasier,
"Caller, you're on the air.", he began. "I'm listening." When the call began, I instantly recognized the voice—and it was someone who it simply could *not* have been. "Doc? Dr. Crane?" "Go ahead, caller, I'm listening." "Ah, ah did something horrible! Something *terrible*!" He wasn't quite sobbing, but I could make out a terrifying mix of sorrow and fear in his voice. "
The next call
A funeral that suspiciously featured the presence of the first caller himself! Using my deductive reasoning, I realized that the woman in the casket was none other than his wife.
I could only wonder why the man who had murdered his own wife with the product he had sold had been allowed to even attend the cartoon funeral. This, of course, was a scene from the Fox television network's animated classic King of the
"I'm the kinda guy that laughs at a funeral", KDC muttered to himself this time, again reciting what I could assume was one of his lyrics. Then
The scene returned to Peggy Hill's funeral. It was at this moment that I remembered that my own wife was named 'Peggy', but I thought little of it. The focus shifted over to a conversation between the town's most famous Native American resident, John Redcorn, and the Hills' neighbor, Dale Gribble. Knowing the history between these two, I knew the conversation would be tense. "Yeah, so I fucked your wife, got her pregnant, and you've been raising my son for me for the past however many years, doing all the hard work that no parent actually enjoys doing before I sweep in and take him back as my own boy. Which he is. Since I cucked you.
Now, I guess that I shouldn't have been surprised, given that Hank Hill was allowed to attend the funeral despite gassing his wife to death with a propane valve jammed into her mouth—how did I know this? Shut the fuck up!—but nobody cared that John Redcorn was dead. Or murdered before their very eyes! Mr. Gribble, showing absolutely no emotion at all, picked up Mr. Redcorn's corpse and tossed it into the pit that they had apparently already lowered Mrs. Hill's casket into. A close-up of Mr. Gribble licking off the cartoon blood from Mr. Redcorn's corpse was shown, while the camera slowly zoomed in on his eyes for reasons I couldn't even begin to understand.
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I was just about to turn off the TV and force myself into having sex with my sleeping wife when the doorbell rang. "Who is it?", I asked. "Pizza!", a cheery and perhaps over exaggerated voice hollered back at me. Now that was odd: I didn't remember ordering a pizza, but since my creamed corn was already hopelessly burnt, I figured I'd take it if I was free. I wished I had one of those Amazon Alexa things to open the door for me at my command, but since I didn't, I got off my fat lazy ass + opened the door.
Hmmm. A grisly looking, orange-haired man with a vein snapping, bursting out of his forehead, and disheveledly bloodshot eyes stared back at me. "What would you like on your tombstone?", he asked in a drawn out manner that I could only assume was sarcastic. "I'll
Ohhhh, no! Nooo, thank you! I wasn't about to become some sojourning pizza guy's pusillanimous little bitch! I turned around, running up the stairs, preferring to have deeply disturbing hot buttery sex with my wife than—then with that man! I'm not sure where it came from, but I heard clapping and laughter as I ran up the stairs, disheveled. "Wake up, Peg! I'm having that dream again!"
I could hear the Nirvana episode playing downstairs. Kurt was talking, seemingly to himself. "All of the warnings from the punk rock 101 courses over the years, since my introduction to the, shall we say, ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has proven to be very true. I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music along with reading and writing for too many years now. I feel guilty beyond words about these things."
Then
I felt as if I had been in a trance for years. I
When I woke up again—this time, for real, I guessed—I was in a Halloween store stockroom. I saw masks all around me. Bill Cosby, Super Mario, Jerry Seinfeld, Bullwinkle J. Moose. The kid from Adventure Time. What was I doing here? I looked down on the dirty, dusty retail stockroom floor to see a pizza box—open, with crums
"Dear DaveTheUseless: thank you for the laughs and the spooks. It's been real—relatively speaking." I paused and continued to read on. "You just couldn't let me go, could you? This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You truly are
I looked down to realize that my dark gray sweatpants were missing, and were replaced with Spider-man underoos. I had a feeling that this was a deep and powerful metaphor
I reached for the doorknob. It wouldn't turn.
I was a skeleton. In my right hand was a vaudeville style cane, and on top of my head, a top hat. I don't know why, but I felt the urge to dance and perform a musical number.
"Have no fears: we've got stories for years!
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Eugh...Hydlide!
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