one man's trash is another man's origin story

“They were having a sale and my eyes were bigger than my stomach, okay?” said Oscar, slapping the wrapped sandwich into Ernie’s chest, trusting that the other would think to grab hold of it when he let go and passed him.

Oscar looked at the two ties, still not sure on which one to wear. Elmo was a girl and would probably know what girls liked, but Dawn wasn’t just any girl. Geeze, he really was a mess, wasn’t he? Apparently he was super easy to read, too.

He frowned at Elmo as he started putting on the pinstripe tie over his dress shirt. “I’m not telling you shit. You’ll tell the whole block and then I’ll never hear the end of it. It’s bad enough I’m asking your advice on this.”

“I’m asking you because if I am literally at my wit’s end, okay?! You’re probably going to go blabbing this to everyone but I don’t care anymore so… just… I need to know.”

“You think I’d watch that crap? People who plump up their lips and butts and wear fancy clothes that’d pay my rent for a year or more giving each other little gold men for being the most popular at acting and shit? No way.”

He pauses, taking a drink of his pickle juice soda for a moment, then says something a little more quietly.

send “ (ɔ ˘⌣˘)˘⌣˘ c) “ to snuggle with my muse

Oscar loved late night tv, the trashier the better, but he’d given it up for a little while when Dawn first started crashing on his couch. Eventually, however, he’d said “fuck it” and decided to go back to his regular routine, even if she was there next to him. Probably silently judging him. Probably annoyed at him. Probably thinking he--

Oh. She fell asleep on his shoulder. Shit.

He looked at her and found himself holding his breath, not wanting to move or disturb her. She was cute, like a cat or something, and you can’t move if a cat falls asleep on you. It’s against the laws of human decency. It’s against the laws of cuteness.

          Did we need a dark take on Oscar the Grouch?       —  No.