Senator Kennard #2

Sesame Street - Part 2 - A Garbage Can and a Good Neighbor

Senator John Ugli Neeley Kannard, better known as Senator Junk, was still reeling from his encounters with Big Bird, Bert, and Ernie. His whole world had been shaken. Had he really spent his career trying to kill off a program that cost taxpayers only $1.40 a year?

He needed answers. He needed logic. He needed someone to tell him that all of this was nonsense.

Unfortunately for him, his next stop was Oscar the Grouch.

Junk found himself wandering down the familiar brownstones of Sesame Street, still clutching his head like a man coming out of a bad dream. His polished loafers squished into something unpleasant—a stray banana peel, half-submerged in a puddle of something that reeked.

“Ugh, disgusting,” Junk muttered, shaking his foot. “What kind of place is this?”

A raspy voice growled from behind him.

“Hey, genius! If you’re gonna complain, take it somewhere else! You’re ruining my good mood!”

Junk whirled around. A dingy metal trash can rattled violently, and then—POP!

Oscar the Grouch exploded out of it, glaring at him with wild, irritated eyes.

“Who the heck are you, and why are you standin’ next to my trash?”

Junk nearly fell over. He stumbled back, gripping his chest. “W-What the—? It’s you!”

Oscar scowled. “Oh great, another fan. What do ya want? An autograph? A selfie? Lemme guess—you wanna hug? Too bad, pal, I don’t do hugs.”

Junk wiped his forehead. “This ain’t happening. This is not happening. I did not just get yelled at by a talking pile of fur in a trash can.”

Oscar perked up. “Oh-ho! I like you already! You got a mean streak. A real cranky, sour, miserable vibe. You might actually be okay.”

Junk scowled. “Listen here, I don’t take lip from Muppets, especially ones that live in dumpsters.”

Oscar’s eyes flashed. “DUMPSTER?! Excuse me?! I live in a luxury trash can! It’s rent-controlled, buddy! You think just anyone can live here?”

Junk threw his hands up. “You call this luxury? It smells like hot garbage, and—what’s that?” He pointed to a half-eaten shoe sticking out of the can.

Oscar grinned. “That? That’s breakfast. Leftover from 1997. Delicious.”

Junk gagged. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Oscar crossed his arms. “Wow. A senator who can’t even handle a little trash. You really are delicate.”

Junk’s face turned red. “Listen here, you little furball! I’m a serious man! I make laws! I’m trying to fix this country! And people like you, sitting in your trash cans, doing nothing but complaining—you’re what’s wrong with America!”

Oscar blinked. Then he laughed. Hard.

“Ohhh, that’s rich! You’re standing on Sesame Street, a place built on kindness, learning, and helping others, and you got the nerve to say I’m what’s wrong with America? Buddy, have you looked in a mirror?”

Junk clenched his fists. “I—I am a patriot!”

Oscar snorted. “A patriot? Pfft. Sure. Patriot of what? Complaining? Yellin’ on TV? Cutting off funding for kids just to feel like a big man?”

Junk’s jaw tightened. “I’m trying to get rid of wasteful spending.”

Oscar smirked. “Oh yeah? So how much did that fancy Senate office of yours cost? More than Sesame Street? What about your travel expenses? You gonna cut those too?”

Junk’s face twitched. “That’s different.”

Oscar grinned. “Yeah, yeah. It always is. You keep tellin’ yourself that, buddy.”

Junk turned away. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

Oscar grinned wider. “No, but you should. And ya know what? For once, I actually hope they don’t cut our funding—because watching you squirm? That’s funnier than anything I’ve ever seen on this street.”

Junk stomped off, fuming, as Oscar cackled behind him.

Nina Explains the Importance of Community

Junk stormed down the sidewalk, trying to clear his head.

“What’s wrong with this place? First a giant bird calls me out, then a bunch of weirdos lecture me about education, and now a talking trash gremlin just insulted my entire life’s work.”

He stopped in front of a small shop with a sign that read “Nina’s Fix-It Shop.”

Inside, a woman was stacking books on a shelf. She had dark hair, a warm smile, and wore a bright red shirt.

She turned and noticed him.

“Hi there!” she said cheerfully. “You look a little lost.”

Junk narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

She wiped her hands on her jeans. “I’m Nina! Welcome to Sesame Street!”

Junk groaned. “Not another one.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not a Muppet.”

Junk leaned against the counter, rubbing his temples. “Listen, lady—I’ve been having a real weird day. Talking birds, a cranky furball in a trash can, and now I’m here. Why am I here?”

Nina smiled. “Maybe you need to learn something.”

Junk scoffed. “What could I possibly learn from a fix-it shop?”

Nina’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, a lot! See, Sesame Street isn’t just about ABCs and 123s. It’s about people. We teach kids how to be good neighbors. How to listen, how to help, how to care about the world around them.”

Junk crossed his arms. “And you think that’s worth taxpayer money?”

Nina’s smile softened. “Let me ask you something. Do you like your neighborhood?”

Junk shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess.”

Nina tilted her head. “Does everyone in your community help each other?”

Junk hesitated. “I mean… not really.”

Nina nodded. “That’s because they weren’t taught how. But here? Kids learn how to be better people. They grow up knowing how to respect others, how to solve problems together.”

Junk scoffed. “That sounds like some woke nonsense.”

Nina chuckled. “Nope. It’s just common sense.”

She reached for a stack of letters on the counter. “See these? These are from parents all over the country thanking us for what we do.”

Junk frowned. “People actually care that much?”

Nina smiled. “More than you’d ever believe.”

Junk rubbed his chin. For the first time that day, he was quiet.

Maybe… just maybe… he had been wrong.

Junk felt dizzy. The world around him spun. The buildings of Sesame Street twisted into a whirlwind of primary colors, Bert and Ernie’s voices echoing in his mind.

Then—BOOM.

He snapped awake—back in the Senate cafeteria, face planted into his half-eaten burrito.

He jolted upright, breathing hard. The cafeteria was normal again. No Muppets. No Big Bird. Just… reality.

He stared at his hands. “What… what just happened?”

A staffer peeked over. “Senator? You okay?”

Junk hesitated.

Then, slowly, he reached for his phone. He stared at it for a long moment… then, against every instinct, he typed:

"Maybe we should rethink cutting Sesame Street funding."

Across the country, millions of kids—and one big yellow bird—smiled.