It's a sad day in the neighborhood, kids.

After a 33-year span of programming, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood came to an end. The PBS show aired its last episode in August.

Children and adults alike can feel my pain; the PBS show has been teaching us the meaning of friendship and feelings since the 1960s. King Friday, Mr. McFeely, and the Trolley all seem like family to some of us. (It'd be a strange gene pool, yes, but nevermind that.)

Fred Rogers decided that it was time to move on (he's 72 and kind of old to play with dolls, right)? With close to 1,000 shows already filmed, a lot of time and thought was put into deciding how he'd bring the series to an end.

And, do you know what he did?

Nothing.

Zip.

Nadda.

Nothing.

You heard me correctly. Nobody died. Nobody got married. No one even went to jail!

Mr. Rogers said he did not wish to upset children with a sad goodbye, and he wanted to be able to show reruns for many years to come. This wasn't the case.

After consulting with a secret contact of mine (a.k.a. eBay.com), I managed to find a video tape of the original take of Mr. Rogers' final episode. Below, I'll describe what went on in it, just the way Mr. Rogers really wanted us to see it.

Mr. Rogers finds himself locked out of his own home. It's not unusual, though. This has been happening to him a lot lately. (He explains to the children that it's all just part of growing up - that Mr. Rogers has just grown up so much that sometimes he forgets things.) For the first time in the show's entire lifespan, Mr. Rogers doesn't enter through his door... but instead crawls through his window.

Sitting down on his bench, he proceeds to change his sweater, and starts to remove his shoes. After untying his left shoe, he stops and puts his foot back on the floor. He explains to the children that he'll be leaving again soon, and there's no point in taking his shoes off.

After singing the show's signature tune, he points out that his piano is gone. He tells the children that he won't ever be returning to this house, so he sold the piano. ''Children, can you say 'outta here'?'' he asks.

Luckily, Mr. Rogers has a special surprise planned for us. He has a video of a tour of a new crayon factory that he wants to show us. Time to go visit Picture Picture.

Standing up and turning, Mr. Rogers takes five steps toward Picture Picture before he trips on his shoelace, which he had unfortunately left untied. His hands grasping at anything they could to halt his plummet, they close on Picture Picture, which rips off of the wall and shatters into a thousand pieces. Hitting the ground, Mr. Rogers fractures his hip.

''Mr. McFeely!'' he cries out . . . but Mr. McFeely wouldn't hear him. Mr. McFeely had long ago given up his ''speedy delivery'' service for a ''it'll get there eventually'' service. What would Mr. Rogers do?

Looking about the room for help, his eyes spy the Trolley. That's it. He could go get help.

''Ding ding ding!'' says the Trolley, completely understanding his friend. He rolls down his tracks to search for help.

It seemed to be a quiet day in the Neighborhood of Make-Believe when the Trolley arrived. He slowed himself to a stop in front of the castle.

''Good morning, Trolley!'' exclaims King Friday XIII to his friend. ''What a beautiful day it is!''

''Ding ding ding!'' shouts Trolley, rocking back and forth on his track.

''You sound upset. Don't you know you're special?'' the King asked.

''Ding! Ding! Ding!'' screams Trolley, more loudly than before.

''I don't understand, but it doesn't matter. I like you just the way you are,'' King Friday confides.

''DING! DING! DING!'' Trolley yells. His frantic rocking on his tracks causes him to derail, and he crashes to the floor four feet below.

''Oh, no! Queen Saturday! Come here, quick.'' Friday cried, forgetting to say please.

Queen Saturday scurried up from the castle, where she had been teaching Prince Tuesday about friendship or feelings or something. Before her husband can explain why Trolley is on his side, Henrietta Pussycat runs to Saturday, a look of distess on her face.

''Meow meow, Daniel, meow meow, foaming, meow, mouth!'' she says.

''What? Is Daniel Striped Tiger sick? Go fetch X the Owl and Lady Elaine! One of them will know what to do.'' commanded the Queen.

Not long after X and Lady Elaine Fairchild arrive, the monarchs and their companions are greeted by Daniel Striped Tiger, whose face is covered with what seems to be shaving cream. Afraid, they all huddle in a circle, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, X steps forward.

''Thanks to the classes that I took from the esteemed Owl Correspondence School, I can identify that Daniel here is rabid. We should all be OK just so long as he doesn't bite us,'' X explains.

''Ahhh,'' sighs King Friday, relieved, ''we all know that Daniel is tame... he wouldn't bite anything but his food!''

In this assumption, King Friday was not ''correct as usual.'' Sadly, it was this mistake that cost him his life, as Daniel leapt forward and mauled him.

(Unfortunately, the citizens of The Neighborhood of Make Believe never learned that their beloved monarch held no political power at all, and that he was, in fact, just a puppet leader. Get it? Puppet leader?)

As everyone cowered in fear, a small voice was heard from the castle.

''Mother? Why don't I have any legs?'' Prince Tuesday asked, climbing up the stairs of the castle.

Daniel Striped Tiger turns toward him, a look of hatred and hunger in his eyes. He looks ready to pounce.

''No!'' screams Lady Elaine Fairchild, and then, with full force, she threw Boomerang Toomerang Soomerang at Daniel Striped Tiger. The wooden weapon hits him in the small of the back, and he falls to the floor next to Trolley.

At this point, Mr. Rogers stands up from behind the castle, letting Lady Elaine slip off of his hand and hit the ground. A distraught look is on his face. He explains to the children that he's decided that he doesn't want to leave the Neighborhood of Make Believe, and that the real world is a very cruel place. He is now crying.

The words ''I am special'' are superimposed across the screen, and we watch Mr. Rogers sob on the floor amongst a pile of puppets for the next 20 minutes.

And that's how it ended... in an emotional breakdown. Maybe it was better the children didn't see it this way.

I, however, feel satisfied. It's almost as sad a series finale as when Hawkeye looked down from his helicopter to see B.J.'s ''Goodbye'' message spelled out with rocks on the helicopter pad. It's almost as gratifying as when Sam finally ran off with Diane to California. Any way you look at it, though, it's definitely better than the ''Seinfield'' finale.