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Barney the Dinosaur: The Pain Behind the Man by

Roxanne1

TV » Teletubbies Rated: M, English, Humor &

Parody, Words: 1k+, Favs: 55, Follows: 2, Published:
Jun 23, 2001

220
Barney the Dinosaur: The Pain Behind the
Man

Barney the Dinosaur: The Pain Behind the

Man

By Roxanne

Reader, be warned. Don't read this if you are

easily offended, as it contains some
profanity and references to homosexuality,
racial and social politics, and other things.
But if you, like me, have a slightly warped
sense of humor and some familiarity with
children's TV programs, you'll probably
enjoy it.

(On the set of Barney and Friends, the purple

dinosaur is wrapping up his show)

Barney: Well, boys and girls, that's all the time

we have for today. Didn't we have a super-dee-
duper time singing songs, playing wholesome
games, learning to share, and expressing our
completely platonic love for one another?

Politically correct kid in wheelchair: I sure did,

Barney.

Barney: (Chuckling dorkily) Nobody cares what

you think, Johnny. (In a deceptively friendly
tone): You're only here due to government
requirements for fair representation of
handicapped individuals in the media.

Politically correct African-American kid: What

about me, Barney?

Barney: (With a dorky smile) You're special too,

little Timmy. (Muttering) Lousy racial diversity
regulations. (Louder) Well, boys and girls, it's
time for us to come together and sing our
special song!

(He links arms with a Native American girl and a

bespectacled shrimp with a bowl cut)

All sing in unison, slightly off-key:

"I love you, you love me,

We're a physically and culturally diverse

family…"

(Song ends, Barney hugs the kids a little too

hard)

Wheelchair kid: Ow, Barney, you're hurting me!

Barney: (Tousles kid's hair violently) Oh ho ho

Johnny (Jumping up and down and chuckling a
bit evilly) you're so silly! You wouldn't want
Barney to get in trouble with the network
executives, would you, little Johnny?

Wheelchair kid: Uh, my name is Andrew…

Barney: (Ignoring the kid) Well, that's all for

today, kids! See you tomorrow! (Bounces off the
scene waving)

Cameraman: …AND… we're clear!

Barney: (Wiping his forehead) Thank God. I

need a stiff drink. If hear one more handicapped
kid laugh in innocent childlike wonder I think I'm
going to hurl. I'm going to the break room.

(He exits the studio, kicking the door shut loudly.

On the way to the PBS "break room," actually a
sort of private club/hangout, he runs into Mister
Rogers and Steve from Blues Clues. They are
walking a little too close and have their hands in
each others' back pockets)

Steve: Hey, Barney. Fred and I were just

heading to the break room. Care to join us?

Barney: Yeah, sure. (Cough – queer!)

(They head down a hallway and enter a lounge

area complete with bar and dance floor. Inside,
YMCA is blaring over the sound system. Tinky-
Winky and Dipsy repeatedly bump butts, then all
four Teletubbies form a conga line and circle the
joint. Elmo is sitting at the bar, taking a long
drag on a cigarette. He has clearly had a few
too many, as he is reeling about trying to keep
his balance on the high stool)

Elmo: Elmo – (hic) – knows how to shake it

(waves his spindly arms spastically in the air,
then falls off the bar stool and lands on the floor,
unconscious)

Mister Rogers: Tsk, tsk. Sesame Street is on in

an hour and he'll be in no shape to perform.
That just goes to show the dangers of alcohol,
kids.

Steve: Who are you talking to, Fred?

Mister Rogers: Sorry. Sometimes I forget when

my show is over.

Steve: That's what happens when you forget

your medication.

Barney: Get a room, you two.

(Barney crashes on a barstool, all but breaking

it under his weight. He signals to the bartender,
who happens to be Big Bird)

Big Bird: What can I get you, big guy?

Barney: Gimme your hardest liquor and fast. I

need to drown out the voices in my head. Shit,
those voices just won't shut up – all day long,
penetrating, deafening voices. They tell me to
do things – terrible things. I wouldn't consider
anyone within a two-mile radius of me to be
safe.

Big Bird: Ho-KAY. Right. Well. I can give you

alcohol but you really need some outside help.
Have you ever considered committing yourself
to the nearest mental ward?

Barney: Very funny, feather-butt. For your

information, I've been diagnosed as clinically
depressed as a result of years of forced
interaction with politically correct children and
queers like those two over there (Nods in the
direction of Mister Rogers and Steve, who are,
suffice it to say, engaged in more than
conversation)

Big Bird: Now, now, let's not be bitter

conservatives. You know Steve and Fred are
not the only two to opt for an alternate lifestyle.
Look and Bert and Ernie! And me and
Snuffelopagus – we've been together for almost
six months now.

(Barney does a spit-take with his drink, laughs

maniacally and falls off his bar stool, hitting his
head on the way down and joining Elmo on the
floor unconscious)

(When Barney comes to, he sees Mister Rogers

and Steve bending over him with concerned
expressions. Meanwhile, Tinky-Winky, Dipsy,
Lala and Po are pouring cold water on Elmo in
an attempt to wake him up. It's not working)

Dipsy: (Almost incoherently) Mo-mo dwink too

much.

Tinky-Winky: (Getting distracted) Tinky-Winky

go get "bag." (He takes out his red purse and
pulls out a small bottle of vodka. Lala and Po
stare at him)

Tinky-Winky: Tinky-Winky need dwink. (He

chugs the vodka. Lala and Po turn to each other
and shrug, then dance up and down gleefully)

Lala and Po: Again! Again!

Steve: They really should have drink limits here.

Too many PBS kids' entertainers getting
trashed. I swear this network's going down the
shitter.

Mister Rogers: Now Steve, it's not nice to use

words like that. It can hurt others.

Steve: Shut up and kiss me, old man.

(Bad things happen, things that are so very

wrong on so many levels that I'm not going to
describe them here, as I'm sure many of you
either have eaten recently or plan to in the near
future)

Barney: (Lifting his bulbous head from the pile

of vomit in which he lies) God, what have I
become? Why must I live like this?
Whyyyyyyyyy?

(Barney is sitting in a room with padded walls,

wearing an oversize straightjacket. He is in the
fetal position, holding his legs, rocking back and
forth, dazed, and singing in a quiet deranged
voice)

Barney: I fuck you, you fuck me, we're a fucking

family…

(A doctor walks in holding a clipboard)

Doctor: What's your name, "sir"?

Barney: Dinosaur. Barney the Dinosaur.

Doctor: Okay, Mr. The Dinosaur. Your chart says

you committed yourself. What seems to be the
problemo?

Barney: Well, lately I've been a bit disillusioned

about public television, and about the universe
in general and my place in the spectrum of
humanity, or lack thereof…hey, wait a minute,
do I know you?

Doctor: That's right, I'm Mr. McFeeley, the

loveable, happy-as-sunshine speedy delivery
mailman from Mr. Rogers' neighborhood.

Barney: Why the hell are you posing as a

freakin' psychiatrist?

McFeeley: How the hell do you expect me to

make a decent living walking around in a gay
postal uniform and delivering exactly one
package every day to that creep Fred Rogers,
who incidentally keeps trying to HIT ON ME!

Barney: Tell me about it. That man needs help.

McFeeley: Well, don't look at me. I've got my

hands full with counseling these days. Did you
know that over the past month no fewer than
seventeen PBS kids TV personalities have
willingly committed themselves to this
institution? It can't be a coincidence. I've helped
Ernie and Bert with marital counseling, I've
referred Elmo to a 12-step AA program, I've
even treated all four Teletubbies for separation
anxiety and stress from coping with devastating
brain damage and incurable speech
impediments which prevent them from
communicating in a coherent fashion.

Barney: I thought this stuff was confidential.

McFeeley: Well, technically it's supposed to be,

according to those right-wing fascists who run
this institution. God, sometimes I just sit back,
smoke a joint, and fantasize about how I'm
going to tear them limb from limb someday.

Barney: Whoa. Too much information. Let's

ignore your own obvious mental problems and
focus on mine. As I said, I've been hearing
voices and I've tried to kill myself over fifty
times. But is never works due to the dense
protective layer of purple blubber that covers my
body. That's another thing. I have a bad body
image. I've tried the Atkins diet, and the Jenny
Craig thing, and the Jared Subway Sandwich
Diet, but all I have to show for it are
gastrointestinal blockages and an eating
disorder.

McFeeley: (Writing busiliy on his clipboard) Uh

huh, uh huh, that's very interesting, Mr. The
Dinosaur.

Barney: (Snatching the clipboard away) What

the fuck? All you've done is draw images of
death by bludgeoning all over this medical form.

McFeeley: Sorry. Sometimes I forget where I

am. For all I know, in five minutes I'll be trying to
strangle you.

(Elmo pops in from a trapdoor in the ceiling)

Elmo: (Thinking he's a vampire) Elmo wants to

suck your blood! Elmo wants to feed you to the
undead! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

(Images of Mister Rogers and Steve getting

married float through the air above Barney's
head. YMCA suddenly starts playing from out of
nowhere; the Teletubbies enter and start dirty-
dancing)

Barney: YAAAAARRRRRRGH! I can't take any

more of this insanity! (Uses his tail to pull out a
pistol he has somehow concealed beneath his
straightjacket) This is for the demise of
children's programming! (A shot rings out,
Barney falls down dead)

Tinky-Winky: (Suddenly able to speak in a clear

yet menacing bass voice) Yes, and let this be a
lesson to anyone who tries to rebel – resistance
is futile! We will continue to penetrate your
children's brains each time they watch our
shows, until one day, they will serve us!

(Elmo's eyes roll back in his head so only the

whites show. Po starts to foam at the mouth and
his head slowly rotates a full 360 degrees, all
the while he is grinning maliciously. Suddenly
the lights go out, and everything is silent)

(A voice rings out):

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

THE END

Hope you enjoyed my story. I'm aware that

the ending is crappy; you don't have to tell
me.

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