A literary work of the almighty itdoesntmatter.
I love Bonkers! The show was about a policeman cat whose intersectionality proved that the lowly feline spacies can rise above the social mobility of the bipedal human proletariat. Now me? I’m a boy of simple pleasures, folks. I like Disney cartoons, funny shaped waffles and Funcoland game rentals. Bonkers was my favorite show, a jewel among the oasis of television programs, and a masterpiece of filmmaking pleasure the likes of which I had never seen before the show. It saved my life, in fact. They called him Bonkers because he was a bit of a crazy cat, but also a brilliant detective who never stopped until he found all the clues. And clues there were, yes sir-e-bob. But there was an episode of Bonkers where he shoots and murders a family for not complying with his orders, and I’ll never forget it until this fateful day. Y’see, back in the day Disney used to send out these manila envelope “test eps” to kids in the tristate area that could view, take notes and return to the local mailbox. Well, Bonkers aired from 1993 to 1994, a spinoff of the series Raw Toonage. What a lot of people don’t know is that Bonkers was, well, just that, crazy, and the executives at Disney threatened to break my legs if I ever reveal the contents of the tape that I am about to reveal to them. They said they would come into my house late at night and break my legs with a cartoon sledgehammer. They were laughing at me, too, and they told me that if I ever tell anyone about this they would break my VCR as well, or pour water in the VCR, permanently ruining the internal tape-reading system contents. They also sent me a pie that I later found out contained bees that stung the roof of my mouth. Since it’s been two weeks since they mailed the VHS, I think I’m in the clear. I had my name changed, and I’ve been disguising myself as a neighborhood street tough to evade surveillance from “the big D.” But my life has spiraled out of control already to the point where I am barely able to cross my “ts” and dot my “is.” No. It’s too late for me. I share this with you so that Disney doesn’t show your kids this horrific VHS tape that I watched yesterday afternoon that permanently scarred my mind and made me pack my bags with a quality “Going to Grandmas” backpack. But I wasn’t going to grandmas. I wasn’t going to grandmas at all. I was going to hell in a handbasket, and I’m not talkin’ bout yogi bear and his picnic luncheon. I’m talking about pitchforks, hot caves of fire and naked, chained up demons with prosthetic penises. I took out a pack of lunhcables and got a sippy cup full of orange juice and sat down with chicken nuggets to enjoy “Bonkers!” I was immediately offended by the cursing. “I’M FUCKIN’ BONKERS!” Bonkers yelled. His eyes were three times larger than they normally were and instead of solving crime he was pissing in the alley. His eyes were bloodshot and his smile was scraweled particularly scrawly, like he was uptonogood. And boy, was I right. “Well why wouldn’t a cat piss?” the voice wasn’t from a character, it just sounded like some guy mumbling over the tape. “LET’S SOLVE SOME CRIIME!/” He squealed, fell over and pissed all over his shoes. “I’m pissin’ on my shoes!” He screamed, fell backward, and arrested himself for urinating in a public space. Granted, Bonkers was technically a bobcat, so north American laws did not apply to his particular jurisdicition. He handcuffed himself to a fire hydrant and kept pissing, and pissing, and pissing away! “[PISS!” He squealed. “PIIIIIISSS! I’M BONEKRS, I’M FUCKIN’ CRAZY!” There were bats flying in the background, anmd all of a sudden a shadowy figure emerged. “Oh my god it’s a fuckin’ Dracula!” Bonkers screamed and took out a gun, shooting at the “Dracula.” It turned out to be an old woman, who fell on the sidewalk, coughing up blood, as Bonkers made up his own themesong. “I’m a bonkers, I’m a fuckin’ bonekrs, that crazy cat in the alley way, pissin’ on his shpoeS!” Bonkers started drawing a chalk outline of himself before a piano fell from above him, killing him and several confused cartoon pedestriants questioning the crazy cat’s psychological and mental-well being.” I immediately hit stop on the VCR and objected this goddamn rubbish not fit for human consumption. But just as I did, the VCR said “You’ve been in a coma for twenty years, Dave!” The ejector hole moved like a mouth… and smiled. My name wasn’t even dave. This didn’t make any fucking sense. Even if it did, VCRs can’t talk. And plus the animators would have to be animating at a breakneck speed to renders words at the speed I could comprehend them. I fell asleep and when I woke up it was time for school. Mom hadn’t been there today, my lunchbox was filled with old newspapers and rotten apple cores. The “Mondo” juice pack had evaporated, revealing only tiny, stick high-fructose gue that dripped into my Jansport backpack. I shuddered. I was gonna be late for school! I started running, as I was going to miss the bus. I had been watching bonkers all night, and it felt like years had passed. Just me and bonkers, that loveable policeman cat. I started to sing, as I run to the bus stop. “Just me and b-bonkers! That loveable policeman cat!” People were staring, though. At my beard stubble and bloodshot eyes. Thankfully, I made the bus. I covered my face, as I was the new kid. This was my first day and I didn’t want to embarrass myself. I mean I’m a student, right? Just a normal day at school like any other. Scrawls in the notebook, sigh and put your head on the desk before “The man” tells me to learn his “revisionist history” about “Christopher Columbus and his cock sucking voyage.” I had had enough. I was planning to drop out anyway. I haven’t spoken to my parents in years. Likewise, in the hallways, I kept a low profile. Oh, they thought I was a teacher, but I was a student. I had to blend in, like bonkers the cat in the Serengeti. I finally made it to math class, sitting in the back, and took out notes. Today we are learning about pi, 3.14, or pie, a delicious, filling-filled crust of delicious fruity goodness. “I could use some pie!” I yelled, cracking a joke. I’m a funny student. Some of the kids laughed, but others gasped. “Who is that kid?!” It was mean Mr. Murphy, the sicence jerk. “Go mcmurf yourself!” I yelled, taking out some graffiti and a skateboard. “I’ve got a bad attitude and I don’t put up with no guff!” I sprayed “Murphy sucks” on the wall as a large security guard entered and tried to detain me. “Who are you?!??!?!?” The teacher yelled. I skateboarded up his desk and did a wild, gnarily, radical 180 spin tube and ollied on his coffee, which spilled, scalding his body with second degree burns as he screamed. “Fuck the establishment!” I screamed. “You’re- your thirty years old.” The security guard said, his palms in his face. He was…crying. “You’re 30 years old!” He kept crying and eventually I slipped on his tears and crashed through the window, getting cut and shredded by the glass as the cop cars showed up in the parking lot. Oh no- It was the fuzz! And I’m not talking about laundry lint. The 5-0. Officer dipshit and his magic band. The rats and the garbage would follow him out of town- but not me, not today, not the Bonkers VHS, the fake school, it’s just a jail, these are all just jails. You’ll never be free, that’s what I learned from bonkers, that’s what I learned from me, we’re all in jail. Even if you escape you’re just gonna be in a wheel. No one leaves a cage for a larger cage. “It’s true officer!” I yelled. “I stole the Disney VHS! And I’m not a student!” I screamed. My eyes were bloodshot and I was felling disheveled. “I’m 30 years old!” I shuddered as the officer stepped out of the vehicle, wearing his blue police uniform and shiny counterfeit badge. “Ehh, how do ya point this thang?!” The officer… he had the head of a cat! “Meowzers!” He stumbled around, appearing taxidermied, his fur and skin seemingly falling apart as he stumbled forward.
“You’re under arrest! I’m fuckin’ bonkers!” One of his eyes fell out of its socket and he stumbled forwards, smelling like cat piss and dragging a handcuffed fire hydrant behind him. “I love kids!” Bonkers yelled, his intestines spilling out of his stitched together stomach as his glistening cat teeth glistened.
Bonkers collapsed on the floor, bleeding and crying. “I’m fuckin’ bonkers!” He yelled, again, to no response. “I’M FUCKIN’” I brought my hands forward to close his eyelids, as I often see dramatically done in filmsn involving the deaths of cat men. Bees started pouring out of his mouth, horrible, horrible bees. The funeral was the worst part. Various Disney characters were there, humanoid versions, where they came from I’ll never know. Donald Duck’s crooked toothy beak looked like something out of a horror story. And a live rat, smiling, stuffed full of antibiotics, crawling around in the piss. That’s not Mickey! I was going to take a picture to send to the FBI, but no flash photography was allowed. The seven dwarves were stealing salsa. And Gargamel from the smurfs was there, even though the smurfs is owned by Sony. And bees…so many bees. It started to rain and that was when a strange black limousine pulled up, with tinted windows. At first I expected a cartoon character, but I soon noticed it was a Caucasian male with a mustache and slick black hair. All of the cartoon characters suddenly paused and gave a salute, a bit like you’d see them saluting Adolph Hitler back in the 1940s photos. Oh my god. It was Walt Disney! He was somehow existing in the color world even though all the pictures I’d seen him in were black and white. “Congratulations.” He said. “You solved, the riddle, my boy.” He took out party favors and gave them to the various guests, while also taking out a pinwheel hat, putting it on my head and spinning the propeller top. You did it, my bou did it, my boy! You solved the secret of the seven bonkers! And thus, I have risen from my grave!” I shuddered. I didn’t solve anything. “I had been cryogenically frozen for years before, like a bag of frozen peas thawing in the sun of majestic truth, you solved the perplexive riddle of the bonkers vhs. And thus, I must reward you the way only a man with two functioning legs can be rewarded.” He took out a large rectangular package with a yellow bow atop it. Upon untying it, it was revealed that it was a sledgehammer. He brutally broke both of my legs, smashing, and smashing, until the bones were crushed to a fine paste, and my kneecaps were no where to be found. I later found out Ariel from the Little Mermaid had made a seashell bra from my broken kneecaps. Walt Disney smiled wide. “You fuck with the mouse, and the mouse fucks with you!” The cartoon characters all got into the limousine and drove away. At least I didn’t sell my soul to that little whisker-nosed fuck faced donkey fuck. That’s all life is anyway. Atoms are just a bunch of walls and containers, but your soul? It goes on forever. It goes on for billions of lifetimes across all eternities, your eyes can only see what your eyes can see.
The ailments of the physical have infected your soul; that’s why you’re unhappy, your soul’s infected by this dirty scrambled egg dishpan world. But bonkers, that crazy cat, he taught me something: he taught me how to uphold the law. A police officer cop, what a brilliant idea. What a funny, brilliant idea.
One day you’ll be an alien or a venus flytrap, or a crying kitten, or bees, and all that soul stuff will be in there, bees. In a place you can’t measure, in a place no one can measure. That’s what I learned from Bonkers. That’s what I learned from not taking my medicine. That’s what I learned about life. The men in the white coats were coming for me. I don’t even think the government cause 9/11 anymore. And I definitely don’t love you anymore. I don’t think I love anyone, except Bonkers, the jewel-eyed miscreant of the Disney Channel’s now-defunct programming. Just a tape, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. It’s just a tape. The cat’s corpse got up out of the coffin and smiled. A Zombie bonk! My life was ruined. “I’m fuckin’ bonkers!” Oh god this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening! He took out a gun and shot me in the head. It was later ruled suicide by cop. They tried to cover it up by assaulting me with bees. I knew there were too many bees. At least I died the way I lived: getting assaulted by bees. The end.