Much More to Say, Foolish to Try…
Ms. Bitterman checked her voicemail again for the fifth time today, tapping her long glossy fingernails impatiently on her office desk made of a black metal frame and a glass oval surface.
Nothing.
At least, nothing she wanted to hear. Most were spammy messages about getting a new home mortgage or new credit cards … like she needed those.
Beep.
Ms. Bitterman? The male voice was high-pitched and gravelly. This is your cute, furry pal Grover. I just wanted you to know the very, VERY good news, Ms. Bitterman! I have been counting VERY hard … and J. P.’s debt is almost fully repaid! Is that not nice to hear? I am sure Froggy-baby will be SO happy!
Great, she thought to herself, frowning. How will she extort Kermit now? He was from that overbearing neighborhood, same as Grover. Surely Kermit would have figured it out by now. Then again, she smiled to herself, he hadn’t told her about it. Maybe he still wasn’t aware of his situation.
She frowned again. The little green smear was also too nice to rub it in her face, too.
<><><><><><>
Dance your cares away,
Ain’t got no worries, you say?
C’mon, girl, let’s play,
Right behind that rock!
A baritone upbeat humming filled the tunnel leading to the Gorg’s garden, punctuated by loud cackles to unheard jokes. The sunlight from the Fraggle hole illuminated an approaching pale blue Fraggle with shoulder-length red hair, a multi-colored polka-dotted tank top, a red armband on each wrist, and a red and yellow patchwork cloth hat accessorized with lots of feathers of different colors and sizes. He stopped singing to himself as soon as he saw the taller lavender Fraggle with bluish-white shoulder-length hair, a burlap long-sleeved gown over a bright blue sweater, panting slowly just around a corner. She seemed fixated on the opposite wall, though nothing was there.
“C’mon, Mokey, lighten up!” the smaller male Fraggle exclaimed heartily, slapping her on the shoulder. “A giggle a day keeps the blues away!” He spotted something on her nose. His head bounced up and down as he dramatically surveyed her face. “Mokey,” he said, his voice showing a tinge of concern, “you’ve got rock mites on your face!”
Mokey bit her lower lip, closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and turned to her companion. She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I’m not infested with rock mites, Boober,” she noted in a weary but dreamy high-pitched voice that always managed to soothe those around her.
“Boober” scoffed and shoved her, nearly knocking her over. “Please! Do I look like that awful stick-in-the-mud to you?”
“Sidebottom, I apologize,” she replied in a deeper, sultrier voice. “It’s just I’m having trouble getting radishes today.”
Sidebottom, the quirky “fun” side of Boober, smiled and shrugged. “If I had just put on some crystal dust makeup on my nose, I wouldn’t want it to get filthy either!”
Mokey shook her head, her panting stopping. “It’s not crystal dust either,” she continued in her deeper voice. She inhaled. “How can I put this? They’re just little specks that make going out in the sun very difficult for me sometimes.”
<><><><><><>
The phone had been ringing off the hook all morning long. Scooter had nearly wiped himself out running the Theater while Kermit was busy over in Central Park. He had stayed in his small office room to keep away from all the noisy mayhem that was part and parcel of working at the Muppet Theater so he could have business conversations that didn’t involve lots of yelling and screaming. More than once he had had to apologize to investors and reporters … especially when loud screams were accompanied by the sounds of explosions.
A brief knocking startled him as he had started to fill out some spreadsheets on his computer. It had taken him nearly five years to save up enough for even a low-end desktop, but it sure made his life a lot easier. Paperwork was hard enough without the threat of Animal or someone eating it or using it for the bathroom.
He turned to the door just as it opened. An orange head with long red hair peered out from the doorway. “Fifteen seconds to curtain, Scooter,” a cheerful female voice announced, giggling.
Scooter gasped as his visitor finally came into view, wearing a white short-sleeved T-shirt with sports logos printed on the front and blue jeans and red and white sneakers. “Skeeter?”
Skeeter bounded up to him, embraced him, and kissed him on the cheek. “Yep! Thought I’d come in and say ‘hey’!” She glanced around his office. The room was filled with boxes and computer equipment. “So,” she continued, “you’re the bookworm of the theater group, huh?”
“At least I’m not a dumb jock,” Scooter retorted.
Skeeter stared at him and started laughing, slapping her brother on the back. “Good one!” She wiped away a tear from her eye. “Nice to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor, Bro.”
Scooter stared at his sister in utter confusion. He leaned back against his desk. She would’ve socked him had he said that when they were kids. She seemed … happy. “Uh,” he started, “what brings you to New York?”
Skeeter shrugged, looking around, and finally planting herself on a box near his desk. She looked up at him. “Oh, this and that, you know,” she replied, smiling. “I’m Kermit’s Athletic Director for that thing he’s got later this week.”
Scooter’s face fell slightly. He tried to keep his voice calm and even cheerful. “Since when? Today? Did you just get in?”
Skeeter’s eyes widened. “You … he … he didn’t …?”
Scooter shook his head and turned toward his computer. “Musta slipped his mind,” Scooter mumbled. “He’s been kinda busy lately.”
Skeeter walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He still avoided her gaze. “Scooter … I didn’t know you didn’t know.”
Scooter typed. After about a minute, he shot back, “Phones are amazing little gadgets, Sis. They even allow for two-way communication nowadays.”
Skeeter frowned and backed up a couple of steps. “You must not be able to afford outgoing calls,” she sniped back. “Must be very hard to do business if you don’t ever initiate a conversation.”
The pause was long and insufferable. Finally, Scooter mumbled, “Welcome to New York, Sis.”
Skeeter growled. “Don’t, Scooter, just don’t, okay?” She pointed at him angrily even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I’ve already had this discussion with Rowlf --.”
“So Rowlf knew you were back too? Great,” Scooter moaned. “I guess we’re all having a wonderful little family reunion. Too bad actual family wasn’t told until just now.”
Skeeter balled up her fists, gritted her teeth, and glared at her brother. She silently counted to thirty. She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Scooter, I … I apologize if I’ve seemed distant all these years,” she told him solemnly. “I don’t want it to stay this way. You live your life and I’ll live mine. Everybody’s happy.”
“Whatever.”
Skeeter sighed and walked toward the door. “Write this down on your little spreadsheet, Bro – I made the effort to patch things up first.”
<><><><><><>
Rachel Bitterman had just graduated high school at the top of her class. She had worked extra hard for her position. Namely, she had smeared her competition and drove many of her rivals to drop out. She was beaming. She stood up through the opening in the limo’s ceiling, whooping and hollering as it flew down the streets of Manhattan. She sat down opposite a twenties-ish young woman with soft black shoulder-length hair. They both wore snazzy dresses fit for the night life that Rachel was still too young to enjoy (legally). They had had a couple of drinks from the limo’s cooler and were laughing.
“C’mon, I wanna get a tattoo like yours,” Rachel announced spontaneously to her friend, who had a triangular red mark over her left eye.
Her friend smirked. “It’s NOT a tattoo, I said,” she replied coldy. “It’s like a birthmark.”
Rachel shrugged and took another sip. “Birthmark smirthmark. I want us to look exactly the same.”
There was a long pause. “You and I work really well together, Rach,” the older young adult noted with a weak smile. “But you’re just not my type.”
Rachel nearly choked. She gasped and gawked at her companion. “What do you mean? This isn’t one of those arbitrary ‘You’re too young for me’ kind of things is it?”
The other young woman shook her head and crossed her arms. “No, this is one of those ‘I have pre-existing arrangements that don’t include you’ kind of things. It’s not personal. You don’t have to get so upset over it.”
Rachel’s eyes started to tear up. She frowned. “You’re already in a relationship? I am NOT ‘the other woman’, I’ll have you know! I’m ALWAYS the better choice!” she barked.
Beep.
Ms. Bitterman? A deep guttural male voice spoke. Your repeated requests for a meeting have not gone unnoticed. Please be advised that at this time Ms. Moraine cannot attend due to mitigating circumstances. She hopes you are well and that business is going along nicely. She will contact you at her earliest convenience.
<><><><><><>
Sidebottom’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. “That’s what this is all about?” He fell to the floor laughing. “That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!”
Mokey’s face slackened, downcast. “You think I’m silly, then?” she replied in a smooth, sultry, and sad voice.
Sidebottom popped up and patted her on the back. “Are you kidding? I love silly! I thrive on mayhem and merriment!” He shrugged. “I’m not very fond of starving to death, though,” he continued with a mischievous smile. “It’s your job to get the radishes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t share in the fun too! Just you wait – I’ll have half the garden in here by sundown!”
Mokey whipped a hand onto Sidebottom’s arm before he could dash out into the garden. “It’s not right to just take their food, you know.”
Sidebottom looked at her like she had just spoken gibberish. “What are you talking about? I’m not gonna get thumped by Gorgs! Where have you been? They haven’t tried to kill us for decades!”
Mokey shook her head. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ask for permission.”
Sidebottom nodded. “Right.” He leaned toward the opening that led to the garden and put his free hand to his mouth. “Hey Gorgs! I’m gonna get some veggies! Say somethin’ if you don’t think I should!” he bellowed. After waiting a couple of beats, he shrugged and turned to Mokey. “Not a peep! Permission granted!” he announced cheerfully. He peeled her hand off his arm. “Look, Mokey, I intend to party as hard as I can in Outer Space. If you want to sit in Fraggle Rock and watch moss dry, be my guest.” He pointed at himself. “I tell you what – I’ll carve a little happy face in the side of a radish for you as a present, okay? Maybe we can take some twigs and make little radish dolls out of them and have little skits out in the middle of the Great Hall. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
<><><><><><>
Skeeter sighed, wiping away a tear as she walked down the stairs to the first floor of the Backstage area. She turned to her left and walked over to the desk just offstage where a ton of papers and odds and ends lay. She sat down on a stool and stared at the desk.
“Hey, Scooter, I thought you said we were having lunch today!” a cheerful male voice announced. Skeeter turned to see an obese pig with a thin tuft of black hair on top of his head, nearly five feet tall in a gray Armani suit standing beside her, impatiently tapping his foot. Suddenly, he looked her up and down, his eyes widening. “This is new,” he commented dryly, putting a hand to his lips. “I had no idea you had decided to present.” He wrapped his thick arms around her and sniffed. “I am so proud of you, you little bright ray of sunshine, you!”
Skeeter grunted as she tore herself away from her. “What the **** are you talking about? I’m not Scooter – I’m his sister!”
The pig gasped and stumbled backwards. “His … his … sister!” He nodded exaggeratedly. “Oh, he has a --,” he laughed nervously, clearing his throat. “Ahem! What I meant to say was, ‘Have you seen your brother around?’ I mean, I’m on vacation here in NYC and I thought I’d stop by and see how the Great White Way was nowadays! Heh heh!”
Skeeter frowned. “You are?”
The pig slapped his forehead. “Oh, where are my manners? Hollywood – go fig, you know?” He shook her hand. “Bobby Vegan. Actor extraordinaire, loving father,” he showed her a bright gold ring with massive diamonds on it, “and married!” he shrieked, shrugging. “Of course, it wasn’t as fabulous as the frog’s wedding … but we were kinda in a rush.”
“Congratulations,” Skeeter replied with a frown. “You and Scooter are friends or something?”
Bobby gasped and shook his head, waving his arms dismissively. “Not like ‘friend’ friends, you know. Strictly business. Completely aboveboard.”
“Skeeter,” she replied curtly.
Bobby stared at her for a few moments. “My, how derivative. You must know that little porky starlet. You definitely have the same taste in creative nomenclature.”
“Better to be derivative than ironic,” she shot back, unable to keep from smirking.
Bobby leaned close, squinting. He laughed and slapped her on the shoulder. “I hope they keep you, toots. I like your spunk!”
Welcome to the Muppet Central Forum!
Jim Henson Idea Man
Back to the Rock Season 2
Bear arrives on Disney+
Sam and Friends Book
