Comin' Back

[Redsonga]

I'm not very well read with other fics here

 

[Fragglemuppet]

Ah, I didn't understand that she had closed the portle either. At first I didn't know what she was doing, then, when it was mentioned that the blueprints now matched reality, I thought she had indeed destroyed the rock! Then at her last line I wasn't sure.

Oh, and Red, you really ought to read some of the other stories here! They're rully great!

 

[RedPiggy]

Moulin used her magic water from Moraine to alter the pipe routes and close off that particular portal so humans wouldn't be able to mess around with the Rock and threaten the Fraggles. I still don't get how a muncipal supply of water can get water for the Gorgs, who live God knows where. Unless not all the pipes were made by humans. But, if they were made by some other type of being ... wouldn't that be seen as odd by human utility companies? And there's more than one pond in the Rock. There's the swamp ... fresh water doesn't seem to be that hard to find.

 

[RedPiggy]

I Can’t Come Up with a Chapter Name

Ma Gorg, her ample blonde hair pulled up into a bun, patted her husband’s furry gray-blue hand as he lay in bed. He had kept his squinty eyes closed for the better of the morning. Her pale lavender face with the upturned nose was slack. She had been at his bedside all night long and she was near exhaustion. She struggled to keep her eyes open.

Pa groaned. He clutched at his right leg. His voice was gravelly with age. “Oh, this ol’ war wound….”

Ma sighed. Her voice, though weary, was melodious. “Oh, Husband and Retired Caretaker of the Universe,” she cooed, “surely it cannot be all that unpleasant?” She continued with a much sharper tone. “Besides, yesterday it was your left leg.”

Pa opened his eyes and glared at her. He had not trimmed his long sideburns or the long shaggy hair on the back of his fuzzy head for days. “Don’t tell me where I hurt, woman!” he protested. “I’m one-thousand and ten years old! I think I know where I hurt!”

She patted him on his arm patronizingly. “Of course you do, dear.” She put both hands on her hips as she sat on a small wooden stool from the living room. “Honestly, you act like you’re about to keel over.”

Pa whined. “But, Ma – you know as well as I do I haven’t been feeling the burning wildfires of youth lately! Cut me some slack, will you, my dear?” He tried to sit up, but fell back down on his pillow. “Where’s Junior? I … I want to talk to him! I’ve still got advice to give!”

Ma shook her head and rose from her seat, standing almost twenty feet tall. “I am not sending for our Loving Son and King of the Universe, Pa,” she replied. “He’s heading to a meeting with the Royal Court of All That Is. I am not bringing him home just so you can worry him with all your depressing whimpering.”

Pa screamed as he sat up despite his pain. “Drat and Deuteronomy, Mother!” He paused to massage his leg. “I am not whimpering! I may not be the oldest Gorg in existence … but I am leaving this world soon!”

“You’ve said that for half a century!” Ma shot back, though her voice began to waiver.

“It’s true, Mother!”

Ma stared at her husband. They had been married for 537 years, and all this time he had tried to get out of doing many of the things a Gorg King should do. Sure, he had been a loving husband and a devoted father … but he couldn’t fool her. He was a coward.

Still, he usually whined like this to get out of work, which he usually turned over to his ever-eager son.

But, Junior wasn’t here.

Ma sighed again. “Fine. Let’s assume for the sake of argument that you really are unwell. I have given you every remedy noted in the Book of Gorgs. Something should have worked by now.”

Pa whimpered, lying back down, unable to sit for more than a few minutes. His tone was that of resignation. “Remedies only work if you can get better at all, Mother,” he noted sadly. “I can’t get my legs to stop hurting. It’s starting to creep up my back, too.”

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

“Okay, wait a minute!” Wembley screeched in the Storyteller’s ear (well, Fraggles didn’t have visible ears, but, whatever). He wore a loose white button-down shirt with banana tree with sunset patterns on it. He had light green skin and blond hair, a long nose, and a blond belubeous (the puffy tuft of hair at the end of their tail). Fraggles were, in general, two-feet tall.

“What’s the problem?” the Storyteller replied. She had long graying pink hair, golden skin, round purple glasses, and she wore a long red robe.

Wembley huffed and puffed. “Well … well … what is it with you? In the first story, it was so serious even Sidebottom wouldn’t be able to cheer it up, and now you’re going to kill off Pa Gorg?” He screamed, running around in circles, jumping up and down in a huff.

The Storyteller waited until Wembley stopped. Her face was skeptical, her eyelids half closed. “Are you quite finished, yet?” He waited a few moments, bobbed his head from side to side as he tried to decide how to answer, and then he affirmed he was finished. She nodded. “Good. Now, young Wembley, dear, if you can’t handle a story about tragedy, how do you expect to handle the real deal?”

Wembley grunted and shrugged. “Well, it … it isn’t real … is it?” he asked timidly.

“Go ask Gobo. He could tell you whether the pipes from Outer Space changed or not,” the Storyteller challenged. “Besides, you weren’t paying attention. The magical water queen fairy wanted to save Fraggle Rock.”

“No, you were being unclear,” he retorted. “It sounded like she destroyed the whole Rock!”

The Storyteller sighed and shook her head. “But we’re all still here, right? So that obviously didn’t happen! The magical water queen fairy mentioned it was important to save the Rock.”

Wembley groaned. “But, if your story is true, then that first magical water queen fairy is still somehow in our water supply!” He paused, staring at the Storyteller expectantly. “Uh … this is usually where you change the subject and start cooing over Gobo’s Uncle Travelling Matt.”

The Storyteller’s head lowered and she shuffled her feet. Her tail drooped. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said finally. She shrugged. “Let’s change the subject, shall we? Let’s see, where was I…?”

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

Pa Gorg, back in the days when he had just become King of the Universe, sometime in the thirteenth century of what humans called (at the time) Anno Domini (which Pa assumed meant “To dominate a ‘no’”), stared through the small window of his hiding place, which consisted of some ancient human stone ruins. He had been asked by various human kings to help out with a great battle. As King of the Universe, it had been his royal duty to commit himself to helping out other kings.

Many Gorgs had been run off by these awful creatures. Some had supposedly fled to the northernmost regions of several continents. However, without a steady supply of radishes, they would certainly disappear … literally. Pa hailed from what the humans called “Europe”, but with every passing human generation, he felt more and more uncomfortable. They could easily be destroyed if in small groups, since an individual of the species was rarely taller than his knees. However, there were just so many of them now. He had heard of a few Gorgs being tied down and thumped in their sleep by whole armies of the pests.

Pa could hear the roaring battle cry as the fight began. Spears, arrows, horses, swords … the sounds of heavy footsteps and clanging metal made him shudder. There were probably millions of the tiny creatures. The stench of war flooded the entire area. Pa glanced at a parchment he had been given by those who wanted him to be on their side in battle. He shrugged. Something about a “den” – he couldn’t read the sloppy handwriting very well, and some of those human languages were torturous to learn. At least there was a garden there, he mused to himself. Lots of trees, fertile soil, plenty of water from several rivers … in short, it was paradise. According to the legend, no one else lived there anymore. That was fine with him. He’d leave these creatures to their own problems, get a wife, have some heirs to the throne, and call it a day.

And the best part was that it should only be a few weeks’ walk from where he was now.

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

“Argh!” Travelling Matt screamed as he fled the large black and brown “dog”, which had a very powerful narrow jaw that he was definitely not interested in testing for strength. Matt liked to wear a khaki uniform, a pith helmet, and a thin white scarf around his neck. He was the most famous explorer of Fraggle Rock. He was famous mostly for his uncanny ability to find things even when he’s not looking for them. Whereas many saw it as dumb luck, Matt considered it proof of his natural talent and instinct.

He began to wonder just how long this creature could run. He had been chased throughout “Central Park” for nearly an hour now, and he was beginning to feel that burning in his legs that signaled a need to quit running.

But that creature was still very angry….

He felt the creature tackle him to the ground, snarling and growling. The hard path made of some strange type of Silly Creature pour-able rock scraped his beige skin.

He was getting too old for this. Back in his prime, he could outrun any creature, even Gorgs. He was known for his athletic prowess all his life.

And if he didn’t get away now … it might just be his very last expedition.

“Hey! Back off! Woof woof!” bellowed a gruff male voice.

“Go on, shoo!” yelled a much younger and naïve male voice.

Matt could hear the creature who threatened to thump him yip as it was suddenly taken off Matt’s back. He felt two small hands grab him by the arms. He moaned as he was stood up. He glanced around, not focusing on anything in particular. An orange head with red hair and bold black round glasses filled his vision completely.

“Are you okay, sir?” asked the orange head, the owner of the young male voice.

“I said sit!” ordered the gruff voice from further away, which grunted as the cruel barking monster continued to struggle.

Matt tried to focus, but his heart was running away with him. “Gobo?”

The out-of-focus orange head shook. “No….”

“Morris?”

“Uh, the cat, the dance, the game, or the town?”

“The Fraggle,” Matt noted wearily, finally feeling as though he could catch his breath.

The other Fraggle-like being shrugged. As Matt focused on him, he could see that this being had external ears and no tail. Obviously he wasn’t a Fraggle. The creature was about Matt’s height, and wore a lime green jacket over a black shirt and blue pants, the kind Silly Creatures called “jeans”. “Sorry, never heard of him,” the being said casually. His face continued to show intense concern. “Did that Doberman bite you?”

“No, but maybe he was pinched!” shouted the gruff voice dryly.

The orange creature nodded toward Matt’s left. “We can get you to a hospital if you need patching up.”

Matt turned and saw a large rotund brown shaggy dog with long droopy ears and an oval black nose and a broad black-lipped mouth. He stood on his hind legs, unlike the dog being held forcefully by the collar. The upright dog shook his head and grunted with each attempt by the angry creature to escape. “Hey, Scooter … why don’t you take him out of here?” strained the upright dog, though he was nearly slanted back forty-five degrees from the effort to keep the furious dog at bay. “I don’t think I can hold him much longer.”

“Sure, Rowlf,” the orange creature replied, grabbing Matt by the arm and pulling him away briskly.

About a half-hour later, Scooter helped Travelling Matt to a bench. Matt put his elbows on his knees, letting his arms sway next to his legs, which were still aching something terrible. Scooter bit his lower lip and adjusted Matt’s clothes, looking for rips. Scooter stepped back. “Well, it doesn’t look like that Doberman got you,” he noted satisfactorily. “How do you feel?”

Matt panted, his tongue hanging out. “I … I feel … as fragile as … a Doozer stick.” He dramatically flung himself back against the back of the bench. His white sideburns and mustache were dripping wet from sweat.

“A Doozer stick?” Scooter asked curiously.

Matt stopped panting and stared at him in shock. “How can a Fraggle not know what a Doozer stick is?”

Scooter chuckled and snapped his fingers. “Oh! I’m not a Fraggle. I remember now … a couple months ago you guys hung out in the Muppet Theater.”

Matt twitched his nose. “Well, I stayed with the young Master Toby … but, yes, there were some Fraggles in that theater.”

Scooter nodded for Matt to continue. “So … is Fraggle Rock okay now?”

Matt smiled. “Yes, everyone is quite happy with the way things turned out … uh ….”

“Scooter.”

“Yes, Scooter, that’s it.” Matt sighed. “I want to thank you and that upright dog creature for saving my life. That first dog creature was going to eat me!”

“Sorry I’m late!” huffed the aforementioned bipedal brown dog as he finally ran up to them. He put his hands on his knees and panted. After a few moments, he managed to catch his breath. He extended one hand. “Hey, there! Rowlf the Dog. You okay?” Matt nodded. Rowlf nodded too, putting his hand back and shrugging. “I don’t mean to blame the victim … but you really made that dog mad back there. He said you were trying to attack his owner.”

“What!” Matt screamed incredulously. “How dare that snarling beast accuse me of something so … so … unFragglish!” He scoffed. “The nerve!”

Rowlf nodded with exaggerated movements. “Oh, you’re a Fraggle, huh?” He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “No wonder.” He perked up and patted Matt on the knee. “Look, I know you folks don’t know a lot about how this place works, but dogs don’t like it when you hop on their owner’s shoulders and start beatin’ on ‘em.”

“But, but there was a worm creature snaking its way from the dog’s neck to the Silly Creature’s ears!”

Rowlf and Scooter stared at the elderly Fraggle with their mouths open. They couldn’t believe their ears.

“I was only trying to free them both from such a horrible monster!” Matt continued to protest.

Rowlf stroked his chin. “Hm, that Doberman did have a snapped leash, alright. And just about every human has an iPod while they’re joggin’.”

Scooter scooted over to Rowlf and whispered into his ear, “How can anyone confuse a leash and some earphones with a worm?”

Rowlf glanced over at his friend and shrugged. He glanced back at Matt. “Don’t worry about it. It was just some misunderstanding. Why don’t you go with Scooter. I’ll go talk to him and explain what happened.”

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

Ma slapped Pa, making him wince. He rubbed his cheek. “What in blue blazes did you do that for?” he yelled.

Ma pulled back the covers. Tiny dots were swarming all over the fur on his legs, and a long trail of them led to end of the bed, down the leg, and across the bedroom floor.

Ma put her hands on her hips. “You’ve been eating snacks in bed again, oh Perceptive and Intuitive Husband of Mine,” she growled, shaking her head. She stomped off toward the door. “I can’t believe you made me keep watch over you just because you can’t resist chips in bed. If you ate in the kitchen like you should --.”

 

[The Count]

*Huge huggles. Oh, I needed a good fic update. Thank you.
Scooter and rowlf and Matt and Storyteller and...
*Drifts off on thundercloud.

 

[BeakerSqueedom]

EEE! <3 LOVED!
You're really good! <3

 

[RedPiggy]

I know these're supposed to be one-shots, but they're connected. Make sense?

Brains and Brawn

Toby, a young Caucasian man in his twenties wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans, sat at his computer desk, staring at his monitor. He moved the mouse every so often, rotating a virtual three-dimensional image of a solar array. Toby had once been kidnapped in his infancy by a magical being called the Goblin King. In his teenage years, he had ended up heir to the Goblin Kingdom. Now that he was back in the “normal” world, he paid the bills by creating software. His sister (well, step-sister), Sarah, was a top Broadway writer. Her latest hit, “The Comeback of Sir Hubris”, was breaking all the attendance records.

Though he wondered if her success had anything to do with her wish to do so. The Goblin King enjoyed giving her her every heart’s desire. However, both the Goblin King and Sarah would act severely insulted if he insinuated such a thing.

“Meep meep, meep meep meep,” came a high-pitched voice from behind. The tone was one of resigned confirmation.

Toby turned toward the source, a four-foot-tall lanky male in a white lab uniform with pale skin, a tubular head, large white googly eyes, and a large tuft of bright red hair. “Well,” Toby offered, “do we even need the inverter, Beaker? I mean, I don’t think they’re on any kind of grid at all – at least, Sarah didn’t think so.” He pointed at the monitor. “I think DC’ll work just fine.”

“Meep, meep meep meep meep, meep meep meep, meep meep,” Beaker replied, shrugging. “Meep meep, meep meep meep?”

Toby nodded. “Yeah, we can put a battery on it. Do you think we’ll run out of supplies? I mean, this is a pretty big array we’ll have to build. What did Dr. Honeydew say?”

Beaker went off on a long tirade, his tone of voice suggesting boredom regarding Dr. Honeydew’s opinions. He shook his head, continuing his rant with increasing frustration and anger, his finger jabbing forcefully in the air.

Toby’s brows rose, his hands out in a placating pose. “Hey, calm down, dude,” Toby interrupted in a bemused voice. “I wasn’t implying you didn’t have good solutions.” He winked. “I know who the real talent is, okay? Why do you think you’re here?”

Beaker’s narrow mouth went slack. He shrugged. “Meep meep, meep.”

Toby smiled. “Exactly. Don’t get so defensive, Beaker. If this project works out, it will be an amazing accomplishment. We’ll have something to be truly proud of.”

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

Red Fraggle frowned, her knuckles aching. She was trying to climb up the Great Hall again, for about the twentieth time this year. She had managed to climb up about twenty-five feet up the craggly rock walls of the large cave. All anyone could see below her was an orange-yellow dot with a red long-sleeved turtleneck sweater and two fiery red-orange pom-pom-like pigtails, with her tail swaying beneath her. They couldn’t make out her facial expressions (luckily for her). She looked up again: in about ten feet, she’d hit the large stone bricks that marked the beginning of the interior to the Gorg’s well. It would be about another six or seven feet to reach the lip of the well. She would go down in Fraggle history as the only Fraggle to get all the way up to the very top. However, at about the height she was at right now, the cave walls arched into a vaulted ceiling, making it nearly impossible to hang on.

She groaned to herself. If she couldn’t get to the top, she’d at least try to beat her personal best, which was about two feet away. She felt her fingers and toes begin to slip on the beginnings of the dome-like ceiling. She dared not look down: she would be extremely lucky to hit the Fraggle Pond below, but it was only so deep, and she wasn’t sure she would survive the adventure unscathed if she fell.

Far below, a large crowd of Fraggles craned their necks, trying to see if the Fraggle Rock Swimming Instructor would actually pull it off this time. Most of them cheered her on, but a couple here and there started to mutter how messy it would be if she splattered all over the Great Hall floor.

One Fraggle, rather overweight with multiple chins, munched on a clear-white Doozer stick, which was cast from pulverized radishes and flavored with an assortment of different spices and vegetables, depending on the season and the location of the nearest Doozer mill. He had a tangle of brown hair, pink skin, and puffy eyelids. He wore a robe that looked as though it were made of burlap.

As Red continued her climb, the Fraggles began to sing:

Red can climb the highest mountain,
Red can burn those calories,
Red can best the other Fraggles even now!
Red can never worry ‘bout it,
Red can never, ever freeze,
But Red, just think, you might even go ka-pow!

For you might never, ever, ever,
You might never, never, never,
Reach the top,
Of the Gorg well!

“Yes I can!” screeched Red from her perch high above the Great Hall, making everyone laugh.

The overweight Fraggle felt someone tap him on his shoulder. He turned, half-interested, to see a strange “Fraggle” with dark orange skin, glittery eyelids with long black lashes on small googly eyes, bright red braided hair pulled up into a ponytail with a few strands dangling along each side of her face, tiny rounded diamond-pierced external ears, strange red and blue clothes like Silly Creatures wore … and no tail. His eyes widened (as much as they could), his voice surprisingly high-pitched and scratchy, “Who … who are you?”

The strange creature smiled and took out a piece of paper from her pocket. She read from it, her voice a little deeper than Red’s, “Uh, let me get to the point of this letter, here: ‘The Fraggles are invited to an event in Central Park, to test their athletic skills against all types of creatures, including human children. It will be a multi-cultural extravaganza designed to teach each other about different types of athletic events from all around the world. We would be pleased to have representatives of Fraggle Rock join us for this momentous occasion. Signed, Kermit the Frog and Gonzo the Great.’” She looked up, batting her eyelids as small pebbles began to rain down on them. “So, anyone can come, but the letter is addressed to Red and Gobo Fraggle. You know where I might find them?”

The heavy-set Fraggle turned and pointed to the ceiling above them as the Great Hall resonated with the wail of Red as she fell from her perch finally. “Red’ll be here any second,” he told her casually. He glanced over … at nothing but cave wall. He searched for the strange creature, finding her leaping up to a thick vine, lunging off a small cliff, hurling through the air on the vine, weaving one leg around the vine for stability, grabbing at Red with one arm, nearly being pulled off the vine at the weight of the falling Fraggle, and landing with a “Ta-da!” on the large rocky arch on one side of the Pond, Red Fraggle leaning back and forth before fainting and falling to the ground with a “thud”. The obese Fraggle waddled over to the arch and looked up … as everyone else was also staring at the strange new arrival. “That was inspiring! My name is Large Marvin! What’s yours?” A chorus of “Yeah, what is it?” echoed throughout the Great Hall.

Suddenly the female creature shook slightly, her voice quivering with unease. “Uh, the name’s ….”

“Hey, look! A letter!” shouted Red, who had stood up at last, rubbing her head and clutching at the piece of paper. She read it aloud voraciously and gasped with delight. She stared up at the arrival. “This is a great idea! Of course I’ll come! This ‘Central Park’ place is in Outer Space, right? That’s where that frog guy lives.” She started to re-read the letter to herself over and over again.

“Hey, uh, don’t worry ‘bout Red, eh?” said a male Fraggle with an eager voice. He had orange skin and red-purple hair and wore a yellow long-sleeve shirt with red stripes and a brown vest. “She tends to get excited about things like contests and stuff. Are you from around here?” He stared at her when she seemed too intimidated to respond. He chuckled, smiling warmly. “My name’s Gobo. You can come down, you know. We don’t bite.”

The new arrival jumped down with a grunt, dusted off her pants, and grabbed the orange male Fraggle by the hand and shook it, smiling. “Well, I’m not a Fraggle, but my parents lived in caves like this. When they died my brother and I were adopted by a man named J.P.” She lowered her head in embarrassment, her cheeks turning slightly red, which brought out the color of her hair. “Sorry, I keep meaning to introduce myself. My name’s Skeeter. I’m a personal trainer and Olympic hopeful.”

Her response was met with a lot of “oh’s” and “ah’s.”

Gobo stared at her blankly. “What’s an ‘Olympic’?”

Skeeter sighed and reared her head back in thought, as though the answer were written on the ceiling. “Well, the Olympics are a series of major sports tournaments held every four years by humans. They keep telling me I’m too short … but I’m determined to prove I can outperform them all.”

Red frowned. “They’re not letting you compete because you’re shorter than a Silly Creature?” she exclaimed with indignation, her hands on her hips. “What kind of pathetic reason is that?”

Gobo patted Red on the shoulder. “Now, Red, it’s a Silly Creature’s contest – they get to make up the rules.”

Red shoved his hand away. “Well … it’s not fair! Most of those Silly Creatures are lucky to be able to lift themselves out of bed in the morning! I can lift more with my tail than most of them can lift with both their arms!”

Gobo clamped her mouth shut before she could get any more riled up. “Don’t turn this into a fight, Red.” He kept his hand on her mouth while he glanced at Skeeter appreciatively. “We welcome the invitation and consider it an honor to go. Can we bring anyone else or is it just us?”

Skeeter blushed, embarrassed at the problem she created (though her heart picked up a few beats at the thought of finally meeting someone who agreed that she was a victim of discrimination). “Oh, anyone who wants to come can come,” she replied, trying to sound casual and cheerful. “Kermit just knew the names of a few of you, that’s all.” She smiled at Red, who by now had pulled away from Gobo. “You know, Red, if you used a safety harness, you wouldn’t plummet to your doom like that. I could get you some. I keep a bunch at my house.”

Red groaned timidly. “What’s the fun in that?” she asked, her voice barely betraying her own embarrassment.

Skeeter raised an eyelid. “What’s the fun in breaking every bone in your body?” Skeeter shook her head and shrugged. “Well, anyway, I gotta get goin’. See ya around, Fraggles!” she announced, heading back towards the tunnel from which she came, to the cheers of the Fraggle hoard behind her.

 

[The Count]

*Huge huggles. No, a glomp to thee! So Toby understands Beaker's meep-speech? Without the aid of a guinea pig-to-English dictionary? He's not the first... Love that you referenced your own previous story here. Also, another huge glomp for Skeeter! Is that how grown-up Skeeter rully looks like? I know there's an image at Muppet Wiki, but due to my blind batty eyes you know... Red and her are truly kindred spirits, we've thought the latter should be voiced/performed by Karen Prell too. Her and Scooter's parents lived and died in caves like the Fraggles? *Moment of silence... Oh well, I'll keep to the continuity with Sadie Grosse, their mother in ReneeLouvier's Sadie's Stories. You should read those when you can. Got a sense of Red sharing some of Gonzo's wonderlust for daring feats of athleticism, if they can be called that.

Loved it all... Please post moreish!

 

[RedPiggy]

Well, I figure Toby's stint in the Labyrinth prepared him for understanding "unintelligble speech". And, I'd want to reference the previous one, since this is a sequel.

No, I made up Skeeter's look. The image they show on Muppet Wiki has Adult Skeeter in a blue dress IIRC, her hair is a tad longer, she's wearing a broad-rimmed hat, and the ever-present glasses. I gave her a darker tone (since I thought as an athlete she should have a "tan"), ear piercings, longer hair (so she could wear a ponytail), and I gave her eyes and eyelids and lashes. An athlete like her would probably get Lasik or something to keep from breaking her glasses all the time. I would REALLY REALLY like Karen Prell to voice her (which is why I mention it).
EDIT: Yeah, that's how she looks on Muppet Wiki. It seemed so off-putting to me, since she was a tomboy in Muppet Babies. Having her look like a school-marm just made me shudder.

And Skeeter's not averse to daredevil work, at least she won't be in this fic. I mean, she didn't waste any time imitating Tarzan to rescue the falling Red.

EDIT: We'll see a bunch of characters from the Muppets, SS, and FR (at least) in the contest. If anyone's seen Ninja Warrior or that type of show, it'll be somewhat like that .. maybe some "X-game"-type stuff too. I don't have a lot of SS experience, but it will have that type of educational vibe, as well as lots of action and mayhem. As readers of Comeback might recall, it was Wembley's idea to have more community action by the Muppets to improve the city's youth. So, Kermit musta come up with this idea.

 

[The Count]

Um, no. If you mean the version of Skeeter from the book You've Still Got Me, that's not the grown-up Skeeter I'm talking about. In the same article for Baby Skeeter at the Wiki, there's one particular mention of grown-up Skeeter merchandise, an illustrated form of her standing next to Scooter on the promotional sack for Carl's Jr.'s Muppet Parade of Stars figures/vehicles. This is the grown-up form I'd like to know about visually. Why? Well, I found a person who does custom action figure jobs on commission, and I gave him anextra Scooter figure from S3 of Palisades Toys' Muppets line to turn into Skeeter. She'll have longer hair but the top will be braided similar to her brother, eyelashes on the eyeglasses, a female body, and the same clothing as the original figure but painted a lighter yelow for the shirt and darker tones of green and gray for the jacket and jeans respectively, and red sneakers with light yellow laces. Would like to know how the version featured on that one-time official offering looks like to talk to and have my customizer correct the paint job if necessary.

Thanks, sorry for the muffin.
*Leaves a carrot cake muffin behind and hopes for more story to be posted soonish.