Kidding

- Hey, Conan. - Yeah.

It happened a year ago today.

His name was Phil.

Don't ask about Phil.

All right, I won't ask about Phil.

All right, our next guest is celebrating

his 30th anniversary in children's television.

He's the star, the host, the puppet master

behind Mr. Pickles' Puppet Time on PBS.

He raised your son, your daughter, your stepdaughter

from his couch in Columbus, Ohio.

He has a new book out, Talking to Children.

It's doing extremely well.

Please help me welcome Mr. Jeff Pickles.

Mr. Pickles, uh, Danny Trejo. Danny Trejo, Mr. Pickles.

- How are you? - This is a great meeting

of the minds here.

- "P-Hound." - Yeah. Uh-huh.

Hmm. What does the P stand for?

Uh, P like a lady's, uh--

you know, like a part of,

uh, her...it's, uh--

- Is it her purse? - Ah, purse!

- Yeah, it's the purse. - Ah.

Purse. Uh, I just-- right away, I have to ask you.

Have you ever watched my show before?

- Oh, no. -

No, but my wife--she watches the show all the time.

In fact, if you don't mind,

I brought a very special guest...

- - ...with me.

I brought this little fella to help me

sing a song to my wife

- that... - Aw!

...is one of her old favorites.

Okay, can you tell us who this guy is?

Come on. Everyone knows Uke-Larry.

E maka'ala no ka ha'ule o ka nui.

That means, "Watch out for falling coconuts."

Could you help me? My keys are in my back pocket.

Whoa.

[channel changes, explosion on TV]

- -

- You've reached Jeff. - Jill.

- Will. - And Phil.

We're the Pickles!

Leave a message, Pickle pals.

- Dad. -

Knock, knock.

Mom, I'm trying to sleep.

Uh-huh. How was dinner tonight?

Delicious, nutritious... and amazing.

Did you throw your veggies into the recycling bin?

Your daddy dug a lovin' spoonful of time out of his day

to cook you a healthy meal.

Then you dump it and you lie about it?

You need to eat your greens. He ate his.

Don't you want to be big and strong like your daddy?

Mm.

I don't know, Maddy. Is that what you want?

Okay, no bath time.

- And no showers. - What?

Till you eat your vegetables, no more washing up.

Fine. I hate baths. And showers.

Okay. Good night, sweetie.

- -

I want to do a show about death.

Something special.

I don't think we want to do a show

- about passing on. - No, not passing on. Death.

I don't want to say my son is off cloud surfing

or Hula-hooping with a halo.

I want to say death.

Well, it's brave of you, but I don't think

you're ready to talk about this.

I don't think I'm not ready like you think I'm not ready.

I think we need to heal.

Who's "we"?

- What's that? - That is Roly Polly,

the f-fearful pill bug.

Looks like a baking accident.

I think you're really on to something.

You know...

the longer we wait to deal with this

in our special way, the more we're telling

every child in America that when something catastrophic

happens to them,

they should just pretend it didn't.

Why does Snagglehorse smell like buggery?

Anybody have an idea? Bert? Clay?

It's not sex. It's sweat.

We live in these six hours a day.

It's not a costume; it's a locker room

- shaped like a horse. - Yeah.

My family is shriveling up like a Polaroid in a puddle.

I need to pull it out before it falls apart.

We need to talk about greeting cards.

That's important too, I guess.

Hallmark would like us to help associate

Father's Day with the color purple.

Halloween has orange. Hanukkah has blue.

Have you got any thoughts? I was thinking royal purple.

- Like purple neckties. - Coming through.

A little help!

Do we need another show about colors?

Kids know the sky is blue.

They need to know what to do when it's falling.

I'm in the perfect position

to talk to them about the worst fear they have.

That Mommy and Daddy and everyone they love

has an expiration date.

Well, they'll never drink milk again.

When kids don't talk about their dark feelings,

they get quiet.

It's the quiet ones that make the news.

Oh.

Derrell, I got this for you.

Mm.

"To Derrell.

Be nice to sluts.

Danny Trejo."

Thanks, Mr. P.

I always feel like I'm hitting you when I do that.

You're not.

I know you're probably right.

It just feels like

we were all in that car together.

You and me and all of our friends.

Don't say friends when you mean viewers.

They've been pretty kind to us.

When people are kind to me,

I like to think of them as friends.

You need to understand something.

There's two of you.

There's Mr. Pickles,

the $112-million licensing industry

of edutaining toys, DVDs, and books

that keep the lights on in this little charity of ours.

And then there's Jeff,

a separated husband and grieving father

who needs to hammer out a few dents in his psyche.

And trust me, never the two

should meet in order to prevent

the destruction of them both.

I want you to heal.

But Jeff needs to heal.

Mr. Pickles is fine.

Hello, Piglet.

Hello.

Wiggle it and jiggle it, funny little Piglet.

Ooh.

These are gonna go bad.

What are you doing here?

Phil's old team made the Columbo Classic.

Sometimes I sit in the stands, blow some wind in their sails.

Dig, dig, dig, dig, dig!

- You're out! - Safe!

Wanna join and get some hotcakes?

That sounds sad.

- Does it? -

Besides, I have my wine club at six,

and it's more fun on an empty stomach.

- Did Will do that? - When I told him

to stop stealing my debit card.