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RedPiggy
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Author’s Note: I tried doing a search for all mentions of Oscar and I didn’t see a thread title that seemed like what has been floating in my head, and I know I said I wouldn’t write another fic, but this is just a one-shot anyway, and any similarity to anyone who may have had an idea like this is purely coincidental, so there! *slams trash can*
He listened for the large double doors to open, barely illuminated by the ill-fitting trash can that had been used as an impromptu drum for too many decades. He popped up just as the door creaked open, grinning with that broad mouth of his. He waved once. “Hey, Skinny,” he belted out with a gruff voice.
“Skinny”, or Maria in this case, was a Puerto Rican middle-aged woman with shoulder-length black hair and a warm cappuccino skin tone. She had known this scraggly grouch with the moldy green matted fur and the bushy brown monobrow since she moved to Sesame Street as a teenager. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “What is it, Oscar?” she asked impatiently, tapping her foot on the steps of 123 Sesame Street’s brownstone. “I’m gonna be late getting to the stationery store before work.”
“Oh,” Oscar replied sarcastically, grinning some more, “don’t let me keep you!”
Maria nodded and began to jump down the steps. “Thanks, Oscar.”
“Of course, while you’re on your way ….”
Maria stopped and hung her head. She whipped around with a curled upper lip. “What is it, Oscar?” she yelled. “I’m gonna be late for work at the Fix-It shop!”
“How late?”
“Oscar!”
Oscar chuckled, tapping the edge of his beat up trash can with his fingers. “Keep your pants on, Skinny,” he told her in a calming tone, though he couldn’t avoid smirking. “I just thought you might pick me up a card at the store.”
Maria stared back at him in confusion. “You … want … me … to … get … you … a … card?” she asked, as though he were speaking a foreign language.
Oscar nodded. “It’ll be Father’s Day tomorrow, right? I need a card,” he said matter-of-factly.
“For whom?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but for me!” he shot back.
Maria closed her eyes and sighed. “No, Oscar,” she stated more calmly, opening her eyes again, “for whom is the card going?”
Oscar frowned. “Did you forget to clean your ears this morning? I said the card is for me – as in yours truly – as in Oscar the Grouch!”
Maria walked up to Oscar’s can and glared at him mere inches from his flat face. “Oscar – for one thing, Father’s Day is today. For another, you aren’t a father!”
Oscar laughed. He loved it when she was upset with him. “Oh, I know, Skinny,” he replied cheerfully. “If I have a Father’s Day card and I don’t have any kids, I’ll be sad and miserable! It’ll be the best grouchy Father’s Day ever, heheheh!”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Oscar, I’m not getting you a card that’ll make you sad.”
Oscar’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening. “But … but … Maria! You’ve never been so mean to me!” He paused, stroking the side of his head in thought. “I may actually like it, heheheh.”
Maria shook her head. As long as she’s known him, he’s been the very personification of what the kids called “opposite day”. Although, grouches always seemed to celebrate that day. “Alright, Oscar. I give up. I’ll get you the card. Are you going to address it yourself?”
Oscar shook his head. “You go ahead and do it,” he replied. “I don’t have any pens or pencils that actually work.”
She slapped her forehead. “Of course. How silly of me.” She started to walk away.
“Oh, Skinny?”
“I’m going, Oscar!” she retorted without stopping.
He cupped his hand over his mouth. “Be sure an’ sign it! I wanna always remember who made me miserable on Father’s Day!” He chuckled again.
“Care ta explain somethin’, Oscar?” a grating female voice demanded. Oscar looked down and saw his girlfriend Grungetta, with her stringy greenish-yellow hair, her black monobrow, her ratty purple dress, and a bunch of scuffed up Mardi Gras bead necklaces around her neck.
“Oh, hey, Grungie,” Oscar smiled. “Whaddya want?”
She put her hands on her hips, snarling. “What’s this I hear about Father’s Day?”
Oscar gulped. “It’s not what you think!” he told her in a panicked tone.
She growled. “What exactly do I think, Oskie?” She tapped her foot. “Hm? I suppose you’ve been keeping one of those awful cute little babies in your trash can without my knowledge?”
Oscar couldn’t help but laugh. “I really don’t think I could get a baby wit’out you knowin’ ‘bout it.”
“So what’s the deal wit’ that woman and a card?”
Oscar glanced in the direction Maria went. “Oh, Skinny? I, uh, I just wanted her to buy me somethin’.”
“Tryin’ ta save gas? You ain’t tryin’ ta save the environment or nothin’, are ya?”
“Would never dream about such a thing!” he tried to tell her, putting his hand on his heart.
“Yeah, well, you know I can’t stand those adorable, soft-skinned, bright-eyed little bundles of goodness,” she continued, looking away. “Otherwise ….”
Oscar nodded sympathetically – for her sake. “Oh, yeah. Hey, I ain’t never told ya to do nothin’ you didn’t want to do, Grungie.”
Grungetta glanced up at him and smirked briefly. “Good.” She waved a finger at him. “Don’t forget it!” She stomped off in a huff, though she didn’t really want to let Oscar see her wistful expression. He’d enjoy the fact she felt bad about never having a baby with him.
She smiled finally. The thought of making him uncomfortable made her happy. She started to skip – though just a little.
Oscar saw her cheer up as she walked away and sighed, glancing back in Maria’s direction. He had known Maria for a long time. It seemed like ages ago. She was just a rail of a teenage human girl, but right away they got off to a great start. She was a wonderful little spitfire who wasn’t afraid to mouth off to him. She didn’t have a father, he found out later. She was bent on making her own way in life, like how he moved to Sesame Street when his family wanted him to stay in Grouchland like a normal grouch.
But what was the point of being a grouch if you acted the way everyone wanted?
A young Latina with long black hair showed up and draped her arm over Oscar’s trash can. “Hey, Oscar,” she said. “Have you seen my mother?”
Oscar jumped a little, surprised to have someone invading his personal space so brazenly like that. “Maria? Yeah, Gabi – she went to the store.”
Gabi grinned and patted him on the hand, laughing when he jerked his hand back as though she had spilled mud on it. “Thanks. She’s gonna get Papi’s card.” She nodded toward the Fix-It Shop down across the street. “It’s supposed to be a surprise. I gotta cover for her so he doesn’t suspect.”
Oscar grinned. “I bet he already knows!”
Gabi’s face fell. “Oscar! Did you tell him about our surprise?”
Oscar nodded. “Oh, yeah! He knows every little detail!” He chuckled and slammed the trash can lid as he descended.
Gabi pouted. “Great. Now I’ve gotta do damage control.” She left.
Oscar grinned as he slowly opened the lid back up to see if Gabriella left. Naturally, he knew nothing about the surprise. He just told her that so Maria’s kid would “gab” to Luis in a panic and ruin the whole thing. His heart beat faster at the thought he ruined the holiday for him.
He had watched everyone run around crazily as they tried to get Maria to the hospital when she was pregnant with Gabriella. All he wanted was to get everyone to be quiet and leave him alone, but they wouldn’t stop making noise.
It was almost the worst night of his life. He actually drove Luis and Maria to the hospital (eventually, with many a mishap) and, gulp, felt happy that they were having a baby. The only satisfaction he got was not telling anyone what had happened at the hospital. They eventually left him alone to go to the hospital themselves.
Still, when Luis announced to him later that Maria had a baby girl, he couldn’t resist calling her.
Big Bird came out of his small place just to the left (his left, anyway) of his trash can. It was a ramshackle place with walls made of discarded doors. It was definitely fit for any grouch child. Big Bird spotted Oscar and grinned, waving. “Hi, Oscar!” he exclaimed cheerfully.
“Scram, turkey,” he muttered to the eight-foot-tall yellow fluff of feathers.
Big Bird laughed. “Oh, Oscar,” he told the frowning grouch, “I just wanted to know if you minded if I got you a Father’s Day card.”
Oscar gawked at him. “You were listening?” he growled.
Big Bird shuffled his feet and stared at the sidewalk. “Well, yeah.” He glanced in the direction of his nest. “My nest isn’t really soundproof, you know.”
“Well,” Oscar huffed, “mind your own beeswax an’ go bother someone else!”
“But I can make you a card if it’ll make you feel better!” Big Bird protested. “Susan just got me some new crayons, and I have plenty of paper.”
“What happened to the crayons I got ya?” Oscar asked incredulously.
Big Bird shrugged. “They were all broken, so I couldn’t draw with them. Snuffy an’ I made some neat decorations with them though. We melted the wax in the crayons and made pictures with the drops of hot wax.”
Oscar frowned. “You could burn down the whole street like that!”
Big Bird’s eyes widened. “Oh, no!” he replied hastily. “We know not to play with fire. Luis melted them over at the Fix-It Shop for us. We just told him where to put the drips.”
Oscar rolled his eyes. “Well, someone’s a drip, alright.” He shook his head. “Don’t get it inta yer head to make me a card, turkey. Just leave me alone! That’s present enough!” He sighed with exasperation.
Big Bird sighed quietly and nodded. “Okay, Oscar. I’ll go if that’ll make you feel better,” he said, dejected.
As soon as the overstuffed canary left his line of sight, Oscar sighed. He didn’t know much about Big Bird’s parents, but he got the impression eight feet was too much of a good thing for them and so they just sorta left the humans of 123 Sesame Street to care for him on a daily basis. After all, his species was normally around that height as adults … if he was eight feet as a six year old, how big could he possibly get? Some parents just couldn’t take it if their kid was far outside the norm.
One day, some busybody ostrich or whatever with purple hair and a mean expression cajoled the big ol’ turkey to leave and go live somewhere else, with birds like him, though from what he saw on TV, those nincompoops were nothing at all like him. The thought that the kid was being forced to be “normal” was weighing too heavily on his mind. When Big Bird ran away from his foster parents, Oscar paired up with Maria to help the others go find him. He chuckled at Bob’s idea of pairing him with Maria at the time.
For they were both like children to him. All he wanted was for them both to be happy and safe.
Oscar didn’t bother with having kids at first for the same reason his girlfriend Grungetta didn’t want them … oh, yeah, they could be loud and stinky and messy, but everyone always thought they were so cute! Even his young niece Irvine, ugly as she was, was considered adorable, especially by the human females. What was with them, anyway? He knew it had something to do with hormones, but it just made them disgustingly gullible when it came to the little pests.
He watched as different kinds of families strolled up and down Sesame Street. Some kids had a mess of adults with them. Some had a mommy and a daddy. Some had just one or the other. Some had two of one or the other.
He was supposed to have his own grouch children.
That was how it worked.
But … how could he be true to his grouch nature if he simply did what others wanted?
Maria was a beautiful human woman. Big Bird was a cheerful innocent avian child. They were both so different from the usual grouch children.
He smiled.
That was what he loved about them. He could watch over both of them from his convenient place in between their homes and yank their chains whenever he was in the mood to do so. He didn’t have to engage in all that mushy stuff or live in a secure mainstream environment. He could just deal with them from the comfort of his trash can.
Maria finally showed up and tossed a small greeting card at the grumpy little grouch. “Here,” she said. “It’s all filled out. Now you can be perfectly miserable all day.”
Oscar tried to avoid smiling and manipulated the envelope in his hands for several moments. “Hey, thanks, Skinny,” he said softly. Suddenly he just dropped it into his trash can.
“You’re not even going to open it and make sure I did as you asked?” Maria griped.
Oscar grinned. “Ain’t it just gonna drive ya crazy if I never let ya see me open it? Heheheheh.”
Maria clenched her fists. “Oooooooooh!” she growled. “I’m gonna be late for work!” she added, stomping off.
Soon Big Bird came back with a birdseed milkshake in his hand. He sipped on it carefully before getting up the courage to talk to someone he looked up to in a weird way … well, figuratively, considering he was much taller than Oscar.
“Go ahead an’ talk an’ don’t just stand there!” Oscar snapped at him.
Big Bird pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Oscar. “I called Snuffy over at Mr. Looper’s store and he said it was okay if I gave you this.”
Oscar took the paper from him and opened it up, discovering a mosaic of brightly colored raised dots of wax, forming a rough picture of the area in front of Big Bird’s home, with Oscar on the left of the painting, or what he assumed was a representation of himself and his pile of trash and his trash can. He didn’t respond.
Big Bird sipped his milkshake again and gulped. He spoke softly. “I know you don’t want a card, but this is the picture we made. It’s a picture of my home.” He pointed at a small green splotch above a bunch of gray splotches. “That’s you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you like it?”
“It’s awful!” Oscar shouted finally, his voice waivering slightly.
Big Bird nodded. “It is kinda messy. It’s made from those melted crayons I told you about.”
Oscar took several moments to respond. He was trying so hard to compose himself. “I guess I could put it in Fluffy’s room,” he said at last, his voice more certain. “He could always use a good piece of trash.”
Big Bird rolled his eyes and smirked. “Okay, Oscar. That’s fine. I’m sure Fluffy would like it too. He loves you too, you know.”
Oscar glanced up at Big Bird briefly and shrugged. “He’s a pet. He’s supposed to do that.”
Big Bird laughed. “Yeah, but it still feels good to know when you’re loved, doesn’t it?”
Oscar trembled before blurting out, “Will ya just scram, ya overgrown Christmas poultry?”
Big Bird got a bigger grin. He knew Oscar well enough by now that he yelled when he was trying to hide how good he felt. “Have a good day, Oscar,” he chuckled as he retreated back to his nest.
“Well, I’m not now!” Oscar screamed in frustration, diving back into his trash can in desperation.
For hours, Oscar stared at the opened card after hanging up Big Bird’s picture next to his bed on the wall.
“Dear Oscar,
As you know, my father never lived to see some of the most important moments of my life. Yet, there you were, ever ready to interrupt your day or night to make sure I was cared for. As I tried to make my life my own, you always challenged me to be independent, never backing down and settling for things that weren’t worth my time. I saw your proud expression when Luis and I got married. It was matched only by my own mother’s. You suggested … interesting … culinary ideas I found useful when I was pregnant. When I spoke about love to old friends on the stoop, you harassed me relentlessly so I couldn’t finish the discussion.
I know you like that I have a temper, Oscar.
When it came time to pick a classic cinematic character to portray, do you know why I chose Chaplin? I picked him because he reminded me of you: he dressed sloppily but it hid a sense of integrity and dignity I greatly admired both in his Tramp character and you.
Even if this card makes you upset because it sounds so mushy, and I concede a certain dark desire to make you flustered after you made me so late for work this morning, I felt today was a good day to tell you how much I have appreciated all that you have done for me.
I only realized later why you interrupted my discussion on love. It was your grouchy way of saying just how much you cared for me.
I assure you, the feeling is mutual.
I hope you have the most despicable Father’s Day ever, Oscar.
Sincerely,
Maria “Skinny” Rodriguez”
So many tears ran down his face that day, a bright orange streak, a memory of his true fur color, appeared on each cheek below his eyes.
He had never been happier.
The End
He listened for the large double doors to open, barely illuminated by the ill-fitting trash can that had been used as an impromptu drum for too many decades. He popped up just as the door creaked open, grinning with that broad mouth of his. He waved once. “Hey, Skinny,” he belted out with a gruff voice.
“Skinny”, or Maria in this case, was a Puerto Rican middle-aged woman with shoulder-length black hair and a warm cappuccino skin tone. She had known this scraggly grouch with the moldy green matted fur and the bushy brown monobrow since she moved to Sesame Street as a teenager. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “What is it, Oscar?” she asked impatiently, tapping her foot on the steps of 123 Sesame Street’s brownstone. “I’m gonna be late getting to the stationery store before work.”
“Oh,” Oscar replied sarcastically, grinning some more, “don’t let me keep you!”
Maria nodded and began to jump down the steps. “Thanks, Oscar.”
“Of course, while you’re on your way ….”
Maria stopped and hung her head. She whipped around with a curled upper lip. “What is it, Oscar?” she yelled. “I’m gonna be late for work at the Fix-It shop!”
“How late?”
“Oscar!”
Oscar chuckled, tapping the edge of his beat up trash can with his fingers. “Keep your pants on, Skinny,” he told her in a calming tone, though he couldn’t avoid smirking. “I just thought you might pick me up a card at the store.”
Maria stared back at him in confusion. “You … want … me … to … get … you … a … card?” she asked, as though he were speaking a foreign language.
Oscar nodded. “It’ll be Father’s Day tomorrow, right? I need a card,” he said matter-of-factly.
“For whom?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but for me!” he shot back.
Maria closed her eyes and sighed. “No, Oscar,” she stated more calmly, opening her eyes again, “for whom is the card going?”
Oscar frowned. “Did you forget to clean your ears this morning? I said the card is for me – as in yours truly – as in Oscar the Grouch!”
Maria walked up to Oscar’s can and glared at him mere inches from his flat face. “Oscar – for one thing, Father’s Day is today. For another, you aren’t a father!”
Oscar laughed. He loved it when she was upset with him. “Oh, I know, Skinny,” he replied cheerfully. “If I have a Father’s Day card and I don’t have any kids, I’ll be sad and miserable! It’ll be the best grouchy Father’s Day ever, heheheh!”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Oscar, I’m not getting you a card that’ll make you sad.”
Oscar’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening. “But … but … Maria! You’ve never been so mean to me!” He paused, stroking the side of his head in thought. “I may actually like it, heheheh.”
Maria shook her head. As long as she’s known him, he’s been the very personification of what the kids called “opposite day”. Although, grouches always seemed to celebrate that day. “Alright, Oscar. I give up. I’ll get you the card. Are you going to address it yourself?”
Oscar shook his head. “You go ahead and do it,” he replied. “I don’t have any pens or pencils that actually work.”
She slapped her forehead. “Of course. How silly of me.” She started to walk away.
“Oh, Skinny?”
“I’m going, Oscar!” she retorted without stopping.
He cupped his hand over his mouth. “Be sure an’ sign it! I wanna always remember who made me miserable on Father’s Day!” He chuckled again.
“Care ta explain somethin’, Oscar?” a grating female voice demanded. Oscar looked down and saw his girlfriend Grungetta, with her stringy greenish-yellow hair, her black monobrow, her ratty purple dress, and a bunch of scuffed up Mardi Gras bead necklaces around her neck.
“Oh, hey, Grungie,” Oscar smiled. “Whaddya want?”
She put her hands on her hips, snarling. “What’s this I hear about Father’s Day?”
Oscar gulped. “It’s not what you think!” he told her in a panicked tone.
She growled. “What exactly do I think, Oskie?” She tapped her foot. “Hm? I suppose you’ve been keeping one of those awful cute little babies in your trash can without my knowledge?”
Oscar couldn’t help but laugh. “I really don’t think I could get a baby wit’out you knowin’ ‘bout it.”
“So what’s the deal wit’ that woman and a card?”
Oscar glanced in the direction Maria went. “Oh, Skinny? I, uh, I just wanted her to buy me somethin’.”
“Tryin’ ta save gas? You ain’t tryin’ ta save the environment or nothin’, are ya?”
“Would never dream about such a thing!” he tried to tell her, putting his hand on his heart.
“Yeah, well, you know I can’t stand those adorable, soft-skinned, bright-eyed little bundles of goodness,” she continued, looking away. “Otherwise ….”
Oscar nodded sympathetically – for her sake. “Oh, yeah. Hey, I ain’t never told ya to do nothin’ you didn’t want to do, Grungie.”
Grungetta glanced up at him and smirked briefly. “Good.” She waved a finger at him. “Don’t forget it!” She stomped off in a huff, though she didn’t really want to let Oscar see her wistful expression. He’d enjoy the fact she felt bad about never having a baby with him.
She smiled finally. The thought of making him uncomfortable made her happy. She started to skip – though just a little.
Oscar saw her cheer up as she walked away and sighed, glancing back in Maria’s direction. He had known Maria for a long time. It seemed like ages ago. She was just a rail of a teenage human girl, but right away they got off to a great start. She was a wonderful little spitfire who wasn’t afraid to mouth off to him. She didn’t have a father, he found out later. She was bent on making her own way in life, like how he moved to Sesame Street when his family wanted him to stay in Grouchland like a normal grouch.
But what was the point of being a grouch if you acted the way everyone wanted?
A young Latina with long black hair showed up and draped her arm over Oscar’s trash can. “Hey, Oscar,” she said. “Have you seen my mother?”
Oscar jumped a little, surprised to have someone invading his personal space so brazenly like that. “Maria? Yeah, Gabi – she went to the store.”
Gabi grinned and patted him on the hand, laughing when he jerked his hand back as though she had spilled mud on it. “Thanks. She’s gonna get Papi’s card.” She nodded toward the Fix-It Shop down across the street. “It’s supposed to be a surprise. I gotta cover for her so he doesn’t suspect.”
Oscar grinned. “I bet he already knows!”
Gabi’s face fell. “Oscar! Did you tell him about our surprise?”
Oscar nodded. “Oh, yeah! He knows every little detail!” He chuckled and slammed the trash can lid as he descended.
Gabi pouted. “Great. Now I’ve gotta do damage control.” She left.
Oscar grinned as he slowly opened the lid back up to see if Gabriella left. Naturally, he knew nothing about the surprise. He just told her that so Maria’s kid would “gab” to Luis in a panic and ruin the whole thing. His heart beat faster at the thought he ruined the holiday for him.
He had watched everyone run around crazily as they tried to get Maria to the hospital when she was pregnant with Gabriella. All he wanted was to get everyone to be quiet and leave him alone, but they wouldn’t stop making noise.
It was almost the worst night of his life. He actually drove Luis and Maria to the hospital (eventually, with many a mishap) and, gulp, felt happy that they were having a baby. The only satisfaction he got was not telling anyone what had happened at the hospital. They eventually left him alone to go to the hospital themselves.
Still, when Luis announced to him later that Maria had a baby girl, he couldn’t resist calling her.
Big Bird came out of his small place just to the left (his left, anyway) of his trash can. It was a ramshackle place with walls made of discarded doors. It was definitely fit for any grouch child. Big Bird spotted Oscar and grinned, waving. “Hi, Oscar!” he exclaimed cheerfully.
“Scram, turkey,” he muttered to the eight-foot-tall yellow fluff of feathers.
Big Bird laughed. “Oh, Oscar,” he told the frowning grouch, “I just wanted to know if you minded if I got you a Father’s Day card.”
Oscar gawked at him. “You were listening?” he growled.
Big Bird shuffled his feet and stared at the sidewalk. “Well, yeah.” He glanced in the direction of his nest. “My nest isn’t really soundproof, you know.”
“Well,” Oscar huffed, “mind your own beeswax an’ go bother someone else!”
“But I can make you a card if it’ll make you feel better!” Big Bird protested. “Susan just got me some new crayons, and I have plenty of paper.”
“What happened to the crayons I got ya?” Oscar asked incredulously.
Big Bird shrugged. “They were all broken, so I couldn’t draw with them. Snuffy an’ I made some neat decorations with them though. We melted the wax in the crayons and made pictures with the drops of hot wax.”
Oscar frowned. “You could burn down the whole street like that!”
Big Bird’s eyes widened. “Oh, no!” he replied hastily. “We know not to play with fire. Luis melted them over at the Fix-It Shop for us. We just told him where to put the drips.”
Oscar rolled his eyes. “Well, someone’s a drip, alright.” He shook his head. “Don’t get it inta yer head to make me a card, turkey. Just leave me alone! That’s present enough!” He sighed with exasperation.
Big Bird sighed quietly and nodded. “Okay, Oscar. I’ll go if that’ll make you feel better,” he said, dejected.
As soon as the overstuffed canary left his line of sight, Oscar sighed. He didn’t know much about Big Bird’s parents, but he got the impression eight feet was too much of a good thing for them and so they just sorta left the humans of 123 Sesame Street to care for him on a daily basis. After all, his species was normally around that height as adults … if he was eight feet as a six year old, how big could he possibly get? Some parents just couldn’t take it if their kid was far outside the norm.
One day, some busybody ostrich or whatever with purple hair and a mean expression cajoled the big ol’ turkey to leave and go live somewhere else, with birds like him, though from what he saw on TV, those nincompoops were nothing at all like him. The thought that the kid was being forced to be “normal” was weighing too heavily on his mind. When Big Bird ran away from his foster parents, Oscar paired up with Maria to help the others go find him. He chuckled at Bob’s idea of pairing him with Maria at the time.
For they were both like children to him. All he wanted was for them both to be happy and safe.
Oscar didn’t bother with having kids at first for the same reason his girlfriend Grungetta didn’t want them … oh, yeah, they could be loud and stinky and messy, but everyone always thought they were so cute! Even his young niece Irvine, ugly as she was, was considered adorable, especially by the human females. What was with them, anyway? He knew it had something to do with hormones, but it just made them disgustingly gullible when it came to the little pests.
He watched as different kinds of families strolled up and down Sesame Street. Some kids had a mess of adults with them. Some had a mommy and a daddy. Some had just one or the other. Some had two of one or the other.
He was supposed to have his own grouch children.
That was how it worked.
But … how could he be true to his grouch nature if he simply did what others wanted?
Maria was a beautiful human woman. Big Bird was a cheerful innocent avian child. They were both so different from the usual grouch children.
He smiled.
That was what he loved about them. He could watch over both of them from his convenient place in between their homes and yank their chains whenever he was in the mood to do so. He didn’t have to engage in all that mushy stuff or live in a secure mainstream environment. He could just deal with them from the comfort of his trash can.
Maria finally showed up and tossed a small greeting card at the grumpy little grouch. “Here,” she said. “It’s all filled out. Now you can be perfectly miserable all day.”
Oscar tried to avoid smiling and manipulated the envelope in his hands for several moments. “Hey, thanks, Skinny,” he said softly. Suddenly he just dropped it into his trash can.
“You’re not even going to open it and make sure I did as you asked?” Maria griped.
Oscar grinned. “Ain’t it just gonna drive ya crazy if I never let ya see me open it? Heheheheh.”
Maria clenched her fists. “Oooooooooh!” she growled. “I’m gonna be late for work!” she added, stomping off.
Soon Big Bird came back with a birdseed milkshake in his hand. He sipped on it carefully before getting up the courage to talk to someone he looked up to in a weird way … well, figuratively, considering he was much taller than Oscar.
“Go ahead an’ talk an’ don’t just stand there!” Oscar snapped at him.
Big Bird pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Oscar. “I called Snuffy over at Mr. Looper’s store and he said it was okay if I gave you this.”
Oscar took the paper from him and opened it up, discovering a mosaic of brightly colored raised dots of wax, forming a rough picture of the area in front of Big Bird’s home, with Oscar on the left of the painting, or what he assumed was a representation of himself and his pile of trash and his trash can. He didn’t respond.
Big Bird sipped his milkshake again and gulped. He spoke softly. “I know you don’t want a card, but this is the picture we made. It’s a picture of my home.” He pointed at a small green splotch above a bunch of gray splotches. “That’s you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you like it?”
“It’s awful!” Oscar shouted finally, his voice waivering slightly.
Big Bird nodded. “It is kinda messy. It’s made from those melted crayons I told you about.”
Oscar took several moments to respond. He was trying so hard to compose himself. “I guess I could put it in Fluffy’s room,” he said at last, his voice more certain. “He could always use a good piece of trash.”
Big Bird rolled his eyes and smirked. “Okay, Oscar. That’s fine. I’m sure Fluffy would like it too. He loves you too, you know.”
Oscar glanced up at Big Bird briefly and shrugged. “He’s a pet. He’s supposed to do that.”
Big Bird laughed. “Yeah, but it still feels good to know when you’re loved, doesn’t it?”
Oscar trembled before blurting out, “Will ya just scram, ya overgrown Christmas poultry?”
Big Bird got a bigger grin. He knew Oscar well enough by now that he yelled when he was trying to hide how good he felt. “Have a good day, Oscar,” he chuckled as he retreated back to his nest.
“Well, I’m not now!” Oscar screamed in frustration, diving back into his trash can in desperation.
For hours, Oscar stared at the opened card after hanging up Big Bird’s picture next to his bed on the wall.
“Dear Oscar,
As you know, my father never lived to see some of the most important moments of my life. Yet, there you were, ever ready to interrupt your day or night to make sure I was cared for. As I tried to make my life my own, you always challenged me to be independent, never backing down and settling for things that weren’t worth my time. I saw your proud expression when Luis and I got married. It was matched only by my own mother’s. You suggested … interesting … culinary ideas I found useful when I was pregnant. When I spoke about love to old friends on the stoop, you harassed me relentlessly so I couldn’t finish the discussion.
I know you like that I have a temper, Oscar.
When it came time to pick a classic cinematic character to portray, do you know why I chose Chaplin? I picked him because he reminded me of you: he dressed sloppily but it hid a sense of integrity and dignity I greatly admired both in his Tramp character and you.
Even if this card makes you upset because it sounds so mushy, and I concede a certain dark desire to make you flustered after you made me so late for work this morning, I felt today was a good day to tell you how much I have appreciated all that you have done for me.
I only realized later why you interrupted my discussion on love. It was your grouchy way of saying just how much you cared for me.
I assure you, the feeling is mutual.
I hope you have the most despicable Father’s Day ever, Oscar.
Sincerely,
Maria “Skinny” Rodriguez”
So many tears ran down his face that day, a bright orange streak, a memory of his true fur color, appeared on each cheek below his eyes.
He had never been happier.
The End
