Another Very Merry Muppet Family Christmas Story

[superboober]

And here's Chapter #4:





The door to the elevator slid open, revealing Sweetums at the controls. “All aboard,” the large monster said as everyone stepped on board, ”You want me to check your luggage?”

“If you feel like it,” Alan told him. Sweetums produced a large marker and drew checkmarks on all the suitcases. “The author loves this gag just a little too much,” Kermit groaned.

“Going up,” Sweetums pressed the button for the top floor. The elevator rose up rather quickly to the top of the makeshift hotel tower. “Looks like we’re down the hall, fourth door on the right,” Kermit checked the room passes one more time, “Right in…here.”

The Reisers’ room in question wasn’t much to laud about, with only a few chairs here and there and a Murphy bed on the wall, although Alan did have a feeling that with the haste the whole structure had been built, they would have been silly to expect more. “I know it’s not much,” the frog seemed to have read his thoughts perfectly, “But I think’ll do fine. Just be careful when you use the bed; we got it on discount from the Happiness Hotel, and they haven’t quite worked all the bugs out yet.”

“Well again, Kermit, I’d like to thank you for everything,” Alan told him, “If there’s anything I can do for you in return, please, tell me.”

“As a matter of fact, Mr. Reiser, we could use a little help down in the kitchen cooking all the dinners and snacks for later tonight,” Kermit told him, waving hello to Sully as the construction worker scooted by on the ledge outside, wiping the window, “I got everyone I could to sign up for it, but we’re still a bit understaffed. You have any cooking experience?”

“Well, I have had to learn how to cook lately with…that’s fine, I’ll help,” Alan said quickly.

“Hey,” a couple of the children that had come on the bus with the rest of the Sesame Street humans appeared in the doorway, “We’re going sledding. Want to come?”

“Sure,” Christine ran to join them. Zachary, however, sat down on the nearest chair and shook his head. “You sure, Zack?” Alan asked his son, worried, “It’ll probably be fun, and you haven’t had much fun lately.”

“I’m not really up to it, Dad,” Zachary wasn’t angry, but there was great finality in his answer. Alan shook his head. “Well, if you want to do anything, I’ll be downstairs working on dinner,” told him, only reluctantly walking toward the door. Zachary nodded softly and stared down at the floor.

“Is he all right?” Kermit asked his guest, equally concerned.

“Not really,” Alan told him, “It’s a long story, I’ll tell it to you later.”

“Well then, I might as well go put your things in the closet and…AAAAHHHH!” Kermit dropped the suitcases in shock, for Piggy was unexpectedly waiting inside the closet. “Oh Kermit my love,” she gushed melodramatically, advancing toward him, “Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve been alone together?”

“Uh, not really, Piggy,” Kermit gulped nervously, inching toward the door, “Uh, can we talk about this later?”

“Take me now!” the pig leaped at him, “Give me the greatest holiday present; tell me you love me! Give the pig a kiss!”

She leaned toward him, her lips puckered. Kermit rushed into the hall and slammed the room door shut behind him, breathing in relief. “That was close,” he whispered to himself—only to jump in surprise as the doorframe shattered and Piggy’s lips protruded out inches from his face. “Kiss me, Kermie, kiss me!” she was shrieking almost hysterically, grabbing him around the middle before he could flee.

“HHEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPP!” Kermit shrieked loud enough to be heard halfway across the county.





“Excuse me, excuse me,” Luis walked over to the head cook in the kitchen about twenty minutes later, “I can’t understand a word of this. You want me to give you WHAT to put in the stew?”


“Meer bork asken for tablespoonen tabasco saucen,” the Swedish Chef informed the Fix-It Shop proprietor, holding up an ingredient checklist to his face. Luis shook his head and reached for the nearest cabinet. Across from him, Alan stirred a pot of stuffing as fast as he could. He could tell why Kermit was concerned about getting dinner ready; even with a kitchen full of would-be cooks, including Fran, Nigel the Conductor, and Mr. Macintosh, there just seemed to be too much food to prepare for the guests that were all to be there. “We’ll never get this all done by dinnertime.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend,” Dr. Bunsen Honeydew appeared at his shoulder, “For the last month we at Muppet Labs having been working on this very dilemma and have developed what I call Instant Cookers.”

“Instant Cookers?”

“That’s right,” the scientist said, “Show him one, Beaker.”

His assistant stepped forward, clutching what looked like a miniature pressure cooker. “What you do,” Bunsen continued, "is put any uncooked food inside,” he reached into the refrigerator and extracted a bowl of frozen corn, “Stick it into the Instant Cooker, and set it on High like so. Within ten seconds, the product will be heated to five hundred degrees Fahrenheit by use of liquid magma stored inside a chamber along the side.”

He pressed a button on the top of the device. There was a whistle as it came to life. “Once you extract it, everything will be cooked and ready to go,” the scientist explained, “Of course, you would have to be careful of the exhaust burst that will occur periodically to relieve excess heat.”

It was at this moment that the exhaust in question exploded out of a vent, setting Beaker’s hair on fire. Beaker ran around in circles, screaming at the top of his lungs. Bunsen apparently didn’t notice his assistant’s predicament. “Mrs. Sinclair, give us some of those cookies,” he told Fran, “We’ll need to start now if we’re to finish them all by tonight. Stop fooling around, Beaker, we have work to do.”

Beaker, frantic, turned on the faucet to fill up the sink and dunked his head under the water to extinguish the flames. Alan couldn’t help having a small chuckle, the first he’d had in a long time. There was a dinging sound as the blueberry pies he’d put in the oven when he’d started cooking were completed. “Borken meer unen,” the Chef gestured at him as he pulled them out of the oven.

“Why?” Alan handed him one nonetheless.

“Watchen, eeden orden mit chickenen,” the chef produced a rubber chicken and tossed it into the large pot boiling in front of him, “Potten,” he took a smaller pot off the shelf and threw it in as well, “Pie,” he threw the pie in, pan and all, “Voila, chickenen potten pie!”

The kitchen door slid open. “Put more radishes in the microwave,” Emily called at Mr. Macintosh, “Kermit says we’re going to need a load of radish casseroles for later.”

“More radishes, coming up,” Mr. Macintosh pulled several off his cart and tossed them over his back at Nigel. Emily walked over to where Bunsen was making adjustments to the Instant Cooker. “Are you sure that thing’s going to work?” she asked him.

“Trust me, all the bugs have been worked out,” Bunsen reassured her. It was then, though, that the machine vented flames again, once against igniting Beaker’s hair. “MEEP, MEEP MEEP!” he shrieked, throwing open the window and diving out it into the nearest snow bank. “Stop lying around on the job, Beaker,” Bunsen upbraided him.

Emily shook her head. “How’re you doing?” she asked Alan. Without waiting for an answer, she sniffed some of the pies. “Practically perfect,” she complimented, “Just like my husband used to make.”

“Where is Mr., um, Bear?” Alan asked her.

“Griswold unfortunately passed away four years ago,” Emily noted sadly, “On this very day, I’m sorry to say. That’s one of the reason I’m willing to let Fozzie bring all his friends over, it does feel good to not be alone. Of course, there’s probably as many people to make friends with in California, but…oh never mind.”

“What did he die of?” the human’s interested was piqued.

“Heart attack,” the bear shook her head, “He had been seeing the doctor about it for about a year, but it still hit Fozzie and I like a bolt from the blue when he keeled over at the skating rink. And at first we thought he was just acting. Funny isn’t it, how people can seem healthy on the outside but be not so great underneath?”

“Yeah,” Alan glanced sadly at the window where he watched Christine sledding with Maria down the hillside behind the farmhouse, “It’s amazing how these things can strike without warning.” Before he could mope too much about his daughter’s tragic misfortune, however, something brightly colored caught his eye. “Hello, who have we coming now?” he exclaimed, looking toward the horizon, “I don’t believe it. Say Mrs. Bear, do you have any birdseed handy here?”





“Do you hear that?” Christine raised her hand to the other children. The sound of caroling could be heard from over the hill. Moments later, the head of a large yellow bird came into sight, followed by creatures of all sizes and colors. “Christmastime is here,” they were all singing, “happiness and cheer. Fun for all, that children call their favorite time of year. Snowflakes in the air, carols everywhere, olden times and ancient rhymes of love and dreams to share. Sleigh bells in the air, beauty everywhere, yuletide by the fireside, and joyful memories there.”


“Yeah right,” Oscar the grouch quipped from the back of the procession. They all came to a stop at the top of the hill. “Wow, sledding,” Big Bird commented to the children, “Can I try it for a minute?”

“Sure,” the boy closest to him handed him his sled. The large canary zoomed to the bottom of the hill on it, crying out in excitement the whole way down. “Maria, you made it,” he told his human friend as he skidded to a stop nearby, “With the storm what it was, I was afraid you guys wouldn’t make it.”

“They came in at the same time we did," Christine extended her hand to Big Bird, “I’m Christine.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Christine, “ Big Bird shook her hand, “We would have been here sooner, but the…Snuffy, watch it!”

For Mr. Snuffleupagus was attempting the same sledding feat his friend had just done, but was instead falling back on his back. Upon rolling to the bottom of the hill, he stumbled around to get to his feet again. “Apparently sledding’s not for four-legged creatures,” he remarked.

“Where did you all park?” Maria asked Big Bird, scanning the parking area, which was empty except for the vehicles that had already arrived.

“Actually the bus broke down about five miles up the road,” Grover huffed up, “We all had to walk the whole way. Is there any hot chocolate out here for a poor exhausted monster?”

“Oscar, I thought I told you to fix that bus Grungetta’s aunt loaned you?” Maria scolded the grouch.

“And how many time have I told you, I prefer it wrecked!” Oscar protested, “It’s much more appealing that way. Anyway, can we just go inside and get all this fake cheeriness out of the way as quickly and painlessly as possible so I can get back to my usual miserable life?”

There was an abrupt crash of thunder and lightning from the heavens, even though the sun was starting to come out a little bit. “Thirteen, thirteen young sledders, ah ha ha ha ha!” the Count laughed happily after having counted the children around them, “There’s so many things to count here, like those birds in the in the trees! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, eight beautiful birds!”

“Will somebody please tape his mouth shut for the night?” Oscar grumbled as the thunder and lightning crashed again, “One side people, unhappy grouch coming through!”

He pushed past everyone. Despite the fact their feelings were contrary to his, a procession of non-human Sesame Street residents followed him toward the door. Big Bird and Snuffleupagus remained behind with Maria and the children. “It’s been so long since I’ve been sledding,” the canary remarked.

“You can use my sled if you want,” Christine handed it to him, “I know about cooperation."

“Thank you,” Big Bird rubbed her head, “I appreciate this.”

“I’d love to go too, Bird,“ Snuffleupagus looked at the sled with apprehension, “But something tells me I’m not quite cut out for it.”

“You know how you can play along, Snuffy?” his best friend posed, “You can be a bridge on the slope for us to go under.”

“Works for me,” the large creature patted the bird on the shoulder with his snuffle.

Meanwhile, Bert rang the farmhouse’s doorbell. “Don’t want any!” Fozzie yelled out jokingly.

“It’s only us,” Bert started forward, only to become the latest person to slip. “Careful of the icy patch!” came a chorus of shouts from inside. Kermit opened the door. “Come on in folks, we’ve been expecting you all,” he waved them in. Each of them slipped on the icy patch in turn. “Coats over the corner there,” the frog pointed it out, “You’re just in time, we were just about to start singing the first couple of songs.”

“COOKIES!” Cookie Monster ran for the kitchen, having already smelled the cookies being baked within.

“No please Cookie Monster, not yet!” Bob leaped off the sofa and tried to restraint his neighbor as best he could, “You can’t eat all the cookies now! There’ll be none for later!”

“Aw shucks!” the monster muttered in frustration.

“Hey, would you losers keep it down over there!” Oscar yelled into the corner where Clifford and the Electric Mayhem were tuning up, “I can’t wallow in self-pity if you’re banging away like that!”

“Cool it, cat!” Floyd Pepper scolded the grouch, “We gotta be hot if we hope to be cool tonight.”

“And cool we will be,” Hoots the owl landed next to the guitar player, “What’s our first tune for tonight?”

Floyd went over with the owl the programs for the evening. As the various residents of Sesame Street milled about the room catching up with old friends, Kermit noticed a familiar face enter the living room. “So you decided to come down after all, Zack?” he asked the boy.

“Just till we have dinner,” Zachary told him softly, “Then I’ll go back up.”

“Well, I think you’re going to miss out on a lot of interesting things here if you do that,” Kermit told him, “For example, we’re going…”

“I can hear more people coming, Uncle Kermit,” Robin called from the doorframe. Sure enough, more carolers could be heard approaching the house singing, “If you look to the good side, falling down’s a free ride, slipping and a-sliding in the mud. If your back is hurtin’, I can say for certain I’ll be there to treat you to a soothing back rub, when there ain’t no hole in the wash…WHOOOOOOOAAAA!”

“Careful of the icy patch!” everyone called out as the sound of several people falling at once could be heard. Kermit opened the door. “You OK, Uncle Bullfrog?” he asked the well-dressed bullfrog who was right on the doorstep.

“Kermit my boy,” Doc Bullfrog hugged him close, “And Robin, how’s the best grandnephew a frog can’t ask for?”

“Pretty good Uncle Bullfrog, it’s been a while,” Robin embraced him as well. Kermit stepped aside. Emmett, Alice, so glad you could join us here,” he told the otters behind his uncle, “And the rest of your band mates too.”

“Say Kermit, where were you last time?” Harvey the beaver asked as he entered the house, his washboard and kazoo in hand, ”I thought you were going to be at the Riverside Rest to watch our holiday show?”

“You see, that’s the funny thing, Harvey,” Kermit told him, “One moment I’m there watching the show, and the next thing I know, I’m not. Strange circumstances, very strange. Well, at least I can promise you a good paycheck for agreeing to play here tonight for our holiday get-together.”

“Do we get mashed potatoes?” Wendell the porcupine asked. He was the last member of the group inside, carrying everyone’s presents.

“Of course, Wendell, we’re cooking them up right now as I speak,” Kermit said. He gave the porcupine a pat on the back—and immediately grimaced from the quills now embedded in his flipper. Doc Bullfrog helped his nephew pull them out one at a time. “The Foxes and Will Possum’ll be along later,” he told them, “They still had business to attend to back in Waterville.”

“Hold the door!” shouted a voice running up the driveway, “Explorer coming through, ex—WHHOOOOAAAAA!”

“Careful of the icy patch!” everyone shouted again. Traveling Matt Fraggle staggered through the door, shattered packages in hand. “Sorry I’m late,” he announced to anyone who cared to listen, “I got the invitation.”

Zachary walked up to the newcomer. “What are you?” he asked him.

“I am an explorer,” Matt proclaimed proudly, “The greatest of my generation.”

“No, I mean what ARE you?” the boy pressed.

“A Fraggle. Haven’t you ever seen one before?”

“You can’t be,” Zachary said dismissively, “There are no such things as Fraggles.”

“Yes there are,” Robin piped up, “In fact, there’s a whole colony down in the basement. We were inside it last year, weren’t we Uncle Kermit?”

“Yes,” Kermit glanced up at the clock, “In fact, if their message told me right, they should be just about done their festivities right about now. They said to meet them inside at the great junction, wherever that was.” He looked up at Zachary. “Why don’t you come along with us, Zack, and see that magic does exist right underneath us?”

Zachary shrugged. “I think this is crazy,” he commented softly, but nonetheless he followed the frogs toward the basement. Matt sided up alongside Emmett and stared in wonder at his washtub bass. “And what is that strange device?” he asked the otter, “I’ve never seen a silly creature with that before.”

“It’s a musical instrument,” Emmett explained, “I had to put a hole in the washtub to make it. Good thing we were able to buy a new one with the money we’ve got from working the Riverside Rest, right Ma?”

“Absolutely, Emmett,” his mother agreed, “In fact, I think by now we’ve almost managed to replace everything we had to sell off after Pa died.”

“Hey Emmett, we’re getting set up in here,” Charlie the muskrat stuck his head around the corner, “We’re going to be playing next to this weird greenish guy with the saxophone and the dog with the piano.”

“Right, I’ll be in in a minute,” Emmett strolled toward his band mates. Matt pulled out a postcard from his backpack. “AND SO NEPHEW GOBO,” he wrote on it, “FOR THIS CHRISTMAS I HAVE DISCOVERED THAT TALKING FURRY CREATURES PLAY DIFFERENT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS THAN THE SILLY CREATURES I NORMALLY ENCOUNTER…”

 

[superboober]

And here's Part 5:






“This is it, this is the Fraggle hole,” Robin proclaimed, pointing at the large hole in the basement wall. Zachary bent down and glanced inside. “So?” he asked, not convinced, “There’s a cave, but that doesn’t prove anything.”

“Why are you so convinced there’s nothing down there?” Kermit had to know, “You’ll never see anything if you only look with your eyes, Zack.”

“It’s just not logical for something so big like a Fraggle colony to exist under our noses without us noticing,” the boy pointed out, “Fraggles are just part of imagination like dragons and griffins and…Santa.”

“Sheesh, he’s really lost his imagination far too young,” Kermit whispered softly to his nephew. “Now surely you can’t believe Santa’s a myth,” he told Zachary.

“Then how does he gets the presents around the world in one night?” Zachary asked him, “Tell me how that can be possible? And how come a lot of good people, especially poor people, end up with nothing if he cares that much for everyone?”

“Well, I happen to know Santa does exist,” Kermit said, “In fact, a few years back I went around interviewing people on Sesame Street on that very topic and got a number of…”

“Listen,” Robin held up his flipper. The distant sounds of bells could be heard coming from inside the hole. “Hmm, that’s interesting,” his uncle remarked, “Sounds like their ceremony.”

“It’s probably just from some house up the road, echoing through the pipes,” Zachary still didn’t believe it.

Kermit sighed and handed him a flashlight. “Just watch,” he told the boy, “They’ll come out. We have an arrangement. Come on Robin, we might as well tell them it’s just about time.”

The two frogs walked into the hole and turned right up the large cavern before them. The beam of Zachary’s flashlight illuminated the walls around them for a few feet. “Hello?” Kermit called up the tunnel, “Fraggles? It’s Kermit the frog, I’m here for Christmas? Anyone here?”

“Do you hear that, Uncle Kermit?” Robin asked him. The sound of a pipe being played could be heard getting closer. Without warning, a large orange-hued Fraggle with red tufts on his head came around the corner, playing on the pipe in question. The frogs jumped in surprise at his entrance. The Fraggle, on the other hand, seemed almost nonchalant. “You’re a couple of minutes early,” he told them once he had finished his tune, “But close enough. The Festival of the Bells is just about over for this year, thankfully without any hitches this time.”

“Have we met before?” Kermit frowned at the newcomer, “I have the distinct feeling we know each other.”

“I am Cantus the Minstrel,” the Fraggle told him, “I travel the Rock making music and teaching morals. As fate would have it, I’m here now.”

“Cantus? No, that doesn’t really ring a bell,” Kermit’s words were immediately followed by the sounds of more bells ringing in the distance. “Or maybe it does,” he quickly added. The bells got louder as five more Fraggles Kermit was familiar with appeared out of the same tunnel Cantus had come up. “It’s Kermit,” proclaimed the tallest one with the blue hair, “I thought I’d heard him calling. It’s wonderful to see…”

“AAAAAACCCCCKKKK!” Boober shrieked out loud, pointing hysterically at Zachary’s face peering in through the hole behind the frogs, “A Silly Creature! It’s an invasion! Sound the alarm! Call out the Catapult Brigade! Mobilize the…!”

“Relax Boober,” Gobo calmed his friend, “It’s only a little one. He can’t hurt us.” He walked without any fear up to the hole. “Hello, I’m Gobo,” he announced.

“Are you a…Fraggle?” Zachary picked him up and stared at him intensely, “So you really all do live down there?”

“No, we just like sitting around in caves whenever the Cold comes,” Red commented with a tinge of sarcasm as everyone made they way back out of the hole, ”Yes, of course we all live down there. So where’s the Christmas goodies?”

“It’s all upstairs,” Kermit told her, “We’re going to have a lot of food and songs tonight, and later we’re going to break the piñata and go for a sleigh ride and lots of other neat stuff I think you’ll enjoy.”

“I think we will,” Wembley agreed, “Ever since you gave us that brief glimpse of Christmas last year, Kermit, I’ve wanted to see what the rest of the silly creature holiday is like.”

“I too,” Mokey added, “I’ve brought enough paper to write at least twenty new poems on the meanings of Christmas.”

“What are these bells for?” Zachary flicked the one in Gobo’s hand in wonder.

“We just finished the Festival of the Bells,” Gobo explained to him, “Every year at this time we all ring our bells to keep the Rock warm for the whole year.”

“And now we all know that the Great Bell at the heart of the Rock will keep it warm no matter what,” Cantus gave Gobo a knowing wink. He approached Zachary. “Tell me child, what seems to be bothering you? I can sense you need someone to talk to.”

“How can you tell?” Zachary frowned.

“If you keep building your dam tighter and tighter, the water will only rise higher until it bursts,” the Minstrel told him in lieu of a direct answer, “Thus, it may help you to tell me what your ailment is.”

“Can I trust you?” the boy asked him.

“If you tell me nothing, there’s no way I could help you,” Cantus pointed out. Zachary nodded slowly. “Only in private,” he told him, “I’m not really comfortable right now…you know.”

“In that case, I request some privacy,” Cantus told the others.

“No problem, I’ll the others upstairs,” Kermit nodded in agreement, “Come on you guys, the party’s just getting started.”

“Great, I love parties!” Red practically fell over herself running up the basement stairs, “I’ll probably win every game!”

“Do you think she’s excited?” Kermit asided to Gobo as they all followed her, “By the way, your uncle showed up already. Says he’s got a new postcard for you; I think he was thinking of mailing it.”

“Hey look!” Wembley pointed at the windows, outside of which the snow was falling hard again, “The Silly Creatures all forgot to ring their bells! Outer Space is frozen solid already!”

“Well, so much for the fun stuff,” Red sighed in disappointment.

“No, actually, this works better,” Kermit told her, “In fact, we’ll be able to do loads more if there’s a lot of snow on the ground. Although,” he realized abruptly, “This would mean the Reisers don’t have a chance to get to the airport now if it keeps up like this.”

“Who?” Boober asked.

“The little boy’s…” Kermit was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing again, followed by the person slipping as well. “Careful of the icy patch!” everyone called out yet again. Beauregard, who was closest to the door, opened it. “Come on in, Mr. Storyteller,” he said, gesturing the elderly man and his dog inside, “Was it a rough ride over?”

“It was for the last few miles,” the Storyteller shook the snow off his coat and handed it to the chicken, “Boy, I’ve never seen a storm like this. I’ll be telling about it for years to come.”

“Here, let me get those presents off your hands,” Rowlf took them out of his hands, “I’ll just go put them over here under the tree by the ones we brought.” The dog frowned as he noticed the package the Baseball Diamond was wrapped in. “I don’t remember bringing this one,” he mused for a moment, but then merely shrugged and went back with the other presents. “Hey, you bring the chips?” he asked the Storyteller’s dog, “The rest of the guys’ll be starting the poker marathon in the den in about an hour or so—not for money, of course.”

The other dog nodded at Rowlf and trotted into the den. As they passed the basement door, Zachary and Cantus emerged. “So, you guys have a nice chat?” Kermit asked them.

“We have,” the Minstrel proclaimed, “I told him not to be concerned about his mother, for she will be here eventually."

“Well, maybe not,” Boober remarked, staring over Earl’s shoulder at the TV screen, on which Howard Handupme was showing the weather, “This strange device says we’re going to get two more feet of this fluffy white stuff between now and tomorrow morning, since this snowstorm’s merging with another one directly overhead of us, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

Zachary sighed in despair. "Now don't give up just yet, Zack," Kermit patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, "If nothing else I'm sure your dad can call her here and let you talk to her before the night's out."

"Maybe she could if the phone lines were up and running," Rizzo stuck his head out from under the coffee table, "But I know they're not. I took a look down the basement earlier; they're all out of order. Fozzie's mother told me that wind storm last week took out..."

Before the conversation could go any further, a strange humming sound could be heard directly over the farmhouse. “Ah, they did make it,” the rat commented, staring at the ceiling.

“And right on time too," Kermit nodded. He turned to his fellow guests. "All right, welcoming committee to the roof, welcoming committee to the roof,” he told them, "These guys have had a really, really, really long trip; they deserve a nice warm welcome."

There was a scramble for the stairs as about a dozen Muppets followed the frog to the roof, where a large spaceship was touching down. With a hiss, the door slid open. Out of the smoke inexplicably pouring from the inside trudged a small elfin figure with pointed ears and a cane. “Master Yoda, welcome to my humble home,” Emily bowed down for the Jedi Master, prompting the others in the group to follow suit.

“A pleasure to be here it is,” Yoda told her, “Stay here long, though, I cannot. Due on Kashyyk for Life Day celebrations, I am.”

“By the way, is that ever going to see a home release?” Scooter inquired.

“Not if the Master anything to say has,” Yoda shook his head. A gang of rough-looking creatures followed him off the ship. “Thank God we got through this,” commented the small buzzard-like creature up front, “I’ve had to go the bathroom for the last ten million miles.”

“Scred, why didn’t you go when we stopped on Neptune!” King Ploobis demanded, whacking his aide hard across the face.

“Sorry your highness,” Scred stammered apologetically, “But it’s not my fault Crichton couldn’t get a rental ship without a…WHOOOOOOAAAAA!”

“Careful of the other icy patch!” everyone called out as the residents of Gorch slipped on the spot Yoda had magically walked over without any problems. Behind them came the residents of Koozebane and the Yip-Yips, who also slipped. “Just be careful, no need to rush in a storm like this,” Kermit told them all, “In through the window there, dinner should be done in the next two hours or so.” He turned to Fozzie next to him. “Boy I’ll tell you, you know you’re doing good when you get these people to come thousands of miles to celebrate the holidays with us,” he told the bear, “Jim would be so proud to see such diversity for peace and love if he were still here.”

“And at least the good thing about this storm is nobody’s going to interrupt our celebration for anything,” Fozzie agreed, trying to catch some snowflakes on his tongue.








Unbeknownst to the large party, the Dry Bandits were at that moment pulling into a large vacant parking garage in Boulderville. Larry glanced around as they reached the third level. The only other cars around were a pair of limos about midway through the structure. He coasted up alongside the two figures in hats, trench coats and dark glasses that were standing beside them. “Top of the morning Ms. Bitterman, Mr. Hopper,” he announced loudly as he climbed out of the cab of his truck.


“Could you not telegraph to the whole world that we’re all here?” Rachel Bitterman hissed at him, “We agreed we would be meeting in secret! Do you have what we asked for?”

“It’s right in the back here, as good as new,” Larry gestured for the Riverbottom Gang to fetch the Baseball Diamond.

“You didn’t have any trouble getting it?” Doc Hopper implored.

“No, no trouble, no trouble at all, Doc,” the Weasel told him, sifting through the junk in the back of the truck.

“Then it’s all set,” the restaurateur looked upward with a grand look in his eyes behind the shades, “Once we pawn the diamond on the black market, Bitterman International and Doc Hopper French Fried Frog Legs will have enough capital to essentially take over the world! We can buy out politicians, control television and film, corner the world market, anything we please, because we’ll be filthy rich!”

“We know that already, boss,” the Lizard told him.

“I’m not talking to you!” Hopper upbraided him, “I’m spelling this all out for the readers! They’ll need to know what our essential goal is so we won’t look one dimensional!”

“So where is the diamond?” Bitterman asked the Riverbottomers impatiently, “You said you had it!”

“Um,” the Snake looked very worried as it threw trash aside with no sign of the package the diamond had been in within sight, “Uh, Miss Bitterman, could you take a bit of bad news?”

“YOU IDIOTS!” Bitterman shrieked at them, “HOW DARE YOU LOSE THE DIAMOND?”

“Drat, she guessed it without us giving any clues!” the Pop-Eyed Catfish groaned. Bitterman grabbed Chuck by the collar. “I’ve been planning this for six months!” she screamed in the bear’s face, “You and your moron squad better find it right now, or you’ll be a rug on my office floor!”

“Does that apply to us too?” Bo asked innocently.

“Yes!” the businesswoman shrieked at him, “I don’t care how you find the diamond, just find it and find it now!”

“Uh, that would be great, except we don’t know where we lost it,” Bo pointed out, “Any ideas, Larry?”

“I know, we’ll retrace our steps,” Larry realized. Without warning he blurted out, ”Top of the morning Ms. Bitterman, Mr. Hopper,” again, and then began walking backwards toward the truck’s cab. “Then I put the truck in park,” he said to himself, starting the engine again. The rest of his group also walked backwards and joined him in the truck, which began driving very slowly backwards out of the garage. Bitterman and Hopper exchanged frustrated glances as their associates left. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted this to them,” the former grumbled.

“No problem,” Hopper began dialing his cell phone, “I’m calling in several specialists just in case they screw up again. We’ll get that diamond yet.”

 

[The Count]

Oh wow... I'm rully liking and loving this!

Fraggle Rock, with Cantus this time, talking to Zachary...
Yoda? Yoda!
Land of Gorch.
Koozbanians and Martians from SS.
Even a reference to Farscape!

And the SS gang, that put a gig ol' smile on my face.
Good to see Big B and Snuffy having fun with the kids sledding outside.

Even loved the villains' moment in the spotlight.
Rully great stuff here, post more please!

 

[Fragglemuppet]

Rully glad you like it Ed. Now if only other people would give it a good readthrough and response.
Heheh, sorry about the misunderstanding. Seems that happens a lot between the two of us...

 

[The Count]

No worries there Kate. Just friendly discussions to get the facts straight. And I do hope others come in and read/post... Though it might be in vain with that FanFic Queen lady and her cohort, a kind of cracker of prawns.

 

[superboober]

Here's #6:



“Und hieren tossen die cranberren huuuup!” the Swedish Chef tossed several cranberries up in the air and smashed them with a mallet, “Wir haar instanten cranberren saucen! Und mur cranberren huuuuup, und mur cranberren saucen. Und mur cranberren huuup…”

“I think you’ve got enough cranberry sauce there,” Emily informed her head cook, pointing to the large bowl of it right in front of him, “If you make any more of it, we’ll be eating it until Memorial Day.”

“Iiff yord sayen,” the Chef shrugged, “Nexten menu itemen roost lobster. Hieren lobster, lobster, lobster.”

He reached into a nearby crate and extracted Polly Lobster from it. Polly took one look at the boiling pot he was carrying her toward and pinched his nose. “OOOOWWWWW, weiden doot that!” the Chef howled, dropping Polly to the table.

“If I wanted to go in a hot tub, pal, I’d have bought one of my own!” Polly told him, “Come on guys, we don’t have to stick around for this dinner!”

Almost a dozen lobsters poured out of the crate, evading the Chef’s attempts to grab them all up. They rushed for the kitchen door, bowling over Rizzo as he came in. “Hey, what is this, the Lobsterapolis 500?” the rat complained, heaving himself back to his feet.

“Ratten alerten!” the Chef started tossing various cooking utensils at Rizzo, forcing him to duck to safety under the sink. “Cut it out!” Rizzo shouted at him, “I just came in to say that Ernie and Bert brought some old Christmas films with them, and they’ll be running them in the theater in ten minutes!”

“There’s a theater in here too?” Alan asked Emily in amazement.

“It was Fozzie’s idea,” the older bear told him, “He thought we could have a specific place to air films and perform this year, just so we could ease overcrowding a little bit.”

“Say, is my cheese cannoli almost done, Mrs. Sinclair?” Rizzo pressed Fran.

“I’m working on it,” Fran told him, “Try to have patience.”

“Have patience? When I haven’t eaten since last night?” Rizzo griped, “If I wanted to have patience, I would have become a doctor.”

“Funny, very funny,” Doc remarked as the rat staggered back out the door with comical hunger exaggeration (he’d joined the cooking staff a half hour earlier at Kermit’s request, as they had still been way behind with the food for dinner), “I could swear the rat could be a better comedian than the bear.”

“Huh?” Fozzie unexpectedly stuck his head in through the door.

“Nothing, nothing,” the inventor waved him off, “Weren’t you telling that joke about the sloth and the construction worker?”

“They heckled me off,” Fozzie pointed glumly at Statler and Waldorf on the sofa, “I swear they never give up, even for Christmas.”

He shrugged and left. No sooner had he left than Grover appeared. “Pardon me,” the monster announced, “But are you still looking for qualified waiters to serve the food?”

“If you have experience, certainly,” Emily said.

“Have I got experience?” Grover’s chest swelled with pride, “You are looking at the finest waiter at Charlie’s Restaurant, Mrs. Bear. When you see me at work, you will know what precision serving is.”

He left the kitchen. “Dr. Honeydew, pass along some of your All-Purpose Tenderizer,” Nigel called to Bunsen, “This stuffing’s hard as a brick.”

“That’s because it IS a brick,” Mr. Macintosh pulled a brick out of the pot in front of Nigel, “I told Oscar to stay out of…”

“Hey, we need a hundred and nine cheeseburgers,” Scred staggered into through the door.

“What do you mean cheeseburgers, pal?” Doc raised his eyebrows, “This is a Christmas dinner; we’re not cooking cheeseburgers.”

“I’ve got the orders right here,” Scred held it up. With his other hand, he pointed around the living room at everyone in it at the moment, “Cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger, cheeseburger…”

“What’s this you’re holding?” Doc yanked a flask out of Scred’s hand, “You’ve been stocking up on the liquor, haven’t you, you uncouth extraterrestrial?”

“Cut me a break, ever since Gorch burned down, I’ve had to hoard,” Scred protested, “Get the cheeseburgers ready; everyone’s hungry.”

He stumbled drunkenly back out the door. “I swear some of these people are even weirder than weird,” Doc confided in Alan, “Heaven help us if he starts doing Samurai Delicatessen.”

Alan grunted in agreement. It was then that the timer on his stove went off, indicating the final batch of cookies he’d put in was done. He pulled them out of the oven and laid the pan next to the five dozen others he’d managed to bake over the last hour. “Those smell wonderful,” Emily complimented him, “You can take a break now; there’s not much left to whip up. You really helped us here a lot.”

“Glad to know I could be of some help, Mrs. Bear,” Alan told her. He took off his apron and strolled out into the living room, where Clifford and the Electric Mayhem were performing on the large stage with Christmas lights all around that they’d erected in the corner. “You will get a sentimental feeling when you hear,” Floyd Pepper was crooning as he strummed away hard on his guitar, “Voices singing let’s be jolly, deck the halls with boughs of holly.”

“Rocking around the Christmas tree; have a happy holidays,” Janice sang out, “Everyone dancing merrily…”

“IN THE NEW OLD FASHIONED WAAAAAAAAYYYYY!” all seven band members on stage sang the finale together, capped by a final saxophone blast from Zoot. A decent applause swept the room from the various people that had been watching the performance. “Brilliant!” Statler proclaimed from his sofa seat in the back.

“Ah, it was terrible!” Waldorf snorted.

“Enlightening!” Statler countered.

“Dismal!” Waldorf grumbled.

“Yeah, it was pretty dismal,” Statler abruptly agreed. No one on stage seemed to notice this dismissal of their talents. “And now for your listening pleasure,” Clifford addressed everyone, “Our friends in the Frogtown Hollow Jug Band would like to play a more contemporary holiday favorite. Hit it, boys.”

He pointed to a smaller stage next to the one they were one. Wendell blew the first few notes of the song across his jug. His band mates joined in after a few notes. “The mood is right,” they all sang together, “The party’s up, we’re here tonight, and that’s enough. Simply having a wonderful Christmastime, we’re simply having a wonderful Christmastime…”

“Ah, nothing perks you up like Christmas music,” came Miss Piggy’s voice from behind Alan. The pig was leaning against the mantle, a bizarre expression of bliss blanketing her face. “Well, I suppose so,” the human agreed, “Although Christmases when I was young weren’t quite so merry, Piggy. You see,…”

“The roaring fire, the brightly-lit tree, the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling,” Piggy leaned across his chest, not paying any attention, “The moment is ripe for romance, as it will be for the frog of my dreams and moi once we finally get together tonight and make beautiful Christmas music together.”

Alan found himself chuckling softly again. “Well, all I can say is, even offstage you’re still a ham,” he remarked innocently.

“WHAT?” Piggy gave him an offended glare, “Don’t talk vulgar to me, buddy! HIIIIIIIYYYAAAAAA!”

She karate chopped him in the chest and skulked off. Susan approached Alan as he doubled over. “Do you need some first aid?” she asked him.

“No, I think I’m all right,” he told her, “She just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

He took several deep breaths and rose upright again. “So, this is the first time you and Mr. Robinson have been here?” he asked her.

“Yes,” Susan informed him, “We may not even have known about it at all. A lot of the people on the street decided to go caroling up in Steelville last year, and they sort of ended up here almost by accident. They said it was the best Christmas they’d had, so we had to come see for ourselves. I do like it; it’s a nice respite from the inner city. I’m surprised you would even be out on the roads today though, Mr. Reiser.”

“Well, we were all so eager to see Alicia again,” Alan told her, “Now with this mess out there, I don’t know if we’ll get the chance. And if what Dr. Leiderkrantz said was true last time, then it may be her last…”

He couldn’t finish. “I know,” Susan looked depressed herself, “It’s always sad to see a terminal illness at the Clinic in kids so young. And Christine’s someone who really didn’t deserve it.”

“Tell me, do you as a nurse see any possibility he might have gotten it wrong to a degree?” Alan had to know, “Any small chance it might not be the end if…”

“I’m sorry Mr. Reiser, but I’m afraid her condition is terminal,” Susan shook her head sadly, “There’s simply no other way around it. One thing you should be thankful for is that you have the insurance for her; half the people I treat don’t have any medical coverage at…AAAAAAAAHHHHH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

For Animal was now leaning into her leg. “WO-MAN, WO-MAN!” the Electric Mayhem’s drummer was yelling loudly.

“GORRRRRDOOOONNNNN!” Susan shrieked. Moments later Gordon came stomping across the room and pried Animal off his wife’s leg. “Get your own woman!” he ordered the drummer.

“Sorry,” Animal shuffled off. It was at this very moment that Christine and Big Bird came in from outside, the latter with snow all over his feathers. “So, did you enjoy sledding?” Alan asked his daughter.

“A lot,” Christine told him. She glanced up at Susan. “Were you talking about what Dr. Leiderkrantz said? Am I going to be all right?”

“Sure you are, sweetheart,” Alan hugged her tight. He glanced at the Robinsons and mouthed, “I just can’t tell her.”

“Well that snow sure is getting a whole lot worse,” Big Bird remarked as he hung his scarf up on the coat rack and shook the snow out of his plumage in front of the fireplace, “I hope Santa’s got strong headlights on his sleigh tonight.”

“So let me get this straight,” Wembley piped up from the fireplace mantle, on which he and the other Fraggles were now sitting enjoying the songs, “At the top of Outer Space there lives a Silly Creature who dresses all in red and flies through the air to give people presents?”

“Absolutely,” Big Bird said.

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Red grumbled, “Flying reindeer? I mean look at them,” she pointed a reindeer on one of the stocking hung by the fireplace, “I’d believe a Doozer could fly more easily than those things. And how does he manage to get around the whole world in a single night?”

“I’ve got some theories,” Rugby spoke up from under the tree, where he and several other familiar toys were lying unwrapped, “Of course, since I was wrapped up the whole time, I can’t verify anything, but…”

“Well, we might find out for sure tonight,” Big Bird proclaimed, “I’m going to check out the chimney later tonight and find out for sure how it works.”

“Now Big Bird,” Gordon admonished him, “We had an agreement you would not go running off trying to prove something you don’t have to again.”

“But Gordon, this is different this time!” the canary protested, “You’ll know exactly where I am! And I’ll take an extra…!”

Kermit appeared at that moment in the doorway the hotel section of the house. “The film will be starting in three minutes,” he announced over the megaphone he was holding, “Everyone who wants to reserve a seat come and……AAAAAAHHHHHH!”

The frog was run over by a mass stampede of people running for the theater. “Sheesh, if I’d known they wanted to see it that badly…” he commented.

“What exactly’s on the film?” Christine asked Kermit, helping him up.

“Bert and Ernie won’t tell me, they say it’s a surprise,” Kermit explained, “I think you’ll like it though.”

The frog walked up the stairs to the projection booth at the top of the theater. Inside Bert was almost done threading the film into the projector. “How long’s this supposed to last, you guys?” he asked them, “Not to complain, but as you know, some of these people can be antsy if something goes on too long.”

“About ten, fifteen minutes, I guess,” Ernie shrugged, “I think we were able to find about six or seven good sequences to put in this.”

“That should do it right, I think,” Kermit nodded. He took hold of the microphoneinside the projection booth. “Everyone seated and ready?” he asked everyone filing into the auditorium, “Is Animal all chained up?”

“WHOOOOAAAAA!” came a loud cry from the front row as Telly, who’d been unlucky enough to get a broken seat, fell forward, spilling the popcorn he’d brought with him everywhere. Next to him, Oscar snickered. “This is no time for fall, Telly,” he derided the monster, “Winter already started a few days ago.”

“I don’t get it, Oscar,” Telly looked puzzled.

“You wouldn’t,” the grouch told him. “Could you two goofballs start this up so we can get it over with?” he shouted up impatiently at the booth.

“Film all set, Bert?” Ernie asked his friend.

“All ready to go, Ernie,” Bert closed the cover over the film and put his thumb by the start switch.

“Quiet in the room,” Kermit called out over the microphone, “Dim the lights and roll it, Bert.” Moments later after the countdown on the film had run its course, the frog shrieked in shock and jumped in front of the projector lens as a picture of several deer and the words STAG REEL appeared on the screen. “Don’t anyone look!” he cried out, “Ernie, I thought this was a holiday film?”

“It’s on here somewhere; let me see that, Bert,” Ernie pushed his roommate aside and turned the projector’s dial ahead. “Hey, this is neat,” he exclaimed, pointing at the images shooting by on the screen very rapidly, “It’s almost more entertaining than this would be at normal speed. We should watch it like this.”

“Ernie, you’ve gone past it!” Bert cried, “Go back!”

“If you say so,” Ernie rewound the tape. “I like this device,” he remarked, “Just think, we can go back and forth,” he abruptly turned the film forward again at high speed, “Back,” he rewound it again, “And forth, back and forth, and the picture looks kind of funny too.”

“Will you cut that out Ernie,” Bert shouted at him, “You’re going to wear the film out and break the projector!”

“But this is so much fun, Bert, back and forth, back and forth, we should do this back on Sesame Street to demonstrate forward and backwards,” Ernie said in self-defense. It was at this moment that the film broke. Smoke poured from the projector. “EERRRRRRRRRRNNIIIEEEEEEEEE!” Bert screamed at him, “Now you’ve gone and done it! We can’t show the film now!”

“Relax Bert, I brought a spare projector just in case,” Ernie walked to the back of the booth and hefted an identical projector, with the film already in place. “You did?” Bert frowned, “You mean you just did what you did DELIBERATELY?”

“Oh well, as long as the film itself still works,” Kermit helped pushed the wasted projector aside and the new one into place. “Rolling,” he called out loud, flicking on the switch himself. For a few seconds the screen remained white. Then a dog sled ran toward the camera, with the viewpoint zooming in on the large number 1 on the musher’s chest. When it filled the screen, a drum roll began, which precipitated two consecutive 10 counts on psychedelic backgrounds. “One two three four five six seven eight nine ten,” counted a woman’s voice over a hand counting along with her.

“Wait, haven’t we seen this before,” Kermit frowned, “This ran for years and…”

“No, it’s the special holiday version you never saw before,” Ernie corrected him, “Remember how there were never versions for number 1? They were supposed to be run in December. Watch.”

The screen now featured a single tap-dancing snowman. It strutted sideways and fell off a cliff, falling apart as it did so. Some of its snowflakes morphed into a white bird, which flew up out of frame as the woman laconically buzzed, “One,” several times. The sun rose up from below and immediately “froze” into a crescent moon. It then started spinning around and became a large snowball, which rolled down a hill. “Oooooonee!” the woman cried out on the soundtrack one more time as the snowball hit an ice wall and transformed into a large blue 1. Two more 10 counts rolled, followed by the ten familiar spies opening their coats to the tune of, “One two three four five six seven eight NIIIINE, TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!”

“Lame!” Statler yelled from the front row once the numbers had enlarged to black out the screen.

“Boring!” Waldorf concurred.

“Completely tripped out!” Statler added.

“Well, at least they didn’t edit it for no reason,” Waldorf reasoned.

“Yeah, good point,” conceded Statler.

The next film appeared on the screen. This one was a live action piece that featured several children of all ethnic backgrounds hanging holiday decorations around an urban neighborhood to the tune of “Feliz Navidad.” “Stupid!” Oscar could be heard yelling at the screen in front row, “This is a 5 Phooey flick for sure!”

“Well I like it Oscar,” Telly remarked, rocking back and forth along with the song as the children started decorating a makeshift Christmas tree, “I’d give it four Wows.”

“Yeah, well this isn’t Sneak Peak Previews, and thus you can’t give out Wows,” Oscar reminded him, “So it’s trash and thus Phooeys.”

“Wows.”

“Phooeys.”

“Wows.”

“Phooeys.”

“Will you two cork it!” Kermit shouted down over the microphone, causing everyone in the theater to turn upwards and whisper, “SSSSSHHHHHHHHH!” at him. “Boy, rough crowd,” the frog shrugged, backing away from the window.

The next segment started. “One,” whispered a quartet of female singers, followed by the shot of an arm pulling back the handle of a familiar pinball machine. “One two three four five, six seven eight nine ten, eleven twelve,” the singers announced out loud as the pinball rolled down into play.

“I can see why Silly Creatures end up being silly,” Boober commented from the middle row, “Watching things like this all day can turn your mind to rot.”

“Well I find it enlightening, little Boober,” Mokey told him. She drew a quick picture of the inside of the pinball machine just before the ball disappeared down the hole to the segment of the day, “Although I have no clue what this is supposed to mean, I can see high artistic quality in it. If we can figure out how this works, we could do this back in Fraggle Rock.”

“You’d have to capture that magical beam of light,” Matt pointed up at the projector’s light streaking toward the screen, “The silly creatures lock the picture inside of it. I noticed that when I saw one of these things about a Silly Creature that dresses up like a flying rodent to deter evil a few months back. Very strange.”

“Speaking of strange Uncle Matt, what is that strange round thing supposed to be doing?” Gobo gestured at the film. The pinball was rolling across an Arctic environment. It rolled underneath a seal, causing it to clap its flippers. Then it knocked down a row of penguins as the singers proclaimed “One,” together. The ball then tapped a polar bear, which made a leaping motion onto its hind legs, and ricocheted into a hole in the ice. A whale surfaced and spouted the ball into the air, where it landed in the back of Santa’s sleigh flying overhead. The jolly old elf picked it up and dropped it down through a chimney below and out of play.

“Absolutely nothing,” Matt informed his nephew as the pinball finished its run by rolling up the exit ramp, “This is another strange thing that silly creatures do for entertainment; they shoot those metal balls around a box for no reason at all. You would have to see it to believe it. Now what have we here?”

A British flag filled the screen. It pulled back to reveal the words MONSTERPIECE THEATER. The seen faded to a familiar study. “Good evening, and happy holidays, me Alistair Cookie,” said the host, puffing away on his pipe, “Welcome to Monsterpiece Theater. Tonight, in time for Christmas, we present holiday classic, ‘Miracle on 34th Street.’ Me not seen it yet, but me know it take place on 34th Street. And now, ‘Miracle on 34th Street.”

“Me superstar!” the real Cookie Monster applauded from the back row, “Thanks Ern.”

Ernie leaned out the booth window and gave his friend a thumbs-up. On screen now, the Count was leaning against a signpost when a generic businessman came up to him. “Pardon me sir, but can you direct me to 34th Street?” he asked him, “I need to find a miracle there.”

“You have come to the right person,” the vampire proclaimed, “I, Count von Count can easily count you up to 34th Street. Now, we are here at 1st Street. Follow me this way,” he led the man to the right, “And here we are at 2nd Street, and if we go further, 3rd Street, and further…”

“Is this going to go on forever?” Oscar shouted out loud, “Because I already can’t stand it!”

“I like that grouch,” Waldorf asided to Statler, “He’s our kind of guy.”

Finally the Count and his associate reached 34th Street. “Thirty-four, thirty-four marvelous streets, ah ha ha ha ha ha!” the vampire laughed, causing the prerequisite thunder and lightning to crash. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” the man with him grimaced, ducking low to avoid a direct lightning strike, “Now I need to find that miracle.”

“I see it,” the Count announced.

“You do, where?” the man asked him.

“Right in front of us, there are more streets before us!” the vampire gushed, “We can count them all! Come, let us count. Thirty-five, thirty-five beautiful streets! Thirty-six, thirty-six marvelous streets! Thirty-seven….!”

“And there you have it, ‘Miracle on 34th Street,’” Alistair Cookie told the audience, “From all of us at Monsterpiece Theater, we wish you merry Christmas, and all those other holidays too.”

He devoured his pipe as the end music came up. A new laugh filled the air in the second row at this, one that hadn’t been heard before. Alan turned to his right. “So you actually liked that, Zack?” he asked his son, relieved to have heard the laughter; it had been so long since Zachary actually had laughed at anything.

“Well, sort of,” the boy said quickly, apparently embarrassed to a degree that he’d given away his feelings.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about at all,” his father hugged him close, “I’m glad you’re enjoying a little bit of this. Are you making friends with some of the people here?”

“They’re nice,” Zachary told him, “But I still miss Mom.”

“I know,” Alan rubbed his hair, “But I’ll bet she’s at the airport right now, waiting to get on the plane here. You don’t have anything to worry about, trust me.”

 

[The Count]

To quote the Queen of Fanfiction herself...
I hug this story! So much goodness in this chapter alone, too much to go over right now.
Will come back, promise.

Thanks and keep posting!

 

[The Count]

Nagging, only in the hopes of getting more of this wonderful story.

 

[superboober]

OK, in that case here comes #7 down below:




“But I’m telling you, I need to get back East as soon as possible!” a frustrated Alicia Reiser was screaming at the purple woman manning the Cross-American Airlines desk at LAX behind a nametag labeled HELLO MY NAME IS MILDRED, “I’ve waited all week for this flight, Mrs. Huxstetter, it just can’t be cancelled!"

“Let me punch up the airport listings on the computer here,” Mildred donned a boxing glove and punched the keyboard literally several times, “Ah yes, here we are, it says here all flights headed out over the Rockies are ordered grounded until further notice until the storms back East clear up.”

“How about a rental car then?” Alicia proposed desperately, “I can drive back and maybe catch a train in Denver or somewhere. What have you got?”

“How about a compact?” Mildred proposed.

“If you’ve got it, sure, let me see it,” Alicia told her.

“All right, here’s the compact,” Mildred held up a compact mirror. “Forget it, just forget it!” Alicia groaned, “I’ll go find someone who can genuinely help me!”

“Your plane ticket’ll expire if you fail to get on the plane a half hour before it eventually does take off,” Mildred called after her. Alicia didn’t pay attention. Her mind was racing with terrible thoughts. She knew the rest of the family had been so looking forward to seeing her again, and after months in business meeting after business meeting with no permanent job offer, she felt the same. She had felt reluctant to go out west at first, as had Alan, but they had agreed it was for the best to keep providing food for the children. Looking back now, she considered it a terrible decision; nothing had really been gained from it, and she missed everyone terribly. Now if only the fates would cooperate and give her a smooth ride back home.

“Psssssst,” came a hissing voice from the bathrooms. Alicia turned to see Lefty standing there, gesturing for her to join him. Reluctantly she followed him into the ladies’ room. “You know, you can’t come in here,” she told him once they were inside.

“I always come prepared,” Lefty put a blond wig on his head. “Now, I see you’ve been having some trouble with Cross-American,” he whispered, “Would you like to buy…” he stopped for a moment as another woman entered the bathroom, then started speaking again in a feminine falsetto, “…want to buy a plane ticket?”

“You’ve got one?” she was amazed.

“I’ve got it right here,” Lefty opened his trench coat. Alicia frowned. “There’s nothing in there, buster,” she told him sternly.

“It’s an invisible plane ticket,” Lefty said. After the other woman had walked out of the bathroom, he returned to his normal voice. “For Christmas I’m offering a half off discount sale; it’s yours for an invisible five dollars.”

“An invisible five dollars? And you call yourself an astute businessman?” Alicia was appalled, “Forget it, there’s better offers in this airport that that!”

“OK, how about for an invisible quarter?” Lefty proposed. Alicia pulled his hat down over his eyes in disgust. “How about I call the invisible police on you?” she grumbled, “Go find someone else to pick on!”

“Invisible credit card?” Lefty continued trying to make a sale as she walked away, “Guaranteed zero percent invisible credit for six months. I except all non-existent brand names.”

Again Alicia paid no attention. She trudged over to the Cross-American concourse and slumped down in a seat next to numerous other stranded travelers. Out the window, she could clearly make out airline crews walking away from their planes in anticipation of the eastern shutdown. The entire wing of the airport was quickly becoming a ghost town outside.
“Well, at least it can’t get worse than this,” she thought to herself, “I hope Alan and the kids aren’t stranded themselves because of this.”





“It’s a night of laughter and excitement tonight on ABC, the Antediluvian Broadcasting Company,” the announcer on the television announced over a shot of a pterodactyl airplane taking off, “First, on the movie of the week, just when they thought their travel problems were all over with…”

“We’ve left Kevin cave alone!” shrieked an ancient dinosaur on respiratory aid aboard the plane, “He’s only seventy-three!” This was followed by a close-up of an equally old dinosaur with a hunched back and white beard slapping his hands to the side of his head and screaming. “And this time,” the announcer continued, “It’s really personal.”

“You know, I never got why they decided to keep this going after part 5,” Robbie remarked to everyone else gathered around the television, “There’s really no reason to have made any more except to make the executives rich.”

“Meanwhile, we’re still going strong after six films and counting,” Gonzo said with pride, “I think.” On screen, two more even older dinosaurs in electric wheelchairs inched toward the stairs. “This time you’re really dead meat, kid!” one of them hissed.

“I don’t think so,” “Kevin” called from the top of the stairs. He pressed a button on the railing, which set off land mines all throughout the lower level and blew the intruders sky high. “Yes!” he pumped his fist in excitement…only to go into a coughing fit and have to reach for a breathing mask. “It’s Cave Alone 9: Cancun Holiday,” the announcer said, “Then at nine, gather the kids for the Ask Mr. Lizard Holiday Special.”

“Oh I’ve just been waiting all December to see this one!” Fozzie was excited to see the promo, in which Mr. Lizard had his latest “Timmy” standing before a Christmas tree with at least a million lights on it. “Hey Mr. Lizard, how much electricity is this tree generating?” the eager young dinosaur asked.

“You’ll probably find out by sticking that water-soaked metal rod you’re holding into the outlet, Timmy,” Mr. Lizard gestured to the outlet in the wall, which had at least twenty plugs inserted into it, “Just let me get behind these boxes here.”

He ducked to safety. Timmy shoved the rod into the outlet—and within seconds was violently electrocuted as the whole wall short-circuited and exploded. Once the smoke had cleared, Mr. Lizard glanced at the wreckage around him, and then turned to the camera and announced, “We’re going to need another Timmy!”

“And at ten, Edward R. Hero takes a closer look at corporate Pangaea and its blindsiding of the public come the holidays on 20,000,000/20,000,000,” the announcer went on, “The fun starts here tonight at seven, only on ABC.”

“It’s easy to see why they’re back up in the ratings again,” Earl remarked, switching the channel to DNN, “It’s really exciting television again, am I right, Roy?”

He turned to his friend, who was sound asleep on the couch and snoring loudly. “Oh well,” Earl shrugged, “I guess a nice warm fire puts him to sleep. It’s all part of being cold-blooded.”

“Warm fire, Dad?” Charlene called from the fireplace, where, even though she was still wearing every one of her coats, she was still visibly shivering, “I’m still freezing my tail off in this place! Somebody crank the heat up in here!”

“We can’t crank it up further or we’ll burn half the wall down,” Scooter told her, “Think you’ve got enough coats on?”

“I knew I should have sneaked onto the plane to Hawaii!” Charlene grumbled under her breath, “At least I could have found a cave with those Snupple-Up-whatever-they’re-called and stayed warm!”

There was a loud strangled cry from the kitchen. Sam came running up, with the Baby hanging from his neck, whaling away at his skull with a frying pan. “Mr. Sinclair, you have clearly done a pathetic job raising this child!” the eagle gasped between breaths, “He is malicious and thoroughly un-American!”

“Gotta love me!” the Baby chuckled, releasing the phone cord. “Gimme remote, Daddy, time for Smoo Show!” he pleaded Earl.

“There will be no watching the Smoo Show,” Sam scolded the child, “The Smoo Show is immoral and a prime example of the degrading of values on television.”

“You’re a weirdo,” the Baby told him. Sam looked like he was ready to scream. “Mrs. Sinclair, please, take this child back, he’s driving me to consider jumping off a cliff and not trying to move my arms!” he pleaded Fran as she bustled by.

“I’m busy,” Fran told him, “And you’re doing quite well with him so far. Why don’t you take him for a skate on the pond?”

“You heard her, feather boy, gimme skates!” the Baby told Sam, who let out a low moan before trudging toward the door. “Earl, don’t just sit there all night.” Fran scolded her husband, “All of us need to pitch in to help here.”

“I’m doing me part, Fran,” Earl said in self-defense, “I’m making sure the couch here stays warm for anyone who wants to sit here later tonight.”

“Yeah, that is the only thing someone with so much fat in your brain can do effectively, fat boy,” Grandma Ethyl wisecracked as she zipped by in her wheelchair. Earl shot his mother-in-law an offended look. “All right, if you want me to do more, I could push down another tree in the woods back there for the front yard, make everyone so happy,” he sighed in resignation.

“Do we really need to sacrifice even more trees, Dad?” Robbie asked him with concern, “I mean, just looking around on the way here, I can’t even begin to guess how many trees were lost this month to be decorated in each house. If wee keep knocking them down at this rate, soon we won’t have any more trees left at all.”

“The things they teach kids in schools these days,” Earl whispered loudly to Kermit next to him on the sofa, “When I was his age there wasn’t this huge backlash against tree pushing.”

Before Kermit could answer, there was another knock on the door, followed by two more thumps. “Careful of the icy patch!” came another round of calls. “Now who could that be?” Clifford shrugged up on the band platform, where he and the Electric Mayhem were now taking a break, “Just about everyone I know’s already here.”

“Not everybody I know,” Kermit strolled over to the door and opened it wide. “Jen, Kira, come on in,” he told the Gelflings outside, “Where’s everyone else that was coming with you?”

“They had to scratch,” Jen told him, stretching his back from the fall, “The storm hit the Labyrinth before they could meet up with us.”

“Now tell me how that’s remotely possible,” Rizzo remarked, taking the Gelflings’ coats, “How can this storm hit there at the same time as here?”

“You’re guess is as good as mine,” Kira shrugged, “Have you got a place for us to put our Land striders for the night? We can’t just leave them out in the storm.”

“We’ve got just the place in fact, Kira; hey Thog,” Kermit called as loud as he could toward the large blue monster at the edge of the parking lot, “Come put these Land striders in the barn when you’ve got the chance.”

“I’d be honored to,” Thog bounded over to the Land striders and waved for them to follow him toward the barn. The snow outside was almost up to the bottom of the farmhouse’s door, and the skies above were still looking formidable. Kermit shrugged as he kicked some of the snow away. Fozzie was right; at least they were all going to be having a nice quiet evening all together. The only other person who would have made it all the more perfect was…

“Kermit, hey Kermit,” Fozzie leaned in over the frog’s shoulder, “Don’t you think you’re dragging the story along a little too much?”

“Dragging the story just by standing here and watching that old Hudson Hornet coming up the road,” Kermit pointed at a black dot entering the parking lot and being directed into place by Doglion in Thog’s absence.

“A hornet, aaaahhhhhh!” Fozzie hit the deck, “Go find a helmet for me! Preferably one under water!”

“Not that hornet, Fozzie, the Hudson Hornet,” Kermit groaned, “As a licensed employee of the Walt Disney Company, you had the chance to go see Cars any time you wanted. Weren’t you in the theater with us?”

“You mean I had a license for Cars?” Fozzie asked, laughing and wiggling his ears once he’d realized he made an inadvertent joke. “So, what I was saying, Kermit,” he went on, “I think the script’s starting to sag a little bit.” He held up a green cardboard script entitled ANOTHER VERY MERRY MUPPET FAMILY CHRISTMAS STORY: FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT BY BOB WRIGHT. “I mean really, Kermit,” the bear went on, “for the last few chapters of this we’ve stumbled from one character to the next with nothing funny going on. It’s time they should give me center stage; I’ll ‘em dead with my great holiday jokes.”

“Well, that would define how the audience would think something was funny, to be honest, Fozzie,” Kermit told him, “Uh, looks like this is last people I invited coming in right now. Fozzie, say hi to Yorick, Harry the Hipster, Mushmellon, Moldy Hay, and all the other members of Jim’s first troupe when I first joined him fresh out of the swamp. That’s right, you all go inside here and just be careful of the….”

The frog’s old performing troupe all became the latest victims of the icy patch. Kermit shook his head in dismay. “Never mind,” he mumbled, helping Moldy Hay to his feet, “Dinner’s almost done in the ballroom.”

“Tell me you cooked up some chicken,” Yorick chattered his teeth eagerly, “I love roast chicken.”

“Noop,” the Chef stuck his head out a nearby door, “Wir didn’t mentone any chickenen dinner. Oonlesss….”

His gaze immediately fell on Camilla nearby. “Oh no you don’t!” Gonzo shouted, jumping between the Chef and the chicken, “And you’re not to harm any other chickens here tonight either! That’s my terms!”

“Drat!” Yorick grumbled, “Oh well, as long as there’s shrimp…”

“Shrimpen?” the Chef mused. It was at that moment that Pepe strolled into the living room. “Has anyone seen my snowflake sweater, OK?” he called out to anyone who cared to listen, “I thought I left it in the front…what? Don’t look at me like that, OK!”

For the Chef was now looking at the prawn strangely. “Cummen to papparn,” he announced, drawing a meat cleaver and running toward Pepe. “Help, police, lawyer!” Pepe shrieked as he ran for his life. Kermit shook his head. “Well anyway,” he told the new arrivals, “In the meantime you’ll find some hot chocolate on the table here in the den.”

“No there isn’t, there’s nothing here but empty cups!” Icky Gunk protested, “Looks like some dinosaur took it; I can make out her claw marks right here.”

“Say no more,” Kermit trudged wearily into the living room. “Charlene, those hot chocolates were for all of us!” he upbraided the Sinclair’s daughter, who was downing several cups of the drink as he spoke.

“You should know it isn’t easy to stay warm when you’re cold-blooded!” Charlene protested, leaning her back almost right up against the fireplace, “I need as much of these hot chocolates every chance I get! Tell Mom and the others in the kitchen we need more.”

“We can’t; we cooked up all the excess food for dinner and snacks,” Kermit informed her, “If you really want it that bad, I could try to arrange a trip into town for some more, but only if the snow holds off.”

“And while you’re there, arrange an overnight flight to Jamaica for one,” Charlene told him, “Because as I may have said, I can’t stand any more of this freezing cold weather!”

“That and how many other things?” Robbie smirked behind his sister, ignorant of the fact he too was dressed in at least three coats inside the house.

“Hey don’t you butt into this conversation, Rob!” Charlene threatened him. She brushed by him, wrapped her five fur coats tightly around herself, all the while muttering, “Maybe if I stood by the furnace down in the basement…” Kermit shook his head. “I hope she’s not going to ruin all the holiday cheer by complaining about the cold,” he confided in Robbie.

“Fat chance, she was up in arms the moment we left town and everything got abruptly colder,” Robbie told him, “I thought it would be great to observe a colder Christmas for a change, though. Spike’s right to a point, I’ll tell you; snow is intrinsically beautiful. Now if we dinosaurs could just get past the fact that, like Charlene pointed out, we’re all cold-blooded, we could try and have a cold-weather Christmas one of these years—as long as it doesn’t throw the ecosystem out of balance.”

“If you guys don’t throw yourself down the extinction hole, you’d make a great elder some day, Robbie,” Kermit commended him, “Come on, I think dinner’s almost ready.”
“But Kermit!” Fozzie ran frantically after the frog, “We haven’t discussed changing a couple of my scenes yet!”



“And then we turned left,” Larry turned the truck to the right—backwards. They had driven backwards since they’d left the Bitterman Tower parking garage, to the detriment of the few drivers still on the road, in an effect to retrace their steps and recover the Baseball Diamond. “And then we swerved to avoid the ditch,” he did just that, “And then I chewed Weasel out for saying I drove like his stepmother,” he made obtuse shouts at the Weasel, “And then I glanced out the rearview mirror and realized…we’re lost.”


“We didn’t say that the first time over, Larry,” the Snake told him.

“No, I mean, just now, we’re lost,” Larry said glumly.

“Maybe we could try Hare Krishna?” the Lizard unexpectedly suggested. Growling, Chuck kicked his associate in the shin. “Stay out of this!” the bear snarled, “OK, where should we have turned?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Larry yelled at him in frustration, “Every single sign out here’s covered in a foot of snow!”

“All right, let’s not panic,” the Weasel held up his hand, “Maybe if we go forward a little bit we’ll be able to go back again.”

“But if we go back, then we won’t be able to go forward,” Bo told him.

“On the other hand,” the Weasel countered, “Going back to go back means we can go forward—unless we have to go back to go forward, and then backing back will mean forward progress….”

“SHUT UUUUUUPPPPPPPP!” Larry screamed in his face, “You’ve got me completely confused!” He took several deep breaths to calm himself down, then said, “OK, we’ll go up to those crossroads up there and go left.”

“Right,” Bo nodded.

“No, I said left!” Larry couldn’t take much more of this.

“I know, right,” Bo told him.

“LEFT!”

“Right.”

Larry let out an aggravated growl and accelerated forward. He spun the truck sharply to the left…and found it toppling hard into a ditch. “Well, it looks like not going right was wrong,” the Pop-Eyed Catfish remarked.

“Let’s face it, we’ll never get that diamond back!” the Snake lamented, lifting its tail to its face.

“We’re not dead yet,” Larry dialed his cell phone, “There’s nothing that says we can’t call a tow truck.”

“But I don’t want any toes!” the Lizard protested, immediately regretting this as everyone started whaling away at him.




“Well, I’ll tell you that was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time,” Alan told Kermit as they walked out the farmhouse’s back door toward the barn. The storm had completely subsided for a moment, and the sun could be made out setting in the west through some breaks in the clouds.


“And again, sorry that Cookie Monster got carried away and ate all your appetizers,” Kermit apologized for the third time, “I guess he hasn’t eaten all day; that’s really the only times he goes nuts at the table that badly. Anyway, I’m glad you liked dinner. You really did a great job putting it together for all of us.”

“I aim to please,” the man said, stumbling briefly in a hole covered up by the snow, “It was good to be able to see the kids get a strong meal for once. Lately we’ve just been living off subsistence meals, and as you can guess, they’re still hungry afterwards.”

“Well, the last thing we want is to see anyone go hungry,” Kermit said, “I remember Christmas dinner for years, Jim would always make me have more than I wanted. He said the season was the one time we could take pleasure in eating what we want, after we’d taken care to feed those who need it first, of course. Boy were those the days.”

A nostalgic look grew over the frog’s face. “I remember this one Christmas morning after they’d all opened their presents,” he went on, “Cheryl put on this princess outfit she’d gotten and got me to play the King of Eight with her. She did each one of the princesses while I handled the King. She didn’t tell me that she and Lisa were conspiring to hit me with the giant 8 marker instead of Brian, who was playing the messenger. Once I regained consciousness, I made a whole long speech about how I didn’t like things going off script. I was pretty upset at the time, but I can laugh about it now. Those were the moments, when his kids were all young, that you wish could last forever.”

“Yeah, you always do like to hang on to the innocent times,” Alan shook his head, missing his own childhood dearly, “That’s why I feel guilty that Zachary and Christine can’t have enough fun with me out of work. I try and do what I can with them, but I keep feeling it’s not enough, that they’ll never be happy under my watch.”

Giddy laughter came from inside the barn. “Well, I’ve found there’s always something that’ll make a child happy, and it can happen when we least expect it,” Kermit said, opening the doors. The barn was filled already with numerous sheep, chickens, pigs, and other animals. The stalls on the left side of the building had been hastily converted into makeshift rooms for the large monsters who had been, Alan had learned from Emily, unable to get rooms of their own do to the small size of the rooms Biff and Sully had built. Indeed, at this moment Sweetums was in one of them, reading the newspaper. And in the one on the far right, the Reiser children were resting on the back on a laying-down Snuffleupagus, listening to Fozzie telling some of his jokes. “So here’s another one I’m going to open with the next time we go on the air,” the bear said, leaning against a pile of hay bales, “Why was the lime afraid of the letter S? Because he didn’t want to get s-limed! Wokka wokka wokka, aren’t I funny!”

“You still are!” Christine was breaking completely up with laughter, although apart from her brother, few others in the barn were. “I think you still need a little practice, Fozzie,” Kermit told him.

“Oh,” Fozzie quickly suppressed a disappointed look, “Well, I was just telling the kids how I would come back here when I was their age and practice being a top-flight comedian, so that one day I’d been the best one in the world.”

“And you’ve still got a long way to go, bud,” T.R. Rooster chuckled from the rafters. Fozzie gave the rooster an insulted look. "You don't think that's funny?" he asked, "All right then, did you ever hear the one about the king who put the candle in the suit of armor?"

"HE GOT A KNIGHT LIGHT!!" everyone in the barn blurted out the punchline. Fozzie put his head in his paws. "It's just not fair," he mumbled.

“Well, anyway, I’ve got a couple of announcements to make, guys,” Kermit announced around the barn, “First off, I checked the kitchen, and we are officially out of food, so Buster, Leroy,” he told the horse and donkey lying in the hay nearby, “Once we finish the first couple of carols, we’ll need you guys to take us into town.”

“I could take you,” Snuffleupagus raised his snuffle.

“Well, I know you could, Snuffleupagus, but I think most people would tend to want to call the army and demand some shock and awe if they saw you walking up the street, even in a snowstorm,” Kermit informed him, “And second, since the weather’s going to be clear for a little while, we’re going to have a hockey match out on the river, so if any of you wants to join in, Bob’s taking names in the den for the next ten minutes or so.”

He started to walk out. Alan helped his children up off Snuffleupagus. “That sounds like fun, want to do it?” he asked them.

“Not really,” Zachary shook his head.

“And sit around watching everyone else have fun?” his father had to ask him, “I’ll be playing with you.”

“He’s got a point there, Zachary,” Snuffleupagus hauled himself to his feet, “It would be a shame to let life completely pass you by. Go on out and have some fun. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

 

[The Count]

That's some good stuff there.

Don't particularly care for the Dinosaurs, but that's just me.
The scene with the criminals will probably have others laughing with delight.
Rully liked the scene in the barn though, and the subtle references throughout the story.
Shame the Labyrinth gang have to miss out though.
And the character's name is "Mushmelon", if that helps.

Looking forward to more, post soon please.