Chapter 18
Boober pushed the bucket up to the top of his head.
He gulped loudly.
Two washboards strung together served as breast and back armor for the blue Fraggle.
He exhaled with a very shaky breath.
Boober raised his mop into the air as high as he could.
He shouted as loudly as he had ever shouted before, a chorus of Fraggles echoed his shout; a chorus of voices unfamiliar to the Fraggles, their choruses usually which implied singing.
There was no singing from this chorus, just the triumphant yell of "Down with the Gorgs!"
Cantus watched as the Fraggles marched out of the Rock and into war. He let out a deep sigh, a sigh that spoke louder than words could have, a sigh that signified the forgotten music of the Fraggle’s hearts.
"Don’t forget your songs Fraggles," Cantus said. "Or else we will all surely be doomed."
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Gobo and the others in the exploring party rushed up to the door and slid through the doggy-door opening.
"C’mon guys, we’re almost home!" Gobo said.
Doc jumped from the floor as the four new bodies entered his apartment. "Sprocket? There you are! You gave me quite a scare! Gobo, Red, Wembley? What are you three doing?" Doc asked, extremely confused with his current situation.
"No time to talk now Doc," Gobo said, "we’ve gotta go save Fraggle Rock from being destroyed!"
"Oh my," Doc said quietly. "Well, is there anything I can do to help?" Doc asked, shouting after the three Fraggles as they darted into the Fraggle hole.
"Unless you can get to your old workshop faster than we can and stop some silly creatures from doing something very bad to Fraggle Rock… then no, sorry!" Wembley called back.
The Fraggles were now too far into the Rock to call back to Doc any longer. Sprocket jumped in front of the hole, still too small for him to enter, and barked noisily, cheering the Fraggles forward.
Doc scratched his head. "I don’t suppose you could explain any of this to me, could you Sprocket?"
Sprocket looked at Doc and whimpered.
"Yes, I thought not," Doc said. "Ah well, I’m sure Gobo and the others will save their home. I hope they can, at least."
Sprocket nodded ferociously, and continued barking down the hole, long after the Fraggles were out of earshot.
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Philo and Gunge slipped through the crack of door left open to the Gorg’s castle. They looked around at their unfamiliar surroundings. "Philo," Gunge said, "we’re definitely not in a heap of trash anymore."
The two rats journeyed through the castle, looking for any sign of Junior Gorg. They were careful not to be seen by Ma Gorg, though that wasn’t too difficult as Ma was very busy teaching her new tiny, green kitchen hands how to tidy up and cut vegetables.
"Where is that Gorg kid anyhow?" Philo asked.
"Well if we knew, we wouldn’t be lookin’ for him, now would we?" Gunge asked.
The bickering rodents suddenly felt the ground beneath them shake. They turned around and saw two large spiked shoes enter the castle. Philo and Gunge looked up at Junior as he walked, a little too casually, past his mother. His arms were carefully crossed so to cover up the pocket on his shirt.
"What a weirdo," Gunge said. "C’mon, let’s go see if we can talk some sense into him."
Philo and Gunge followed Junior as he meandered towards his bedroom. The shaggy brown Gorg plopped down upon his bed and instantly dug into his pocket, pulling out a Doozer no bigger than his index finger.
Flange Doozer coughed viciously as he emerged from the pocket. "Blech," he said. "Is that the only shirt you own?"
"Most people have two shirts?" Junior asked.
"Hey fatso!"
"Oh, really nice Gunge, we’re off to a great start."
"Hey, I had to get his attention."
Philo and Gunge had climbed on top of a chest in the room to get Junior’s attention.
It worked.
"Wats!" Junior shouted. "Wats in my bedroom! Ma—"
"Hey, be quiet, will ya?" Philo asked. "We’re here to help you free the Doozers!"
Junior calmed down instantly. "Really? You want to help me? But why?" he asked.
"We were sent by the all-knowing—"
"All-seeing—"
"Trash Heap! Nyah!" Philo and Gunge said together.
"Twash Heap?" Junior asked. He pondered this in his head. "Oh, you mean d’at big pile of junk behind the castle?"
"Hey, hey, watch it!" Gunge said. "Marjory is not a pile of junk."
"Well, not just a pile of junk," Philo said.
"Yeah, she’s an oracle, knower of all Fraggle wisdom!" Gunge said.
"Fraggle wisdom?" asked both Junior and Flange.
"Um, and Gorgish and Doozer wisdom too!" Gunge said.
"Does Marjory really know Gorgish and Doozer wisdom Gungy?" Philo whispered.
"How am I supposed to know?" Gunge asked.
"Well," Junior said, "what does d’is Twash Heap say I should to save my Doozah fwiends?"
"Uh… Gunge?"
"I dunno... she didn’t really specify."
"She always gives us the hard jobs," Philo said. "Um, Junior, how do you think you should save the Doozers?"
"Ooh, nice," Gunge said.
Junior scratched his head. "I… I could stuff them all in my shirt pocket!"
Philo and Gunge looked at each other, Flange shook his head. "They wouldn’t all fit," Gunge said. "Try again."
Junior thought harder this time, and that could easily be told by his extremely concentrated expression. "I… I could tell my daddy d’at he has no wight to hold the Doozahs captive, and that he should let them be fwee to build their cute widdle towahs!"
Philo and Gunge did a double take. "That’s it!" they both shouted.
"Really?" Junior asked. "Oh boy, d’is could get messy…"
"Phew, ya got that right pal," Gunge said. "Well c’mon, what’re you waitin’ for?"
"Yeah!" Junior shouted, jumping up excitedly, knocking Flange into the bed. "Time to save the Doozahs!"
Hundreds of voices echoed from outside the castle, followed by the resounding sound of falling bars, and the scruffy laugh of the supposed King of the Universe.
"Ma, Junior, come quick! Ha ha! I caught me a whole mess’a Fraggles!" Pa declared ecstatically.
Junior picked up Flange off the bed and rushed over to the window where Philo and Gunge were already peering out.
Every Fraggle within Fraggle Rock was trapped behind bars, locked away in cage traps laid just outside the hole leading into, but this time out of, Fraggle Rock.
The Gorg, Doozer, and two rats looking out the window let out a loud gulp in unison.
"Time to save the Doozers and the Fraggles," Philo said.
There was a loud, ground-shaking thud. Philo and Gunge turned around and saw Junior Gorg passed out on the floor.
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Large Marvin bit into a radish as Feeny watched the Fraggles being trapped in cages.
"Large Marvin, shouldn't we try and help our friends?" Feeny asked.
"Oh, just one more bite Feeny," Large Marvin said.
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Uncle Matt stayed hidden under the desk while the silly creature and his furry demon creature were out.
Matt fumbled around with some paper under the desk, folding it into various shapes.
It’s a good thing he was so concerned with the safety of Fraggle Rock, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to make such gorgeous creations.
He held a paper poison cackler in his hand. "Hmm, it’s a shame I never took this up as my career. Ah well," he shouted, "the beckoning of Outer Space was just too strong for a Fraggle of my superb exploration status to ignore." Matt let out a deep sigh. "Sometimes it truly is a burden being so brave and cour—"
The door opened and Matt squealed, tossing his paper cackler from his hand and curling up into a little ball beneath the desk.
"Right this way," said the familiar voice of the silly creature now living within the workshop. "There’s the hole. Who knows what could be in there."
"I know, I know," a new silly creature voice said. "I’ll just gas it and get out of your way."
Traveling Matt bit his bottom lip. "Hurry Gobo," he said quietly.
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