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Here's a little something that comes chronologically after Muppets from Earth, but is more properly a followup to Before Gonzo was Great.
*****
*****
It had been a dark and stormy night inside the Muppet Theater. One of the acts in this week's show included a thunderstorm. It wasn't feasible to shower water onto the stage—not even for the Muppets! —but someone had hit on the idea of hanging tinsel-like strips of clear plastic from above. When blown gently by a fan, the glints off them from the lights above resembled rain.
Now, after the show, the Muppets were backstage and in their dressing rooms, getting ready to go back home. Beauregard, who was sweeping up, heard a tapping at the back alley door. He shouldered his push broom and opened the door. "Hello, can I help you?" he said amiably to the older Monster lady at the door.
"I hope so," she said quietly. "Would it be possible for me to speak to The Great Gonzo?"
"Oh, sure. Come with me," Bo answered, beckoning her in. He knew the policy: no fans backstage during the show, but after the show it was okay as long as there weren't many and they seemed harmless. This lady looked like someone's grandmother. If a grandmother wasn't harmless, who was?
Bo glanced around. "I don't see him. He must be in his dressing room. It's up this way." He gestured for her to follow as he went up the stairs. Gonzo's door still had an egg instead of a star. Bo rapped on the door and said "Gonzo, you have a visitor."
"Be there in a moment."
Bo glanced at the woman. She looked uneasy. He said, "No need to be nervous. Gonzo's a nice guy."
She smiled, a little stiffly. "I'm sure he is."
The door opened. Gonzo, in street clothes, looked out. "Hi," he said cheerfully.
"Hello, Gonzo. How have you been?"
That was an odd opening question for someone he didn't know. He answered, "Fine. And yourself?"
"I've been well." She paused, then said, "Gonzo... do you recognize me?"
Gonzo was about to say no, but something about her voice was vaguely familiar. He looked at her carefully. She had light green fur, a short yellow beak, and featherlike, dark green hair that was shading to gray. Fairly nondescript for a Monster. Still, he had the feeling he'd seen her somewhere. "Jog my memory. Where would I remember you from?"
"Missouri," she said in a low voice.
Missouri? He hadn't been there since... oh. A memory clicked into place, suddenly and startlingly vivid. He stared at her and went pale. Then, without saying a word he went back into his dressing room and shut the door.
The woman was startled. She had not been sure what to expect, but this wasn't it. She tapped on the door. "Gonzo? I only have one question."
"What is it?" He sounded close to panic.
"What happened to you?"
Silence. She was about to give up and leave when his door opened again. He glanced around and saw that others were looking, then said, "Come in here."
She went into his dressing room. He shut the door firmly behind himself. "What happened? What do you think happened?" he said in disbelief to his former foster mother.
"I never knew," she told him. "You were there one day and gone the next. You never said goodbye. We searched for months, but there wasn't a clue what happened to you. We thought... when you were never found, we gave up hope that you were still alive."
He looked away. Of course they hadn't found him. He had done his best to drop out of sight. He said, "You remember the train yard a mile away? I took a boxcar out of town."
"Why?"
"You were going to send me back."
Long pause. Then she said, "Why do you think that?"
"Yours was my sixth foster family! You think I hadn't memorized the signs by then? I couldn't take being chucked yet again, so I left."
"But where did you go?"
His shrug looked more like a spasm than a gesture. "I don't know. I just stuck with the train until it stopped somewhere far away. I don't remember where I got off."
"All alone? You were only fourteen-"
His eyes on the floor, he said, "Maybe. Nobody really knows how old I am, not even me."
She asked, "How did you get along afterward?"
She sounded so concerned. Bitterly he thought, too little, too late. "Eh. I managed. I kept out of trouble. Eventually I got a job here. That's all you need to know."
"We missed you," she said softly.
He burst out, "Then why were you going to send me away? What was wrong with me? Why did everyone always unhook me and throw me back?"
"Nothing was wrong with you, Gonzo. It was plain that you weren't happy with us."
That answer shocked Gonzo. She continued gently, "We could tell that you didn't want to live with us. We hoped that you would eventually warm to us, but you never did. We couldn't keep you if you were unhappy. We hoped that you would find a family that would be better for you."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You were going to throw me back for my own good. You and five other families. Talk about killing someone with kindness."
"I'm sorry..."
"Yeah. Me too. And none of you ever said anything to me about it. Didn't anyone think of asking me what I wanted?"
"I'm sorry," she repeated.
"Yeah." He could feel years' worth of bitterness rising to the surface, and he told himself to speak carefully. Keep control. He was not a child any longer; she had no claim on him. He took a deep breath and said, "If you'd asked, I'd have told you that what I wanted most was a last name."
She paused, surprised. "You already had one."
"Frackle? That was just a label they stuck on me. They thought I look like a Frackle, so I must be one. Hah. What I wanted most was for someone to give me a real last name. Make me part of their lives, not just a guest passing through." He tried to laugh; it sounded like a cough. "It took a while, but eventually I did get the name I wanted."
"Someone adopted you?"
"No." He gestured at a framed playbill. It was cheaply printed, and had yellowed with age.
She read it. It was for the grand opening of The Muppet Show. Juliet Prowse was the headline, followed by a list of names, most of them familiar. She looked carefully to see if there was anything she was missing, then said, "I don't understand."
"I didn't want them to bill me as Gonzo Frackle. I hated that name. I told them, just call me Gonzo. Someone thought that was too plain, I guess, and billed me as 'Gonzo the Great' because it sounded better. I kind of liked that, and it stuck. So I changed my name to 'Gonzo The Great'. Why not?"
"'The Great' is your last name?" she said.
"Middle and last, yeah." He considered not completing the story—his personal life was none of her business! —but decided to go on nevertheless. "It was, anyway. I changed it again last month. I got married."
She had noticed the nest next to the desk. "To Camilla?" she guessed.
"Yes. She gave me her last name. I was happy being Gonzo The Great... but it's even better being Gonzo Orphington."
"Congratulations."
He wasn't about to tell her about their daughter, Billie. They had kept her existence out of the news to protect her from scrutiny, and he saw no reason to confide in this woman.
He said nothing more. He did not look at her. He had not looked her in the face since he first recognized her. He was visibly tense, as if her mere presence was painful to him. She said, "Gonzo... I'm sorry I upset you. And I understand. I hope you and Camilla are very happy together." She walked to the door. When he said nothing, she turned the handle.
"I understand too," he said, barely above a whisper.
She looked back. He met her eyes for a moment, then looked away. She said "Goodbye." He waved back halfheartedly, and she left.
**
When, soon afterward, Camilla came to the dressing room door she was surprised to find it locked. She pecked on the door. A moment later the lock clicked and the door opened.
She entered. Gonzo was behind the door, and he looked terrible. "Gonzo?"
He shut the door and locked it again. "I'll be okay in a minute."
She doubted that. What happened?
"Someone came to see me. My last foster mother." His voice cracked, and he put his hand over his mouth.
He had only spoken to her once about his childhood, and although he had included few details, just the way he had talked about it told her clearly what a sad time it had been. This visit had brought that back to the surface.
Camilla was not a good talker, but talking was not what he needed. She put her wings around him. He embraced her tightly and pressed his head to what, for a hen, passed for a shoulder. He was trembling. When he started making soft gasping sounds and she felt tears drip onto her feathers she reached up and stroked the back of his head with her wing.
**
They stayed together in the dressing room until Gonzo cried himself out. Partway through Scooter had come to call them to the bus, and Camilla had shooed him away, with great effort making him understand that they would return to the boarding house on their own.
After Gonzo calmed himself he was embarrassed. "I thought all that was long behind me. But just seeing her, hearing her voice... mostly hearing her voice... it brought it all back. I remembered everything so clearly. Like it just happened."
Gently she stroked his cheek with her wing feathers.
"You know what's worst?" he whispered. "She said they were going to send me back because I wasn't happy with them. But I never trusted them because I knew they'd just reject me like every other family did. If only I'd known!"
She clucked sympathetically to him. Looking upward, he took several deep breaths, then continued, "Funny... I hardly ever cried back then. Sometimes I felt terrible, but I didn't cry about it. Why now?"
She clucked softly, It's safe to cry now.
He paused and thought about that. Then he said, "Yeah," and hugged her tightly again.
**
When Gonzo had pulled himself together they left the dressing room. The backstage area was dark and quiet. The other Muppets had left in the bus for the boarding house long ago. Gonzo was about to pick up the telephone receiver to call a cab when he heard a sound from the stage. He looked out and saw Beauregard going over the stage with a push broom. "Bo?"
Beauregard looked up. "Oh, hello, Gonzo. Are you ready to go home?"
"Uh, yeah. You didn't have to wait up," Gonzo said, surprised.
"Oh, no problem. It’s hard to get the stage clean sometimes after a Muppet Labs act. I finally got all the ash and bits of burnt rubber up!"
The janitor seemed genuinely pleased with himself. Gonzo couldn't imagine being so happy about cleaning up, but he knew that there were also some who did not enjoy taking part in dangerous stunts. It took all kinds, and The Muppets certainly had all kinds. Gonzo looked at the stage, and it really was smooth and shiny. "Great job, Bo."
"Thanks!" Bo set the push broom and a set of scrapers and cloths in a small closet and wiped his hands on a small towel.
They went out to the back, where Bo had parked the small, old car that he often used to run errands for the theater. They all got in, and Bo said, "I hope it's okay to drop you off at the lobby."
Gonzo and Camilla laughed, and Beauregard grinned.
**
When they arrived, the looks the other Muppets gave them said clearly that there had been speculation as to why they were so late getting home, and also that it was completely wrong. He'd let it be, though. He'd rather let them think that he and Camilla had been honeymooning rather than admit he'd been bawling his eyes out over something that happened decades ago.
The other hens had been watching over Billie. As he picked his daughter up Gonzo thought that, as much as he wished otherwise, his past did matter. It was part of what shaped him. He had tacitly denied it for years. But it was over with, and it could never hurt him again. And, Gonzo knew, his daughter would never feel like he had. She would never wonder where her place was in the world. As long as he was alive, she would always know that she was loved.
*****
Gonzo, Camilla, Scooter, and Beauregard are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Billie and Brian are copyright © Kim McFarland. This story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
*****
Monsters from the Past 1:
Home is Something You Needn't Deserve
By Kim McFarland
Home is Something You Needn't Deserve
By Kim McFarland
*****
It had been a dark and stormy night inside the Muppet Theater. One of the acts in this week's show included a thunderstorm. It wasn't feasible to shower water onto the stage—not even for the Muppets! —but someone had hit on the idea of hanging tinsel-like strips of clear plastic from above. When blown gently by a fan, the glints off them from the lights above resembled rain.
Now, after the show, the Muppets were backstage and in their dressing rooms, getting ready to go back home. Beauregard, who was sweeping up, heard a tapping at the back alley door. He shouldered his push broom and opened the door. "Hello, can I help you?" he said amiably to the older Monster lady at the door.
"I hope so," she said quietly. "Would it be possible for me to speak to The Great Gonzo?"
"Oh, sure. Come with me," Bo answered, beckoning her in. He knew the policy: no fans backstage during the show, but after the show it was okay as long as there weren't many and they seemed harmless. This lady looked like someone's grandmother. If a grandmother wasn't harmless, who was?
Bo glanced around. "I don't see him. He must be in his dressing room. It's up this way." He gestured for her to follow as he went up the stairs. Gonzo's door still had an egg instead of a star. Bo rapped on the door and said "Gonzo, you have a visitor."
"Be there in a moment."
Bo glanced at the woman. She looked uneasy. He said, "No need to be nervous. Gonzo's a nice guy."
She smiled, a little stiffly. "I'm sure he is."
The door opened. Gonzo, in street clothes, looked out. "Hi," he said cheerfully.
"Hello, Gonzo. How have you been?"
That was an odd opening question for someone he didn't know. He answered, "Fine. And yourself?"
"I've been well." She paused, then said, "Gonzo... do you recognize me?"
Gonzo was about to say no, but something about her voice was vaguely familiar. He looked at her carefully. She had light green fur, a short yellow beak, and featherlike, dark green hair that was shading to gray. Fairly nondescript for a Monster. Still, he had the feeling he'd seen her somewhere. "Jog my memory. Where would I remember you from?"
"Missouri," she said in a low voice.
Missouri? He hadn't been there since... oh. A memory clicked into place, suddenly and startlingly vivid. He stared at her and went pale. Then, without saying a word he went back into his dressing room and shut the door.
The woman was startled. She had not been sure what to expect, but this wasn't it. She tapped on the door. "Gonzo? I only have one question."
"What is it?" He sounded close to panic.
"What happened to you?"
Silence. She was about to give up and leave when his door opened again. He glanced around and saw that others were looking, then said, "Come in here."
She went into his dressing room. He shut the door firmly behind himself. "What happened? What do you think happened?" he said in disbelief to his former foster mother.
"I never knew," she told him. "You were there one day and gone the next. You never said goodbye. We searched for months, but there wasn't a clue what happened to you. We thought... when you were never found, we gave up hope that you were still alive."
He looked away. Of course they hadn't found him. He had done his best to drop out of sight. He said, "You remember the train yard a mile away? I took a boxcar out of town."
"Why?"
"You were going to send me back."
Long pause. Then she said, "Why do you think that?"
"Yours was my sixth foster family! You think I hadn't memorized the signs by then? I couldn't take being chucked yet again, so I left."
"But where did you go?"
His shrug looked more like a spasm than a gesture. "I don't know. I just stuck with the train until it stopped somewhere far away. I don't remember where I got off."
"All alone? You were only fourteen-"
His eyes on the floor, he said, "Maybe. Nobody really knows how old I am, not even me."
She asked, "How did you get along afterward?"
She sounded so concerned. Bitterly he thought, too little, too late. "Eh. I managed. I kept out of trouble. Eventually I got a job here. That's all you need to know."
"We missed you," she said softly.
He burst out, "Then why were you going to send me away? What was wrong with me? Why did everyone always unhook me and throw me back?"
"Nothing was wrong with you, Gonzo. It was plain that you weren't happy with us."
That answer shocked Gonzo. She continued gently, "We could tell that you didn't want to live with us. We hoped that you would eventually warm to us, but you never did. We couldn't keep you if you were unhappy. We hoped that you would find a family that would be better for you."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You were going to throw me back for my own good. You and five other families. Talk about killing someone with kindness."
"I'm sorry..."
"Yeah. Me too. And none of you ever said anything to me about it. Didn't anyone think of asking me what I wanted?"
"I'm sorry," she repeated.
"Yeah." He could feel years' worth of bitterness rising to the surface, and he told himself to speak carefully. Keep control. He was not a child any longer; she had no claim on him. He took a deep breath and said, "If you'd asked, I'd have told you that what I wanted most was a last name."
She paused, surprised. "You already had one."
"Frackle? That was just a label they stuck on me. They thought I look like a Frackle, so I must be one. Hah. What I wanted most was for someone to give me a real last name. Make me part of their lives, not just a guest passing through." He tried to laugh; it sounded like a cough. "It took a while, but eventually I did get the name I wanted."
"Someone adopted you?"
"No." He gestured at a framed playbill. It was cheaply printed, and had yellowed with age.
She read it. It was for the grand opening of The Muppet Show. Juliet Prowse was the headline, followed by a list of names, most of them familiar. She looked carefully to see if there was anything she was missing, then said, "I don't understand."
"I didn't want them to bill me as Gonzo Frackle. I hated that name. I told them, just call me Gonzo. Someone thought that was too plain, I guess, and billed me as 'Gonzo the Great' because it sounded better. I kind of liked that, and it stuck. So I changed my name to 'Gonzo The Great'. Why not?"
"'The Great' is your last name?" she said.
"Middle and last, yeah." He considered not completing the story—his personal life was none of her business! —but decided to go on nevertheless. "It was, anyway. I changed it again last month. I got married."
She had noticed the nest next to the desk. "To Camilla?" she guessed.
"Yes. She gave me her last name. I was happy being Gonzo The Great... but it's even better being Gonzo Orphington."
"Congratulations."
He wasn't about to tell her about their daughter, Billie. They had kept her existence out of the news to protect her from scrutiny, and he saw no reason to confide in this woman.
He said nothing more. He did not look at her. He had not looked her in the face since he first recognized her. He was visibly tense, as if her mere presence was painful to him. She said, "Gonzo... I'm sorry I upset you. And I understand. I hope you and Camilla are very happy together." She walked to the door. When he said nothing, she turned the handle.
"I understand too," he said, barely above a whisper.
She looked back. He met her eyes for a moment, then looked away. She said "Goodbye." He waved back halfheartedly, and she left.
**
When, soon afterward, Camilla came to the dressing room door she was surprised to find it locked. She pecked on the door. A moment later the lock clicked and the door opened.
She entered. Gonzo was behind the door, and he looked terrible. "Gonzo?"
He shut the door and locked it again. "I'll be okay in a minute."
She doubted that. What happened?
"Someone came to see me. My last foster mother." His voice cracked, and he put his hand over his mouth.
He had only spoken to her once about his childhood, and although he had included few details, just the way he had talked about it told her clearly what a sad time it had been. This visit had brought that back to the surface.
Camilla was not a good talker, but talking was not what he needed. She put her wings around him. He embraced her tightly and pressed his head to what, for a hen, passed for a shoulder. He was trembling. When he started making soft gasping sounds and she felt tears drip onto her feathers she reached up and stroked the back of his head with her wing.
**
They stayed together in the dressing room until Gonzo cried himself out. Partway through Scooter had come to call them to the bus, and Camilla had shooed him away, with great effort making him understand that they would return to the boarding house on their own.
After Gonzo calmed himself he was embarrassed. "I thought all that was long behind me. But just seeing her, hearing her voice... mostly hearing her voice... it brought it all back. I remembered everything so clearly. Like it just happened."
Gently she stroked his cheek with her wing feathers.
"You know what's worst?" he whispered. "She said they were going to send me back because I wasn't happy with them. But I never trusted them because I knew they'd just reject me like every other family did. If only I'd known!"
She clucked sympathetically to him. Looking upward, he took several deep breaths, then continued, "Funny... I hardly ever cried back then. Sometimes I felt terrible, but I didn't cry about it. Why now?"
She clucked softly, It's safe to cry now.
He paused and thought about that. Then he said, "Yeah," and hugged her tightly again.
**
When Gonzo had pulled himself together they left the dressing room. The backstage area was dark and quiet. The other Muppets had left in the bus for the boarding house long ago. Gonzo was about to pick up the telephone receiver to call a cab when he heard a sound from the stage. He looked out and saw Beauregard going over the stage with a push broom. "Bo?"
Beauregard looked up. "Oh, hello, Gonzo. Are you ready to go home?"
"Uh, yeah. You didn't have to wait up," Gonzo said, surprised.
"Oh, no problem. It’s hard to get the stage clean sometimes after a Muppet Labs act. I finally got all the ash and bits of burnt rubber up!"
The janitor seemed genuinely pleased with himself. Gonzo couldn't imagine being so happy about cleaning up, but he knew that there were also some who did not enjoy taking part in dangerous stunts. It took all kinds, and The Muppets certainly had all kinds. Gonzo looked at the stage, and it really was smooth and shiny. "Great job, Bo."
"Thanks!" Bo set the push broom and a set of scrapers and cloths in a small closet and wiped his hands on a small towel.
They went out to the back, where Bo had parked the small, old car that he often used to run errands for the theater. They all got in, and Bo said, "I hope it's okay to drop you off at the lobby."
Gonzo and Camilla laughed, and Beauregard grinned.
**
When they arrived, the looks the other Muppets gave them said clearly that there had been speculation as to why they were so late getting home, and also that it was completely wrong. He'd let it be, though. He'd rather let them think that he and Camilla had been honeymooning rather than admit he'd been bawling his eyes out over something that happened decades ago.
The other hens had been watching over Billie. As he picked his daughter up Gonzo thought that, as much as he wished otherwise, his past did matter. It was part of what shaped him. He had tacitly denied it for years. But it was over with, and it could never hurt him again. And, Gonzo knew, his daughter would never feel like he had. She would never wonder where her place was in the world. As long as he was alive, she would always know that she was loved.
*****
Gonzo, Camilla, Scooter, and Beauregard are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Billie and Brian are copyright © Kim McFarland. This story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.