Fan Fic - Visions, but only illusions...

Beauregard

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Visions, but only illusions... By, B. Regard

Rating: PG

Story: Told through the eyes of Gonzo, this semi-dark story explores the hopes and dreams of the Muppets minus Kermit

\/ /\ \/ /\ \/ /\​

Polougue:

Brilliant light assaulted his eyes. It was brighter than anything else in the universe, yet pleasant, well, more than pleasant, it was perfect. Daniel stepped through the doors, bathing for a moment in the glory, warming in it. The privilege he felt to be meeting The Boss again was more than he could express. The doors closed behind him, and he felt a shove tugging every nerve and part of his body, then he was in The Boss’s garden.

“Dani-el,” The Boss said. “Dani-el, fancy seeing you again so soon.”

“Hi, um, hello." He shifted under the Boss's gaze. "You wanted to see me."

“If I remember correctly,” The Boss said, waving a finger. “You wanted to see me.”

“I did?”

“Yesterday, at your desk. Dani-el, I see all, hear all. You were thinking you wanted to see me. Well,” The Boss waved a hand. “Here you are. What can I do for you?”

“Oh, um.” Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. “Yes, it was, about the Muppets. Kermit.”

“I realise that. You are wondering about the others, the others in universe where Kermit was never born.”

“I was, yeh, but, I mean…what happened to them? To Gonzo, and Fozzie, and those guys?”

“Oh boy.” The Boss sat on her sofa, and lifted a cup of coffee. “You had better sit,” she said. “I see you don’t know that much about the space time continuality thing."

"Oh, you mean the butterfly flaps its wings in the jungle, and a tsunmi trikes England, thing?" Daniel asked.

The Boss gave him a look. "It's a little more coplicated than that. Here.” The Boss handed him the controls. “Check the tic-tac-toe thing, and dial up a screen. There’s something I’d better show you.”

\/ /\ \/ /\ \/ /\​

Gonzo walked. It was dark. It was cold. His only belongings were the guitar on his back, the rucksack hanging off his shoulder, and the brick tucked under his arm. He’d packed up and started walking after the stupid frog had lost his only customer of the day. He’d had an audience for just seconds, then, Blam! The frog came and ruined it.

Gonzo passed the bright lights of Doc Hopper’s French Fried Frog’s Legs restaurant, and felt his stomache rumble. Still, he’d never stoop to eating frog’s-legs. He couldn’t afford them anyway.

Gonzo walked through the iron gates, and found himself in the small plot of grass and scanty flowers that called itself a park. There was a bench, and a small pond. It was Christmas Eve.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get better lodgings, Amy,” Gonzo said, setting the brick down, and sitting on the back of the bench. “But at least it’s…well, at least, yeah.” He stopped. There was nothing good about this. “Hey, be glad you don’t have to eat. You just get to dance.”

Amy the Dancing Brick stared up at him. She said nothing. Did nothing.

“Or you could, if you would,” Gonzo went on. “Ahh, Amy. What a pair we are, hey. You and me. A weirdo and a brick.”

The brick didn’t reply. It was a brick.

Gonzo dumped his bag on the cold ground, and leant the guitar up against the bench. “I’m jealous of you, you know…” He sighed. “You don’t know. You don’t even know what I’m talking about. And you’re not even listening to me!” He kicked the brick, and it fell onto the floor, lay there. “Why can’t you care!” Gonzo shouted. “You’re a stupid brick!”

He grabbed it in his hands and shook it, but the brick didn’t respond.

Gonzo slumped back onto the bench. “I’m talking to a brick,” he said. “I’m Talking to a Brick!” He caught the brick, and threw it, lobbing it as far from him as he could. The brick sailed in the air, and seemed to hang for a second in the still silence that followed his outburst. Then it dropped, smashing into the black water of the pond with a splash. The water returned over it. All went quiet.

Gonzo stared at his hands, shocked at what he had done. “No,” he said. “Nooooo. I shouldn’t have done that. Come back. Come back!” He ran forward, tossing off his jacket. “Amy, I’m sorry.” He leapt into the water, and splashed to the middle. Searching through the blackness. “Amy, you must be here, Amy.” He fell under the water, sinking. Then he rose, water streaming off him, and pouring in his eyes. “No. No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Amy, I love you.”
 

The Count

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Yaey! And so Book 2 of Bo's Rainbow Collection begins brialliantly.

But... *sniff* Why must the bricks always be made to suffer?
And I like the setting... After VMMCM, picking up on its threads.
Keep it up man.
 

TogetherAgain

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Ohhhhhhhhh! Poor Gonzo! Oh...

Beautifully written, Beau. Keep it up!
 

redBoobergurl

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All right, I'm hooked already! Can't wait to read more. It's rare to see something through the eyes of Gonzo, so I'm excited to see you use him!
 

Harvey Towers

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I really must get round to reading all of the fan-fics and this doesn't seem a bad place to start. I promise that I'll try and read everybody's recent work (who knows - I might even get round to one at some point) but for now I'll at least follow this.
 

Beauregard

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Thanks for the kind words guys, I've been watching VMC this evening, and am, in fact, working on the next scene even as we speak.

Beau
 

theprawncracker

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AWESOME!!! Beau my friend, you've truly captured the likeness of Gonzo! He's my fav in case ya didn't know! Love it and can't wait for more!
 

Beauregard

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I was thinking, and thought, maybe I should have waited till christmas for this story. Then I figured, it's the Muppets. Everyday is Christmas. Here's your christmas present, a new chapter.

___


Gonzo left the scanty park. He trudged across the plaza, stopped under the huge Christmas tree. Toys and lights there overwhelmed him. He stood staring, then slumped his bag onto the ground. He rested his guitar against the bench, and sat below the figure of a giant spotted dog. Behind him a toy bear in a dress spun slowly around and around on a string.

His Christmas’s past had always been this way, for as long as he could remember. He had no memory of parents, or friends. A turkey and mistletoe. Laughter, and presents were foreign to him, yet strangely missed.

Gonzo had never had chestnuts roasting on an open fire, yet Jack Frost was nipping at his nose. Gonzo rubbed his hands together in the cold, and blew on them, but they didn’t get any warmer. He tugged his pullover tight around his neck.

He lifted his guitar onto his lap, and his fingers found the strings, plucking notes without thought, or, at first, harmony. He picked out a tune. Bitter words of Christmas spoke into his thoughts. “I feel so small and useless…ambiguous and clueless…I just can’t seem to get anything right…I feel so invisible tonight.” He paused, then plunged on, letting the words envelop him. “All the plastic Santas, doin' hula dances, remind me that I don't belong…All the fake snow falling, and my friends not calling leave me nothing but this song…” His voice sung strong, yet small. “On the most miserable Christmas of my life. The most miserable, horrible, obnoxious, intolerable,” he stopped. He couldn’t go on. “Christmas,” he sung….

“Hey, don’t give up,” someone said.

Gonzo turned. He’d heard no one behind him until now. It was the frog, he…

“You just haven't found the right audience,” the frog was saying.

Gonzo shrugged. “I’m so tired of scrounging…I’ve had my chance.”

The frog picked up the tune. The words of his song carried in the chill wind. “If only I could go back and take another crack at all the things I've left undone, I'd do them right. If I had my friends and family here tonight…I'd have the most wonderful Christmas of my life!” He’d moved around the bench now, and sat beside him. “Everyone matters, everyone maters. Even the smallest of the smallest, can make the biggest dreams come true.

Gonzo joined the song. His voice cracked and broken, and sad. “Everyone matters, For worse or for better. We can change the world around us. With everything we do.

Even you,” The frog said, looking at Gonzo. He meant it.

Even me...

You and me.

/\ \/ /\ \/ /\ \/

The last chords of the last melody floated away, and Gonzo sat in silence. He sighed, turned to the frog. He could see the frog’s eyes watching him. Pitying him like everyone else? No, something more. A knowledge maybe. His eyes, his face, and there was something. And Gonzo realised what it was. He believed in him. The frog really did believe in him.

Gonzo pulled his eyes away. He shrugged into his rucksack, and picked up his guitar. “Thanks pal,” he said. “What was your name again?”

“Kermit,” Kermit said quietly.

“Merry Christmas Kermit.”

\/ /\ \/ /\ \/ /\

Gonzo lay under a thin blanket and counted stars.

The bench of the handkerchief-sized park area left by Miss Bitterman’s bulldozing team was the most comfortable of the local seats. Better than bus terminals. He’d decided after spending a night at one. He’d met a cleaner there.

Gonzo shut his eyes and tried to stop reflecting on his life.

He remembered the frog. What was his name? Kermin? Kermit? Yeah, that was it. Kermit. Kermit the Frog believed in him. Why couldn’t Gonzo believe in himself?

A footstep crunched against the gravel path. A flashlight shone in his eyes. “Get up,” said a man’s voice. Gonzo started to sit. He was grabbed roughly. “Yeah, you. This is not private property.”

Gonzo squinted against the light and tiredness. The man seemed a thug. He was tall, with leather, and a cap. “Hey, hands off,” Gonzo shouted. He twisted his shoulder from the vice grip, and pulled his blanket around him as protection. “Beat it.”

The torch came down, and lit up perfectly shinned shoes. A face leaned in close to Gonzo’s. A nametag hung from a pocket, ‘Holiday, N.’

“You dare tell a cop to beat it on his own beat,” the man snarled.

To be continued...

Do you ever think of Fozzie Bear after he left Kermit out there in the snow, and sigh? Do you ever think of The Eectric Mayhem riverdancing, and weep? Do you ever think of Nickey Holiday and shiver? Then Tune in to the next episode of Visions, but only illusions...
 

TogetherAgain

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Oh my gosh, Beau......... Oh my gosh! That's all I can say! Oh my gosh. No that's not all I can say. I can also say that I want MORE!
 

Beauregard

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He he. I figured that extra bad guy would come as a bit of a surprise. *heads off to work on more*
 
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