Fan-Fiction: The Muppets' Mid-Age Crisis

[The Count]

Hey Prawni! Is ju not going to update dis fanfic of jours? Is missing some new updates... And I is wanting to read it of course. Especially when they pays me the celeries to read dese fanfics peoples post. So update... Now! Or we fire da penguins okay?
*Aims da cannons of de penguins at ju Prawnidew.

What? The penguins cannons isn't working? Unbelievable okay.

 

[theprawncracker]

*bump* *shifty eyes* *sulks away into the darkness* *for sixty seconds*

 

[theprawncracker]

Chapter 10

Kermit sat, staring into the white puppy-dog eyes of Rowlf, who was sitting across the table from him, haphazardly wiping down a beer mug.

“Th-that’s it?” Kermit asked.

“Yup,” Rowlf said simply.

Kermit looked to Fozzie who, in turn, looked from the frog and the dog confusedly.

Scooter scratched his head. “I thought you said you’d heard a rumor about the chalice we’re looking for!” he said to Rowlf.

“I did!” Rowlf said defensively.

“But-but all you told us was that a nice, female frog came in and told you everything about the chalice we already know!” Fozzie whined.

Rowlf shrugged. “How was I supposed to know you already knew that stuff?” he asked.

“He makes a good point,” Gonzo said.

“Not helping, Gonzo,” Kermit said.

“Well neither is he!” Gonzo shouted, pointing at Rowlf.

“Hey,” Rowlf said, “I’m just tellin’ you what I know—and what I know is that a nice, good looking lady frog came in and told me this whole story. She seemed pretty upset—didn’t smell too good either.”

Kermit frowned. “Well unfortunately Rowlf, I don’t really think that’ll help us out too much…”

“Hold on a second, boss!” Scooter shouted suddenly. “Rowlf, did this frog say where she was going when she left here?”

Rowlf scratched his ear and plunged the depths of his memory, trying to remember. “Not specifically… all she said was that she just wanted to go find the cave that chalice is buried in and curl up and die there.”

Fozzie gulped audibly. “D-d-die?” he stuttered.

Gonzo’s eyes widened with excitement. “Die? How morbid! I love it! Ha ha!”

Kermit looked at Scooter. “What’s that supposed to tell us?” the knight asked his squire.

“Don’t’cha see, Kermit?” Scooter asked. “We now know that the chalice is in a cave, and that the frog lady knew where that cave was!”

“I’m not following,” Gonzo said.

“Meaning, if we knew which direction the frog lady went,” Scooter said, “we’d be on the right path to the cave of the chalice!”

“Oh, I get it,” Gonzo said. “But… doesn’t that seem to easy?” he asked.

“Easy’s good!” Fozzie interjected quickly. “I like easy!”

“Me too!” Kermit said, hopping up quickly. “Easy it is, then!” Kermit placed his hand on Scooter’s shoulder. “Good work, squire.”

Scooter flushed slightly. “Thanks boss.”

“Well team, it looks like we should be going!” Kermit said.

“Going where?” Fozzie asked.

Kermit scrunched up his face. “To the cave of the chalice!” the frog said.

“Oh yeah,” Fozzie said. “But… how do we get there?”

Kermit stopped in his flipper-steps. “Oh yeah… how do we get there?”

Kermit, Fozzie, Gonzo, and Scooter each turned to look at Rowlf, who was quietly rubbing out another beer mug. The dog looked up slowly. “Huh. Ya ever get the feeling that you’re bein’ watched?” he asked, chuckling to himself.

Kermit approached the bartender slowly. “Gee, Rowlf, do you think you could point us in the direction of that frog lady?” he asked.

Rowlf sat the mug down on the table. “That depends,” he said. “’Cause if froggy’s tryin’ to go a’courtin’—no can do—and that’s for your own good!”

Kermit grimaced. “No, no, no—nothing like that!” Kermit said. “We just want the chalice.”

“Ah!” Rowlf said happily. “Well in that case… sure thing. You did help clear those bums out of my bar—although they were the only paying customers… but you guys gave me a song. That’s a tune we can all dance to!”

“We can—” Scooter started.

“And I did!” Fozzie said. “Wocka! Wocka!”

Rowlf shook his head. “C’mon outside and I’ll see if I can pick up her scent—lucky for you guys, I’m part blood hound!”

“Which part?” Kermit asked.

“The nose—thankfully,” Rowlf said with a smirk.

<-> <-> <-> <-> <->

Robin hopped upon stair after stair in the dimly lit tower. The only sound, other than that of his little flippers “plunking” down on the stairs, was his incessant counting.

“One-hundred thirty-three, one-hundred thirty-four, one-hundred…” Robin paused suddenly. “Wait a second… why am I counting to halfway if I don’t know how many half way is?”

The little frog shrugged and continued hopping. The fact that every stair was nearly as tall as he was didn’t help the fatigue that was sure to be setting in soon. Regardless, he persisted anyway, his five year old curiosity fueling each hop.

Once he stopped counting each step, it was hard to determine how long it took him to reach the top--but one thing was for sure; he’d reached it.

Robin let out a relieved sigh as he looked down at the last step. Then he looked up slowly, and dramatically (all for the camera, of course) at the massive door posted in front of him.

Robin stared up at the door.

He gulped loudly.

He bravely reached for the door knob.

He couldn’t reach the door knob.

Tip-toes didn’t help much as the young frog reached and reached for the knob of the dark door before him.

Finally, he buckled down (his knees, that is) and leapt up towards the knob.

His fingers couldn’t grip the cold brass as he slid right off and fell down on the top stair. He grumbled, rubbed his rump, and stood back up.

The green knees bent once more, and Robin soared towards the door knob.

His grip tightened around the knob, he held on with both hands, and turned it towards the right.

As Robin hung from the door knob he looked around. “Well what now?” he asked aloud.

Robin looked to his left at the wall next to the door. He reached out his little green foot and pressed it against the stone. He pushed hard enough with the knob still turned that the door slowly creaked open.

Robin hopped down onto the top stair and looked inside the door. It wasn’t, as Robin had hoped, glowing from the inside. It was even darker than the stairway, and much spookier (and not just because of the terrible choice of drapes. Blech!).

The little frog put his best foot forward and slid it into the room. “Hello?” he called out. His small voice echoed around the dark room. “Is anybody… home?”

Perhaps to answer his question, the door he had tried so desperately to open slammed shut behind him, nearly knocking him over. It was so dark now that Robin couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face (let alone anything else in front of his face).

Suddenly, all around him, blue flames flickered out of the darkness. A circle of blue surrounded him. He gulped again and looked around, cradling his little body. “Hello? I asked if anyone was here!”

“Here, I am,” hissed an eerie voice.

“Oh, good,” Robin sighed, comforted, “then I’m not alone. My name is Robin the Frog, and--”

Something brushed forward in the dark and wrapped a scaly hand around Robin’s chest. “A frog?” the same voice sneered. A long snout slowly approached Robin’s nose and beady yellow eyes lit up in the pitch-black in front of the frog.

Robin felt his stomach rub along the palm of the creature’s hand as he gulped. “Umm… yeah, I’m a frog. You know… green, hippity-hop, lilly pads, long tongues--all that?”

With its free hand the creature snapped. Light filled the room and Robin looked straight into the blue, scaly face of Uncle Deadly (of course, he didn’t know that--they haven’t been properly introduced yet! Do pay attention.).

“I know exactly what you are,” Uncle Deadly said. “A hideous frog! How did you get up here?”

Robin frowned slightly at being called hideous. “I took the stairs,” Robin said. “You really should think about installing an elev--…Never mind.”

“Oh, never mind!” Deadly shouted. “Why did you seek me out? What do you want?”

“Well…” Robin thought. “Right now I’d really like to be put down… then an introduction would be nice.”

Uncle Deadly smirked. “Quite the wit on this young froglet, I see. Hmph, fine. I am Uncle Deadly!” he declared proudly, as if rehearsed (actually, completely rehearsed). “An evil wi--wait!” he shouted. He tossed Robin to the floor and spun around dramatically, snapping his claws and allowing only one spotlight to shine down upon him as he entered his monologue.

“If I don’t reveal to this frog my evil ways, perhaps I, Uncle Deadly, dark wizard, can get him on my side!” Deadly declared. “Then I’ll have bait to hold against his foolish uncle once he returns with that cursed chalice! Ha!” Uncle Deadly laughed menacingly. “It’s a fool-proof plot!”

With another snap of his fingers, the rest of the lights returned and Deadly swept back, bringing Robin into his grasp again. “Yes, I am Uncle Deadly, a kindly old wizard who was locked in this terrible, drafty tower for all eternity simply because I couldn’t make the princesses mole disappear!” Deadly moaned, playing his plan off for all it was worth.

Robin looked up with caring eyes at the ugly, scarred, angry blue monster. With his free hand he gently patted Uncle Deadly’s talon. “I’m sorry,” he said calmly. “I’m Robin. The Frog.”

“I had noticed that part,” Deadly said quickly.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Robin asked.

“Oh!” Deadly shouted, acting completely moved. “You, young Robin, are simply too kind! I could never ask of anything from you--nay, never, I say! You’ve done enough by simply visiting this old, kindly wizard in his dark, drafty--did I mention drafty already?--tower. Please, don’t let me keep you any longer than I already have. Go on with you, your uncle must be worried sick!” Uncle Deadly said, continuing to ham it up (and he’s doing a lovely job of it, no?). He placed Robin on the ground and gently pushed him towards the door.

Robin turned back and stared up at Uncle Deadly. “Aw, well I can’t just leave you like that!” he said. “I just got here! In fact, I think all you need is… well, a friend.” The young frog smiled a huge smile at the blue creature and walked back into the center of the room.

“A… friend?” Uncle Deadly asked slowly, as if finding the word unpronounceable. “Why… I’ve never had a… a friend before,” he said, this time not at all lying (as if you couldn’t tell!).

“Really?” Robin asked, completely dumbfounded by this notion. “Well I’ve made lots of friends down there in the castle! I’ll bring them up and then--then we can all be friends! I’ll be back soon!” Robin said, running for the stairs cheerfully. He stopped suddenly and turned around, “Well… actually, it won’t be soon. Those stairs really take a long time to get up and down!”

With that, Robin was gone, leaving Uncle Deadly alone. The dark wizard turned dramatically and clenched his fist in angst. “Alas!” he declared. “The young frog has already pierced my heartless soul with his disgusting cuteness! I can’t let him get to me,” Deadly hissed. “I must focus! Ha!” he laughed again. “He’s gone to fetch his friends from the castle… Perfect!” he decided. “I’ll brainwash them and turn them against the princess--making my over-throwing of this awful monarchy all the more easy!”

Uncle Deadly grasped his long, black cape and swirled it around his body. As Uncle Deadly disappeared behind the dark cape, so did the light in the tower.

 

[The Count]

*Blinks. Update? Update? OMG, updaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate!

*Slides down banister of the stairs with Robin in hand. Weeeeeeee! !

Prawny's back in town and there's gonna be a new feeling going round (well, not that icky feeling of sickness and dread that's gripped the nation last few weeks), cause Prawny's back in town! ! !

And don't make us blast you with magic lightning or muffins to get the next part posted. Post man, erm prawn, post.

 

[RedPiggy]

That was hilarious, as always.

I love it when you name a character before introductions and then try to backslide. And Deadly's little monologue was just TOO funny.

 

[TogetherAgain]

Will actually reply when actually awake. <imagines shaking fist at lack of sleep> <lacks energy to actually shake fist>

 

[theprawncracker]

Chapter 11

Rowlf sniffed the surrounding area outside his pub. He stopped suddenly and looked back and forth quickly. “Nope,” he said solemnly. “Squirrel.”

Fozzie tapped Kermit on the shoulder and leaned in close. “Were there squirrels in the middle ages?” he whispered.

Kermit scrunched up his face and stared up at the bear. “Fozzie, are you nuts?” he asked.

“No!” Gonzo said, popping in between the knight and the comedian. “That’s me! Ha ha!”

“You guys!” Scooter shouted. “I think he’s found something!” the squire ran towards Rowlf who was, very obviously, on a trail. It looked as if the dog’s nose was, literally, pulling (you thought all noses could do was run) him along a small road behind the pub.

Fozzie quickly grabbed the horse’s reigns and pulled him along the path, following Kermit, Gonzo, and Scooter, who were following Rowlf, who was following his nose, who was following a strict daily sniffercise regiment.

Rowlf stopped abruptly, almost causing Kermit to bump into him (Gonzo did bump into Kermit, but the frog suspected the weirdo liked it). Rowlf whipped out his right arm, stood back up on two feet and dramatically pointed into the distance.

“What, what is it boy?” Scooter asked. “Is Jimmy stuck in the well?”

Rowlf broke his dramatic pose to turn to stare at Scooter. “What’s a well?” he asked.

“My wife,” Fozzie said suddenly, “what’s a’well with you?” he added with a thick Italian accent.

Everyone groaned in unison (even the horse). Rowlf shook it off and pointed back again. “It smells like she’s a straight shot from here,” the dog said. “I’d tag along with ya, but I can’t leave the bar by itself.”

Kermit nodded slowly. “I understand,” he said. “I have the same problem with Gonzo.”

Rowlf looked around Kermit’s shoulder and noticed Gonzo trying to engage the horse in conversation. He looked back at Kermit. “Understood,” he said with a nod.

“Hey, Rowlf, listen--” Kermit started.

“Nope!” Rowlf shouted, shaking his head. “Not gonna hear it. I don’t believe in sayin’ goodbye. We’ll see each other again.”

Kermit paused. “Erm… I know that,” he said. “I was going to offer you a position at the castle if I became king--but you said you didn’t want to hear it, so…”

Rowlf frowned. He had never been one-upped on his “not gonna hear it” line. “Huh. Well, ya know, dogs have super-sensitive hearing. Even if I didn’t want to hear it, I still would--and I did--and I accept!” the dog said with a cheeky smile.

“Should I write that down, boss?” Scooter asked.

Kermit shrugged. “I don’t really think there’s a reason to,” the frog said. “I won’t be forgetting Rowlf anytime soon.” The knight smiled and extended his hand for Rowlf.

Rowlf looked down at the small, spindly-fingered hand. “I don’t do that either,” he said.

Kermit tilted his head to the side and squirmed. “Erm… what do you--”

Rowlf cut off the frog by reaching forward and giving him a hug. “You take care of yourself, okay Kermit?” he said. “I want to see your little green self hoppin’ back to my bar stool again soon!”

As Kermit was released from the hug he shrugged. “How dangerous could it be?” he asked with a smile.

“Very!” Gonzo shouted. The others turned and stared at the weirdo. “Er… hopefully?”

Behind the bushes two beady eyes on thin red stalks poked out between the leaves. “Heh heh, that’s right,” Polly sneered, “come on down this road. We’ll show ya how dangerous it is!”

Clueless poked his head up, exposing himself completely. “How are we gonna do that?” he asked.

“GAH!” Polly shouted, tackling Clueless, pushing him back under the bush. “Get down, will ya? You want ‘em to see us?”

“Why, sure!” Clueless said from beneath the lobster. “They seem like nice people.”

“You idiot! We’re on a covert operation!” Polly shouted.

“I was told this was a stake-out!” Mad Monty declared. “But I don’t see any steak anywhere!”

“Shut up, shut up!” Polly hissed, hitting Monty with his claw. “They’re comin’!”

The four brave and valiant (well… I guess Kermit is the only brave and valiant one) explorers walked towards the bush where the three nincompoops were (making a mockery of the word) hiding.

“Hark!” Kermit shouted suddenly.

The horse sat down quickly and made a clicking noise.

Kermit scrunched up his face. “Hark,” he reiterated, “not park.”

“What’s up, chief?” Scooter asked (if you’re wondering, Kermit had given up on telling his squire to call him Kermit).

“Yonder bush is having a fit!” Kermit declared, pointing at a bush.

“Ah!” Polly shouted. “We’ve been found out! Abort! Abort!”

“A wha’?” Clueless asked.

“ABORT!” Polly screamed as he dove out of the bush and ran off down the road, past Kermit and the others. Clueless and Monty followed behind, tripping every so often.

“Well that was weird,” Fozzie said.

Gonzo’s eyelids were as wide as they could be. “Even I thought so!”

“What was that?” Scooter asked Kermit.

Kermit shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I was talking about that bush!” He reached out his finger and pointed at a bush farther down the path and on the opposite side.

“C’mon, Link,” a thick German accent (acschent?) said, “they’ve found us!”

Link, Strangepork, and his two horses emerged from the bush (don’t ask me how they all fit back there) and looked at the travelers. “Say,” Link said, squinting, “I think I know you.”

Kermit scrunched up his face and looked at Fozzie, who shrugged. “Oh, good grief,” Kermit moaned.

<-> <-> <-> <-> <->

Sweetums stared up at the small window at the top of the very, very large tower. He reached his massive hand underneath his even-more massive helmet and scratched his huge, shaggy head (and you thought size didn’t matter--this paragraph would’ve been useless without size).

“I’m just not sure, little buddy,” the monster captain of the guard told Robin.

Robin, standing at the bottom of Sweetums’ feet (both height feet and shoe feet) frowned and patted his monster pal’s foot. “Don’t worry, Sweetums, you can trust me on this one! Uncle Deadly is a great guy--he’s just lonely!” the little frog explained.

Sweetums scoffed. “Well he certainly won’t be lonely after we get up there!” The monster gestured behind him where a small faction of his team of guards led by Crazy Harry stood, along with Johnny Fiama and Sal--the castle servant and the castle servant’s servant.

“So… are we goin’ up already, or what?” Johnny asked.

“Johnny Fiama’s getting’ impatient and wants to know if we’re goin’ up already OR WHAT!” Sal shouted.

The guards accompanying them were small in number (and brain cell count), but large in shape and personality. One was a massive brown bear with beady black eyes, coated from head to toe in shiny silver armor, Bobo--the Bear (what else?). Two others, both round-headed pigs with armor and helmets on stood, head-butting each other and laughing after each hit--Andy and Randy Pig. And, finally, our old, pale-faced, fully-bearded friend Crazy Harry--complete with his dynamite that has yet to be invented.

Sweetums wiped his nose with his arm and shrugged. “Alright Robin, if you trust ‘im, I trust ‘im. C’mon men, forward march!” the monster bellowed.

Johnny, Sal, Bobo, and Crazy Harry followed Sweetums and Robin as they marched towards the door at the base of the tower. Andy and Randy marched the opposite way.

“Hey, Randy?” Andy said to his brother in armor.

“Yes?” Randy replied.

“Which way is ‘for-ward’?” Andy asked.

“You dumby!” Randy shouted. “It’s the way after three-ward!”

Sweetums and Robin exchanged looks of confusion on the pigs’ behalf. “Maybe we can just leave those two up there with this friend of yours,” Sweetums muttered. “Andy! Randy! About face!” he shouted at the bumbling pork chops.

“What about my face?” Randy asked.

Sweetums rolled his big yellow eyes. “Just get over here!” he growled.

The two pigs ran over, tripping over each other after about every step. When they finally reached Sweetums they stopped and saluted--even after their helmet guards fell over their eyes.

Sweetums sighed and grabbed the two pigs by the back of their armor and turned them to the stairs. “You two,” he said, pointing at them (and talking very slowly), “go first.”

The two pigs started to ascend the stairs followed by Bobo and Crazy Harry (just so someone was keeping an eye on him), Johnny and Sal, with Sweetums and Robin bringing up the rear.

“This tower’s dark, Sal,” Johnny said.

“Johnny Fiama’s scared of the dark tower!” Sal shouted.

Johnny turned and glared at Sal, whacking him upside the head. “Shut up--stupid monkey…” he muttered.

“Whoa! Hey there!” Bobo said quickly. “Watch it--we don’t anybody getting’ their feelings hurt,” he said, “it’s a long walk to the top from here and I will turn these pigs around!” he said, laughing at his own witty comment.

“C’mon guys, try to get along,” Robin begged. “Uncle Deadly is really lonely and we need to be friendly!”

“Hey, don’t look at me, small fry,” Johnny said. “Sal’s the one bein’ non-friendly!”

“Unfriendly,” Sal corrected.

“See?” Johnny asked.

“Not really,” Sal said, “it’s dark in this tower.”

Sweetums shook his head and looked down to find Robin. “Lots a stairs, aren’t there little buddy?” The monster stopped suddenly and blinked, realizing Robin was not at the stair below him. “Little buddy? Robin? Where’d ya go?”

“Down here!” Robin called from about five stairs back. “These stairs are--” he grunted as he pulled himself on top of the next stair, “--really tall!”

Sweetums chuckled and moved back down the previous stairs, picked up the little frog in his hand and sat him on his hulking shoulder. “Hop on!” the monster said with a smile.

“I didn’t know I had a choice!” Robin joked.

As Sweetums ascended the stairs (sometimes two at a time) Robin stared down. “Wow!” he said. “These stairs sure move a lot faster from up here, Sweetums!”

Sweetums chuckled. “Stairs fly when ya weigh a ton!” he said.
“Speakin’ of which,” Bobo said, “Andy and Randy have hit the wall.”

“What?” Sweetums asked.

Bobo pointed ahead at the two pigs, who had found the door yet continued to walk. “This hallway is hard!” one of them shouted.

“If they weren’t the princesses nephew they’d be on the unemployment line faster than a fingerless piano player,” Sweetums muttered. “Bobo, open the door!”

“Wow!” Robin said. “We really got to that door fast.”

“Well what’d you expect?” Sweetums asked with a shrug. “This is the third time these people have seen someone climb these stairs--of course they got shorter!”

Robin shrugged. “Works for me! Bobo, open the door!” he shouted happily.

Bobo pushed the two pigs aside and slowly turned the door knob.

 

[TogetherAgain]

HAAAAAAAAAA!

I LOVE Rowlf. (No duh.) <scratches Rowlf's ear>

And I love the bushes!

AND, I love the stair-climbing banter. <knocks Andy and Randy together> I totally agree that they should be left with UD.

<ahem> MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

 

[The Count]

You leave those burnt sausages with my fiend... And I'll get the Gypsy Lady to put a curse on you! Meteorites will fall on your flippers (feet), aliens will come from outer space creeping you out, and worst of all... You'll only be able to speak in mock-Swedish! So don't even dare... Oh, and post more!

 

[RedPiggy]

That was great! I'm such a fan of how your dialogue just flows so naturally.