Sometimes imagination gets out of hand.
So, I know I'm dating myself here, but when I was about four years old, Care Bears were the big thing, and I loved them. I loved them so much that I wanted to be one. But I wasn't satisfied with just pretending to be a Care Bear myself; oh no, I somehow convinced my entire family to pretend THEY were all Care Bears and assigned them all Care Bear identities and insisted that everyone call each other by their Care Bear names at all times. I am not exaggerating.
I have a very nice, supportive, patient family with a good collective sense of humor, and they were all willing to indulge me. (I suspect that maybe they also felt bad that we couldn't afford any Care Bear toys, and this was kind of overcompensation, i.e, if they couldn't afford to buy me Care Bear toys, then they would BE my Care Bear toys.) This went on for weeks, if not months. I don't really remember how long it went on or how it actually stopped, but it did go on for an inordinately long time. (My sister, who was in high school at the time, reports that she once mistakenly wrote "Wish Bear" on the top of a school assignment instead of her real name, but I'm unable to confirm this.)
And I got to the point where I finally said to myself, "Okay, this is starting to be a little too much, even for me," but I didn't know how to stop what I had put into motion.
Anyway, that's what I think of when Bert gets caught up in pretending that Ernie is a pigeon.
By the way, no Bert & Ernie sketches next week, because next week is a sad anniversary.