There's Got To Be Something Better

[JimAndFrank]

Okay, so to start off the new year and to celebrate the end of my writers block, I've decided to write a series of short stories starring individual Muppets before the troupe was ever formed. Basically, I'll be writing about the Muppets who I think had the hardest and worst back stories to show just how much better their lives became once the Muppet Show began.

So, I hope you enjoy my first addition to the collection. Read on!

Miss Piggy:

As the Iowa sun finally started to droop down beneath the horizon in the 7th hour of the day, tranquillity seemed to be only moments away. The day had seen its usual challenges followed through, duties of which the residents of this particular farm grew weary, but none more so then the third eldest daughter of the farm’s matriarch.

This particular adolescent girl presently sat cross-legged upon one of the smaller haystacks, her hands preoccupied in her blonde, straw-textured hair while her eyes merely sought the stars. There was nothing too peculiar about this young girl, who seemed to want nothing more to embody the glow and beauty of those faraway jewels. Releasing a hand from a lock of hair, she reached out towards the brightest star in the sky, scheming, hoping, and wishing that she could possibly one day caress it in her palm.

On this night, unfortunately, it appeared not to be so. The girl gave a sigh of anguish and let her hand fall to her lap. Just as the cicada and cricket prone silence started to settle in, she slipped off her haystack and started to make for the farmhouse. Perhaps tomorrow would bring about an opportunity for her to grasp. Maybe tomorrow...

“PIGATHIA LEE!”

Uh oh.

“Pigathia in here, NOW!”

Groaning, Pigathia redirected her path towards the rundown barn, knowing from past experience that it was much better just to face the music immediately rather than to dance against it. Straining to keep her composure, the teenaged pig prepared herself for the grumpy old sow’s umpteenth rant for the week. She neatened her hair as she pushed a wall of reeds back and shoved the rusted barn door open. Squeezing through the narrow gap the door would only ever allow, Pigathia locked eyes with the source of her dread.

Gaunt and beady green eyes, greying brunette hair matted like a bristled rug, deep lines along the contours of her face and a look of deepest contempt. Pigathia fought the impulse to run and stared back just as intensely

Yes, this was certainly Mrs. Lee.

“Have I done something wrong, Mother?” Pigathia quietly asked, passively lowering her head in an attempt to make herself smaller.

“What kind of stupid question do you call that, girl?” Mrs. Lee grouched, “Of course you’ve done something wrong, you hardly get anything right!”

“Well,” Pigathia started again, pushing her anguish down to her toes, “What have I done that’s displeased you?”

Mrs. Lee irritably gestured around the space. ”Why don’t you tell me? Look around you and tell me what you see.”

“I see a barn.”

“What kind of barn?”

“A messy one...”

“EXACTLY!” snarled Mrs. Lee, “What was the one thing I asked you to do today?”

“To clean it up,” Pigathia answered truthfully. Unfortunately, a pig with such a vivid imagination as hers can be prone to lose track of both time and responsibility. “Mother, believe me. I tried, but there’s no way I can do it all myself! There is so much mess and I can’t even reach most of it!”

“Here we go again with your pathetic little excuses!” sighed Mrs. Lee, looking ready to throttle the poor girl, “I’m growing tired of your disobedience. How can you be so selfish while your brothers and sisters pick up your slack?”

“Mother, I do just as -!”

“AND what about me?” snapped Mrs. Lee as if Pigathia hadn’t intercepted, “I’m doing everything I can to keep a roof over our heads!”

If ‘doing everything I can’ means sitting on the porch all day, accompanied only by a bottle of whiskey and barking orders at your twenty children, then Mrs. Lee is a freakin’ battler against the odds.

Pigathia, her ratty moth-bitten rags and the fact that she had no shoes all disagreed with Mrs. Lee’s claim. “Well, if Daddy were still here-“

“WELL HE AIN’T IS HE?!” Cried Mrs. Lee, losing all composure, “Your daddy’s dead isn’t he? Taken by his own stupidity! If the ******* tractor hadn’t gotten ‘im, then I would ‘ave! Now, get to work! You ain’t leavin’ ‘ere til this place is shinin’ brighter than the White ‘ouse!”

Pigathia yelped as Mrs. Lee grabbed her around the waist and shoved her further into the barn. The poor girl lost her footing, causing her to fall face forward. She turned herself over just in time to see her mother locking the door. Pigathia scrambled to her feet screaming and threw herself into the door, banging and calling for freedom, but to no avail.

Eventually, the young pig gave up and slid to the floor, tears beginning to emerge. She brushed her fringe out of her face. A huge exhale did nothing to ease her stress. This was not fair and this was not right. How could she keep going like this? Would it be like this for the rest of her life? Surely not!

It took some time for Pigathia to completely settle down into a state of calm. This couldn’t go on much longer. She was tired and scared. A young pretty pig such as herself should be out there, in the world being spoiled and adored by handsome boys. Not struggling day to day with barely a scrap to eat. Where was the fairytale story promised to her by all those fables?

There was no fairytale. There was just Pigathia and the fiasco known as her reality. If she was going to break free, it was going to have to be on her own terms. And it had to be tonight.

There must be a way out of the barn. There has to be.

In a frenzy, Pigathia once again rose to her feet and started to feel every unblocked area of the tin wall, searching for some sort of weakness. In her efforts, she scraped and cut her hooves on the obstacles hidden in the darkness, but her adrenaline prevented any true pain being felt. Abandoning her method to running her hands on the rusted metal, she began knocking on the wood.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

This continued for a time until finally- Knock. Knock. Knock. CREAK!

A-ha! A breakthrough! But how to break through it?

Realising that there really wasn’t anything else for it, Pigathia lined her meek, but strong leg up to the weak section of wall. Giving out a loud cry, she slammed her hoof into the tin. With a loud crunch, the tin gave way leaving a hole just big enough for her to escape through. Without a second thought, the young pig broke free and began to sprint for the front gate.

Excitement bolted through Pigathia like several electric shocks. Nothing in her conscious was holding her back or questioning her actions. This was it. Some may call her selfish for abandoning her siblings, but she didn’t care. Her mother had always shown love for them, so it was only natural that the victimised daughter could leave without regrets.

Once past the gateway, Pigathia began the strenuous journey to the bus stop. Perhaps if she acted sweet enough, the bus driver would allow her to ride for free.

What do you know? It worked!

“And what would your name be, my sweet?” asked the gruff, kindly bus driver as she stepped up next to him.

“Um...” she thought about it for a moment.”Uh, my name is....Piggy. Yes, it’s Piggy.”

“Well, little Miss Piggy, it won’t be long til you’re on your way.”

And how right the bus driver was.....

 

[AlittleMayhem]

Great fanfic! I'm all up for Muppet backstories! Can't wait to see more!

 

[WalterLinz]

Aww, well done! It seems as if these little backstories could be adopted into episodes as a mini short TV series!!

 

[Muppetjente]

Good story. I can't wait for more!

 

[JimAndFrank]

Rizzo the Rat:

“Dat’s fine! I didn’t want ya stupid job anyway!” he called, tossing his apron behind him as he stormed out the door. He felt his irritation at the world increase and fought back the desire to bite the ankles of the next person who crossed his path.

However, the annoyance bubbling up in Rizzo immediately fizzled when the first wave of winter chill smacked his face. The rat wrapped his arms around himself, his fingerless gloves, threadbare coat and beanie doing nothing to help the fight against frost bite. It was just his luck that he would move to New York just as the city was breaking its own weather records. At least New Jersey wasn’t suffering through the coldest winter in many, many years.

Rizzo thought about New Jersey for a moment: he could almost smell the murky drain he had called home. His mother was probably preparing the food she nicked from the Italian joint down the road for his younger siblings. Ah, food! Why did he have to go and do that to himself! He’d give anything to be stuffing himself; even if it meant enduring his father’s rants about how Rizzo had no ambition.

New York had been Rizzo’s ambition for a long time but it seemed that the Big Apple wasn’t as promising as it seemed in all of those movies. It was hard enough to pass as a sanitary talking rat, let alone getting a job. He had managed to get several jobs, but lost them as soon as they came around. In fact, Rizzo had been fired seven times in only two weeks! What rotten luck!

It was official; it’s not easy being a rodent in a city full of people who behaved as such.

However, Rizzo was always the optimist (unless it came to circumstances containing impending doom) and believed that something was coming around the corner. Something big and exciting that would bring him the important things in life; like ten square meals a day.

The morning traffic was starting to reach its peak. Rizzo spent quite a while aimlessly wandering the city streets as he considered his circumstances, occasionally dodging a high-heeled foot or a cigarette butt being dropped from above. Why on earth did he come here if he didn’t have an actual plan?

“Ma was right. Maybe headin’ out on my own wasn’t my best option,” Rizzo mumbled to himself wearily. He was so lost in his misery that he never saw the icy puddle coming. With a startled cry, Rizzo lost his footing and slipped face first into it, becoming drenched as his fur soaked in the cold water. “AHH, dat’s cold! Dat’s verrry cold! My tail’s gonna snap off!”

After a few moments of spluttering and struggling, the soaked rat managed to free himself, once again wrapping his arms around his thinning body. With a huff of exasperation, Rizzo continued on. Great; not only was he starving and homeless, but now he was waterlogged and in danger of becoming a ratsicle! Meanwhile, the humans above remained completely oblivious to his plight. They moved swiftly to the next part of their routine without one thought of looking down.

It seemed that nobody was having a worse time than Rizzo the Rat on this particular morning. His tail was now frozen stiff and his fingers were getting pins and needles in his attempts to move them. However, when Rizzo bravely crossed the next road, he spotted an individual who seemed to have taken a dip in the same pond of bad luck.

Sitting meekly on the edge of a dormant fountain was a human in his late teens; his light blondish, scraggly hair and slim frame making him stand out amongst the crowd. He was shivering, most likely due to the fact that the kid didn’t seem to have a warm coat of any kind. A small cup of coffee was being tightly clutched in his hands, not surprising seeing as it was his only source of warmth. His face was adorned with vacant eyes and a small frown.

The kid looked lost, Rizzo observed. A rush of familiarity coursed through the rats mind. Hadn’t he seen that same confused look on his own mug whenever he caught a glance at himself in a shiny hubcap? He glanced at the teen once more; the boy couldn’t have been any older than himself. Maybe he was in the same situation? Surely a normal New Yorker would have been observant enough to have a sweater on hand for a day like this. This kid was obviously new.

Relieved to have discovered someone he could relate to, Rizzo found himself heading in the direction of the strange human. He leapt onto the fountain ledge in the small gap between the teenager and the person adjacent to him. Rizzo quickly started to think of an opening line, not wanting to creep the human out.

“So...Cold enough for ya?” asked Rizzo loudly.

The reaction was instant. The kid jumped out of his seat in fright, his vacant eyes widening in alarm as he caught his coffee cup and swivelled around wildly to see who or what had broken him out of his thoughts. He looked up and all around, searching for the source of his discontent.

“Relax would ya? I’m down here!”

The kid’s focus finally snapped onto Rizzo, taking in the sight of the talking rodent. His eyes widened even more, mouth gaping in his struggle to find words. The two held each other’s gaze for a few long moments. An awkward tension was starting to fill the air, but Rizzo was determined.

“You okay?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” replied the teen, trying to regain some of his composure. He remained rooted to the spot he had jumped to, “Sorry. It’s just that.....I’ve never really been approached by a talking rat before.”

“Well, you’re one of the lucky ones,” replied Rizzo, smirking. He gave a lazy stretch and leaned on the fountain railing behind him. “So is it cold enough for ya or what?”

“It’s freezing,” the kid stuttered, still at a loss for what to do, “I’ve never been this cold before. Where I come from usually doesn’t get this chilly.”

Rizzo nodded, considering the human for a moment. Scaring him probably wasn’t the best way to make an introduction. Smiling, the rat gave a small sigh, “Look kid, I didn’t mean to scare ya like dat. Let’s start from scratch. I’m Rizzo. Rizzo the Rat.”

“No kidding,” said the kid wearily, “I’m Steve. Steve Whitmire.”

“Nice to meet ya.”

They shook hand and paw. Seemingly settled in with the situation, the teen called Steve returned to his seat. Rizzo gave a satisfied smile.

“Look, if ya don’t mind me askin’,” began Rizzo,”What ‘cha doin’ here all alone? Ya don’t exactly look local.”

“Oh! I haven’t been here long,” replied Steve, watching a tourist bus rumble past, “Only flew in yesterday from Atlanta. I’m here for a job interview, with Jim Henson. Ever heard of him?”

“I think so,” said Rizzo thoughtfully, scratching his chin, “isn’t he the guy who runs dat funny show in London?’

“The Muppet Show, you mean?”

“Yeah, dat’s the one! I love dat show!”

Steve chuckled, “Me too! But I’m not auditioning for a job there. I’m hoping to work on Sesame Street. It’s kinda a big dream of mine.”

“Well, good luck to ya!”said Rizzo sincerely, “When’s da interview?”

“When I go back to Henson Associates.”

“Huh?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Steve explained shyly. He began to fiddle with the coffee cup still residing in his hands, “I turned up a little too early. Mr. Henson seemed a little flustered, so I offered to go back later. I’ve been out here for ages, but I’ll head back soon.”

“Well, hopefully it all works out for ya anyway,” said Rizzo encouragingly, “It can’t go any worse than the time I’ve been having finding work.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have ya ever been fired seven times in two weeks?”

“Well, no,” replied Steve, rather concerned about the rat’s tone, “I guess it can’t be easy for a rat to get work with everybody thinking that you’ve come straight out of the sewer.”

“Ya got dat right,” sighed Rizzo, looking down at his feet, “Da way things are goin’, I’ll have no choice but to live in the sewer.”

Sympathy adorned over Steve’s face as he watched Rizzo shiver beneath his poor excuse for clothes. The rat did look pretty washed up. Steve gazed at Rizzo, and then glanced at his cup of coffee for a brief second before returning his focus to the little rat next to him.

“Would you like some of this?”

Stunned, Rizzo turned to the sight of the human offering the coffee cup to him. Steve might as well have been offering him the Holy Grail for the surprised look he was receiving. Rizzo quietly accepted the offer. The coffee itself was lukewarm at best, and yet Rizzo could feel his insides unfreeze.

The act of kindness itself was enough to warm him. Once he had his fill, Rizzo grinned up at Steve, eyes filled with a sense of gratefulness. Steve smiled warmly back, probably pleased with the results of his offer.

“Thanks, dat really helped,” Rizzo murmured,”But dere was barely enough for yourself.”

Steve shrugged. “You seemed like a guy who needs to catch a break,” he answered simply, “I wish there was more I could do for you....”

“Eh, don’t worry ‘bout me. Somethin’ will come along for me eventually,” said Rizzo, also shrugging,”You just go and nail dat audition. Somethin’ tells me ya gonna do great.”

“Oh yeah!” cried Steve, suddenly remembering why he was there. He jumped to his feet and turned in the direction he needed to go, “I’ve gotta run, but listen Rizzo, it was great meeting you-“

“Ya too, Steve. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime!”

And Steve was off on his way. Rizzo remained on the fountain for a moment longer, processing the conversation before hopping down and continuing his aimless travelling around the city.

However, not even three minutes later, a familiar voice caught his attention:

“Rizzo! HEY RIZZO!”

The rat spun around to see Steve running hurriedly towards him.

“What are ya doin’ kid? I thought you were goin’ to da audtion!” Rizzo cried incredulously, throwing his arms out in confusion.

“I was, but then a thought occurred to me!” Steve said excitedly, skidding to a halt in front of Rizzo and nearly knocking the people around him over, “You’re a talking rat!”

“Well noticed,” Rizzo acknowledged, nodding, “but what has dat got to do with anythin’?”

“Jim Henson has hired heaps of talking animals!” exclaimed Steve, “He has talking frogs, pigs, bears, cows, dogs; you name it, he’s got it! If he likes to hire talking weasels, then surely he’d be willing to hire a rat?”

“Maybe!” replied Rizzo, starting to get excited too.

“Come with me, then!” said Steve, gesturing for him to follow, “What do you have to lose?”

“Nuttin.”

“Exactly!”

“All right then, let’s go!”

The duo set off for Henson associates together with their spirits and hopes high. Neither knew what was to come, but for Rizzo at least, it was always going to be better than how it used to be.

 

[JimAndFrank]

Sorry I haven't updated for a few days, guys. I do have a story in development, but I need a little time to get over the death of my dog who needed to be put down on Tuesday.

I'll update as soon as I'm ready.

 

[WalterLinz]

Sorry I haven't updated for a few days, guys. I do have a story in development, but I need a little time to get over the death of my dog who needed to be put down on Tuesday.

I'll update as soon as I'm ready.

Oh no...sorry about your dog...

 

[JimAndFrank]

Again, I'm sorry for the delay. It seems that recent events have rejuvenated my writers block and I'm starving for some inspiration.

In the mean time, are there any requests or ideas for Muppet back stories I may be able to elaborate on?

 

[AlittleMayhem]

Again, I'm sorry for the delay. It seems that recent events have rejuvenated my writers block and I'm starving for some inspiration.

In the mean time, are there any requests or ideas for Muppet back stories I may be able to elaborate on?

Sorry to hear about the writers block! That's always a pain!

Personally, I would like to see something with one or two members of the Electric Mayhem, perhaps?