Fic: Muppets from Earth

[Slackbot]

Handling the chicken dialogue a little differently for this segment. It'd look silly to do it Lassie-style ("Bark bark!'' "What's that, girl? Timmy's fallen into Devil's Gorge and has a compound fracture of the lower mandible?") so, this time around, I've translated her lines (in italic) where needed.

I like dry roasted soybeans.

*****

Muppets from Earth​

Part 4: Off the Rails​

*****

Another week had passed. Camilla's egg, which at her insistence had been candled every few days, was thriving; the chick growing inside was a little larger each time. This made Camilla very happy.

What concerned her was Gonzo. He seemed to be afraid. The daredevil who did not fear pain or injury was scared of an egg? That made no sense to her. They had been together for so long, she thought she knew him better than that.

There were things that upset him, she knew. He could not take being lonely. Without the support of his friends he became unhappy. As a chicken, a flocking bird, she could understand that. In fact, she found it strange that some people actually preferred solitude. He was far from alone now, however. But maybe she had been paying more attention to the egg than to him lately. That would never have bothered a rooster… but, as she had to remind herself every so often, Gonzo was not a rooster. He would not just move on to another hen if his favorite was busy. There had been a time, early on, when he had dated them all indiscriminately. The chickens had considered normal roosterish behavior, and in fact it had helped make him more acceptable to their flock. But after the other hens had lost interest in him—he was simply too odd for them, and the joke wore thin after a while—Camilla stayed with him. She had become more attached to him than hens normally did to roosters, and he treated her like gold. The other hens regarded that relationship but strange, but she knew that right now any one of them would trade places with her if they could.

She would talk to him about it, she decided. She was not terribly articulate, but she was a good listener, and that worked just as well.

As if on cue, the balcony door opened and Gonzo stepped through. He asked, "Camilla, could you come with me?"

She nodded, wondering about his serious tone of voice. She clucked to Bernice, who agreed eagerly. Camilla stepped off her nest, and Bernice took her place on the egg. Camilla asked a different hen every time, otherwise they might get jealous and squabble, and Camilla would not have that in the vicinity of her egg!

As Gonzo led her down the stairs she clucked. He replied, "Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to talk with you alone, that's all." She could understand that; privacy was a rare thing in that well-populated boarding house.

They went around the side of the building, where the Electric Mayhem's bus was parked. Camilla smiled. It was an open secret that the bus was sometimes used as a rendez-vous point for those who needed a little more privacy than the boarding house could offer. The band was cool with it; in fact, Janice was the one who had tipped Gonzo off. A pity it didn't look like he was in a romantic mood, she thought. But maybe she could change that.

He checked to make sure the bus was unoccupied, then pulled the door open by the rubber flap and held it while she entered. Inside, they took one of the seats. He put an arm around her. She leaned against him affectionately.

He began, "I know I've been acting a little funny lately. I hope it didn't worry you too much. I just... I'm just surprised."

So was I, she replied

He nodded, looking away. After a few moments he continued, "I didn't know how much you wanted chicks. You never said anything, so I didn't think about it."

She waited, watching him expectantly. "I still... to tell the truth, I don't know how I feel about it. But I know I want you to be happy. I want you to hatch that egg. You'll be a terrific mother, I'll bet."

She clucked softly, encouraging him to continue. He said, "I guess what scares me is that I don't know what kind of father I'll be. I didn't have much experience with a family when I was a kid, so I don't know how it's supposed to go. But I'll try. I'll do my best. When the time comes, I'll be ready, I promise."

You'll be fine, she replied. I'll show you how.

"I hope you're right, Camilla," he said softly. "I love you, and I'll learn to love whatever you hatch."

She looked up at him, puzzled by the odd phrasing. What do you mean?

He met her eyes and whispered, "Whether it looks like me or not, it'll still be ours, as far as I'm concerned."

What? she asked in disbelief.

Reluctantly he said, "Camilla, if it doesn't look like me… that's probably the only way we could have a family anyway, me being an alien and all. I understand. I won't get weird about it."

She squawked, But I only laid one egg, and it's so big! Where do you think I got an egg like that?

"It's okay, I believe you," he said quietly.

She squawked angrily. She had seen the little head-shake. He didn't believe her.

He turned toward her and put his other arm around her, pulling her into an embrace. "It's okay, that's all I'm saying. I love you. Don't worry about anything."

She squawked again. He instinct was to fight him, peck at him and slap him with her wings for accusing her of lying. But she held back, not wanting to pull away from him.

She was silent for a while. He could feel her tension in his arms. He pulled back just enough to see her face. The feathers below her eyes were damp, and he could see wet streaks on her wattles. "Oh, Camilla," he whispered as he brushed her tears away with the back of a finger. "I'm sorry..."

She said nothing. She only closed her eyes and pressed her face against his shoulder.

*

Evening had come by the time they returned to the boarding house. Another brainstorming session was in progress. As the stairway was currently in use as bleachers it was not easy to make their way upstairs. "Oh, there you are," Scooter remarked.

"Sorry," Gonzo said. "We were talking."

"Like, they were probably off communing with the stars," Janice drawled impishly.

"Communing somehow, anyway," Dr. Teeth laughed.

Kermit said, "Leave them alone. Come on, let's get back on track."

Gonzo mentally thanked Kermit as he and Camilla made it the rest of the way upstairs. Bernice hopped off the nest to make way for Camilla, and went downstairs to join in the discussion and claim any leftover pizza crusts that happened to be available.

Camilla checked the egg out of habit, then settled down on it. Gonzo was still in the doorway when she turned back. He said earnestly, "It'll be all right. I promise."

She clucked halfheartedly and looked away.

He wanted to say something else, but he didn't know what would make this right. Instead of reassuring Camilla that she didn't need to worry or feel guilty, he had accused her of cheating on him. How he wished that he had never said anything. He would much rather have left it all unsaid than hurt her like this. After looking at her for a few moments, feeling as if his heart was being squeezed in a fist, he whispered, "I'm sorry…" She did not answer. He left the balcony and closed the door softly behind himself.

*****

All characters are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. This story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[Lil0Vampy]

:0 Oh my...TENSION! owo *waits for more*

 

[Slackbot]

Here's another "Spot the obscure references" episode of...

Muppets from Earth
Part 5: Two Guys Walk Into a Bar…​

*****

It was a dark and stormy night, minus the darkness, storm, and night. There was no bull session today; people were busily developing their own acts. Between the Electric Mayhem, Muppet Labs, and the various flocks, herds, and gaggles of performers, the Muppets' boarding house was a very noisy and eventful place.

Gonzo was in the basement. He had dug through one of the storage rooms behind the laboratory and found his old cannon. It was still in working order, as he had learned when he and Bunsen had collaborated to test both it and Bunsen's experimental tensile strengthener. The new formula had enabled a sheet of cardboard to survive a direct hit from a cannonball. A pity the wall behind the cardboard had not fared as well.

Gonzo had been cleaning the cannon for days now, restoring it to its former glory. It needed new paint; it had become chipped and scraped over the years. But even so it was still a thing of beauty to Gonzo. So many performances, so many injuries. It was not just a prop; it was an old friend.

He had found some of his other props down there, and had spent most of a day going through them, remembering old shows. Back then he had done stunt after stunt for the adrenaline rush, filling an empty spot within himself that he hadn't yet become aware of. And even after that spot had been filled he kept on doing stunts because they were fun. He liked the adrenaline rush that came with risking his neck. It'd be great to fire himself out of a cannon again. He hadn't found the net that they used to catch him, but he could work around that.

When Gonzo came up from the basement carrying an armload of the old towels with which he had cleaned the cannon, the boarding house was thrumming with the sound of The Electric Mayhem's creative juices. Others were playing cards, watching TV, or even, against all odds, trying to read. He walked to the laundry room. The door would only open a little, and through the crack he could see a mound of cloth. He stuffed the towels through, one at a time, then went upstairs.

He passed by Fozzie's door. He and Rowlf were talking. Fozzie was telling the dog, "Sorry, but I really need to get a head start on my act. I want to be really funny."

"I thought Gags Beasley was writing your material."

"He was. But his phone's disconnected, and I don't know how else to reach him."

"Ouch. Still, sure you don't want to take a break? There are all sorts of barroom jokes, after all."

"Thanks, but I really need to sit down and write some new jokes," the bear said apologetically.

"Okay. But when you need to take a break, let me know."

"I will. Thanks, Rowlf."

The door closed. Rowlf noticed Gonzo. "Hi there. You been workin' on your act too?"

"It shows, huh?"

Rowlf looked Gonzo up and down. His clothes were grimy, and there was the telltale smell of burnt gunpowder. "Yup. I kinda wish I had an act to work on. Everyone's busy but me these days."

"Aren't you going to be in the show?"

"Oh, sure. But I'll be playing piano, probably, and until I know what song I can't rehearse. So I just tickle the ivories for fun." He practiced in the afternoons; the evenings were too noisy, and he couldn't relax and get into the music if he was competing for decibels with a rock band. "I was going to go take myself for a walk and get a beer. Want to come with me?"

"Sure," Gonzo replied. "Just let me change out of this."

"Meet you downstairs," Rowlf said.

**

When Gonzo met Rowlf at the front door he was wearing a green paisley button-down shirt, red-and-black vest, brown slacks, and wing tips. Not too bad, for Gonzo. Some of his dressier outfits made Rowlf wish that dogs really were colorblind.

As they went out into the cool evening air Rowlf said, "It's a bit of a walk. Hope ya don't mind."

"Nah," Gonzo replied.

Rowlf led the way down some side streets. At one point they went through a narrow passage between two buildings. Gonzo heard a low, threatening growl in the darkness. Rowlf replied, "Woof woof. Bark," and continued on as if nothing had happened. Gonzo followed him closely.

They crossed over some train tracks. On the other side was a shacklike building. A sign above the low, squarish door read "The Dog House." Gonzo reached for the knob, then stopped, puzzled. There was no doorknob.

"This is a dog bar. Think like a dog," Rowlf told Gonzo. He pushed on the bottom half of the door, which swung inward on hinges at the top. He held it while Gonzo entered, then let it flap back into place.

Gonzo looked around. It was a generic bar, he thought. Low-rent but not scuzzy. The clientele were all canines of various types. The barkeep, a dun-colored terrier, looked up, raised his eyebrows when he saw Gonzo, and said, "Where's the bear?"

"He was busy," Rowlf replied. "This's Gonzo. He's a friend of mine too."

The barkeep sniffed the air in Gonzo's general direction, then asked them both, "What'll ya have?"

"Beer for me. You?"

Gonzo asked, "How about absinthe?"

"Are you putting me on?" the barkeep asked, scowling.

Gonzo glanced at the list tacked to the wall. "Er, I'll have an Irish Setter Coffee. With a straw."

After giving Gonzo a strange look, the barkeep turned away to get the drinks. Gonzo took a small handful from a basket on the bar. Rowlf said, "Uh, Gonzo, that's not peanuts. That's kibble."

Gonzo looked at them for a moment, then ate the handful anyway. "Crunchy," he remarked.

Rowlf grinned and took some to munch on as well. When the barkeep returned with their drinks they carried them to a table. Rowlf said, "Sometimes Fozzie and I come here, and sometimes I come alone. It's a good place. You can hang out, play darts or poker, or if you don't want to people will leave you alone. I like it here."

"I didn't know Fozzie went to bars," Gonzo remarked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, he’ll drink you under the table with 'Fizzy Poodles'."

"What’s a 'Fizzy Poodle'?"

"Pink lemonade made with soda water."

Gonzo grinned. That sounded like Fozzie.

They sat and people-watched for a while. Rowlf introduced Gonzo to some of his acquaintances, which involved exchanging polite sniffs. Not that Gonzo learned anything—despite his distinctive profile, his sense of smell was nothing special—but it seemed to be proper protocol.

Leaning back in his chair, Rowlf said, "So, what've you been up to?"

"About twenty-two inches," Gonzo replied.

"Wocka wocka."

"Heh. I've been fixing up my cannon. No matter what, a living cannonball act always brings 'em in."

"Yep. You haven't done that in ages, have you."

"Nope. I wanna think of something new to do with it, though. Just shooting myself out of it is old hat. But lately I haven't been too inspired."

"I bet you're just out of the groove. When we're in the theater again it'll start come back to you."

"Hope so," Gonzo said. "I just haven't been able to keep my mind on things lately."

"Yeah, if I just found out I came from space I'd be a little confused too," Rowlf agreed.

"Nah, I'm fine with that. What's got me worried… look, can you keep this to yourself?"

"I don't gossip," the dog replied.

This was true, Gonzo knew. Rowlf had never been one to spread rumors. "It's me and Camilla."

"Oh, I know that tale. Can't live with 'em, but what kind of life is it without 'em?" Rowlf said philosophically.

Gonzo couldn't remember ever having seen Rowlf with a date, but then Rowlf probably kept his private life private. "It's not quite like that. She's hatching an egg-"

"Oh."

"-and that's all right. I mean, chickens hatch eggs. It's what they do. But I said something stupid to her. It wouldn't be so bad if she got mad at me, but…" He shook his head.

"Have you tried saying you're sorry?"

"Yeah. Lots of times. I'd give anything if I could make her forget what I said. I don't know how to make it up to her."

"Mmm," Rowlf said. It sounded like standard girl trouble to him. The egg was an added complication, though.

"I think she'll get over it… but I feel rotten about it for upsetting her so bad. I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut. She was so happy about it up until then. The funny thing is, what I said, I thought it was gonna make things better." He took another sip.

So what had they fought about? He could guess, given the situation. He wouldn't ask, though. If Gonzo wanted to tell him, he would. Otherwise it was none of Rowlf's business. He said, "You've been together for years and years. You had to have fought before."

"Oh, we've had our moments," Gonzo said with a small smile. "Jeez, it's been over twenty years. I'd like twenty more. I can't imagine life without her. I love her, Rowlf. And I'll learn to love her chick."

Her chick, Rowlf noticed. "Sounds to me like you want to settle down."

Gonzo leaned his head in his hand, one elbow on the table, and stirred his rapidly-cooling drink with its straw. "I didn't think about it that way, but... y'know, that's not so bad an idea. We've been keepin' on keepin' on for so long, I never really thought about it. I sure didn't expect to start a family now... but if not now, when?"

Rowlf took a drink. Gonzo had never even thought about it before? Rowlf had a hard time believing that—but then, he had a hard time believing a lot of things about Gonzo. He was one of those things you just had to accept on his own terms.

Gonzo thought, he really did want to spend the rest of his life with Camilla. He'd like to marry her. That would tie everything together nicely, wouldn't it? He liked the idea. Why hadn't it occurred to him before?

Rowlf finished his beer while Gonzo sat there thinking. "I'm gonna get another. How about you?"

"I'm good," Gonzo replied distractedly.

Rowlf nodded and went to the bar. When he came back a few minutes later with a fresh mug Gonzo said, "Thanks, Rowlf. I guess I needed this."

"No problem," the dog grinned and saluted with his mug. "Everyone needs to get away and unwind every so often."

"Yeah. Say, you want to play darts?"

"Sure."

They went over to the dart board and pulled the darts out. Rowlf stepped back to the line. Gonzo remained by the target. At Rowlf's questioning look Gonzo said, "I'll be goalie."

"You'll be what?"

"I'll be goalie. Try to get one past me."

"Oh, get over here."

"C'mon, it'll be cool!"

Rowlf shook his head. "Gonzo, I'm not throwing darts at you. Save the stunts for the show."

"Oh, all right," Gonzo said, and went over to the line. Rowlf handed him the yellow darts, keeping the green ones for himself. Gonzo looked at the darts in his hand. Was there an act in this? Maybe if they were bigger; these little things wouldn't make much impression on a stage.

**

They played several rounds of darts. Neither scored very high, but at least they hit the target most of the time. After visiting the room marked with a hydrant—another dog joke; the bathroom had the normal facilities—they left to go back home.

The lights were flashing where the street crossed the railroad tracks. Looking down the tracks, they saw that they had plenty of time, and crossed. Rowlf was about to continue on when Gonzo said, "Wait."

"For what?" Rowlf said.

"There's something I used to do all the time when I was a kid," he said, grinning.

"Is this some kind of stunt?"

"Nah. Just wait."

They watched the train approach. The ground thrummed under their feet. The sound of the engine became louder and louder as it approached, and suddenly was near deafening as the cars rushed by them, a wall of speeding metal. Gonzo drew in a deep breath and screamed at the top of his lungs.

Rowlf stared at him, startled. Gonzo's shriek went on and on, only breaking as he drew in another breath. Then Rowlf mentally shrugged, threw back his head, and howled.

When the train had passed by Gonzo doubled over, laughing. Rowlf asked, "What was that all about?"

It took Gonzo a minute to regain his composure. When he finally could speak again he said, "Wow, I haven't done that in ages! I used to do that all the time when I was a kid. Find some train tracks and scream my head off when nobody could hear me over the noise. I always felt a whole lot better afterward, too. I guess that's why dogs howl, isn't it?"

"Well, sometimes," Rowlf said. "Come on, let's go home."

"Sure," Gonzo said. He started off ahead of Rowlf, a spring in his step.

*****

All characters are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. This story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[Lil0Vampy]

^^ Great chapter! I love the fact that Gonzo wants to be the goalie for darts XD

 

[Slackbot]

Finally, a fairly cheerful chapter of...

*****

Muppets from Earth
​

Part 6: The Eye of The Storm
​

*****

"Okay, how about this one. These three strings walk up to a bar, and they see a sign on the door that says 'no strings allowed.' The first string says to the others, 'Don't worry about it, I'll get us in.' But when he goes in, the bouncer stops him, says 'We don't serve strings here,' and kicks him out."​

"Okay," Kermit said.

Fozzie Bear glanced down at the paper in his hand. "Then the second string says, 'I bet I can get around that guy.' So he goes in, and a minute later the bartender throws him out too."

"Yeah," Rowlf said.

"So then the third string says, 'I've got an idea. Watch this.' He ties a knot in his middle and teases both ends so they look like brushes. Then he walks into the bar. The bouncer says, 'What are you, another string?' And the string says, 'No, I'm a frayed knot!'"

Fozzie's sounding board—Rowlf, Kermit, Scooter, and Gonzo, also known as those who happened to be having lunch at the time—grinned and chuckled at the joke. Fozzie looked startled for a moment, then said triumphantly, "A keeper! Who needs ya, Gags Beasley!" Then, suddenly worried, he asked, "You weren't just humoring me, were you?"

"Nah, that one was pretty good," Scooter told him.

"Great!" The bear hustled away to add that joke to his collection.

"I bet he'll be as funny with his own material as he was with Gags'," Rowlf remarked.

"We'll see," said Kermit in a neutral tone of voice.

Gonzo could guess what Kermit as thinking: Gags' material wasn't all that great anyway. There was The Banana Sketch, but what funny stuff had he written for Fozzie since then? Maybe Fozzie could write funnier jokes on his own. It could happen.

Gonzo glanced down at his soup, then stirred it. The noodles kept moving on their own, trying to line up. Why did it have to be alphabet soup?

"Been thinking about guest stars?" Rowlf asked Kermit.

"I've been thinking, but I haven't called anyone yet. I'll have to see what kind of budget we have to work with first," Kermit replied.

"We could mow a lot of lawns," Scooter piped up.

"Have you thought of writing for Fozzie?" Rowlf inquired.

Scooter said, "Seriously, there has to be something we can do to raise cash and get a little publicity for the theater too. It'd sure be better than taking out more loans."

"You're telling me," Kermit said. If they had not renovated the theater it would have been closed down permanently. He could not afford the construction work and to keep everyone on payroll at the same time, but he was loath to temporarily lay everyone off after all the years they had worked together. After all, they had to make a living too. The solution—buying an abandoned building, which after many years on the market had been cheap—so that everyone would have a place to live during the lean time was a perfectly cockamamie idea, which meant it fit the Muppets perfectly.

"If we're talking about publicity, you know who ought to be here," Rowlf told Kermit.

Scooter said, "He's right. We can take out all the ads we want, but the real way to get people excited—within our budget—is to get someone involved who has some leverage with the media."

Kermit looked around the table. Everyone was nodding in agreement. "You're right. It's time to bring in the big guns." He got up from the table, then went up the stairs toward Miss Piggy's room.

Gonzo finished his soup and carried the bowl into the kitchen. It was exciting, preparing to do live shows again. They had been making movies and doing TV for years, but there was nothing like the immediacy of a live audience. It felt so much more real that way. Cameras only watched and recorded; an audience reacted, rewarding or punishing the performers right then and there rather than letting the critics do the job months or even years later. There's nothing like hearing the crowd gasp in amazement as you soar overhead, then get dragged out of the hole in the wall by your feet.

*

Gonzo arrived on the balcony with a bowl of oatmeal for Camilla. Chickens did not have adventurous taste in food, which made her easy to cook for while she was on the nest.

In the past few days Gonzo had made up to Camilla. After enough apologies she had forgiven him, and, indescribably relieved, he had resolved to drop the matter entirely. She could hatch out a sea turtle and he would say nothing. There was still residual tension in the air, but that would fade in time.

She clucked a question before she began to eat. He replied, "Pretty good. We're thinking about publicity. The acts are well on their way. It's starting to get fun."

She asked another question. "I'm sure. When have we not had room in the act for a flock of chickens?" She clucked. "Your figure's just fine." She gave him a look through narrowed eyes. Quickly he decided to divert the discussion, and said, "Well, if you're worried about that, we could go out dancing. We haven't done that in a while."

She nodded and smiled. Gonzo was an enthusiastic and energetic, if unconventional, dancer. It would do her drumsticks good, and she said so.

He grinned. "That's the spirit. How about tonight?"

She nodded again, and clucked. He knew that she would have no problem getting an egg-sitter; all the other hens were quite willing to lend a hand, so to speak.

When she finished her meal she stood, revealing the egg. Gonzo turned on the flashlight in the egg candler—he hadn't bothered to disassemble it in a while—and set the egg on top. The light shining in revealed the chick developing within.

Camilla clucked quietly. Gonzo replied, "I don't know—it's been over two weeks since you laid the egg, but it doesn't look like it'll hatch in another week. It seems healthy, though." They could both see it moving within the shell. "I guess it's just developing slower than a chicken usually does."

She clucked softly. He replied, "Yeah, it's got more shell to fill too." He hoped that was the reason.

He set the egg back in her nest, and she covered it again. He dithered a bit. He had something to bring up with her, but he didn't have his guitar, and getting it now… somehow, the scene he had planned—broaching the subject with a song—seemed corny now. So instead he sat by her and put an arm around her. Just say it, he told himself. "Camilla, will you marry me?"

She squawked, surprised, and looked at him. He said, "I know chickens don't usually marry. And I don't know if my kind do or not. But I want to marry you anyway. I want to be with you for the rest of my life."

She made a soft sound in her throat and leaned against him. After a minute she clucked a question. He answered, "No, we don't need to. We've been happy together for so long. They call getting married 'settling down,' and, well, we've got a head start on that, haven't we?" He smiled at her.

She nodded and rubbed her beak against his cheek.

He continued, "Besides… I want our chick to hatch into a real family. I really do."

She could tell that something was weighing on his mind; it was plain in his voice. She asked what it was.

He answered, "Camilla, there are some things I don't tell people because… well, I just don't like to. But I guess you ought to know."

She nodded encouragingly. He told her about how he could not remember his past before he had been found on Earth. A foundling of unknown origin, he had been placed with foster families, one after the other, all of which he had failed to bond with for no reason anyone could name. How, unable to tolerate the prospect of being shuffled from family to family any more, he had run away at age fourteen and lived on the street for the next six years, earning money for food by busking in parks, and scavenging when that did not see him through. By the time he finished his voice had sunk to a whisper. "I'm not telling you about this so you'll feel sorry for me. All that's over with, and I turned out all right, after all. It's just… having a real family is important."

She clucked softly to him. He said, "I know that'll never happen to our kid. But, still… Camilla, you know what I'm like. I can't promise I'll never make you mad and we'll never fight again. But I'll do my best to make you happy and be a good father."

She clucked a question. He smiled and answered, "I don't think there are any customs for couples like us. We'd get to decide how we want to live. It's our lives, after all." She clucked again. "Nah, I don't want to move either."

She was quiet for a while, leaning against him. He stroked her feathers gently, letting her think. After a while he said, "I think the main thing is that it's a promise to share our lives. That's what I really want. We've been doing that anyway."

She asked another question. He answered, "Where would you wear a ring?"

She lifted one leg in front of herself. "Like an ankle bracelet? You could, but wouldn't it clank against your foot? That sounds uncomfortable." She lowered her foot again. "Anyway, that doesn't matter, we can figure something out. Maybe put it on a necklace."

She clucked, and Gonzo laughed. "Can you have your comb pierced?" She nodded, and reminded him of the punk chickens they sometimes saw at dance clubs. Still grinning, he told her, "Well, if that's what you really want, but you don't have to wear a ring at all if you don't want to. Anyway, we can decide about stuff like that later. If you say yes."

She clucked thoughtfully. They sat together quietly for a while, content just to be together.

*

Some time later Gonzo said, "Take your time and think about it, okay? And... whatever you answer, either way, I'll still love you."

He had opened the door to leave when she clucked once. He stopped and looked back at her, eyes wide. Then he rushed back to her nest and, careful not to jostle her on the egg, embraced her.

*****

All characters are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. This story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[Lil0Vampy]

*melts* AWWWWW! *puddle of Vampy hugs your leg* What a FABULOUS chapter!

 

[TogetherAgain]

Alright, Kim. I've been meaning to do this since the first time I read your writing--what we here at MC call a detailed review. I don't do these nearly as often as I used to, but some writing just needs to be taken in pieces to be fully complimented.

Part 1: The Sandwich Whisperer​

Not only do I love your titles, but I love that you title each installment. I used to do that, but gave up after two stories because it was just too hard to figure out what to name a chapter. I struggle enough to come up with a good title for a story. So I really, really respect the fact that in addition to giving the story an excellent title, you've given each part an excellent title.

It was not a dark and stormy night.

Oh, that's a pity. I do so love thunderstorms. As Ed has commented elsewhere, I like how frequently you put a little spin on this classic line to start a story or chapter. It's fun for us to read, and it must be a nice way for you to overcome that initial overwhelming feeling of staring at a blank page or a blinking cursor.

And then, of course, you situate us so nicely...

It was, in fact, late morning in the time zone in which the Muppets' boarding house was situated.

Can I just say that I love that you mentioned the time zone? Maybe just because I've been thinking about time zones so much over in Heart of Gold, but I love that you just casually tossed that detail in there--and that you didn't say which time zone. It's an ambiguous detail! Lovely.

Everyone had been making plans, preparing new acts, and generally driving each other crazy. It was a glorious time.

I love that summation. In most contexts, that sort of chaos would be an awful headache. With Muppets, it's glorious. So true. If they're not driving each other crazy, you know something's wrong.

Very few Gonzo groupies still hung around because there had been no further communication with his alien brethren after they left Earth. The "R U THERE" messages had disappeared as mysteriously as they had appeared, leading some to speculate that they had never been real.

Good set-up of the time. We immediately know that this story happens shortly after Muppets From Space, and we know that before we've automatically assumed it's modern times. We don't have to back-track and re-read clues about the time period or rely on the author to tell us in an after-thought post outside of the story. We already know.

Kermit looked up. Fozzie said, "Where else would we do the show? The theater's like home."

Kermit nodded thoughtfully. Fozzie was right. Even though the repairs required to bring it up to code were intimidatingly expensive, nobody had even considered moving the show elsewhere.

Well, of course they didn't! When they have tried to move the show elsewhere, they've ended up in a train station.

Really, though, I love the simplicity there, and Fozzie's immediate "Of course." It's so true. And then I love that the repairs involve bringing the theater up to code--a little detail I know I personally tend to forget, but which makes it more real.

Kermit's train of thought was derailed by a muffled explosion from the kitchen.

This paragraph was so good, I had to split it up. First, having spent too many college classes looking at metaphors in everyday language, I love that you put "train of thought" and "derailed" right next to each other. We see them separate all the time and forget that thoughts are "derailed" because they're a "train." Now, if you could just work something else into the sentence about a one-track mind...

Flour and edible shrapnel sprayed through the door into the dining room.

"Edible shrapnel." I just love that phrase so much I can't get enough of it. "Edible shrapnel." Ah, only the Muppets!

Rats shouted in excitement and immediately began gathering up the windfall. One slipped on a piece of banana peel and skidded, whooping, across the room.

Slapstick! I love that the rat actually seems to enjoy sliding across the room on a banana peel.

"And this home is like a theater," Kermit told Fozzie.

"Hey, that's a good one! Can I use it?" asked the bear.

"Sure, go ahead," Kermit said as Fozzie scribbled on a paper napkin.

I love how Fozzie is always looking for jokes. His catchphrase is "Wocka wocka!" but it could just as easily be "Can I use that?"

He thought that it was a good thing they had rats; the perpetually-hungry creatures cleaned up a lot of the Swedish Chef's messes. Well, the larger bits, anyway. All attempts to interest them in sweeping or mopping up had failed dismally.

I just love this entire thought-process. Kermit appreciating the rats, because he's prone to appreciate random things like that... and the fact that he HAS tried to convince them to sweep or mop. Just... the fact that he's TRIED. That is so Kermit.

Soon he came back out with a sandwich. Kermit folded the paper to hide the hoax article. Gonzo was aware of the controversy, but there was no need to bring any more attention to it than it deserved, which, in Kermit's opinion, was none. He asked, "Got any plans for the new show?"

I love that Kermit hides the article. Gonzo could probably take it, but Kermit does what he can to save Gonzo from having to deal with it. Their friendship isn't highlighted much--they're each part of plenty of other duos--but they are definitely friends, and I love that you address that.

After meeting his alien family, Gonzo had rebounded from his depression, and the first thing he had done was get back together with his girlfriend Camilla. Kermit would be willing to bet that that had done him more good than any amount of therapy could have.

I think if Gonzo went to therapy, he wouldn't really change much... but the therapist would go into retirement and start looking for a therapist of his own.

Gonzo leaned his head in one hand and said thoughtfully, "It's been a while since I tried a motorcycle stunt."

Kermit replied, "It's been a while since anybody would insure your motorcycle stunts."

I got SUCH a kick out of this--more so than I should have, really. It's just that it happens to hit kind of close to home right now, since my dad was just in a small motorcycle accident and the other guy wasn't insured. They're both okay, but these couple lines sort of let indirectly laugh at our own situation... so thank you.

"Art should be dangerous," Gonzo said calmly.

That one line sums up SO much of Gonzo. Have I mentioned yet that you've got all these characters spot-on? Because you do, and that makes it all just wonderful to read.

He thought a bit more, but nothing original came to mind. Usually he had more ideas than he knew what to do with, which was a good thing, because Kermit vetoed most of them.

I'm willing to bet that Gonzo could usually spend an entire day just following Kermit around, pitching ideas and getting them shot down. He would be completely unfazed, even--especially--when Kermit got to the point of arm-waving-frustration.

"Huh, I must really be out of practice. I've got stuntman's block."

"Isn't that usually a brick wall?"

Gonzo grinned at Kermit. Fozzie turned his napkin over and wrote.

<Snickers at Fozzie> I LOVE that you put that little detail in there. It would totally happen. But here's my question: is Gonzo grinning because he appreciates the joke, or because he appreciates the idea of running into a brick wall?

<Ahem> And I'll have more detailed review for you at some point, but quite frankly, I'm so distractable that it's taken me multiple days to get THIS far, and since I need to actually turn my computer OFF tonight... Yes, more to come. But as you can see, a detailed review post can easily get longer than the actual story post... and I very, VERY much enjoy your writing. And while this is all just about part one, I assure you I've also very much enjoyed parts 2-6 as well.

So... MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

 

[Slackbot]

Lil0Vampy: Thank you! I'm glad you're liking this story.

Alright, Kim. I've been meaning to do this since the first time I read your writing--what we here at MC call a detailed review. I don't do these nearly as often as I used to, but some writing just needs to be taken in pieces to be fully complimented.

Wow, I'm flattered! I didn't know anyone was reading this thing. My first detailed review - now I know what Pinnocchio meant when he said he was a real boy.

Er, that didn't make much sense, did it? I've been spending too much time in Gonzo's head lately. Moving right along...

Not only do I love your titles, but I love that you title each installment.

Thanks! I've always done that. If I don't, I get 'em mixed up. Sometimes the problem is to keep the titles under control. Don't want the references to get too esoteric or obscure.

Oh, that's a pity. I do so love thunderstorms. As Ed has commented elsewhere, I like how frequently you put a little spin on this classic line to start a story or chapter. It's fun for us to read, and it must be a nice way for you to overcome that initial overwhelming feeling of staring at a blank page or a blinking cursor.

As a matter of fact, that's exactly how I started. Decades ago, when I was writing Darkwing Duck fanfic, to overcome the Blank Page Syndrome I'd slap down "It was a dark and stormy night" and go from there, with the idea that I'd come back and edit it out when I thought up a better beginning. Somehow I never did remove that line, and it's practically become a trademark of mine.

And then I love that the repairs involve bringing the theater up to code--a little detail I know I personally tend to forget, but which makes it more real.

Heh, I figured that they've punished that theater pretty badly over the hears. How many times has Gonzo put a hole in the wall beside Statler & Waldorf's box? Let's not speak of Crazy Harry. And the building didn't look like it was in wonderful shape to begin with. I figure it's about time for them to get something new and shiny without giving up the old theater with all its history and memories.

"Edible shrapnel." I just love that phrase so much I can't get enough of it. "Edible shrapnel." Ah, only the Muppets!

That sequence was so much fun to write. It wasn't in my outline, either. It just sort of happened between my fingers and the keyboard. I love it when the characters come to life and take control of a scene like that. Makes the author's work so much easier.

I love that Kermit hides the article. Gonzo could probably take it, but Kermit does what he can to save Gonzo from having to deal with it. Their friendship isn't highlighted much--they're each part of plenty of other duos--but they are definitely friends, and I love that you address that.

Kermit's gotta be a great friend. He's loyal and sensitive. He'd do anything for his close friends--but he's not so perfect that he won't get frustrated and freak out every so often. That makes him all the more lovable, in my eyes. And Gonzo needs someone like that in his life as an anchor.

I think if Gonzo went to therapy, he wouldn't really change much... but the therapist would go into retirement and start looking for a therapist of his own.

On a DVD extra Gonzo mentioned that he had been in therapy for decades. Who's his therapist? Himself. It's cheaper that way. I imagine his version of therapy involves him asking himself questions in a funny accent...

I got SUCH a kick out of this--more so than I should have, really. It's just that it happens to hit kind of close to home right now, since my dad was just in a small motorcycle accident and the other guy wasn't insured. They're both okay, but these couple lines sort of let indirectly laugh at our own situation... so thank you.

Ouch, I'm sorry about your father! I'm glad he's okay, and I hope the repair bill won't be too dire. Driving accidents are serious business, as I know much better than I want to.

That one line sums up SO much of Gonzo. Have I mentioned yet that you've got all these characters spot-on? Because you do, and that makes it all just wonderful to read.

Thank you! I take this as a high compliment, because for me characterization is king. I need to be able to get inside a character's head and crawl around before I can write him or her convincingly. (That's why I'm not leaning too heavily on Muppets Tonight characters--No DVDs, only saw maybe a third of the shows decades ago, so I couldn't do them justice now.)
That said, I have to fess up. That line was a swipe from--er, I mean, homage to--Muppet Snow White #1. At the beginning we see this exchange between "The Brothers Grimm":

Gonzo: But this isn't some money-grabbing endeavor, Rizzo... This is ART!
Rizzo: And by "art" you mean dangerous and weird?
Gonzo: Exactly! If my life has a lesson, it's that art is never safe!
Rizzo: If your life has a lesson, it's "Pay up your insurance first cause somebody is definitely gonna get hurt"...
​

I'm not a LOL type person, but when I read that I did grin widely.

I'm willing to bet that Gonzo could usually spend an entire day just following Kermit around, pitching ideas and getting them shot down. He would be completely unfazed, even--especially--when Kermit got to the point of arm-waving-frustration.

Ooooh... that would be such a fun scene to write. I wouldn't be able to work it into the arc beginning in the next chapter, as Gonzo's gonna be plenty busy and unable to keep his mind on the simple pleasures in life (showbiz and risking his fool neck in ridiculous stunts) but when his life gets back on track...eventually...I have a feeling he's gonna have a creative rush like a burst dam. Poor Kermit.

<Snickers at Fozzie> I LOVE that you put that little detail in there. It would totally happen. But here's my question: is Gonzo grinning because he appreciates the joke, or because he appreciates the idea of running into a brick wall?

Yep. He doesn't mind the ribbing, and he likes his trademark weirdness to be recognized. One thing I've never really brought to the front is that, in my mind, Gonzo is proud of being a survivor. No matter how he tests himself with these freaky stunts, he always lives through 'em and recovers quickly. When you think about it, his ability to survive is almost superhuman. Which feeds into something later in this story, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

<Ahem> And I'll have more detailed review for you at some point, but quite frankly, I'm so distractable that it's taken me multiple days to get THIS far, and since I need to actually turn my computer OFF tonight... Yes, more to come. But as you can see, a detailed review post can easily get longer than the actual story post... and I very, VERY much enjoy your writing. And while this is all just about part one, I assure you I've also very much enjoyed parts 2-6 as well.

Thank you for the detailed review! I'm very pleased that you've taken the time to reply in such detail. I defeinitely welcome feedback. I like to know how things are coming across. And if you have constructive criticism, don't be afraid to bring it up. I know my writing ain't perfect, and I always want to improve my craft!

So... MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Since you been so nice, here's a little snippet from the current draft of the next segment, which is titles "Inhumanity" unless I think of something better:

*****

Gonzo came down the stairs amid a quorum of chickens. He was wearing his checkerboard suit, which made Kermit's eyes water if he stared at it at close range. They bustled into the kitchen, which had been ominously quiet so far.

The kitchen was not unusually floury. The Swedish Chef was cooking an omelet. Gonzo handed over the hens' daily contribution of several eggs. Then he looked around. The Chef usually laid out a smørgasbörd, which in other words meant that anything appropriate for that meal would be set out on the various counters, tables, and any other available flat surface in the kitchen. Gonzo collected some bacon and fruit salad—well, mostly fruit—and, seeing no bread around, asked, "Is there any toast?"

"Der brœd is rïsing," answered the Chef.

Gonzo glanced around again. The Chef pointed at the ceiling. Gonzo looked up and said "Oh."

*****

(Sorry if that gag doesn't make sense to anyone but foodie nerds like me.)

 

[The Count]

Hi Kim... Just took care of that double post. If it should happen again, just let me know.
BTW: I've very much enjoyed the installments you've posted here even though I hadn't posted anything yet. Was waiting to post thoughts after it was finished. Hope more gets posted as it's quite a good story.

 

[Slackbot]

Thanks, Count. Two... two posts, ha ha ha!... saying the same thing is a bit much.

Please feel free to comment! Don't feel obligated wait until it's ended, as that'll be a while yet, and silence is discouraging. I've got the whole thing outlined, and by the time I finish--and I don't leave stories unfinished!--the title ought to make sense.