And If That Diamond Ring Turns Brass (Tinseltown)

RedPiggy

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WARNING

This fic has the Tinseltown characters. Either you like that abandoned show or you don’t. However, given current events, I thought it may be worth revisiting. In the Comeback King Saga, I reveal that Bobby and Samson got married. Bobby was ecstatic. However …

END OF WARNING

The Caucasian teenaged boy with short mousey brown hair stood in the long white limo, letting the warm summer breeze sweep his emotions away.

“Sieda giù nell'automobile!” the limo driver shouted.

The teen sat down and frowned. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”

The limo driver growled, “I said, sit down in the car.” He wiped some ketchup off of his brown goatee and chomped on a hamburger. “Christ, Foster – it’s not your fault, you know.”

Foster crossed his arms and leaned back against the dark gray seat. “I never said it was, Arturo,” he shot back. “I just don’t see why I gotta go see her anyway. It’s not like she wants me.”

Arturo shrugged. “It’s just until things get worked out.” Poor kid, he thought to himself. Arturo, a Hungarian-Italian, was used to being a valued employee one moment and an “evil immigrant” the next. He caught on pretty fast that American love was extremely fickle. However, it seemed wrong to drag a poor kid into adult problems. “I thought you liked her.”

Foster shrugged. “New York’s really not my thing. Why can’t I stay in California?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.

Arturo sighed. “If she really hated you, why would she let you hang out in her place?”

Foster rolled his eyes. “She’s practically a grandmother. Forty-eight? What do I have in common with her?”

“About twenty-three chromosomes, if I recall,” Arturo joked.

“You know what I mean,” Foster grumbled. He bit his lip, his fingers trembling slightly. His voice quieted. “Out of every conceivable reason for this to happen, this is the one that’s the most confusing.” His life had never been “normal”, even by Californian standards. However, this newest change in the winds seemed so perplexing. What was their problem, anyway?

Arturo smiled, trying to keep the mood light. “Well, what’s wrong with New York?”

Foster shrugged. “I dunno. Broadway’s just some dumping ground for actors afraid of money.”

Arturo laughed, slapping the steering wheel. “I can see who you’ve been talking to, right, Foster? Bobby can’t get over that bad date in the seventies when a famous starship captain rejected him.” He chuckled. “And that maiale diva just gets on his nerves. He thinks he can out-act her any day, anywhere.”

Foster cracked a small smile.

Arturo noticed. He adjusted his amber sunglasses and shrugged. “Hey, don’t worry, Foster. Samson’s not gonna put up with this. You’ll be back home in no time, okay?”

“Yeah.”

<><><><><><>

Foster stepped off the plane, listening to his iPod Nano, preferring to stare out the windows rather than look for her.

“Foster?” a middle-aged female voice asked cautiously.

Foster turned around and saw a tall athletic middle-aged woman with graying dark hair. She wore a tight red T-shirt and faded jean shorts. Foster’s eyes widened. “What are you wearing?”

The woman smiled and flicked her hair. “Do you like it? I didn’t want to pick you up in a business suit. I want us to have fun.”

Foster cringed. “You’re like, ready for Social Security,” he told her warily. “You’re not gonna try to act half your age or something, are you?”

The woman rolled her eyes. Suddenly she snapped her fingers. “I knew I forgot something … I so totally should have remembered to bring my cane to the airport.”

Foster sighed, avoiding her eyes. “Whatever.” He started walking towards the exit. “Let’s just get this over with, Mom.”

She stopped him, turning him around. “You can call me Jenny, if you want. I want to be your friend.”

“Not my mother?” Foster retorted bitterly.

Jenny frowned. “You have parents. Of course I like it when you call me Mom, but I also understand there are some issues you need to deal with.”

He shoved her away. “Yeah … did the Dr. Feel thing already, Mom. I’m hungry.” He started to walk away, but noticed she stood where she was. He stopped, sighing in exasperation. “For God’s sake, Mom – I’m happy to see you too. Can we go now?”

<><><><><><>

Bobby Vegan minimized the solitaire window on his PDA and clicked on the GPS chip he implanted in Foster’s tote bag. He was in Manhattan. The five-foot-tall overweight pig smiled briefly before frowning, his eyes squinting.

Oh … they would pay for this.

<><><><><><>

Samson Knight tapped his three-fingered hoof on the table, reading some tabloids. Well, trying to read them. Ever since Foster left the house, things had been frustratingly … quiet. The strapping bull sat in the chair, bare-chested, with his Armani suit slacks on. Bobby hadn’t been home for days. He didn’t even see Foster off.

Typical.

Still, he realized Bobby must be taking this worse than he thought. If only he would answer his stupid phone.
 

RedPiggy

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Jenny stared at Foster, who reclined on the couch, watching her new 60-inch plasma screen television.

Foster glanced at her briefly. “Yep. I do plan to sit here all day and watch television.”

Jenny opened her mouth to say something, but then started to doubt herself. He needed to work out his emotions at his own pace, but watching him just sit there was driving her insane. It had been a week since he arrived in Manhattan, and they hadn’t done much of anything. It’s not like they were well-bonded. Jenny tried hard to make most of the major holidays, but until recently, Foster just simply wasn’t her son, not legally, anyway.

The year was 1994. Her father had recently died, and Jenny was terrified. Here in her lap was a tiny baby, crying. She rooted around in her tote bag for a bottle and gave it to him, watching him take a couple of sips, only to push the bottle away and start wailing again. The father, her husband, had been shipped off to Kuwait.

He never came back.

She had lost her father and her husband, all in one year.

And the baby wouldn’t stop crying.

"Well, why not?” asked a deep male voice. “It’s a cherished franchise with loads of marketing potential.”

“Oh, it’s got loads, all right,” protested a grittier higher-pitched male voice. “Besides, you look more the part than I do, anyway.”

Jenny looked up to see a large upright pig and an upright brown bull. Muppets weren’t that hard to spot in Manhattan. What with Sesame Street’s educational programs and Kermit’s Muppet Show going strong, the city was awash in talking creatures of all types.

The deep-voiced bull frowned at the pig as the bus they were on began to move again. “All you have to argue is that a REAL non-human would make better sense than a human in a costume.”

The pig glanced at the bull like he had lost his mind. “And what happens when I have to look HUMAN, huh? I’ve heard men are pigs, but that’s stretching it … AND it’s insulting to pigs everywhere.” He scoffed. “Why would a self-respecting pig go for some skinny brunette human?” He spotted Jenny and the baby and gasped in horror, covering his mouth with his hands. “Oh, I’m SORRY! I didn’t – I mean – I’m not specist or anything! You look like you already GOT your bases covered!”

"Bobby!”

"Well, she DOES!” Bobby protested. “I’m just trying to apolo – OOH, look, Samson, a BABY!” He leaned over and started making stupid faces at the now-curious child, while Samson rolled his eyes.

The child started to giggle, reaching up to pat the pig’s snout.

"Is there anything I can get for you?” Jenny asked Foster in a hopeful-yet-worried tone.

“Nope,” he shrugged. “Don’t you have some work to do?”

"Don’t you?”

"I got fired from that JP Morgan job,” he replied. “It was a waste, anyway.” He turned and looked at her. “You don’t even have beer.”

Jenny’s jaw dropped. “You’re eighteen! You can’t even have beer!”

Foster shook his head. “No, you can’t have beer in front of a cop. And youtubing a bender is just stupid. It’s like asking to get arrested.”

"It’s illegal for me to buy you beer, too, Foster.”

"But it’s not illegal for you to buy beer for yourself.”

"So you want me to get arrested for negligence?”

Foster smiled. “Are you planning on telling the cashier? Or your landlord?” He chuckled. “Mom – I’m not some alcoholic. I just like the taste every once in awhile.”

"Is that what they’ve been teaching you?” she said (a little more loudly than she wanted).

"Who’s ‘they’?” he sniped back. He jumped up off the couch and pointed at her angrily. “My parents were weird and totally off-the-wall … but they treated me like an equal! They raised me! They said they’d be there for me! And they were – until the government told them no. Now I’m stuck here in Manhattan with a mother who’s taking care of me as a favor to my parents, and there’s no telling when I can go back. All those people back home gasped about ‘the children’, while they have no problems whatsoever with ruining my life! What if that frog and pig you’re friends with tried to have kids, huh? How would they like it if they were told all those things from people too bitter to love their own relationships?”

"They were,” replied Jenny softly.

Foster scrunched up his face in confusion. “Those two are like Gen-Xer gods,” Foster retorted. “How can anyone tell them what to do?”

Jenny shrugged. “They aren’t married – because they were told their marriage was invalid. They aren’t human – so the state said they weren’t married.”

Foster scoffed. “What about those non-humans on Sesame Street? That big hairy elephant thing’s parents even got a divorce. So, not just humans can marry.”

Jenny shrugged again, her voice wavering. “I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is what Kermit told me.”

"Maybe he’s lying,” Foster offered defiantly. “Maybe he just knew that if he left her at the altar, she’d backslap him all the way to the other side of the globe.” He flopped back on the couch. “My parents would never do that. Bobby alone is like an immovable object when it comes to the status quo. He had a sweet deal going and now it’s ruined by people who can’t just butt out.”
 

The Count

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*Huggles the new story. UCH! Think I'll leave Tinsel Town for addition next go-round. Then again... *Aches just thinking about it. Never mind me, please, continue this tale.
 

RedPiggy

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Whew ... and here I thought I was getting in trouble :smile:

This story will be mainly told through Foster's POV, though we'll see the other characters as well. This way, I can avoid describing scenes I don't feel comfortable writing. :big_grin: The ultimate goal will be the family to get back together, obviously ...

...

I just don't know how it'll be done.

The Tinseltown muses just aren't as vocal as the other ones were. Sigh....
 

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Well... Would recommend you read through both Swamp Call and redBoobergurl's Rowlf's Stories, as those deal with perhaps slighter more serious issues in a Muppety light. Take care.
 

RedPiggy

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I can see. The problem with Tinseltown is that there's the ONE pilot.

And then ... nothing.

That's a lot of character subtlety to dig out of a few minutes.
 

The Count

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Yeah... Just read the article about it at the Wiki. You're doing great embedding this in your fic-verse what with Jenny from TMTM as Foster's mom. Maybe, just maybe, you could just let this evolve on its own from your imagination. Then again, the little blurbs about the Tinseltown characters might help. Or connect it to the Late Night Buffet project. Eh, dunno, tapped for ideas at the mo'.
 

RedPiggy

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Well, the conversation with Jenny and Foster was something that just popped into my mind. In my fic-verse (particularly Act 4 of Comeback), governmental boo-hooing is how I explain Kermit and Piggy's relationship. However, as I started writing Chapter 2 for this fic, I realized that there were Muppet/Monster husband/wives all over Sesame Street, so it didn't make sense. I'm hoping to resolve this conundrum somehow, while doing this anti-Prop 8 fic. LOL ...

I can see Bobby trying to "do a Pepe" and somehow con his marriage back somehow. I can also see Samson being passive-aggressive, protesting from behind the scenes. I can also see Jenny and Foster team up to try to work things out ... but I don't want this to be Parent Trap.

I'll definitely have to work this out from my own sad, sad little imagination, since there's so little canon to work with. And even worse, this takes place after Comeback, so I don't really have an "ending" already in place to fit this story into.

I've also been debating seeing how Moulin and Rachel Bitterman turned out. Haven't decided yet. Moulin was left in critical condition and God knows how Rachel is. However, I'm afraid that would drag the story. I want this to be a part of my verse, but not a mega-crossover like Comeback was.

God, I'm such a wembler ... :big_grin:
 

The Count

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Oooh! Fannish squee about Moulin/Rachael! *Laughs at the anti-Prop 8 nature of the fic. Parent Trap? Just make sure it's the good one, the first one, with Hayley Mills and Hayley Mills. Yes, I know I'm dating myself, it'd be the only one I've had, (small joke). Go for it, it's your fic, you make the rules.

*50 posts left for Kelly! Go get 'em!
 

RedPiggy

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All Parent Traps outside of the Hayley Mills one are BLASPHEMY ... LOL ... :big_grin:

Moulin, particularly if she's in a bad mood, might be able, as a queen, to let the US know in no uncertain terms how she feels about bigotry...

Holy Cow! (no pun intended for this fic) I'm closer to the MAGIC NUMBER than I thought!
 
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