For those clamoring for more...
Keebler Elves vs. Cookie Monster Responses, Da Sequel™

The darker side of Sesame Street (first photo sent in by Chris 'Jedi' Knight)

Sesame Street Posse (tm)

Happy Thanksgiving from Sesame Street

As the other elves rush to prepare their defenses, Ernie - despite the shaking of the tree house from Cookie Monster's pounding fists and his deafening battle cry of
manages to make it to his office, where he quickly places an emergency phone call.

Moments later, Cookie Monster’s would-be snack binge is interrupted by the rumble of approaching footsteps. He turns, and is greeted by a terrifying sight; Famous Amos, his face painted up Braveheart style, at the head of an entire regiment of heavily armed Girl Scouts. Seeing that he’s caught CM’s attention, he shouts, "You can take our lives, but you’ll never take . . . OUR COOKIES!!!!”

Even Cookie Monster knows when he’s outnumbered. He escapes . . . barely . . . but the Girl Scout Army set up a defensive perimeter around the tree house. It looks like Cookie Monster has finally met his match. Or has he?

CM makes a quick call to his old pal Cookie Crook, who brings along for the heist a quintet of fellow culinary kleptomaniacs, none of whom specialize in cookies but all of whom can identify with Cookie Monster’s pain. And so, CM finds himself commanding a dirty half- dozen of food filchers: Cookie Crook, the Hamburglar, the Trix rabbit, Barney Rubble and the Noid, forgotten but not gone former nemesis of the good folks at Dominos Pizza.

As the group’s resident masters of disguise, Barney and the Trix rabbit dress up as Girl Scouts and infiltrate the enemy camp. They’re quickly found out when the rabbit’s ears slip out from under his hat and a low hanging tree branch tears off Barney’s uniform, but that’s okay because it’s all part of the plan. With a good portion of the Girl Scouts chasing after the invaders in their midst, the remaining members of the group take advantage of the chaos, sneaking around behind the tree house. The Noid gets caught in a bear trap set by the elves and has to be put down so his screams won’t alert the enemy. Cookie Crook and Hamburglar then set about placing dynamite around the base of the tree as their increasingly cookie crazed commander looks on nervously. Soon, the charges are set and wired and all that remains is to push the plunger. Cookie Monster does so and the tree house explodes in a shower of charred, splinter-filled cookies, not that CM minds since he has no taste buds.

The Girl Scouts don’t take long to recover from their shock at witnessing the tree house’s destruction and the three are forced to flee for their lives, not even able to stop long enough to cut Barney and the Trix Rabbit down from the tree on which they’ve been lynched . . . those Girl Scouts are viscous.

The thieves are victorious, but it’s a pyrrhic victory, with three of their number dead. Of course, Cookie Monster is too busy stuffing his mouth with burnt Chips Deluxe to care, the ungrateful bastard.

- Don "King" Milliken

Brian and Steves mention of legal battles inspires a great deal of thought. Keebler/Nabisco/Coke is the single largest corporation in the world. Cookie Monster is Henson property, hence Disney property, giving him close weight, with a better legal record. What a suit this would be.

Bailiff: "Presenting the case of Cookie Monster Vs Ernie and the Keebler elves your honor."
Defense Attorney: "Douglass Wambaugh appearing for the blue furry engine of destruction your honor"
Judge Judy: "oh no"
Wambaugh: "We hereby request that this case be held over pending a psychiatric evaluation to see if my client is fit to stand trial. I've talked with him for hours and I can assure you he has no idea what's going on."
Prosecutor: "Dan Fielding for the cute little guys your honor."
Wambaugh: "Hey thats pretty good, you catch on quick"
Fielding: "Shut up you...."
Judy: "Excuse me, talk to me please"
Fielding: "Mr Cookie, er Mr Monster has been examined by police psychologists..."
Wambaugh: "Bah what do they know, this is a travesty, an attempt to trample on my clients rights"
Prosecutor: "Monsters don't even have rights, they're not mentioned anywhere in the legal system."
Wambaugh: "Exactly! This travesty must be corrected."
Judy: "Shut UP!"
Wambaugh: "Yes your honor, he's a chatter box isn't he"
Judy: "I meant you"
Wambaugh: "sorry. I'm a character, what can I say"
Judy: "The police psychology reports seem complete to me, lets go with it."
Wambugh: "Your call your honor but I think you're making a big mistake."
Judy: "Your objection is noted, loudmouth. What's your case, Mr Prosecutor?"
Prosecutor: "Quite simple your honor. Mr Monster here attacked our client, the elves, soley to gain the fruits of their personal labor."
Cookie Monster: "Not fruit! Cooookies!!"
Prosecutor (unnerved): "Very well, MR monster here attacked our client the elves soley to gain the cookies of their personal labor. He acted with malice and greed, and caused several industry accidents, damaged much property, and the cookie factory had to temporarily close."
Ernie: "And what he did to poor Dibbler." (shudders)
Wambaugh: "Your honor my client was acting out of Rage (TM). He has been denied rights by this company for years. He can not purchase the cookies directly ever since the death of his close friend Mr Hooper 20 years ago. He has to beg from others because the stores these elves distribute too do not allow monsters in their establishment. His response was a provoked attack, after the legal system has failed him for 20 years."
Fielding: "Pouring hot boiling fudge on innocent hard working elves while screaming 'Cooookies or death' is hardly a means of addressing the legal system."
Wambaugh: "Of course not, but I'm pleading diminished capacity, combined with racial... sorry... species predjudice. I say my client felt justified in his actions and request the minimum sentence to be suspended with psychatric treatment."
Fielding: "While I more compassionatley suggest the Chair."
Judy: "I've heard enough...I'll be back with a decision."

Pending a commercial break we see dozens of adds for Coke, Mcdonalds, and Nabisco which has of course paid for the show. Judy returns.

Judy: "Well I think it's obvious. Anger at supposed mistreatment by people the elves happens to deal with is not an excuse to cover Mr Dibbles in chocolate and fill his nasal cavity with--"
Fielding: "Spare us PLEEEASE!!"
Judy (Glares): "Fair enough. Cookie monster guilty. He pays the elves for damages and serves life in prison."
Wambaugh: "Request time be delayed pending appeal. I'll go to the supreme court. (As an aside to fielding...) "I've done it before"
Judy: "Request granted."

As with any trial with this kind of money behind it it goes on and on. Mr Dibbler undergoes treatment and therapy and is able to walk again after several years of ongoing legislative action. Eventually Wambaugh turns the whole thing into a plea for affirmative action for monsters, and at one point calls Oscar to the stand.

Wambaugh: "Where do you live?"
Oscar: "In a garbage can on Seaseme street"
WAmbaugh: "How long have you lived there"
Oscar: "40 years."
Wambuagh: "Has anyone ever tried to help you find more suitable housing."
Oscar: "Why would they?"
Wambaugh: "You see your honor, they are so downtrodden they don't think they deserve better than living in a small garbage can in a run down neighborhood."
Oscar: "Who could possibly deserve better than that. I just wish that stupid bird would move somewhere else."
Wambaugh: "Overcrowding too your's madness."
Fielding: (on cross examination) "So have you Mr Grouch ever shoved a small woodland creature into a stove in order to achieve your desire."
Oscar: "Never had the chance...too bad..sounds like fun."

OF course cookie monster takes the stand several times. Wamabugh eventually has him quite well trained, and throws him a cookie every time he gives the right answer. After 17 years of Litigation the matter is settled. Disney pays roughly 1/100th of what they spent in legal fees to Nabisco. The legal statues change regarding monster rights, Hud comes in and closes Oscars garbage can evicting him in the process, And elmo is placed in charge of the new monster rights project, with Sweetums doing his muscle work. The world is never the same again.

***All characters used herein are used without permission but the writer holds all these characters in the highest esteem, and thinks each one is an honor to their chosen profession, with the exception of Judge Judy, who is obviously an ass-head.

- Nez Master

"Ah yes, I see young grasshoppah..." (The Old Chinese Wise Guy (TM) turns towards his student, a cocky american teenager) (Also TM) "But see do you? Reach outwards- Get sense of events in dah universe you must..."
"But Sensai- I'm so hungry!"
OCWG(Old Chinese Wise Guy): Sh! Reach outwards... The power you shall feel...
But the cocky american teenager senses only his hunger.. He tries to reach outwards.. and then connects with another hungry soul, currently in battle against many tiny foes...
CAT (Cocky american teenager): Sensai! I sense a battle!
OCWG: Continue my son!
CAT: (With eyes closed) A great blue mass struggles against many small hive like creatures...
OCWG: Ah yes... sense it too, I do... Know the blue mass I do... A monster he is.. But judge him do not!
CAT: (Gets a headache from his master's dyslexia) Fight them he does... I mean uh...
(Pans to a scene that the CAT sees and relays on to the OCWG)

Keebler Elves: You giant hairy excuse of a bathmat! We have no cookies! Haven't you seen the damn commercials?
Cookie Monster: Coooookkkkiiiiieeeesss!!!!
KE: The commercials say that we're having a contest- "Where have all the cookies gone?" (tm)
(They wave their wands at the beast, trying to use handy Keebler magic (tm))
KE: (chanting) We have no cookies... You will leave us.... We have no cookies...
CM (Ping pong eyes glaze over): Noooo cookies.... nooo cook- WAIT! You jedi powers not work on me!
(Judo chops the tree and grins as a pile of tasty morsels flows outwards... He indulges himself, much to the dissapointment of the elves, who do nothing, in fear of their lives.)
CM: Mmmm.... (fades out)

CAT: Sensai! He used pure will and got the cookies in the end...
OCWG: Yes my young dung beetle. Maybe the solution to Jessica, (the cheerleader that impress you wish to) this is. With perseverence, score your cookies you will, my son.
CAT: But, Sensai, I have two questions for you... How do you know so much about monsters, and why do you keep saying "My son" ?
OCWG: (bows his head) the same answer they are... (peels off his face and stilts to reveal himself as Yoda)
OCWG: Puppet too, am I.. and win we must... And also... Puke... I am your father...
OCWG: Feelings search you! Know it to be true you do! Why you do bad in english, my dyslexia is!
CAT: It's not true....
OCWG: Is also why work at car wash you do- Wax on! Wax off!
CAT: Wow! I guess so! You must be right Sensai...
OCGW: Of course right, I am! Know the blue mass, I do. Eat all my fortune cookies, he did... Kick his ass I was happy to do...

And as the two fade into the night, eating extra crab rangoon, more than two muppet's stomachs are full...

- John X of the Drive Through speaker clan. "Braah Vooz, cahm egn!"

I've driven by the Keebler plant several times now, alongside I-78 in eastern Pennsylvania. I'm assuming that the tree is located there. Right next to this Keebler plant is a Pabst Blue Ribbon brewery. There's bound to be some cookie/beer exchange between the elves and rednecks, so the treehouse is stocked with cases and cases of PBR.

This beer is not for recreation, but for home defense. All cookie producing entities, from the Pillsbury Doughboy to the old Pepperidge Farm man, have a contingency plan for CMA (Cookie Monster Assault). Why do you think the elves choose to place all their cookie ovens in a flammable structure? It sucks for baking, but strategically it's Masada with leaves.

The first line of defense are the firearms. Rifles, cannons, flamethrowers, uncreative but effective measures. This will turn back a Hamburgler or Cookie Crisp convict. But Cookie Monster is a monster, (a giant one to elves) and as movies have shown, giant monsters are impervious to gunfire.

Cookie shrugs off the harmless lead and starts scaling the tree. This is where the Pabst Blue Ribbon comes in. Cases of warm beer sitting by cookie ovens alternately on and off, with the chill that comes when night falls on a tree full of holes. If this beer were any skunkier, it’d be hopping around Paris trying to nail a cat with paint down its back. After a massive firearm discharge, the elves all quickly grab bottles of PBR, guzzle them down, and promptly get nauseous. They stagger to the hole Cookie’s trying to reach, stick their pointy-eared heads over the lip, and let loose. Cookie gets doused with the vomit, hundreds of little stomachs regurgitating voraciously. The tree bark gets slippery (possibly eaten away from the hydrochloric acid in the barf) and Cookie loses his handholds. And don’t you know his blue fur’s going to suck it all up and stink for weeks.

It is hoped that Cookie Monster will give up and trudge on back to Sesame Street. The puppeteer certainly will, leaving Cookie as a limp piece of fabric in a funky-smelling patch of ground in Pennsylvania. More PBR consumption and refunding is scheduled in case of a second or third climb. However, it could just make Cookie enraged, a very powerful force in the land of the Grudge Match. Powerful enough to make him detach from his puppeteer and climb solo. The flexible (and vomit-soaked) blue fur can easily work its way through the tree hole, and like the upper torso of Bishop in Aliens, allow Cookie enough mobility so he can drag himself around on his hands.

He’ll pull his way into a main hall, and see the balcony above crowd with every living elf in the place. The doors behind him will slam and lock into place. Ernie is standing on the railing, holding a green flag. "Go!" he screams as he waves the flag. Hundreds of elfin bladders are unleashed onto CM, flooding the googly-eyed gargantuan. The hall quickly fills, making blue fur seem green. If his mouth had any sort of hole in it, he’d find it hard to breathe air. After four minutes (brain death occurs after three minutes without oxygen) a network of culverts in the tree funnels most of the urine away from the cookies themselves, and safely back into the Pabst brewery to be bottled again.

Sheerly for the sake of argument, let's say that the Elvin Wee-Wee Warfare (EWWW) doesn't repel Cookie. Perhaps he has a rebreather. If he does, and assuming he finds a way to get to the balcony, he’ll now have access to the cookie warehouse. He’ll enter, smelling like the Bronx, and find the surviving elves squatting over the cookies, pants around their ankles.

"We didn't want it to come to this," Enrie says, a tear in his eye, "but if Keebler's fine customers can't have these cookies, no one can. Men, release!"

Inch-sized gastrointestinal systems, ravaged by a diet of empty calories and cheap alcohol, spew forth their endproducts onto the pristine cookies. The rectal bleats will only be matched by Cookie’s terrified screams. His purpose for life will be killed in front of him, assuring catatonia if not instant death.

Moral of the story: if you hear of a monster attack in eastern Pennsylvania, stay away from the Fudge Shoppe cookies.

- Kilgore Trout, High Class Humorist

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