Last thing I heard about you Laa-Laa, you were shooting up Capri-Suns with Barney and Friends. You had taken my dear Cornelius and disappeared without trace. But I had formulated a plan Laa-Laa: Let's just say that revenge is most certainly sweet.
I thought the worst thing about this sad group was the members within it, but apparently I was wrong. In fact, after much deliberation on my part Laa-Laa, I concluded that the worst thing about your makeshift clan was the way in which you ingested these sickly sweet-flavoured drinks. I suppose there was no other method to drink these marvellous creations except to down them by the jugful. (It's not as if there were straws on the back to cater to all your drinking needs)
But that's besides the point Laa-Laa. To be quite honest, I admire how all of you imbeciles came together; like attracts like, as the saying goes. The lot of you are so inbred you could be a sandwich.
Over the past few months I have devised a scheme that can be rivalled by no other. I am not only planning to retrieve my dear aquatic companion- but I also intend to break apart this pathetic little cult that is being fuelled by empty-calorie sugar drinks. I recently heard that you planned on downing more jugs of Capri-Suns in one of the dodgiest areas known to teletubbykind: Sesame Street. It would prove to be a difficult task Laa-Laa, but I was determined to retrieve my dear Cornelius. I was not about to let a rancid yellow jellybean like you get away with fish-theft. He was my heart and sole (They're a deep-sea fish I think) and I was going to get him back without question.
I wish I could say I brought Po along with me for moral support, but I can't lie, not even to malformed Simpsons characters like you Laa-Laa. The fact of the matter is, I needed the obese strawberry jellybean to tag along to act as the necessary bait. So as the two of us Teletubbies waddled down Sesame Street looking for Bear's Big Blue House, I managed to convince him to enter the jug den first. (Poor Po thought we were going to stock up on branflakes, he was disturbed to see they kept going missing) As Po knocked on the door, I managed to waddle behind a bush and remain hidden from the prying eyes of Barney and his fellow jug addicts.
Cookie Monster answered the door, looking blue. (Both in the literal and figurative sense) I was unable to hear the exact words transpired, but I did manage to get the general gist of the conversation. I heard Po asking about the different kinds of branflakes that were in his view 'on sale' in the house. I then heard Cookie Monster retaliate by saying Branflakes were only for peasants.
Suddenly, all teletubby hell breaks loose.
Po didn't like that his favourite cereal had just been insulted by a sky-blue ragamuffin, so, to my absolute astonishment Laa-Laa, Po blurted out the following:
'I don't know why people call you Cookie Monster, when it appears you should be called Rookie Monster, because you have (literally) no taste in cereal.'
Everything after that was a bit of a blur to be honest Laa-Laa. I can vaguely recall Cookie Monster throwing an empty jug of Capri-Sun at Po, which hit him in the eye and caused him to fall to the floor. He tried to stand-up for himself (in the literal sense) but eventually succumbed to his own mutterings. Today's topic of Po's mutterings was something along the lines of 'Rookie Cookie the cereal killer.'
Cookie Monster was thoroughly spooked by the whole ordeal, so left the door for a moment, only to return with the dinosaur himself: Barney. The purple jug-addict proceeded to drag Po by his antenna into the big blue house, and shut the door behind him.
Within the vast expanse of this Big Blue House, I could only be sure of the following: that Cornelius would be residing within its walls or that you would know his whereabouts Laa-Laa. I suppose I'd keep a lookout for Po, but to be quite honest I don't think I'll ever seen him again so whatever.
As I said, I'll keep an eye out for Po, but I've got bigger fish to fry. (OH MY GOODNESS I HOPE THOSE BLOBS OF PLAYDOUGH DIDN'T DO THAT TO MY DEAR CORNELIUS)
Now that I know I'd be greeted in a less-than-amicable fashion if I knocked on the door, I'd have to find an alternative method of entry. On the second floor of this ratty-tatty cardboard box I could see an open window (It was open in that there was no window pane at all) with a ray of light being emitted from it. I was incredibly lucky that the only living thing near the vicinity of the jug den was an apple tree. So, after longer than I care to admit, (I really need to lay off the branflakes, sorry Po) I managed to hoist myself up into it. The apples on this tree looked very... peculiar to say the least. Just as I was about to make the jump from the tree into the adjacent room, a shrouded figure hobbled around the corner and approached the tree at a quickened pace. After pulling down her hood, I noticed it was a witch. (And an ugly one that, almost as ugly as you Laa-Laa) In a flash the witch had plucked one of the peculiar-looking apples from the tree, mumbled something about feeding it to her step-daughter and being able to regain her rightful place as the fairest of them all. And with that she scuttled away again, not having seen the most peculiar, purple-looking apple of them all in the tree.
I wish I could say that was the most unusual thing I witnessed that day.
So, to continue with this tale, I somehow managed to make the jump from the peculiar apple tree into one of the many rooms of the jug den. I made it, I actually made it. There was a sign above the door (interesting to note, there was also no door present in the scene) called 'The Capri-Fun Room'.
The only activities one could partake in was juggling and jug-of-war. There was also a shrine dedicated to their saviour- The Orange-Flavoured Capri-Sun. In a glass cabinet, (also interesting to note, there was no glass just another hole) was a single orange-flavoured Capri-Sun, (empty of course, the jug addicts need their fix after all) standing tall and proud. I was very lucky that I was right in my assumption that these imbeciles only consumed orange-flavoured Capri-Suns, otherwise bringing all these supplies would've been a waste. (All to be revealed later Laa-Laa)
Just as I was about to vacate the Capri-Fun room, I was greeted with footsteps coming down the hall. Not having anywhere else to hide, I resorted to jumping into the glassless cabinet. (I didn't think this through, oopsie.)
Elmo entered the room with an empty jug in his hand. He proceeded to walk over to the jug-of-war station and grab hold of the rope that resided there. He left the room then, not having realised I was there or that you need two people to play jug-of war.
Eventually when I was sure the coast was clear Laa-Laa, I left the room. After checking to see that there were no balls of playdough roaming the hall, I headed for the neighbouring room.
I found it.
In the corner of the room was a cardboard box turned on its side with the label 'tele' written on it. A photo of Chris Tarrant had been slotted into the open side of the box. This particular photo entailed Chris posing the question: 'How is the following phrase usually finished: When life gives you lemons, make...'
A. Lemons
B. Lemons
C. Lemons
D. Lemons
As well as the tele, there was also a sea of orange-flavoured Capri-Suns strewn about the floor. Amongst all this, I could also see another single sheet of cardboard with the title 'A Tale Of Two Teletubbies'. What shocked me most in that moment wasn't the filth, or your attempts to write a book Laa-Laa- but it was the fact that you could read and write. They say to not judge a book by its cover, but all I had to go by on this particular book WAS its cover- it was literally a sheet or cardboard with the title on it. On the back of the sheet of cardboard, I was greeted with the entire story from beginning to end:
'Po is poo, TinkyWinky is StinkyStinky, and Dipsy is Dipsy because it can't get any worse than that.'
In that moment I knew all I had to do was wait for you Laa-Laa. In the meantime I took out the supplies that I had managed to carry along this whole time: Tropical-Fruit flavoured Capri-Suns.
Revenge is sweet, as you'll soon find out Laa-Laa.
