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Jim Henson Idea Man
Back to the Rock Season 2
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Sam and Friends Book
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Scooter sat near the head of the table, friends all around him, his frog-in-chief at the chair beheading their little congregation just beyond the gofer’s elbow. His face was caught in a self-assured grin, unshakeable as hard as he might try—not that he was trying to hard to dispel his source of happiness. “Tomorrow” he thought to himself, “tomorrow Sara and I will be…” Another orange hand shot out for the egg rolls past his, cutting off the train of thought he was currently blissfully riding. “You want I should pass you the rolls Skeet?" he asked sarcastically. “No thanks Scoot, I got ‘em” replied his twin sister, equally as orange-hued as the young theater lad. The Muppet clan was forced to order out, opting to dine on samples from the House of the Rising Dim Sum… The Swedish Chef had abandoned his usual sanctum in the boarding house’s kitchens, drafting Winny and Gladys from the cantina as soux chefs, Rizzo and the rest of the rats running interference gathering the ingredients for the dinner to be prepared at the wedding. “Der shrimpy in de cuktale… hamboogher meetyluf… potato mish-mush… and chucolet sufflee” were the only things his nimble assistants could discern from the culinary custodian. Eventually, the conversation concerning the topic of the night meandered back to Scooter’s pending nuptials. “Hey Scooter, did you get the tuxes?" queried a nervous Fozzie. “Got them earlier at Will’s shop while Sara stopped in at Caroline’s dressing room.” “What about the rings?" asked a laid-back philosophical dog as his charming calico lazily lounged above his upturned piano’s mantle. “Picked those out already, Robin… Where is Robin?" A small green hopper was at that moment linking two dazzling diamonds to the ends of his Frog Scout handkerchief. The elder frog smiled, leaning to ask his handy helper a question troubling his froggy little mind. “Scooter," he started, placing a parental slim-fingered hand on the gofer’s shoulder, “”Did you ask Father Marty to preside over the procession?" “Um, no” Scooter replied—turning his glass-wearing gaze downwards at the servilleted surface—“Marty’s a nice guy and all, but…” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorily for Kermit’s auditive organs only something about Sara having to face rather unfriendly home troubles about that very subject, then raised his voice for all to hear “we decided to hire Dr. Teeth instead.” “Indubitably” came the voice of the electrifying bandleader, “may golden teeth and golden rain smile upon you on your day of joyous junction!" “Like fer sure” echoed the band’s blonde bomber, followed quickly by the rest of the mayhem’s musicians.
The night wind swirled outside, lightly tossing two blueish braids about in the air. The porch’s light lended her some inviting illumination, just enough for her to do some light reading—the silent sigh apparent within her bright blue visage. She wished that… Opening the boarding house’s door, she could hardly believe that he was coming to her. “Could it be?" she thought, the question hanging unspoken before she shook it away, the ends of her hair swishing swiftly. Scooter—desiring to escape from the crowd inside—decided to just simply sit down in the porch swing and enjoy some quiet alone time to ponder what was to come. “Hi Scooter," Nora said, shyly, sort of hoping he’d notice her seated there as well on his own. Maybe he’d come a little closer… “Oh hey there Nora, Mrs. Farley keeping you busy at the bookstore?" he asked, looking at her though distracted by his own inner turmoils. The blue Whatnot girl’s heart beat faster against her violet sweater, the peony pin glinted in the overhead porchlight’s glow. She turned to face him—those glasses too cute for her to fight off—this was the moment she chose to seize upon. “You know Scooter," she started. “Yeah?" he replied. “It’s nice to be here together, two old friends, on a quiet night like tonight.” “Sure is nice all right” came back young Mr. Grosse. “Well…” she deftly shoved her books aside onto the porch’s floor. “Everybody needs a shoulder to lean on or someone to be close to.” “That’s true” commented Scooter. “Mmm, you see… The thing is, I don’t want to be close to you from here…” she extended her arm out, clapping Scooter’s shoulder smoothly. “Nor from here…” she said bringing herself closer while lowering one jeaned leg over the backstage boy’s own trousers. “Not even here…” she uttered at the time she slipped her free hand around his waist after flipping open his cool green jacket. “I want to be close to you… Right here” was what she mouthed, pointing at his hunted heart, her fingers grazing the front of the yellow flannel comfortably yet creepily covering his chest. “Uh, N-N-N-Nora, you know that I…”
“Hey Kerm, where’s Scoot…” If the purple catfish-faced Muppet wasn’t wearing his shades he might’ve shown the fear in his eyes at winning a stern glare from Skeeter. “Uh, I mean, you seen Scooter any place? The boys want to get this shindig on its way and par-tay!" “Well Clifford, I think the party’s gonna have to be put on hold.” “Oh yeah? And why’s that my fine flippery friend?" “Someone already beat you to it” he mentioned, directing the rest of the Muppet males view out the front window. Scooter’s hair was ruffled—whether from the whirling wind or by Nora’s hands, it was difficult to tell which—her sweet-smiling body cozily snug on top of Richard’s star son, blanketed inside the folds of his theater jacket. Scooter was asleep too, grinning that goofy grin he must’ve learned from his boss, still smitten after Nora’s wedding present to him and him alone, the chemise’s collar concealing the evidence of her efforts. Everybody inside the boarding house shared knowing smiles, agreeing to keep the secret amongst themselves, bidding each other good night as all stilled to a hush inside the house’s premises.
Scooter sat near the head of the table, friends all around him, his frog-in-chief at the chair beheading their little congregation just beyond the gofer’s elbow. His face was caught in a self-assured grin, unshakeable as hard as he might try—not that he was trying to hard to dispel his source of happiness. “Tomorrow” he thought to himself, “tomorrow Sara and I will be…” Another orange hand shot out for the egg rolls past his, cutting off the train of thought he was currently blissfully riding. “You want I should pass you the rolls Skeet?" he asked sarcastically. “No thanks Scoot, I got ‘em” replied his twin sister, equally as orange-hued as the young theater lad. The Muppet clan was forced to order out, opting to dine on samples from the House of the Rising Dim Sum… The Swedish Chef had abandoned his usual sanctum in the boarding house’s kitchens, drafting Winny and Gladys from the cantina as soux chefs, Rizzo and the rest of the rats running interference gathering the ingredients for the dinner to be prepared at the wedding. “Der shrimpy in de cuktale… hamboogher meetyluf… potato mish-mush… and chucolet sufflee” were the only things his nimble assistants could discern from the culinary custodian. Eventually, the conversation concerning the topic of the night meandered back to Scooter’s pending nuptials. “Hey Scooter, did you get the tuxes?" queried a nervous Fozzie. “Got them earlier at Will’s shop while Sara stopped in at Caroline’s dressing room.” “What about the rings?" asked a laid-back philosophical dog as his charming calico lazily lounged above his upturned piano’s mantle. “Picked those out already, Robin… Where is Robin?" A small green hopper was at that moment linking two dazzling diamonds to the ends of his Frog Scout handkerchief. The elder frog smiled, leaning to ask his handy helper a question troubling his froggy little mind. “Scooter," he started, placing a parental slim-fingered hand on the gofer’s shoulder, “”Did you ask Father Marty to preside over the procession?" “Um, no” Scooter replied—turning his glass-wearing gaze downwards at the servilleted surface—“Marty’s a nice guy and all, but…” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorily for Kermit’s auditive organs only something about Sara having to face rather unfriendly home troubles about that very subject, then raised his voice for all to hear “we decided to hire Dr. Teeth instead.” “Indubitably” came the voice of the electrifying bandleader, “may golden teeth and golden rain smile upon you on your day of joyous junction!" “Like fer sure” echoed the band’s blonde bomber, followed quickly by the rest of the mayhem’s musicians.
The night wind swirled outside, lightly tossing two blueish braids about in the air. The porch’s light lended her some inviting illumination, just enough for her to do some light reading—the silent sigh apparent within her bright blue visage. She wished that… Opening the boarding house’s door, she could hardly believe that he was coming to her. “Could it be?" she thought, the question hanging unspoken before she shook it away, the ends of her hair swishing swiftly. Scooter—desiring to escape from the crowd inside—decided to just simply sit down in the porch swing and enjoy some quiet alone time to ponder what was to come. “Hi Scooter," Nora said, shyly, sort of hoping he’d notice her seated there as well on his own. Maybe he’d come a little closer… “Oh hey there Nora, Mrs. Farley keeping you busy at the bookstore?" he asked, looking at her though distracted by his own inner turmoils. The blue Whatnot girl’s heart beat faster against her violet sweater, the peony pin glinted in the overhead porchlight’s glow. She turned to face him—those glasses too cute for her to fight off—this was the moment she chose to seize upon. “You know Scooter," she started. “Yeah?" he replied. “It’s nice to be here together, two old friends, on a quiet night like tonight.” “Sure is nice all right” came back young Mr. Grosse. “Well…” she deftly shoved her books aside onto the porch’s floor. “Everybody needs a shoulder to lean on or someone to be close to.” “That’s true” commented Scooter. “Mmm, you see… The thing is, I don’t want to be close to you from here…” she extended her arm out, clapping Scooter’s shoulder smoothly. “Nor from here…” she said bringing herself closer while lowering one jeaned leg over the backstage boy’s own trousers. “Not even here…” she uttered at the time she slipped her free hand around his waist after flipping open his cool green jacket. “I want to be close to you… Right here” was what she mouthed, pointing at his hunted heart, her fingers grazing the front of the yellow flannel comfortably yet creepily covering his chest. “Uh, N-N-N-Nora, you know that I…”
“Hey Kerm, where’s Scoot…” If the purple catfish-faced Muppet wasn’t wearing his shades he might’ve shown the fear in his eyes at winning a stern glare from Skeeter. “Uh, I mean, you seen Scooter any place? The boys want to get this shindig on its way and par-tay!" “Well Clifford, I think the party’s gonna have to be put on hold.” “Oh yeah? And why’s that my fine flippery friend?" “Someone already beat you to it” he mentioned, directing the rest of the Muppet males view out the front window. Scooter’s hair was ruffled—whether from the whirling wind or by Nora’s hands, it was difficult to tell which—her sweet-smiling body cozily snug on top of Richard’s star son, blanketed inside the folds of his theater jacket. Scooter was asleep too, grinning that goofy grin he must’ve learned from his boss, still smitten after Nora’s wedding present to him and him alone, the chemise’s collar concealing the evidence of her efforts. Everybody inside the boarding house shared knowing smiles, agreeing to keep the secret amongst themselves, bidding each other good night as all stilled to a hush inside the house’s premises.
