Friday, December 31

In the studio in front of an audience, we're going to do a little talk about the dangers of Time Traveling. We know you may have had The Big Talk before, maybe with your parents, maybe with one of your teachers, but you can never get too many of these Talks becuase Time Traveling is one of the most dangerous things there are.

"What's so dangerous about Time Traveling?" asks Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "I do it all the time." Our new sound effects girl Julie adds a really funny fart sound when he finishes his sentence. All the kids laugh.

"Time Traveling can be perfectly fun and safe, as long as you are fun and safe about it." I explain. Julie makes a funny honking sound. All the kids laugh. "The main thing to remember is that you can do lots and lots of things in the past that make you instantaneously not exhist anymore."

"Wait," Mr. Happy Puppet Head says. "Like my parents, they had two kids before me, but they were both accidents and they never really wanted to get married but had to. But then one day they were at the fair and drank some love potion as a joke, but then they actually did fall in love with each other for the first time." Julie adds some drum rolls. No one laughs, even though it is a good sound effect.

"So was the potion real, or was the power of suggestion strong enough to bring out their latent love for each other that had built up over the years of child-rearing?" I ask.

"I don't know," he answers. "All anyone knows is that they fell in love and later that night they had lots of 'baby-making fun', and so I was born." Another fart sound. This one gets some solid laughs.

"So, if they hadn't seen the sign for the love potion, real or not, they wouldn't have fallen in love for the first time and had you." I think for a moment while Julie puts in yet another fart sound. The kids love it every time. "So if you traveled back in time, got in the way of their seeing this sign, you wouldn't have been born. And unlike in those fake Time Traveling movies, you would disappear instantly. No time to fix the wrongs you've done. The only way to be saved is if someone else goes back and makes them fall in love. But I wouldn't know to go back because you'd never exhisted and we'd never been friends." Fart fart fart. Kids laugh.

"Sure."

"And that's why," I point my fingers dramatically, "That none of us have ever met a time traveler, becuase they eventually make a mistake and cause their own non-exhistance." Fart fart fart.

"Oh," Mr. Happy Puppet Head nods along with the now steady stream of fart sounds. He has to kind of shout to be heard over it. "I think I get it."

Fart fart fart fart fart fart fart. The kids are laughing so hard some of them are choking and having trouble breathing. Most of them are rolling around, falling out of their chairs.

"So be carefull, kids," I shout at them, but they aren't paying any attention anymore. "Kids! Don't time travel, okay? You'll stop exhisting!"

I turn to Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "That was pretty good, right?"

"Yeah, kind of like a subliminal thing. They heard us, but they weren't paying attention. And they were laughing, so they'll just connect not Time Traveling to funny fart sounds." He takes a swig from his hip flask.

"Oh, okay. That works."


The Jigglin' Clown Day Celebrations are over, me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head have finally gotten off the couch and are nursing our bedsores while blinking hard at lights other than the TV.

But that holiday is over. Now it's time to Dance With Celebrations for a New Year.


For us, a good bit of 2004 went into making The Midnight Mailman Show. It means a lot to us that you watch it, and that you seem to enjoy it so much.



We have Big Plans for 2005. We'll have:

--lots and lots more videos and cartoons (we know you're sick of the two that've been there for so long)

--Midnight Mailman toys and clothings to buy for your friends and loved ones

--more games with prizes

--more stories. Maybe we'll kill off some characters, maybe invent some new ones, or maybe other things we haven't thought of yet. You never know. It's all very exciting.



So keep coming back. We'll try to keep it funny. And keep leaving me notes. It's how I know you care.

Saturday, December 25

Happy Jigglin' Clown Day Everyone!

Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head are having a great time today. We left out the cigars and pornographic magazines for the Great Jiggler, and he filled our clown shoes with tons of chewed gum and cabbage. What a great guy that Jigglin' Clown.

And now we're going to drink a lot of beer, eat Frito's brand corn chips, and watch more TV than we feel like watching, becasue that's what the Jigglin' Clown would want if he were here, instead of in his island cave drinking beer, eating Frito's, and watching TV.

I hope everyone has a great holiday. It'll be days before we're done. We've bought enough beer and Frito's to not have to get off the couch (except to lean over and do our business in the big business bucket next to the couch) for a long time. Maybe until Wednesday or Thursday.

So we'll see you kids later. Have fun.

************
You can hear all the people say,
'When is that Jigglin' Day,
When we can be so happy and bright?'
That Clown, what a hoot, can't wait for the loot
That he'll leave in our hung clown shoes.
So on December twenty-five,
the Clown will arrive,
And go through his clownin' routine.
He jimmies the door,
And raids the fridge,
And scares the Hell
Out of all the kids.

From the poem "Le Jiggler," by Andre Paraguassu

Wednesday, December 22

It's been brought to my attention that we missed our anniversary. The Midnight Mailman Show was one year old on December 11. So now it's one year and eleven days old.

So in commemoration, we're going to give out the best gift in the world to one lucky person. Mr. Happy Puppet Head, hand me that old-fashioned top hat with all the slips of paper in it. Each slip of paper has a name on it from someone in our stuido audience, and we're going to pick one at random. That person gets the free gift.

Here we go... Henrietta Fitzburger! Come on down and get your prize!



Open it up, Henrietta. Don't be scared to tear the wrapping.

Look at that! Isn't it great? You know what it is? It's a cloning machine! All you have to do is push this button and it instantly makes an exact duplicate of you. You can make as many as you want. We even supplied you with extra clone juice in case you run out.

Now go make fifty of yourself and have a party. And Happy Birthday The Midnight Mailman Show!

Tuesday, December 21




Potato and Loraine are playing in the backyard with their secret friend Roboctopus.

"I'm cold," says Loraine. "Let's go inside."

"Mom and Dad locked the back door again," says Potato.

"Everything's going to be all right," says Roboctopus. "Everything's going to be all right."

"I wish they'd let me get my jacket," says Loraine. "Maybe if I knock on the door they'll let me come inside to get my jacket."

"Okay," says Potato. "But let's hide Roboctopus in the treehouse so Mom and Dad don't see him when they come to let you insdie. You know if they see him they'll just sell him to some scientists or something."

"Yeah," sighs Loraine. "Grownups never understand anything."

"Everything's going to be all right," says Roboctopus. "I love you so much, Mrs. Dickenson."

They hide their Roboctopus secret friend and Loraine goes to get herself a jacket. When she gets back, Roboctopus has stabbed Potato several times.



Loraine has to drag her brother all the way accross town to their doctor, Dr. Swanson, who long ago promised to mend their wounds and keep Roboctopus a secret. All they had to do was promise Loraine's hand in marriage once she reaches the legal age of consent. But he's a nice doctor, and that's almost ten years away, so that isn't really a problem.

"There you go," says Dr. Swanson. "All sewn up and ready to go."

"Thanks Dr. S!" Potato hops off the operating table, good as new.

"I love you so much, Mrs. Dickenson," says Roboctopus. Everyone laughs.

"Now you kids scamper off and play," says Dr. Swanson. "And don't forget you still have to marry me, Loraine."

"I didn't forget," says Loraine.

"Kids..." sighs Dr. Swanson as he cleans up his operating tools.



Sunday, December 19

An Educati-FUN Video!
********************

"Elevator Safety"

Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head have been concerned for some time with the behavior of children on elevators. These mechanical megaliths aren't just for fooling around on, they're important life tools for business people to get to and from their hectic jobs, sordid love affairs, drug deals, and trading posts for exotic skins and furs. And even though you should be taking the stairs, because elevators are for suckers, you should know how to ride them properly and safely.

So here we are on an elevator with little Amanda. Together we're all going to learn some proper etiquite for elevator usage. Go ahead, Amanda. Push the button for which floor we want to go to. Sure, let's go all the way up. Floor twenty.

First lesson is that we don't run around in circles and scream inside the elevator. This causes anxiety to fellow elevator travelers. Second Lesson is that we don't push all the buttons on the elevator at once, even if we want to. That's how old people die.

Hm. I don't know why the elevator stopped at floor nine. We didn't push the button and no one's here to get on. Push the elevator close button. That closes the elevator.

No, I don't know why the elevator won't close. An important part of elevator riding is patience.

Try pushing that big red button, the emergency call button. No, it usually doesn't whisper our most disquieting moments from our past. I don't know why it's doing that. And the doors are supposed to close eventually.

The only explanation is that elevators are for suckers and we need to find the stairwell.



We walk down the long, dim hallway, opening doors that look like they might be the stairs, but none of them are marked and all of them are locked. There aren't many doors, and we've soon tried them all. I try to hide my growing sense of panic.

No, Amanda, you don't want to drink from Mr. Happy Puppet Head's flask. That's for grown ups. And yes, we'll find a way out.

I turn around and there's a small boy where there wasn't one before.

"Hello," he says. "I know exactly who you are and everything because I'm psychic." To prove it he makes a vase of flowers appear, makes it shatter against the wall next to him, then all the little pieces disappear as it falls to the floor.

I ask him where the stairwell is. Mr. Happy Puppet Head asks him to do the flower trick again, only with a computer or something real expensive.

"I'm here for Amanda," says the boy. "She's psychic, too, only doesn't know it yet. There's a magic land for psychic children where they aren't condemened by the non-psychics. The nons are always trying to bring us down."

Amanda nods her head knowingly. The boy stretches out his hand to her and she begins walking towards him. I ask her if she knows what she's doing. She says "Sure. I'm psychic."

As their hands touch, they blink out of existance. I assume they've re-appeared in magic psychic land.

We figure now that the boy got his psychic friend that we can leave, but the elevator still won't close and all the doors are still locked. We call for him, but he doesn't respond.

It isn't until a really long time later that he remembers us. Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head are curled up asleep in the corner of the hallway. He appologizes heartily. I accept, but Mr. Happy Puppet Head demands that the boy make a big chandelier appear, set it on fire, then smash it real good, which he does before making us disappear and reappear in our house.

It's nice to be back home, but whenever we magically reappear in our house like that, I always wonder if its our real home, or some replica in an identical universe. Because you never do know.

Saturday, December 18

"Roboctopus, please..." beg both Potato and Loraine. "Please don't light any more small animals on fire."

"Everything's going to be all right," says Roboctopus in his friendly robot voice. "Everything's going to be all right."

Under one tentacle is a small bird wiggling desperately to get free. In another tentacle he holds a matchbook.

"Mom and Dad'll be home soon," says Potato.

"We won't have time to clean up any mess," says Loraine. "Please don't..."

"Everything's going to be all right. I love you so much, Mrs. Dickenson." Roboctopus strikes a match and holds it to one of the flapping, oily wings. He has to hold the wing still with another tentacle in order to set fire to it properly.



The bird screams and runs in horrified circles as its feathers quickly burn to nothing and its flesh bubbles and boils.

Potato starts crying softly. Loraine takes his hand and holds it in her own. They look away from the tiny pile of charred flesh in the middle of their backyard.

"I love you so much, Mrs. Dickenson." Roboctopus looks up at the tree and follows with his shining robot eyes another little bird. "Everything's going to be all right."


Thursday, December 16

Howie the little girl and the Giant Robot stand motionless for a long time in an extended stare-off.

"Are you going to eat me?' asks Howie.

"Nope," replies the Giant Robot as it chomps its teeth viciously.

They stare at each other for another long time. Howie wonders what other horrible things this Giant Robot could do other than eat her.

"Are you maybe going to just chomp me a little and then spit me back out?" aks Howie. "And I'll be all chomped and dead when you spit me out?"

"Nope," replies the Giant Robot as it's maliciously red glowing eyes stare down at her. "I am a Nice Robot and won't do anything to hurt you."

"Well," replies Howie. "That's good." She looks around the cave and sees how dark and lonely it must be for a friendly robot like this one. "You must be lonely."

"Nope," replies the Giant Robot. "I'm actually quite busy and have no time or energy to be lonely."

And all of a sudden the giant claws come down and snatch up the little girl and carry her away.

She finds herself in the mayor's office, a large square room with a big window and a big desk and behind the big desk, but in front of the window, is a large leather chair turned away from her. On the big desk is the package containing her best friend in the whole world, her pet old man head.



She runs to grab the package, but the chair swings around and Bermuda and Steve are sitting in the chair and they put one of their big blue hands on the box so she can't take it.

"Leave it alone!," shouts Steve. "The plan's not done yet."

Howie is confused. So let's just end this quick now.

SUMMARIZED ENDING

Bermuda and Steve were elected mayor this past year, all as a part of their dismantling the government plan. So they stole Howie's pet old man head and sent it to themselves to give them a reason to step down from office and free the people of the town from unjust rule, which they believe is any sort of rule. It all makes so much sense! But Howie doesn't like her best friend to be used for political means, so she snatches the head off the desk and makes a run for it. Big exciting chase scene where everyone learns how to be friends in the end.

You are satisfied with this ending, and the storyline as a whole.

Wednesday, December 15

Howie the little girl is slowly climbing the rope down into the seemingly bottomless Sorting Mail Pit. Her arms get very tired as the circle of daylight above her grows smaller and smaller, envelopes and packages fluttering around her in the damp, earth-smelling air.

"It's almost too bad I love my friend so much," says Howie. Her arms are burning with the effort, but she keeps climbing down.

She stops for a moment to catch her breath. Just as she does, a large orange envelope lands on her face. She grabs for it quickly, loses her grip, and with a small shriek falls flailing backwards into the darkness.

It isn't long before she lands comfortably on the enormous pile of letters collected at the bottom.

She sits up and notices that it isn't completely dark at the bottom of the pit, but that she can see basically where she is due to two little red lights against a wall not far away.

"Head?" she calls out for her best friend. "Where are you Head?" But she gets no answer.

Howie climbs down from the pile of envelopes and walks towards the little red lights. It's brighter under the lights and has a better chance of finding her pet old man head if he's nearby. "Head?" She digs through another pile of mail.

On a smaller pile of mail only a short distance away she sees the cardboard box containing her best friend. She stands up and begins to run to it when the little red lights suddenly move towards her.

Howie freezes in her tracks. She realizes that the little red lights are the eyes of an enormous chomping robot, which is now standing inbetween her and her best friend in the whole world.



No sooner does Howie recognize that this is a rather big problem needing a solution than a large mechanical claw drops from the cieling, grabs the package with the severed head, and zips up into the darkness above.

Now the only problem is that there is an enormous red-eyed chomping monster staring at her in an underground cave that she has no idea how to escape from.


Friday, December 10




Bermuda and Steve have kidnapped Howie the little girl's pet old man head so that they can give it to the Mayor in order to scare him into dismantling the city government and stepping down from office.

Howie the little girl follows Bermuda and Steve, the naked two-headed monster to City Hall. She cries quietly to herself. She watches as they slide the box containing her best friend ever into the big Mail slot at the front door.

Bermuda and Steve clap their hands together. "A job well done," says Steve. "Hooray!" says Bermuda.

Howie gives them the meanest look she can possibly give. Bermuda looks down at his feet ashamedly, but Steve points to the sky and yells "For freedom!" With that, they shuffle away.

City Hall is a modestly sized brick building with a small concrete parking lot to one side and a tiny dogwood tree in front. Howie pulls open one of the big double doors and enters.

"What do you want?" asks a large woman standing in the middle of the vestibule.



Howie thinks for what feels like a long time, wondering what the best thing to say would be.
While she thinks, the woman chomps her jaws several times in the little girl's direction.

"There is a box that was brought here," Howie says.

"You'll have to speak up," says the woman.

"There is a box that was brought here, to the Mayor" Howie says louder. "By accident and I need it back."

"Was it dropped in the Mail Slot or delievered by professionals?"

"Um... Mail Slot."

"Well," clucks the woman. "That'll be out back. That's where we put all Mail Slot recievals to be processed and checked.

Howie nods and turns to go.



There is a deep pit in the back where a small man in overalls is throwing envelopes. She watches as he picks up the box with her pet old man head in it, shakes it roughly, then tosses it into the pit. It falls for a very long time, until she can't see it anymore. Howie listens for the sound of it hitting the bottom, but there is no sound. "Maybe there is no bottom?" asks Howie.

The little man in overalls laughs a big cackly laugh and says "Oh, there's a bottom all right. But just barely!" And he laughs all cackly again and continues tossing letters and packages down into the darkness.

Howie scratches her chin. There's a rope that descends into the pit. Like most children, she's scared of seemingly bottomless pits, and even more scared of climbing a rope down into
one. But this is for her best friend ever, the one person who understands her, the one person who never judges her or makes fun of her or anything. And there are so many more adventures they need to go on. She won't sacrifice her friend for political ends.

Howie carefully bends down and grabs hold of the rope. Hand over hand, she descends into the darkness.


Thursday, December 9

Bermuda and Steve have taken Howie the little girl's pet old man head.



They have a cardboard box and say that they are going to send Head to the Mayor because the Mayor is a cog in the system of injustice.

"See, if we send him this severed old man's head, he'll step down from office," Bermuda explains to Howie.

"But not before he dismantles the city governement. Don't forget that part," says Steve. "He needs to dismantle the city government and pronounce its citizens truly free."

"I didn't forget. He needs to dismantle... the injustice." Bermuda waves his hand in the air dramatically.

"You forgot to tell her that this will set an example for the world, and everyone'll be dismantling their governments."

Howie blinks up at the two-headed naked monster.

"See, little girl," says Steve as he chews on one of his fingernails. "We've been trying to get the mayor to step down for a long time now. We tried asking politely, we sent letters, had petitions signed, the works, you know? We even had a bake sale to pay the Mayor to leave."

"But he wouldn't take the money! Can you believe that?" Bermuda continues waving his hand around dramatically.

Howie looks at her best friend in the whole world sitting on the ground behind the naked monster. She wishes she could go pick him up, but Bermuda and Steve won't let her past them.

"So we used the money from the bake sale to hire a detective to follow him around, find his weaknesses." Steve spits out a small sliver of thumbnail. "Turns out he's scared of severed body parts. So..." He gestures behind him towards Head.

"We'd pay you for your contribution to Freedom! Really we would!" Bermuda wipes away some of the drool from the corner of his mouth. "But we spent all of it on that detective..."

"You understand, I'm sure." Steve stares hard at Howie. "You do want real freedom, don't you?"

Howie tries to sneak past them, but Steve grabs hold of her. "Put it in the box, Bermuda," he says. She strugles, but Steve is too strong. Bermuda carefully places Head in the box and seals it tight with packing tape.

"Let go!" yells Howie. Steve does what she asks, but then they turn and walk away.

"Man... freedom is going to be so great," says Bermuda.

"You said it, buddy," sighs Steve. "You said it."

Howie follows close behind. She doesn't want freedom without her best friend in the whole world. Head would nod emphatically if he hadn't been kidnapped.

(to be continued...)


Tuesday, December 7

An Educati-FUN Video!
***********************
Where Babies Come From

We are here with one of the two main components in the creation of new life. A giant sperm.



With only one half of what is needed, this wiggly giant needs to find an egg to fertilize. But it isn't always easy, especially since he's never done this before and doesn't even know what an egg looks like. That's why me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head are here to help.

We start at the park. Little kids are playing in the background, the sun is shining. Giant Sperm is looking around for his egg, but there are so many things that could be it. Something catches his eye and he slithers over to it.

Sorry, Sperm. That's an ice cream truck. No organic fertilization can occur with man-made automobiles. But it is filled with deliciousness.

We leave the park. Clearly no eggs in the park.



Sorry, that's a building.

And That's a pair of pants. That's a grapefruit... and that's a ballerina.

Finally we end up in the parking lot in front of the drug store. And there, taking up two handicap spots, is an egg.

Giant sperm gets real excited and wiggles frantically. He slithers forwards. The egg is cooing softly and glows just a little bit. It is beautiful. Giant Sperm rears back, bears his teeth, and sinks his teeth into the egg.



The egg lets out a high-pitched scream that hurts our ears. Some car windows surrounding us shatter. It tries to roll away but now it's lopsided and can't get over the speedbump behind it. Giant Sperm takes a few more bites out of Egg's perfectly smooth exterior before burrowing into the ragged gash it has created. Egg's scream becomes so high-pitched that we can no longer hear it at all, yet it overwhelms all other sound. In the center of this utter silence, Giant Sperm makes his way inside of Egg, and an intense white light shoots in all directions from them. We are completely blinded and have to look away.

And then it's over. We blink and for a few minutes all we can see are large black spots.

When it goes away we see a perfect little baby child lying in the middle of one of the handicapped parking spots, kicking its feet in the air and murmering quietly to itself.

A happy young attractive white hetrosexual middle-class couple exits the drug store. They stop when they see the baby and turn to each other. Serious Discussion ensues for a brief moment before they both put down their plastic bags full of one-hour processed photography and modestly priced hygene products to pick up their new child.

The woman-turned-mother hugs the child to her ample chest and the man-turned-father gently brushes bits of asphalt from his child's forehead.

And that's where babies come from.

Thursday, December 2



"Dude."

"What?"

"You've got something..."

"What?"

"Something on your back there. You might want to check it out."

"Oh. Look at that. Hm."

"You know what that is?"

"Nope... can't say I do. You think it's dangerous?"

"Looks kind of mean. I'd brush it off or something. Just to be on the safe side."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

(the one brushes the little monster thing off its back and it proceeds to scream, run in circles, then steal both bird's wallets)

"Well what do you know."

"Crazy world, eh? Come on, I'll give you a back rub."

(back rub ensues)

The End.



You are sad. Sadder than you've been in a long time. Maybe the saddest ever. That big black pit has opened up inside your soul for no discernable reason again, and everything becomes empty and meaningless. Life becomes an endless list of obligations, and nothing is fun, nothing brings joy, nothing means anything to you anymore.

So run away from home. Just go. Don't leave a note. Wear all of the clothes you have at one time (there's nothing warmer) and walk until it's night. Then find a public bathroom stall you can sleep in.

Next morning get yourself on one of those far-away going busses. If you don't have any money, do whatever you can to get on it. Cry if you have to.

Things will be better where you go, wherever it is. You can get a job at a cash register somewhere and not have to think anymore. You can be a total jerk in your new life and not have to worry about anything. Jerks don't worry.

Don't call home. If you have to, write a long letter to your parents, but you have to black out every other word with a marker so that it makes no sense at all. And in your new life you can only eat minestrone soup straight out of the can. And you will start to really care about professional tennis and the color of other people's cars, but make sure you don't actually take up any hobbies or activities other than pushing buttons on a cash register. Practice staring at things. Keep your jaw slack.

Your new life will be so great.


Wednesday, December 1

A Performance Art Piece!
************************

"Murder in the Flower Garden"

The stage looks like a flower garden. There are flowers. Amid the flowers is a child volunteer from the audience who is playing the corpse. The little girl holds her hands to her throat and is hanging her tougue out of her mouth as if she has strangled herself.

Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head stand to one side and ponder the scene.

"What do you think it is about your flower garden that made her want to kill herself immediately?" I ask my floating red puppet friend.

"It couldn't have been the daffodils... nor the sunflowers," he muses. "Maybe it was the lack of tulips. There are no tulips in my garden."

"Yes, or maybe it had nothing to do with the garden..." I pretend to twirl my mustache. I pretend because it is just painted on with a marker. "Did you check her gums? She may not have been flossing."

"I did check her gums," he slowly begins spinning in circles. "I did check her gums and they looked fine. I did check her gums and they looked fine and I'm spinning in circles. I did check her gums and they looked fine and I'm spinning in circles and I wish I had a kitty named Chester. I did check her gums and they looked fine and I'm spinning in circles and I wish I had a kitty named Chester and I'm glad you're my friend."

He is by now spinning very quickly around and around. The lights begin to flash and some sad, low cello music fades in. Mr. Happy Puppet Head stops spinning and the lights fade down. A single spotlight on the girl is the only light left.

I kneel by the little dead girl. "I feel like we only met, little dead girl," I cup my hands to the top of my heads in a symbolic gesture of sadness. "But I know you mean more to me than anything ever has ever." I collapse onto my back, fake dead.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head slowly bobbles up and places my hands over my neck so it looks like I strangled myself.

"I'm hungry," he proclaims loudly. "I'm going to go fix myself some grilled chesse sandwich." And he bobbles off the stage.

The lights go black. There is a brief moment of silence before the audience erupts in applause and hysterical screaming. The little girl and I both stand to bow, but we are knocked back to the floor by a wave of confetti. We have to be escorted out by the janitor, Gene, who pushes aside our crazed fans like it's nothing.

The End.