At last more story is yours. Please find enclosed a reference to a fan-fic, a reference to the comments on this thread, and two references to MC members, a penguin, a Clifford, a photo and receptionist who's name is not mentioned, but who will appear shortly.
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A slick computer obscured the receptionist’s face from view. Papers were stacked across the desk, floors, and windowsills. A green plant had drooped and dried from lack of water. Three gleaming red phones adorned the tall desk. Two large chairs gave the impression of leather, but squeaked of plastic. Gonzo stood for a moment taking in the room. Fozzie looked up at the desk. Furious typing emitted from behind the monitor.
“Onward and upward,” Gonzo whispered. They advanced on the desk, peeked over its edge.
“Excuse me,” Fozzie said.
The typing paused for a second, someone listened, then it started again. Fast, like rain falling on a plastic roof.
Fozzie cleared his throat. Gonzo knocked on the wood of the desk. “Hello?” he called.
“Qwack?”
Gonzo looked at Fozzie. “Did you say something?”
Fozzie looked at Gonzo. “Tell me that wasn’t your stomach.”
They both looked at the receptionist. The receptionist looked at them down its beak. “Qwack, qwack?” A penguin. It was a penguin.
Fozzie tugged at his scarf. “Is, er, this the office of Cliff?”
“Qwack!” the penguin said. It slid its wheelie chair back from the desk. “Quack, qwack, quack!” One of the phones rang. The penguin grabbed it in a flipper. “Qwack qwack, qwack,” he shot into the reciever. “Quack, qwack, qurak.” It looked at a watch. “Quack!” The penguin slammed the phone back down, and turned back to Gonzo and Fozzie as if noticing them for the first time. Another phone went off.
“Let’s go,” Gonzo said.
“Home? But we only just got here.”
“No! Not home! In.”
*^*^*^*
Passing the desk, they came to a door. From inside, the screech of a chair being pushed back across floorboards. Gonzo pressed his ear to the door. Fozzie frowned, then did the same.
“I’m tellin’ ya there’s no reason why we can’t go ahead, except for the simple fact we don’t own that joint.”
“You have to own it. Get if for me, Cliff, get it.”
“I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’.”
“Look, quite trying. And start doing.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll do meh best.”
“Do better than your best. Do best-est.”
The door slammed open, crushing Gonzo and Fozzie into a wall. Footsteps walked away. Another door slammed, followed by furious qwacking. Gonzo peeked out around the door. Fozzie leant over Goinzo’s head and peered into the large room.
The purple dude sat with his head on the round table, palms flat, a mobile lying beside his left hand. Twelve chairs were seated around the table. Paintings hung on the wall, abstract, cheap.
Gonzo rapped his knuckles on the door. Clifford sat up quickly. “What the…how’d you get in ‘ere?”
“We...” Gonzo said.
“...that is…” Fozzie added.
“…because…”
“…and then…”
“Oh,” Clifford muttered. “Penguin.”
Fozzie nodded. “He, er, let us in,” he said.
Cliff lifted an eyebrow. “Heh. Figures. I get this guy off the street cause he’s stood there with a card saying, Unemployed. Get him ta screen calls. Figure if someone wants to get in touch they’ll manage to get past Zany.”
“Right, yes sir,” Fozzie said. Then frowned.
Clifford stood up. “What do you want? Gimme a request, or get out.”
“We were,” Gonzo started.
“Lemme guess. You want job offers?”
“Job?” Fozzie said. “Why job offers?”
“My secretary,” he paused. “Left. Today. I nabbed Zany out there to stand in, but if you wanna job, get your butts out to that desk, and get to work.”
“But we didn’t…”
Gonzo interrupted. “Yes, thank you, we’ll get on right away.” They backed out the room, shut the door.
*^*^*^*
Gonzo lay in the cement truck, and stared up at the stars. Pinpricks of light in the night sky, brilliant burning suns too far for the eye to see. He had done it. He would provide for Fozzie, for them. And he wouldn’t steal.
He heard a footstep, and lifted himself up, resting on his elbow. A match-light glowed, and the dragonesque features of Uncle Deadly lit up in the entrance to his home. “We will not leave,” Uncle Deadly said. “My men, and I, we have lived in these parts for so long now, and we will not move to another. Your friend, the bear, he is no trouble. You came, and man came. We will not have man coming here. You do understand that. We will do everything in our power to stop that, even if it means first stopping you.”
Gonzo sat up. He reached forward, quickly, and caught Uncle Deadly paw in his hand. “UD,” he said. “I promise I’ll get rid of them.”
Uncle Deadly pulled away. His eyes looked into Gonzo’s face. “Why?” Uncle Deadly said. “To save your skin?”
Gonzo shook his head. “Because I believe,” he said. “I believe this is your home. And I believe they should not come here.”
Uncle Deadly cocked his head. “You believe?”
“I believe.”
The match snuffed into darkness. Without a sound, Uncle Deadly was gone. Gonzo lay back, and stared at the stars.
*^*^*^*
Fozzie sat behind the desk, his hands folded in front of him. Gonzo heaved a pile of papers, and moved them aside. “Why are we here?” Fozzie asked.
Gonzo sat on the floor, cross-legged, and lifted a sheet from the pile. “Where else could we be?” he said.
He scribbled a number and code into the corner of the sheet, and called it up to Fozzie. “ERN101,” he said. “Bank statement. Dated last month.” Fozzie typed the code into a computer file. Gonzo placed it into a new pile. Everything had a place, all was numbered. It would be organised. Gonzo moved on to the next sheet. “ERN101. Bill. Unpaid. Heating.”
“That would explain the cold,” Fozzie said.
Gonzo shrugged. “Not as cold as my old home.” He thought of the park. Thought of his bag, and his guitar. And his dancing brick. Moved on. Next sheet.
*^*^*^*
It was later when he arrived.
“ERN819. Photo. Construction site…oh.”
Fozzie stopped typing. “What is it?”
“It’s…”
The photo showed a plot of land, piles of bricks, a lorry, and a truck, Smiling contractors in yellow hard hats. “Our home,” Fozzie said. Gonzo moved the photo and picked up the papers from underneath. Negotiations. Meeting details. Phone numbers. A death threat.
Fozzie took the pasted newspaper letters from Gonzo and read aloud. “Land of ancestor’s is ours. Belongs to ghosts. Show your face, and you will join them.” Fozzie raised an eyebrow. He took a breath to speak. The door opened. He came in.
Who came in? The receptionist? No...that's a female...who then? The mysterious man in the black car? Could it be? No...it's not...tune in next time!
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thank you... now we take the penguin, and we give it a few cue cards... that's it, penguin, now just hold up this one that says "applause"... that's it, now we untie the stress... and watch! See, the stress is chasing the penguin. Here, let's get some popcorn, sit back, and enjoy the chase. And now you're free to write the next chapter!
