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Bibeleo Friends

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Do you let children watch TV? Normally I would say there is no harm in that, just put on Nickelodeon or something and let them sit there for an hour or two. That was before my brother...

They do it at random, mostly. Every couple weeks or so they find a child, the younger the better, and study them. How they study them, I do not know. A secret camera somewhere, a well placed bug. But they watch you. Then they attack.

They start by cutting away companies like Dish or Direct TV, so you are left with just basic cable. Then they put in a channel. The channel number is irrelevant, because no matter what it is always on the even numbered channels. Every second channel is this channel. Parents don't mind. What is on that channel is nothing but one show. One show with one episode, playing on loop forever.

Bibeleo Friends

Johnny, my little brother, was three when he discovered Bibeleo Friends. Our family just lost Dish and were thankful he wasn't crying over Blues Clues anymore, so we just let him watch it. He loved the show. We didn't know why, he just loved it. My family, myself included, didn't bother watching it. Didn't bother noticing it was the same episode on loop, didn't bother changing the channel. All we knew about it were quick glances walking through the living room. It looked okay. Bright colors, calm voices, and cheerful, fun people happily dancing around in wacky costumes. Perfectly okay for a three year old.

Pretty soon he started showing some... strange behavior. Nothing too out of the ordinary. He started acting more mature, and demanding things rather than asking for them. He never invited friends over anymore, instead all he did was watch that show, memorized. No one could turn it off. When someone tried he didn't cry, just kept demanding, in a hushed, angry voice:

"Turn. It. Back. On."

Though unsettling my parents dictated it as "a phase" and cooperated. I, however, was skeptical.

One day I had some time to kill so I decided to sit down and watch the show. My brother was not fazed in the slightest by my presence. I sat down, just as another episode came on. The first thing that hit me was the theme song:

We are your friends.

Your only friends.

We are your Bibeleo Friends.

The only friends.

The best friends.

We are the Bibeleo Friends!

As friends we are there.

As friends we are everywhere.

We are the only ones you love.

As friends we care.

As friends we share.

We are the only ones you love.

Despite the lyrics, the song sounded cheerful, happy. So happy in fact that unless you actually listened to it the little tune sounded, normal. 

The rest of the show itself wasn't much different. Just a bunch of mascots comically dancing, and playing while exclaiming various phrases from the song. 

"We are the only ones you love."

"We are your Bibeleo Friends."

"Your only Friends."

These phrases just kept being repeated again and again with some wacky, non relevant dialogue in between. The phrases were said in hushed whispers, as if a parent scolding to their kids after they did something bad. Every now and again for about two minutes an orange screen with bright, blue letters would show up for two seconds saying:


This continued for the entire 30 minutes of the episode. I watched another, just to be sure. The same exact thing. 

I told my parents everything about the show. But they didn't care. Before Bibeleo Friends, Johnny was a pain to deal with. Now he was mostly well behaved most of the day. School gave him all the exercise he needed and he was eating, and going to bed at times. They said the show was okay. They've seen it. But not like I had.

It was a month or two after Bibeleo Friends showed up. Mom and Dad never went back to Dish because they said they didn't have anything close to Bibeleo Friends.

I had a date that night. When I left, Johnny was watching that show. I had expected he would still be watching the show when I returned, like always. Not tonight.

When I got home around 10:00 PM, I noticed all the lights were on. Just as they were when I left. I had a strange feeling. Like something was about to go wrong. Inside the family room, everything was a mess. Couches were turned and flipped. Paintings had fallen and broken. There were a few holes in the wall. I yelled for Mom, Dad, Johnny. No reply.

I entered the living room. There was some damage but nothing major. Everything seemed fairly normal except for one thing.  

The TV was off. Johnny was nowhere to be found.  

This had me worried. Scared. I kept in all my pride not to scream or cry. I quietly walked into the kitchen, where I saw the most terrifying sight of all. 

Small, bloody handprints covered the walls. Everything was a mess, like a twister tore through. On the stove were heads. The heads of my parents. Removed from their bodies and displayed on the stove. The stove wasn't on, but the expression on the faces showed fear, sorrow, and confusion. Bits of chopped up body parts scattered the kitchen floor, table, and counter. It took all my strength not to puke. And in the middle of it all, was Johnny, standing motionless with his head down, holding a bloody kitchen knife.

He looked at me. 

Eyes frozen, he did not blink. His mouth moved to form a wide, grotesque smile. I watched in fear as he exclaimed in a rather disturbing voice:

"They were not my friends. Not my Bibeleo Friends. Are you my Bibeleo Friend?"

Without thinking I screamed at the top of my lungs, "NO!" and ran into town. I did not stop to look behind me, nor did I ever look back. I just kept running. I took the bus and a cab and went as far away from that house as possible. I never went back.

They are making an army. An army of psychopathic kids determined on death. I do not know who they are, nor do I want to. But I know they have my brother. And as of right now, they have yours too.

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