Spider-Man/Muppets Fanfic: The Spectacular

[theprawncracker]

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Oh, Sean, that was AWESOME! Rescue Rangers is my all-time favorite cartoon show EVER! And I love Darkwing and Duck Tales and- WOW! Awesome! Awesome! Awesome! So much action, great job my friend! I can't wait to see what else you throw into this already epic fan-fic! More please!

 

[The Count]

Wow... This thing's getting so convaluted. And I'm loving it all.

Few things...
The shoot with the models, I take it that's from the movie with a bit of addition by the author. But Wendy Goldstein, is that the same character portrayed by Wendy Mallic from Just Shoot Me?
Really enjoyed the bit where Darkwing and Scrooge and all in their respective parties met. Guess that brings me back to the fanfic idea I had which could be done on that Disney forum you belong too: Darkwing, Launchpad, Gizmo Duck, and Scrooge in his own superhero persona as the Masked Mallard teaming up in something resembling a Batman plotline.
Spidey's last line about Eddie Brock, that's funny.
Yes, Pete's pizza must definitely be an Upgrade (pun intended) to the mealworm stews Max makes for Ben and Gwen.

Everything was utterly great. Please post more as soon as you can, cause it's a great thing you're crafting here MW.

 

[muppetwriter]

Thanks, Count.

Yeah, I bought the novelization over the weekend to pick me up a little with the story. The names of the models were something that the author put into it, and I thought it'd be interesting to include in the fanfic.

And Wendy Malick's character on the show was named Nina Van Horn.

I must admit that what I had done with the DuckTales and Darkwing Duck characters impressed even me as I wrote it, because never before had I seen or even wished to see Darkwing Duck and Scrooge McDuck in the same scene. Haha! It was marvelous!

I'll try to have more up soon, along with that "Silver Crystal" story that I've been promising lately.

 

[The Count]

Yeah, you're right... Forgot or got it mistaken when I was replying earlier, just that the name Wendy Goldstein jumped out at me.
Also, now we know where Officer Valerosa's stationed. Guess that'd make it easier for Eduardo to visit her whenever the bus leaves the manor like the time they had a field trip at the mall.

Another question, are we going with the Ducktales voices for the nephews or their Quack Pack voices? Cause Quack Pack, though finally identifying each with distinct voices, was during my sight-fading phase and I envision the trio from their Ducktales encarnation.

It's all so rich that I crave the next chapter whenever you can get it finished and polished and posted.

 

[muppetwriter]

I'll get to it as soon as I can, buddy.

Another question, are we going with the Ducktales voices for the nephews or their Quack Pack voices? Cause Quack Pack, though finally identifying each with distinct voices, was during my sight-fading phase and I envision the trio from their Ducktales encarnation.

We're going with the DuckTales voices and appearances. I never really was a fan of Quack Pack.

 

[muppetwriter]

Here's another good chapter.

Chapter Seven​

Edward didn’t need perfect eyesight to tell that the Daily Bugle was a lot more crowded than ever on the day he, Sean, Lori, and Stanley came to see what their former and current boss, J. Jonah Jameson, wanted. What made that particular floor on the building so cluttered with people that day were the new employees that had come straight to Manhattan from a place further up north called Woodland Valley.

Bear was one of the only biggest, furriest, liveliest, and most caring orange bear on the Daily Chronicle staff, before the newspaper had gone out of business three years ago. During the years in between his last day at The Chronicle and his first day at The Daily Bugle, he had never given up on his dream to be part of the greatest newspaper in New York City. Bear made sure he made his former boss, Mike Tarkanian, proud enough to realize that he did exactly what he promised him he was going to do: do something great for a marvelous business.

The easygoing, warm, caring Bear wasn’t going to follow his dream alone. Along with him on his journey were a tiny blue always-organized mouse named Tutter, two inseparable, clam-loving, slightly identical purple otters named Pip and Pop, a curious, inquisitive, good-planning bear cub named Ojo, and a colorful lemur named Treelo that spoke in a unique language. They all had expertise in journalism with their own newspaper, The Woodland Valley Gazette.

When Lori and Sean noticed the large and small critters, their uneasy reaction was explainable, considering that the gang from Woodland Valley had been hired to be the apprentices of the two young, talented reporters. They didn’t take the position as lightly as another veteran of the Bugle, as well as one of the wonderful world of Disney, Goofy—whose son, Maximilian “Max” Goof, had signed on a few months ago to become the newspaper’s newest reporter and work under the guidance of both his father and Donald Duck.

“Hey, there’s Bear!” Stanley cheerfully exclaimed, while Lori and Sean both took a deep sigh that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Edward, who could tell they were distraught just from hearing the miserable tone in their voices.

“So it is.” Lori uttered, and she guided Edward towards the group from Woodland Valley, with Sean and Stanley following. Getting to their location was anything but easy, as they had bumped into a few passing employees, some of whom Lori and Sean didn’t recognize at all. There was one especially whom Sean had bumped directly into and nearly knocked right off her feet.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” Sean said, as the woman sheepishly chuckled. “It’s not so usually crowded in here. I’m starting to get used to it.” He got a good glance at the woman and noted her appearance: beautiful, auburn-haired, and wearing white boots and a yellow jumpsuit with sleeves that were rolled up at the elbows and the front opened slightly to show a little cleavage. She was so captivating that Sean had nearly lost his train of thought. “Do I…know you…from somewhere?”

The woman laughed and smiled, seeming just as marveled by his appearance as he was of hers. “You probably do, if you watch Channel Six at six o’clock.” She extended her hand out for him to take and gently shake. “My name’s April O’Neil.”

Her name struck Sean like a jolt of electricity. “Oh, yes. Now I remember. You’re the reporter who’s known for all the stories on those mutant turtles.” April smiled, nodding her head with a hint of redness on her face. “What brings you to The Daily Bugle? We don’t usually get television reporters here.”

“Well, I was hoping to have found a friend of mine who works here.” April replied, looking left and right and even behind her to find her person. “He’s almost impossible to find, ‘cause he’s such a little fella.” Sean began to get an idea of whom she might’ve been searching for.

“What’s his name?”

She looked up at him and smiled, as the name rolled across her tongue. “Kermit the Frog.”

The young reporter didn’t know what was more intriguing: the fact that such a lovely, younger reporter knew someone like Kermit or the fact that she had no idea that he was no longer employed at The Daily Bugle. He was about to go on asking her more about her interest in the frog, but knew that his sister, her friend, their cousin, and their apprentices were waiting nearby for him to join them and met Jameson in his office.

“Kermit doesn’t work here anymore.” Sean said, and April looked distraught for a moment, at least until Sean said, “But I happen to know where he currently resides. If you were to wait here for just a few minutes, I can take you to him.”

April smiled. “That’s wonderfully nice of you, Mister…”

“Thomas. Sean Thomas.”

“Mister Thomas…Sean.” The way she said his name brought a smile to his face that was a tad larger than hers. It sounded heavenly to his ears. “But as anxious as I am to see him again, I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check. My boss is expecting me to do a report on that crane accident that occurred earlier today. I heard Spider-Man was there.” Sean nodded with interest; he was surprised a bit that he didn’t hear about it on his way to the Bugle.

“Well, I’ll just write you the address to this place called ‘The Happiness Hotel’. It shouldn’t be too hard for you to find…darn near impossible actually.” Sean had taken a sheet of paper from a nearby printer and an ink pen from a nearby desk, writing down the address in numbers and letters big enough to fill the whole sheet. “And if you can’t find him here, try attending one of the last three performances of Manhattan Melodies II at the Muppet Theatre and hope to meet up with him after the show. Tell ‘em Sean sent ya.”

Soon after he wrote all of the information on the paper, April took it from his hands, looked at it, and smiled brightly to him. “Thank you, Sean. I hope we bump into each other again soon.” Sean nodded and smiled at that thought, as he watched April leave that floor of the building. As soon as she was gone, she had never left his mind. He had seen several beautiful women in his life (his own sister was near the top five), though none were as gorgeous as the woman he had just encountered.

“Sean!” A voice called, and he turned to see Lori, Stanley, Edward, and the Woodland Valley reporters still waiting by the door to Jameson’s office. He was on his way towards them, just as a fast-moving form bumped roughly right past him, hitting his shoulder in the process.

“Excuse me.” The stranger sarcastically said, and his voice was like a bad song to Sean, one that was familiar and hard to remove from his subconscious, even if he tried. As soon as the stranger looked back at him and flashed a toothy grin, all of the positive feelings that Sean had felt momentarily had vanished in an instant.

“Eddie Brock?” He muttered in surprise. “Good lord. It can’t be.”

Brock continued staring at him, as he neared Lori and the others. Lori was as equally shocked to see Eddie Brock Jr. waltzing his way through the floor of the Bugle as her brother had been. They both turned to each other and shared their reactions, while Stanley and the Woodland Valley critters (whom Brock had glance at and gave an odd look towards) waved at the overly confident photographer. He approached Betty Brant’s desk with a portfolio tucked under his arm.

Betty generally tried to be as accommodating as possible, but in Brock’s short time with the newspaper, he had gotten under her skin with amazing ease. The most aggravating thing was that he wasn’t even trying; he thought he was being charming. Lori didn’t find his attempts very appealing either, as he tried several times to woo her into a date during their job in San Francisco. To Lori, the phrase “watch your butt” was taken to a whole new meaning while being around Brock.

“He’s busy,” Betty said more curtly than she would normally have.

As if he’d always intended to do so, Brock skidded to a halt in front of her desk and said suavely, “Oh, I’m here to talk to you, beautiful.”

Lori rolled her eyes and smirked at the ridiculous way that he tried to capture Betty’s interest, which he didn’t seem to be getting that moment. As Sean stood right by her side, he seemed just as annoyed as both women were over Brock’s presence. But it wasn’t as nearly as annoying as the odd smell that had crept into the room, which Bear picked up instantly with his remarkable nose.

“What smells so…bad?” He asked, and once Sean and Lori realized that it was coming from where Brock was standing, they both chuckled.

“It smells like a piece of dog crap wearing a sorry excuse for a leather jacket that was just dipped in urine.” Lori uttered, and while the two siblings were having a good laugh with Edward and Stanley (who was holding his nose to avoid the smell), Brock turned in their direction—his creepy smile still intact on his face.

“Tough talk coming from a couple of losers who live in a crappy hotel.” Brock said, but his remark didn’t stop the siblings from laughing.

“Yeah, and you’re the missing ingredient.” Sean remarked. “You should stop by sometime and apply as a new bellhop.” Lori was just about to loose her composure, as her laughter increase in volume and intensity. Her face was nearly red and tears were pouring out from her eyes.

Brock, trying desperately not to look intimidated by either of them, attempted to get the last word. But he was robbed of the opportunity, as soon as the door to Jameson’s office was thrown open. A terrified Hoffman scampered backward out of the office, almost tripping while an easel that he had brought into the office was tossed by Jameson, who had appeared in the doorway, mustache bristling.

“That’s the dumbest idea you’ve ever had! And you’ve had some doozies!” Jameson screamed—his voice was enough to frighten Ojo, Treelo, Pip, Pop, and Tutter altogether, as they had clutched onto each other. Bear had heard worse rants come from Tarkanian, so Jameson’s voice barely made him jump. It wasn’t long before the Bugle publisher noticed the Woodland Valley critters with Lori and Sean close nearby. “It’s about time you two got here! What took ya so long? Never mind! Get in!”

The group didn’t hesitate to follow him into his office, where Goofy, Donald, and Max were waiting near Robbie Robertson. Seizing the opportunity, Brock headed toward the open door. Betty tried to talk him out of going, but the phone rang before she could. She let Brock go, not bothering to interfere in his attempt to impress the boss.

Brock, buoyed by boundless determination, strode into Jameson’s office armed with his portfolio, displaying the confidence of a lion tamer facing down the big cats with nothing but a chair and a whip. Jameson and Robbie were already deep in conversation with the Thomas siblings, their apprentices, and the Disney reporters when Brock walked in. Jameson’s head thrust forward in a manner not unlike a cobra’s, and he glared at Eddie.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

“You mean what he is, sir.” Lori said.

“They haven’t found a name for him yet, but they’re leaning towards a new form of disease called Brockchitis.” Sean said, and the two snickered over their own wit, while Brock—ignoring their comments—stuck his hand out to Jameson.

“It’s Brock, sir.” He said. “Edward Brock, Jr.”

“You hired him last week, Jonah. Freelance.”

“I did?” Jameson said, before sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?”

“Dog crap dipped in urine.” Bear answered, having no sense of what he was saying and leaving everyone in the room, especially Sean and Lori, staring at him awkwardly. “At least, that’s what I heard.”

Breaking the awkward moment that had quickly filled the area, Brock pulled a photograph out of the portfolio and slid it across the desk. Looking for something to steer the focus away from what Bear had just said, Brock looked at Jameson and said, “Wow, can I just say I really like that shirt? Here…” He pointed to the photograph. “Crane accident. Check out the light source.”

Jameson slid the photo over to Robbie and glanced at his sleeves. “He likes my shirt,” he said with a touch of wonderment. Lori and Sean once again found themselves rolling their eyes again over Brock’s desperate attempt to impress someone who could hardly be called a human being.

Robbie barely had to look at the photo to recognize the quality of it. “We can use it,” He said firmly.

“How much do you want for it?” Jameson demanded.

“Whatever you think is fair, sir.” Brock replied.

Lori snickered again. “Hope you enjoy that one dollar Butterfinger bar.”

While Brock stared at her strangely, wondering where she was going with that comment, Jameson studied the picture and obviously calculated an amount that he believed the picture was worth—and then would no doubt halve. Meanwhile, Sean’s attention went to the office door, where there was a brief exchange taking place between Betty Brant and Peter Parker on the other side of the door. As soon as the conversation had ended, the door flew open and Peter entered, holding a manila envelope in his hand.

“Hey, kid. How’re you doing?” Lori happily inquired.

“Hey, guys.” Peter said, waving to the siblings and the rest of his old friends, before glancing at Brock, who barely gave him the attention that he deserved.

“Parker, you’re late!” Jameson snapped, and Brock immediately realized that Peter was his main competition. Brock smiled widely, knowing that Parker had already lost this round before he’d even entered the game. “Maybe too late,” continued Jameson, confirming Brock’s suspicion. “Bruckner here brought me a pretty good photo.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and was about to correct Jameson as to his name for what seemed the tenth time when Peter extracted a picture from the envelope and said, “I got you this.”

Peering at the photo, Brock couldn’t believe it. An aerial shot of Spider-Man spinning the web that protected the crowd. “How’d you get that shot?” he demanded. “I didn’t see you there. How’d you…”

Realizing that Peter’s secret was on the verge of being discovered by someone as lame as Brock (who was the last person they wanted it getting out to), Lori quickly spoke out in Peter’s defense. “Peter is one of the greatest photographers that we have here on the staff…one of the only greatest in the whole city.” Eddie wasn’t too intimidated by her words of praise towards Peter.

“Yeah, tough break, Bruckheimer.” Sean teased, and Eddie glared at him, before turning that glare towards Peter.

“How’d you get that high?”

“I climbed. Nearly fell off the flagpole.”

“Flagpole?” Brock had an excellent memory for scenes—his cameraman’s eye gave him a photographic memory. He didn’t remember a flagpole there.

“Which picture do we use?” Robbie asked.

Brock tensed. His was the better composed, with that intense human drama of Spider-Man saving Scrooge’s nephews. But Peter’s had a broader sweep. Jameson, however, didn’t hesitate. “I like Bernstein’s.” Brock exhaled in relief. Who cared whether Jameson could remember his name, so long as it was correct in the photo credit and on the check.

Lori and Sean looked sadly in Peter’s direction, feeling sorry over the fact that such an arrogant amateur like Brock was outdoing him. Robbie, holding both photos, nodded once in confirming Jameson’s decision. “It’s better,” he acknowledged, and Brock was sure that he was looking sympathetically at Peter.

“Cheaper too,” Jameson announced. “Congratulations, Brooks. We’re gonna go with your photo. Fifty bucks.”

Eddie nearly choked, and the Thomas siblings nearly busted out with laughter. That wasn’t even enough to cover expenses. Brock had underestimated Jameson—fifty dollars was maybe a quarter of what the picture was worth. He considered telling Jameson to shove it, but Peter’s presence took that option off the table. The competition was in the room, whether it had been Parker himself, the Thomas siblings, the critters from Woodland Valley, or the Disney characters standing by the wall and watching the whole scene unfold before their eyes. Eddie wasn’t about to torpedo his long-term chances for the short-term satisfaction of telling off J. Jonah Jameson. Instead he swallowed his irritation and gave a genuine fake smile.

“All right, J.J., then I’m your man.” He leaned over the desk to extend a handshake to Jameson, who stared at the hand as if wondering why Brock was pointing that thing in his direction. Brock quickly turned the open hand into a fist as if he’d always meant to and thumped it firmly on the desktop for emphasis. “I know more about what makes a good picture than any photographer in town. Photography is not about no offense…flagpoles.” He nodded to Peter as he said that, offending him in the process. “It’s about lighting, composition, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s all good and everything, Bateman.” Sean mocked again, but sounding a lot more agitated that time as he did. “Mr. Jameson, with all due respect to ‘Mr. Expert’ here, can I just ask why exactly you called my sister and me over here?”

Jameson looked curiously in Sean’s direction, while taking huge puffs from his cigar. “What’s your hurry, Thomas? You look like you haven’t sleep in days. Are ya tryin’ to go for some record or something?”

“No, sir. I just spent a lot of time at the hospital overnight…and, no, I wasn’t hurt. I was just visiting a friend of a friend.” Sean looked towards Peter, who had given a little smile in appreciation for being with him in the midst of Harry’s recovery. “I’m just really looking forward to getting some well-deserved rest.”

“Well, if you really must know, I called you and your sister over here to help me decide who deserves a promotion: one of your new apprentices or the son of the goof-ball.” Jameson stated, and Sean felt as if he was just about to loose his cool, finding it incredibly ridiculous how he would be dragged out of the comfort (if he’d really want to call it that) of his own home to help Jameson do his own job.

Goofy stepped forward with a look of determination on his face that no one familiar with his character had seen that often. “I think Maxie deserves a good position on tha staff! He’s been workin’ freelance for months now, and it’s time he worked with tha big dogs! And I ain’t just talkin’ about me and Donald…Donald isn’t even a dog!”

“And your point is, Goof?” Jameson asked, while Sean sat down and rested on one of the two chairs sitting in front of Jameson’s desk, feeling like it was going to be a long, dreadful hour for him. Lori placed her hands on her brother’s shoulders, giving him a nice neck rub to relax him.

Hearing all of the talk about promotions and better positions on the staff, Eddie decided that now was the time to get aggressive, although he was taking a huge risk. “I want a staff job. I have a girl that I intend to marry. And I have this kind of stupid little dream of working for one of the greatest newspaper editors of our time: J. Jonah Jameson.”

Jameson was soaking it up like a sponge. “We do have an opening. Johnson quit.” He turned to Robbie. “Remember?”

“You fired him,” Robertson reminded him.

“Whatever.”

Goofy couldn’t believe what he was hearing from Jameson; it was enough to rip his heart out and have it stomped repeatedly. Meanwhile, Max—his son—didn’t seem too distraught over the loss of his big chance. “It’s no big deal, Dad. I can just wait another few months to get a better spot on the staff.”

“But, Maxie,” Goofy swallowed hard, “A good staff job on The Daily Bugle isn’t just a gift…it’s an honor…a privilege.” He looked towards Donald. “Tell ‘im, Donald.” The duck was on the verge of falling asleep him, leaning against the wall and nodding his head, not hearing a word that Goofy had said. His lack of attention towards the matter was proof to Max that the job shouldn’t be all that important to him. He didn’t care if he wouldn’t be working with the big dogs, as long as he had a good job to afford the dates he and Roxanne went on.

Peter, however, was clearly not about to roll over. “Wait a minute,” he protested. “I know what makes a good picture. And I’ve been here a long time. If there’s a staff job, Mr. Jameson, I think I deserve it.” Lori and Sean nodded in agreement with that sentiment.

Robertson, that great player of favorites, said, “He’s right, Jonah. Peter’s been with us for years. He does great work.”

“And I’m sure Bear and his friends wouldn’t mind if it went to Peter.” Lori said, turning to the Woodland Valley reporters afterwards. “Would you?”

“Not at all.” Bear replied. “We’re just delighted to be working for a great newspaper, under the guide of such terrific expert reporters.” Lori gave a thankful smile for the small-time reporters, as her grip on her brother’s tense shoulders seemed to have relaxed a bit. She knew he would be gratefully smiling at them as well, if he weren’t so exhausted.

Looking from one to the other, Jameson growled, “You want a staff job, you want a staff job, you want a staff job, and you all want staff jobs. If I’d be giving out cars, I’d be Oprah! Anyone care about what I want?”

Hoffman stuck his head in and said, “I do.”

“Shut up! Get out!” Jameson snapped, and Hoffman immediately did so. Jameson turned his attention back to the reporters before him. “I want the public to see Spider-Man for the two-bit criminal he really is. He’s a fake. He’s full of stickem. Catch him in the act. Spider-Man with his hand in the cookie jar.” He paused for dramatic effect, then concluded, “Whoever brings me that photo or that story gets the job or promotion or whatever you want to call it.”

The heads of Lori and Sean Thomas had shot up in a surprise reaction to Jameson’s request, finding it a very bold thing to ask from his own workers. Their gaze went to Peter, who looked as if he were about to sweat bullets in result of the request. There was no doubt that he would soon be frustrated by the situation, forced to criminalize his alter ego to give J. Jonah Jameson what he wanted.

Peter was skirting the line of ethics as it was, taking photographs of himself in action and selling those to the Daily Bugle. He always told himself that it wasn’t really fraud. He wasn’t setting up the situations that Spider-Man got himself into—he was simply providing photographic documentation of events. He didn’t see it as being morally any different from writing an autobiography and being paid for it. But faking a photo of Spider-Man doing something corrupt? That crossed the line. No job was worth it. Besides, if he did transform Spider-Man into a criminal by making it look as if Spider-Man had done something illegal, wouldn’t that impede his other identity’s effectiveness? Things were turning the corner in public perception; why roll matters back to suspicion and apprehension? Bottom line, the citizens of New York had no reason to fear Spider-Man; giving them one would be criminal in and of itself.

These same thoughts went through the minds of Max, Goofy, and the Woodland Valley reporters as well. They appreciated the wall-crawler as much as any other fan of his did, and exploiting him for the criminal that Jameson wished for him to be was unethical. It was almost enough for each of them to hang up their press badges and cameras and walk out of the Daily Bugle forever. But neither of them wanted to ruin their dreams of working for New York’s greatest newspaper and earning enough money to have a future. Each of them knew how rough the job would be when they took it anyways. So doing this one “little” thing for Jameson shouldn’t do much harm (at least, they hoped it wouldn’t).

When neither of the reporters initially moved, Jameson snapped, “What are you waiting for? Go, go, go!”

“I’m on it, boss!” Brock announced and headed for the door.

As Eddie went, Peter Parker and the other reporters were one step behind him, which was just how Brock liked it. But he was surprised when Parker said in an unusually intense voice, “You’ll never get that picture.”

“Oh, we’ll see.” Brock fired a smug grin at Parker as if it were a done deal, his eyes blazing with determination. “We’ll see.”

“What actually makes you think that you’ll get a photo like that, Eddie?” Lori viciously asked him. “Unless you have PhotoShop, there’s no way you’ll be able to get a picture of Spider-Man robbing a bank and make it look good enough to put you on The Bugle’s staff. And knowing you, you’ll probably find a way to get that job, even if it means kissing Jameson’s butt like you did minutes ago.”

“For real, Brock.” Sean said. “You’re just as much of a loser now as you were years ago in San Francisco.”

“On the contrary.” Eddie remarked. “You’ll soon find that I’m as much of a success today than I was back then.” Brock smiled, feeling satisfied of getting the last word over the siblings, as he walked out of the room.

“Man! Is that the understatement of the year!” Sean exclaimed.

“God!” Lori shouted, sounding as equally frustrated and intense as Peter had earlier. “Can you guys believe that sorry son of a…” She stopped once she noticed Stanley standing next to the patient Edward Morbius and smiling at her, unknowingly reminding her that not everyone she was addressing was an adult. “…gun.”

Edward smiled, shaking his head over his old friend’s problematic way of handling her rants in front of children. “Same old Alissa.”

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN​

 

[The Count]

This was a good expositive chapter. Brought some of the story elements in tighter together, what with four freedom of press followers buying for the same job. Can only hope there's more to come.

Also, need to talk about Alissa... Want to see how to "add her up".
Post more soon please.

 

[theprawncracker]

MAX! BEAR! GOOFY! DONALD! LOVE IT! Oh Sean, this is SO good! More PLEASE!

 

[muppetwriter]

Thanks, guys. I'll see if I can have more up real soon. With the holiday coming up, I should have a lot of time on my hands and plenty of chances to develop another great chapter.

Also, need to talk about Alissa... Want to see how to "add her up".

Sure, Count. Just send me an email or a private message anytime you want. *wonders what "add her up" might mean*

 

[The Count]

Will do that Sean. It's nothing out of the norm, just need to think about how, with permission, to make her part of the counting castle's cast of souls.

BTW: Very much liked how you introduced April in this last chapter. But a jumpsuit? Doesn't she wear a yellow trenchcoat instead? Thought you might've brought Christine into this tale, but it actually works well so far.
Post when you get the chance man, it's a marvel-ous story you've got going.