When my parents went on their anniversary trip and left me in charge of the house one night, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to check out the tape. Our TV has a VCR, and I have to admit, I felt a tingle of excitement when I placed the tape in the player. I was about to relive my childhood memories of watching Blue's Clues. I didn't care that I was too old to watch it. I knew for sure that I would enjoy it.

At least, that's what I thought.

The episode started off completely normal. The Blue's Clues book opened up, and Steve looked out the window of his little yellow house.

"Hi out there! It's me, Steve! Have you seen Blue..........wait..........she's not here..........Well, come on in!"

The front door opened, and Steve was in the living room, looking concerned.

"I need to tell you something important. Blue is at the vet, and she's having an operation on her heart..........I..........hope she's okay.........."

Steve stopped talking and looked down at the floor. The scene ended.

The next scene showed Steve at the vet. He sat in the waiting room without making a sound. He did nothing but stare at the doors which led into the operating rooms. A surgeon opened a door, but she wasn't an animated character, she was a real person. She whispered in Steve's ear, but I could hear everything she said.

"Her heart stopped beating. We tried our best, but we couldn't get it to beat again. I'm sorry."

The scene ended.

The next scene started with a title card saying that a month had passed after Blue's funeral.

A deep voice spoke: "There are 5 stages in the grieving process: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance," the voice said. "Steve will experience 3 stages all at once: depression, anger, and mental illness."

Steve was in his bedroom, lying in bed. He began to cry, and the color of the episode turned black and white, like a depressing old photograph. Steve cried so hard, his breathing grew shallow.

The scene ended.

The next scene showed Steve sitting up on his bed. He stopped crying, but his face was now red and his teeth were clenched tightly. Steve held his stuffed anteater, Horace, with both hands. He screamed "BLLLLLLUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEE!" at the top of his lungs. His scream sent chills down my spine. Steve ripped off Horace's head, and black ooze squirted out of the stuffed animal's neck. Steve threw Horace in a fit of rage. When the anteater landed, its ooze completely covered the floor. I fought the urge to vomit. Against my better judgement, I decided to keep watching.