Props to my bud Tim Twelves for posting the sketches you see below on his Facebook page. It bummed me out so much, that I figured I'd spin a yarn about it.
Bert would give anything to go back to the time when their apartment was alive with love and friendship.
It's been all too quiet for three years now and God, how he missed Ernie's verve, his laugh and spirit. He left so suddenly and to this day Bert grieves as much as he did as the day it happened. His friends from 'The Street' -- more like family members, really -- have urged him to open up about it, but Bert's still unwilling to talk. It hurts too much.
Making matters worse, the dreams have started again. It usually hits around 3 a.m. and in them, Bert would see him, illuminated, and exclaim, "Ernie, you're back. I have so much to tell you!"
Ernie would hug his dear friend and then simply vanish. The cold sweat usually stays with Bert until morning as he lies shivering in his darkened room, unable to fall back asleep. The vicious cycle kept him awake nightly during the witching hours of grief and asleep when the sun shined through the apartment windows.
And even after these three long and painful years, Bert still can't bear to get rid of Ernie's bed or belongings. And sure, in an attempt to make it easier, Bert would try to remember the things that Ernie did to infuriate him - and boy, there were many - but it was usually futile. The wretched grip of melancholy was planted firmly on his neck, ensuring that the lump in his throat would go nowhere.
The memories would keep coming. Every time, he entered the bathroom, Bert would remember how much he hated that song Ernie used to sing yet would easily welcome his ghost to sing it just one more time. And yes, even after three years, he can't even seem to get rid of that goddamn rubber ducky who just sits, perched on the tub, waiting for his old fried.
In a way, it looks even sadder than Bert.