Barney the dinosaur's diary:
April 18 -- I'm grabbing a smoke outside the studio when that little pain-in-the-neck Tina walks by. Right away she starts gagging and coughing.
" BAR-NEY!" she says in that whiny, irritating voice. "Cigarettes are bad for you!"
"So are the two cheeseburgers you just fired down, tubby," I said. "Now beat it, willya?"
I'm telling you, sometimes it's all I can do not to backhand these little creeps. Once my contract's up, Jack, I'm outta here. You can take that to the bank.
April 20 -- Anxiety levels high today. The Barneroo did a mall appearance outside Atlanta. Picture 60,000 little brats jacked up on Cokes and M&M;'s screaming " BAR-NEY! BAR-NEY!" All these dorky parents pushing camcorders in my face, security guys stepping on my feet, teen-age thugs pulling my tail . . . I thought I was gonna lose it right there.
Three hours without a smoke, too. And they wonder why I snap occasionally and bite off some kid's arm.
April 21 -- Took a meeting with the Hasbro toy people. They're interested in developing a new line of Barney products: posters, dolls, action figures, that sort of thing.
Ravitch, my mouthpiece, was laying some preliminary figures on them when I elbowed him out of the way and said: "Lemme handle this."
"Boys," I said, "let's make this short and sweet. We want a five-year deal, $15 million to sign and 20 percent of the gross profits."
Hasbro's chief negotiator, a big, blubbery guy named Riddle, starts sputtering: "B-but that's impossible!"
"Take it or leave it, fatso," I said.
They huddled for a few minutes and then caved in like a mine shaft. I don't know why I keep Ravitch on a retainer. All he's ever done for me is post bail a few times.
May 1 -- Tell me if this makes sense to you. Universal makes a big-budget movie: "Jurassic Park." It's heavy-duty action-adventure. About cloned dinosaurs terrorizing a theme park.
And they don't drop a dime on the Barn-Man? These dopey studio execs don't call the most famous dinosaur on the planet?
Mr. Instant Box Office Bonanza?
Am I missing something here? Hey, it's their loss. Just don't come running to me when this thing flops big-time and you're running Steven Spielberg out of town on a rail.
May 10 -- I heard Letterman dogged me on his show last night. The guy's really losing it -- I think this move to CBS has him rattled. Anyway, he did some stupid bit: the Top 10 Horrifying Secrets of Barney the Dinosaur. One of them was: offered Fred Flintstone $1 million for one night with Dino.
Ex- CUSE me? DINO? I don't think so. Sharon Stone, maybe. Or that Guess? jeans babe, the blonde with the big chest. And don't think I couldn't have my way with either of them.
You know what they say: Once you've had a Tyrannosaurus, baby, you never go back.
May 14 -- Almost got into it with a couple of those geeks from "Sesame Street." We're doing some promos for PBS when Ernie started ragging me about my voice.
"Sorry," I said, "didn't recognize you without your boyfriend. How's old Bert doing, anyway?"
A security guy had to separate us at that point. Ernie's just sore because we're killing him in the ratings.
Then that moron Grover started giving me a hard time until I shouted: "Hey, fur-face, I didn't see you at the Clinton inauguration."
May 16 -- Oooh, Barney's not feeling so hot today, kids. Might have had a few too many cocktails last night. We had a cast party after the final taping. The kids were chowing down on cake and Hi-C punch and I thought: That's not gonna get it for ol' Barney. So I gave 20 bucks to Jim, one of the stage hands, and he bought me a bottle of Stoli.
Last thing I remember is Sean and Michael carrying me to my dressing room and Lucy telling me to sleep it off. Who's got the aspirin?
May 20 -- More bad news: The PBS honchos want me to shill for them during the next pledge drive beg-a-thon. Yeah, that's all I need: "Hey, boys and girls, go pester mom and dad, OK? Tell 'em to send a hundred bucks pronto or Barney might be going bye-bye."
No wonder these parents hate my guts. You watch, some lunatic mom is gonna slam a full clip into an M-16 and come looking for me.
Probably at one of these mall gigs.
There's gotta be a better way to make a living.