Fraggle Rock fic: The Mamas and The Papas

[Slackbot]

Thanks, glad you're liking this thing!

The title is a Mamas & Papas song. As are all of the chapter titles. (I can't explain why I'm doing that; I'm not even a M&P fan. I guess I'm a sucker for a running gag.)

Heh, I have been thinking of Monty Python while writing for The Naysayer, especially John Cleese, with his absolutely serious way of delivering of utter absurdity. The Naysayer speaks in a shrieky "pepperpot" voice so people won't recognize him. O'course, the promise to speak up if things become "too silly" is another Python reference.

I wonder what Ma Gorg would think if she knew a Fraggle was using one of her old curlers as a security blanket?

 

[Slackbot]

Seven chapters down, one to go...

*****

The Mamas and The Papas
Part 7: Even If I Could
by Kim McFarland​

*****

As soon as Boober woke up that morning he set the previous night's laundry to soak. The stains only looked bad; he knew that as soon as the jam was softened it would lift right off the fabric, and a little scrubbing with rock soap would remove the stains. Cleaning all the robes that would inevitably come to him would be a long task, but not a difficult one.

Janken looked into the wooden tub. "Can I help?"

"Thanks, but I just have to soak those for a while. You can help me make breakfast."

"Okay."

Boober went to the pantry. He took down a jar of flour mixed with a few other ingredients and handed it to Janken, then took a smaller jar of honey and a bag of blueberries. The two went into the kitchen adjacent to Boober's room and set the items on the table. Boober opened the panel at the bottom of the oven. The wood inside was mostly burnt, but he could see some coals. "Have to clean this out soon. Later today," he said to himself. He stuck in some more wood from a pile by the oven, then some kindling, and blew on it. Soon the wood was burning, and Boober closed the panel again.

Janken kept well away from the oven. It was very hot; he had burned himself when he had not taken Boober's warnings seriously enough. It was the kind of mistake you only made once. Now he gave it a wide berth.

Boober put some of the flour in the bowl and added honey and sweetwater. He gave Janken the blueberry bag and said, "Pick out a double handful of small, ripe ones."

"Okay." While Boober mixed the batter Janken picked out blueberries that were ripe but not too ripe. Many of the berries were as big as the last joint of his thumb, but some were smaller. It was a challenge to find berries that size that were ripe.

When Boober was finished stirring the batter—being careful not to overmix it; that would make it tough—Janken was done sorting the berries. He said, "That's good. Drop 'em in." Janken poured the berries into the batter and Boober stirred them in.

"What else can I do?" Janken asked.

"Bring some fruit from the pantry."

"What kind?"

"Whatever looks good."

Janken hurried off. Boober flicked a drop of water onto the slab of polished, seasoned slate that formed the roof of the oven, thinking about how clingy Janken had been lately. Something was going on with him. He hadn't wanted to talk about it last night; maybe he'd be more talkative this morning.

The first drop of water splattered on the slate. Boober put the jar of honey on one corner of the surface, where it would merely get warm. After waiting for a minute, he flicked more water onto the middle of the slate. This drop skipped and sizzled. Boober ladled batter onto the griddle-like surface. It spread out into small discs, which quickly began to bubble. Boober glanced back; Janken had brought a selection of berries, melon, and other kinds of fruit to the table, and was sorting and cutting them up with a look of great concentration. Boober picked up a spatula and turned the pancakes.

By the time Red and Mokey came in Boober was turning the last of the pancakes and Janken had finished preparing the fruit. He had cut it into bite-sized pieces and arranged it on a pair of plates. Mokey, seeing Janken, said, "Here you are!"

"Hi, Mama. I did the fruit."

"Oh, that looks beautiful," she said, admiring his artistry. He had arranged the fruit to look like an opening flower, though no flower ever showed such an arrangement of colors. If one did, Mokey would paint it immediately. She might anyway, she thought.

"Are you growing a baby now?" he asked.

She smiled. "Yes. I'm sure this time."

He hugged her. "Yay! I hope it's a girl."

She squeezed him, saying, "We'll know next spring."

Gobo and Wembley came in. Gobo said, "Hi, Boober. Did they tell you about the Poobahs' meeting last night?"

"Does it happen to have something to do with my laundry basket?" Boober asked.

Red grinned. "Does it ever! There was a pie-throwing coup."

Boober stared at her, or at least he appeared to. "A...pie-throwing coup?" he repeated as if unsure he had heard right.

"Yeah. Someone—we couldn't figure out who—challenged the High Mucky-Muck—Large Marvin—to combat with slingshot pies," Red explained.

Boober glanced at the tub. "Then why am I washing your robes?"

Wembley said, "Things kind of spread out from there."

Boober shook his head. "The Poobahs are far too silly."

Mokey glanced at Boober, but he was flipping the last of the pancakes off the slate. He set the plate on the table and placed the warm honey beside it.

The Fraggles sat around the table. Each poured some honey onto a small plate, then took a small, thick pancake and dipped it into the honey. As they ate Gobo, Red, and Wembley describes the farce in greater detail. Mokey and Janken laughed with them; Boober just smiled vaguely without commenting.

When they finished Red and Mokey started doing the dishes. When Boober cooked, someone else always did the cleanup. Boober inspected the soaked robes. "These will only need a little scrubbing. I'll have them on the line in an hour. They'll be dry by this evening."

"Good," Wembley said. He ruffled Janken's hair and said, "I hope you'll come see the fun tonight."

Janken looked away, his face clouded. He had been so cheerful all morning, Wembley thought, but that upset him? He asked, "Is that what's been bothering you?"

Janken shook his head and said "Uh-uh."

"Then what is it?" Janken looked up at him with a sad, worried expression. In what he hoped was an encouraging tone of voice Wembley said, "You can tell me. I'm your papa."

Janken's expression tightened; he looked ready to cry. Gobo told him, "Come on, you can tell us. We're your family. Whatever it is, we'll help you."

Janken glanced around. Everyone was looking at him. He gathered his nerve, then blurted out to Wembley, "I don't want you to be my Papa!"

Startled and hurt, Wembley asked, "Jan...why?"

Janken felt even worse now. This was why he hadn't said anything before now; he knew that it would hurt Wembley's feelings and make everyone else mad at him. Desperately he explained, "If you're just Papa, then nobody else is! I want you to be Papa Wembley, and I want Papa Gobo and Papa Boober, like before! I want to be everybody's, not just yours!"

Now it made sense, the way Janken had been clinging to everyone except Wembley. He knelt to put himself on eye level with Janken. "Is that what you were afraid of? That I wanted you for myself?" he said softly. Janken nodded, looking ready to cry. Wembley explained, "When I said that you're mine, I meant that I helped make you. I was so happy to find that out. I didn't mean that I wanted to take you away from Gobo and Boober. If I did...I'd be taking them away from me, too. I couldn't stand to lose them any more than you could." He gave a little smile. "And even if I wanted to have you to myself, you think they'd let me? They love you too."

"So they can still be my papas too?" Janken asked, his voice quivering.

Wembley nodded. "Nothing's really changed. We're still the same family. If you don't want to call them your uncles, then call them your papas." He looked around. "Right?"

Gobo said, "Of course."

"Yeah," Boober said.

"So, can I be Papa Wembley?" he asked Janken.

"Yeah."

"Good." Wembley hugged Janken, and this time Janken hugged back. Wembley added softly, "I'll tell you a secret. I don't love you more now that I know you're my son. If I did, that would mean I loved you less before I found out, and I didn't. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Janken answered. "Me too." He let go of Wembley and went to Gobo. He hugged him, saying "Papa Gobo."

"That's me," Gobo said, smiling, as he hugged Janken back.

Janken went to Boober next. "Papa Boober," he named him.

"I always will be," Boober answered softly.

Janken hugged Mokey for general purposes, then paused and looked at Red. "Um, should I call you Mama Red instead of Aunt Red?" he asked uncertainly.

She smiled. If this was a story she'd call it corny, she thought, but it was different in real life. "I don't know. I've always been Aunt Red, and I'm used to that. What do you think?"

"If you like Aunt Red, then so do I," Janken said, and hugged her.

"Then we'll stick with that, kiddo," she told him.

Janken said, "When you and Gobo have your baby then you'll be Mama Red. 'Til then you can practice on me if you want."

That caught Red by surprise. She said, "Okay," her voice squeaking a little.

Janken went back to Wembley and said, "I can go to the Poobahs with you."

Wembley grinned widely. "Great!"

Mokey said, "Speaking of which...Boober?"

"Hmm?" He looked at her, then said, "Speaking of the Poobahs, I'll be washing robes all day, I'm sure. I'd better get back to work."

Boober turned back to his laundry tub. Mokey looked at him strangely for a moment, then mentally shrugged.

*****

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[Slackbot]

Time to stick a fork in this story.

*****

The Mamas and The Papas
Part 8: It's Getting Better
by Kim McFarland​

*****

It was a dark and stormy night, but not stormy enough to flood the caves of Fraggle Rock, and thanks to the Ditzies it was not dark either, so the Fraggles paid no attention.

The Poobahs, resplendent in their robes and masks, had assembled in the Firefly Cavern. Fritz called out, "Is the High Mucky-Muck here?"

The Mucky-Muck, who was standing at the podium before them, said, "Present!"

"Is the Naysayer here?"

That person, who was standing at the front, turned back and said, "Yea."

Satisfied with the reverse role call, Fritz declared, "Both present and accounted for. Next item. We have a new member."

The Mucky-Muck said, "We do? Who?"

The Naysayer, by the side of the podium, said, "Let the prospective member be brought forth!"

Fritz led a small, purple Fraggle to the front. The Naysayer said, "So, you want to join the High Exalted Holy Order of the Poobahs, do you? Are you worthy?"

"Yes," Janken answered, looking him in the eyes, although the Naysayer seemed to be looking at something behind him.

"Then show us how worthy you are," the Naysayer challenged.

Even if his family hadn't assured Janken that this was all a game and, no matter how things seemed, it was all in fun, he would not have been worried. The Naysayer acted mean, but his shrill voice and gaudy costume were too goofy to be scary, and his tone had softened a little when talking to Janken. Wembley had suggested a number of responses to the challenge, all of which amounted to a declaration that the Poobahs were silly. However, Janken had his own idea. He started to raise his hands. The Naysayer stopped him and pointed at the other Poobahs. "No, show us all."

Janken turned to face the assembly. Every masked face was looking at him. He raised his hands to the sides of his head, stuck his thumbs in his ears, and spread his fingers, mimicking the Solemn Mark of the Fraggle. Then he opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and bent his nose down, making the most absurd version he could of the face he had learned from Wembley.

The Poobahs laughed. The Naysayer paused, waiting for the sound to die down, then drew himself up and stared hard at Janken, or at a point just over his head. Calmly Janken looked back. Then the Naysayer said to the High Mucky-Muck, "That works for me."

The Mucky-Muck agreed, "Me too. Give 'im his robe!"

**

Wembley and Gobo had come forward and dressed Janken in the robe and mask that Mokey made for him. Instead of the usual hat, Janken wore the pink tchotchke that the Trash Heap had given him. It somehow seemed appropriate to use her gift in his costume, and the rest of his family had agreed.

After that, Janken had joined in the Poobahs' other activities, and had enjoyed himself. They were very serious about being ridiculous, which made a lot more sense when you saw it from the inside. Playing pretend always did.

Now Janken was in Mokey and Red's room. Both adults were taking off their robes and putting them away. Reluctantly Janken took his off as well. He thought, they had all acted so different, it was as if their robes came with new personalities.

Mokey said, "Let's go visit Boober."

Red replied, "He'll just shake his head like he always does. You know Boober."

Janken asked, "He's never one of the Poobahs?"

"Hardly ever," Red said. "We got him to join up, but he never got into it. He was still plain old stick-in-the-mud Boober."

Janken said, "That's too bad. Maybe if I asked him to go?"

Mokey smiled. "You could try. He might say no, but then he might say yes."

"If he says yes, and actually lets himself have some fun, I'll grow a second tail," Red said.

**

The three went to Boober's room. Wembley and Gobo were there too. Gobo asked, "Have you seen Boober?"

"Nope," Red answered.

"Aw," Janken said. He wanted to tell him all about the meeting.

Wembley said, "We just came in ourselves."

Gobo said, "He'll be glad to know that we didn't have any more pie fights."

The others nodded, grinning. Some of the robes worn to the meeting had been damp. Their owners hadn't gotten them to Boober early enough yesterday. He could wash quickly, but he couldn't command clothing to dry fast.

Boober, carrying some dark cloth over his shoulder like a sack, pushed aside the curtain that served as a door to his room, then stopped, startled. He hadn't expected to find anyone else here. He'd thought they'd still have been winding down.

Janken bounced forward. "Hi, Papa Boober! The meeting was fun. I wish you'd been there. They made me a Poobah."

Boober put the cloth in the laundry basket. He brushed his hair, which was wet in front, to the side and said, "I knew you'd be silly enough for them."

Janken launched into an account of the night's festivities. Red looked curiously at the cloth that Boober had brought in. Sacks were usually made out of rough cloth, and this was new and fine. She lifted a corner, and stopped and stared at what was within. Then she tapped Gobo's shoulder.

Boober's back was turned to them, so he did not see what Red picked up out of the basket to show to Gobo. Janken did not either; he was too busy telling his story to Boober. But Wembley and Mokey did. Wembley glanced at what had been within the sack—which he could now see was a gaudily-embroidered robe turned inside-out—then at Boober, and back again. It was the Naysayer's mask, and it had false eyes on top.

When Janken paused to take a breath Gobo said, "Boober, is this yours?"

Boober turned. Both Red and Gobo were glaring at him. "Ahhhhh..." Boober said.

Red stuck her hand into the mask. Her fingertips came out the front. What they had thought was a dark stripe that ran just below the fake eyes was actually an opening. Wembley looked into the basket and found an off-white glove. "That was you? Really? Wow, you got us good!" he exclaimed.

Red folded her arms. "Well, Boober?"

"Well, um..." He swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Boober, what is the matter with you?" Gobo demanded.

"Wait, what's wrong?" Wembley asked, startled.

Mokey said, "There is nothing the matter."

Red said, "Don't cover for him, Mokey. He was supposed to be doing the Midsummer Ritual with you, and he put on a disguise and threw pies instead! Boober, what were you thinking?"

"Why'd you do it?" Gobo asked, glowering.

Boober hesitated, drymouthed. Janken was also alarmed. Wembley took the child's hand and said, "I'm sure he has a good reason. Tell us, Boober," he said encouragingly.

Mokey stepped forward and said firmly, "Boober did not leave me. We were together the whole time."

"Oh, really? How does that work?" Red snapped.

"Maybe it was Sidebottom," Wembley interjected.

"Oh, yeah? Then send him out so I can deal with the both of you at the same time!" Gobo said to Boober.

"Gobo!" Mokey exclaimed. "I helped him plan this and make his costume! He wanted to try to have fun, but if everyone knew who he was it wouldn't work. So I made a disguise for him. Then I realized that my time was coming earlier than we expected. We talked about giving up on the Poobahs, but we decided not to."

"So you skipped the Ritual instead?" Red said in disbelief.

Mokey put her hands on her hips in exasperation. "Of course not! But how much time do you think it takes? You can only skip rope for so long!"

Gobo thought back to the Midsummer Ritual that had led to Janken's birth. That had been...time consuming, but then it had been three to one. The odds had been even this time. Okay, so they had taken care of matters and then joined the Poohahs in disguise. He guessed he couldn't blame anyone for that. It still didn't sit well with him, though.

Seeing his expression, Mokey said in a softer tone, "Really, Gobo, Boober didn't neglect me at all." She patted her stomach. "If he did, I would have been the first to complain. And wasn't it worth it?"

"Yeah. He really had us fooled. I wouldn't have thought you had it in ya," Wembley told Boober.

"Yeah. Boy, you sure pick a great time to get goofy," Red grumbled.

Janken told her, "Don't be mean. He didn't do anything wrong."

Gobo said nothing, but, he thought, they had been trying for years to get Boober to loosen up. He used to have to split himself in two by creating an alter ego to cut loose the way any other Fraggle could do naturally. Now it looked like he was actually making an effort to come out of his shell. The last thing they ought to do is drive him back in.

Wembley promised, "We'll keep it a secret, Boober. Won't we?" He looked around at the others.

Sourly Boober said, "It doesn't matter. The joke's over."

He was angry over Red and Gobo's accusations, Mokey could tell. She put an arm around his shoulders and said, "It doesn't have to be. Come on, it was fun, wasn't it?"

Boober said, "If silly fun leads to grief like this, give me a basket of laundry any day."

Janken walked over to the laundry basket, picked it up, and set it in front of Boober. He took out the mask and held it up to him, an earnest expression on his face.

Gobo said, "Go on, Boober. Sorry we jumped on you."

Grudgingly Red added, "I guess that if Mokey says everything's okay I've got nothing to gripe about. I shoulda known you wouldn't do something that dumb."

Boober said, "Well..." and took the mask from Janken.

Janken said, "Put it on."

After a moment's hesitation Boober did. Janken looked closely, then pointed. "You see out of the hole in the front, don't you."

"Yeah."

Wembley said, "I couldn't tell what color your skin was. It looked grey. How'd you do that?"

Boober took off the mask and set it in the basket. "Kaolin mixed with grease. It makes paint that washes right off afterward."

Gobo asked, "What about your tail?"

"I wrapped it around my waist."

Red whistled. "You really worked this all out, didn't you?"

"Well, I had help." He glanced up at Mokey, who smiled down at him. She was enjoying having her work admired. But, she told herself, she was being modest enough not to point out which parts she was responsible for, so it was all right.

Gobo said, "You're gonna come back tomorrow, aren't you? Otherwise people will wonder what happened. And, well, I don't think the meetings will be quite as much fun with just Large Marvin in charge."

"Oh.... 'kay," Boober said with a faint smile.

Janken hugged Boober around the middle and said, "Yeah!"

**

The family hung out in Boober's room for a while afterward. Fortunately, Boober made a practice of keeping an emergency stash of cookies and radish bars available for just such occasions, which did not discourage such occasions from arising.

Eventually the cave light began to fade. Red was the first to get up. She said, "I'm going home now. Gotta get up early for diving practice. See ya later."

"See you," Boober said.

Gobo remarked to Wembley, "That sounds like a cue to me."

"Yeah. Let's go, Janken," Wembley said, getting up.

Janken did, but not before snatching a cookie for the road. "G'night."

Those four exited, leaving Mokey and Boober alone. Boober said, "Mokey?"

Fingering his scarf, she said, "I thought we could not neglect each other some more."

Boober's answer was not verbal.

**

Janken walked home between Wembley and Gobo, holding their hands. Several times he jumped up, and they swung him high. He was still keyed up.

By the time he calmed down due to the dimming of the Ditzies, Wembley and Gobo had changed into their pajamas. Janken put his on as well—he had a set of pajamas in each of his parents' rooms—and settled into the nook he used when he was there. Gobo, next to the fireplace, blew out the lantern.

Wembley was already asleep when, a few minutes later, the ladder leading up to his nook creaked. A purple-haired head appeared over the rim of the cavelet. Janken patted Wembley's back and whispered, "Papa Wembley?"

Wembley awakened and looked over his shoulder, then turned on his other side. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"No. Just, can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Sure," Wembley said. He scooted back to make room, and Janken climbed in and got under the covers. He snuggled up to Wembley and whispered, "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

"It's all right now," Wembley whispered back, and hugged him.

"I'm happy I'm your son."

"Aw..." For a moment Wembley didn't know what to say. Then something occurred to him. "Jan, I'd like to show you something I've never shown anyone else. Want to share a dream with me?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's go to sleep touching heads. That's easiest if we're back to back."

"Okay."

They turned away from each other, and Janken scooted up so his head was touching Wembley's. Sharing dreams was a rare, magical thing that he had only done a few times in his life. Wembley said softly, "Dream a dream and see,"

Janken completed the ritual words, "what a dream can be."

**

Janken found himself with Wembley in a brightly-lit place. There were no cave walls anywhere, just sky all around, and no ground except for the flat, quartzlike rock he was standing on. Janken looked over the edge. The rock was balanced on the top of a tall pillar that looked like it was made of rainbow-colored quartz crystals. He could not see the ground; it disappeared into fog before it reached the ground.

Janken shrank back from the edge. Wembley said, "Don't be afraid. This is my dream. I won't let anything bad happen to us."

Janken nodded. He understood, but the sight of so much distance in every direction was still scary.

Wembley said, "Watch me."

Janken watched from the center of the rock as Wembley walked to the edge, crouched, and leapt off. He arced up, as if diving—then hung in the air. Floating, he turned to face Janken. "You can do it too."

Janken hesitated. Even though he knew it was only a dream, the distance seemed so real. He looked up at Wembley again. He trusted him; he knew he wouldn't bring him into a dream to scare him. He inched close to the edge, then said, "Catch me?"

"Sure." Wembley held out his arms.

Janken worked up his nerve, looking at Wembley rather than the distance, then gritted his teeth and jumped as hard as he could. Wembley caught him and was knocked backward. Janken's legs locked around Wembley's waist and his arms encircled his neck tightly.

Then he looked around, surprised. They were not falling. Janken didn't feel heavy at all. It was like the air was supporting him. He asked Wembley, "Can I fly too?"

"Yes."

Janken made himself let go of Wembley, first his legs, then his arms. Before he let go completely he took one of Wembley's hands. Then they were floating side by side. And. Janken realized, it wasn't scary any more. He no longer felt like he could fall. He said in amazement, "It's like swimming in air!"

"Yeah, isn't it?" Wembley agreed. "C'mon!"

Holding Janken's hand, Wembley began a downward spiral around the pillar. It looked like a giant crystal from the Crystal Cavern. Then he and Janken entered the fog. It was thin and warm. When they came through the bottom they saw jungly land below. Trees and other plants grew wild here. They skimmed over the tops of the trees. Janken reached down so his fingertips could brush the leaves.

Soon they reached a clearing. The land beneath was green, and there was a stone building in the center that was surrounded by low stone walls and a garden. Janken said, "I know where we are! That's the Gorgs' castle! And there's the tip of Fraggle Rock!"

"That's right."

Janken let go of Wembley's hand and flew ahead toward the well. He stopped and hovered over it, then turned toward Wembley. "Can we fly down there?"

"Sure. Lead the way."

Janken darted down the well, with Wembley following. At first the little Fraggle just enjoyed soaring through the tunnels, but soon he began flying into walls, pivoting in midair just before he crashed so he could land on his feet and kick off in another direction. Wembley laughed at the sight of Janken ricocheting off the walls like a rubber ball. That had never occurred to him! He began bouncing after him. Soon they were playing a game of tag in the Great Hall, using the stalactites, stalagmites, arches, and other rock formations as an obstacle course.

When the game wound down they landed on the arch in the Great Hall. Janken said, "This is a great dream!"

"It didn't start out as a dream," Wembley told him.

"Huh?"

Wembley looked upward and said, "Once I saw a magic spiderfly get stuck on a plant. I freed it, and it gave me a gift. I could fly, but only a few times. At first I wanted to show everyone what I could do, but Gobo, Red, Mokey, and Boober wouldn't let me. They didn't believe I could fly and thought I was only going to hurt myself. I couldn't show off for them, so I flew by myself, just for the fun of it. It was a lot better that way. And even though I can't fly again in real life, I can do it in my dreams." He looked at Janken. "It's okay if you don't believe me. Nobody else does. But even if I imagined it all, it's still fun, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Can we dream this again?"

"Sure, sometime. And now that you know what it's like, you can dream it for yourself."

"Wow." Janken leaned against Wembley's side. Wembley put an arm around his shoulders. "You said you never showed anyone else this dream. Why didn't you?"

"Because it would have felt like showing off," Wembley answered. "Like I was still trying to prove I could fly. I don't need to do that. But you didn't know about it before, so it was just fun." He smiled. "Maybe I'm showing off now by telling you."

"Nah," Janken answered.

"Okay then," Wembley said, and chuckled.

After a little while they flew again, this time drifting gently from their perch, and floated back into Wembley and Gobo's room. They saw themselves, still sleeping back to back, and Gobo in his own nook. They settled back into their bodies and felt their normal weight return.

Janken's eyes opened. It was dark and quiet; the only sounds he could hear were Gobo and Wembley's breathing and the chirp of a nearby thimble beetle. He turned toward Wembley and patted his arm gently. "Papa Wembley?"

Wembley awoke and turned to face Janken. "Yeah?" he said fuzzily.

"I believe you flew for real."

Wembley smiled at him. "Thanks."

Janken snuggled up to Wembley. "I love you, Papa," he whispered.

Wembley hugged Janken. "I love you too, Jan."

Comfortable and happy, Janken and Wembley went to sleep in each other's arms.

*****

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[The Count]

Aw, that's a rully great ending.

Was on the fence as to whether I wanted the Naysayer's identity to be revealed or not... But since you did, I'm glad that Boober's letting himself have some fun. And I rully like how Mokey's coming across when they spend time together.
As for the dream sharing sequence, that was probably the nicest part of the story. Wembley can't fly in real life but he can do so in his dreams and is perfectly happy with keeping that to himself without showing off to the others. On some level I can relate cause when I'm fully immersed in subconscious dream state I have full vision once again.
The way you depict/narrate the family relations as central to the theme worked to show how Janken's mood was affected by it, as well as helping to find his place within the family unit.

Thanks for this story, hope to read whatever's next.

 

[redBoobergurl]

Very sweet ending! I love the dream sharing concept!

I really enjoyed this one (even though I didn't comment much until now!) and can't wait to see what is coming next!

 

[Slackbot]

The Count: Thanks, I'm glad you liked the wrapup. I was beginning to wonder about this thing; the story was giving me a "blah" kinda feeling.

The dream sequence was one of the first scenes in this story to firm itself up in my mind, and it was a whole lot of fun to write. BTW, in my dreams I often have impaired vision, usually to the point of having one image stuck in front of my eyes like a videotape on pause. I also never have flying dreams... but I do have dreams in which I can run and leap like a cheetah in low gravity. Go figure.

This is probably the second most traumatic event that Janken endured in his life (as of "Masks"). He's had it pretty easy, eh? Fortunately, Janken grows out of his habit of sleeping around soon after this story.

Out of curiosity, did you (or anyone else) make any guesses as to the identity of the Naysayer? I was trying to drop "makes-sense-on-retrospect" hints, but I can never tell if I'm being too obvious or too obscure with things like that.

redBoobergurl: Thanks! I love the idea of sharing dreams too. It's such a neat, magical concept. I think it would be a very personal thing, opening your mind to someone else, done only between people who are very close. Janken is very unlikely to find out if any other "Silly Creatures" besides Scooter have that ability.

 

[The Count]

Now that you mention it... In retrospect, I guess the blueberry pieballs would've been a hint—who else is a noted Fragglian chef? But I kind of liked the mystery of not knowing who the Naysayer was. Personally, I maybe thought it was Cantus cause I imagined the character as a tall thin Fraggle on a par with either him or Mokey bodyshapewise. Then again, the fact that it was Boober makes me smile, to know that even he's capable of pulling off a great disguise like that.

 

[Slackbot]

Thought this was over with? You wouldn't be so lucky! Here's my usual parting shot...

***

The Mamas and The Papas
Extras: The Outtake Reel
by Kim McFarland​

*****

[Wembley and Janken are playing a game in which Janken must copy whatever Wembley does. Wembley makes one of his characteristic faces at Janken by turning his nose so far down his head looks like a fist with eyes. Janken makes the same face right back at Wembley.]

Wembley: [astonished] How did you do that?

Janken: [voice mufffled] How did you do that?

[Wembley finishes the game by beeping Janken's still-downturned nose.]

Wembley: You won. You can stop doing that now.

Janken: [voice still muffled] No, I can't. I'm stuck!

Wembley: Oops, here.

[Wembley swats Janken lightly on the back of his head. There is an audible boing, and Janken's nose springs back to its normal position.]

Janken: [rubbing his nose] Thanks. I was starting to get a cramp.

*****

Take 1:

[The Naysayer and the High Mucky-Muck stand back-to back. Then each walks ten paces forward, turns, and raises his slingshot. The High Mucky-Muck shoots first. His missile splats against the cave wall to one side of the Naysayer. Then the Naysayer shoots. His shot flops to the ground halfway between them.]

Take 2:

[The Naysayer and the High Mucky-Muck stand back-to back. Then each walks ten paces forward, turns, and raises his slingshot. The High Mucky-Muck shoots first. His missile splats against the cave wall to one side of the Naysayer. Then the Naysayer shoots. He hits one of the Poobahs behind the Mucky-Muck.]

Take 5:

[The Naysayer and the High Mucky-Muck stand back-to back. Then each walks ten paces forward, turns, and raises his slingshot. The High Mucky-Muck shoots first. His missile splats against the cave wall to one side of the Naysayer. Then the Naysayer raises his slingshot. The missile breaks, and crumbs and grape jam run down the Naysayer's arm inside his sleeve.]

Take 37:

[The Naysayer and the High Mucky-Muck stand back-to back. Then each walks ten paces forward, turns, and raises his slingshot. The High Mucky-Muck shoots first. His missile splats against the cave wall to one side of the Naysayer. Then the Naysayer pulls back on his slingshot. Out of camera range, someone else shoots a pie-ball at the Mucky-Muck and hits him on the nose.]

*****

[Janken, Boober, Mokey, and Red are in Boober's kitchen. Boober is cooking pancakes.]

Janken: [to Mokey] Are you growing a baby now?

Mokey: Yes, I am.

Janken: Are you sure this time?

Mokey: Yes.

Janken: How do you know?

Mokey: [amused] I felt a 'ping.'

[Boober and Red look at Mokey, startled.]

Janken: A 'ping'?

Mokey: Yes. A 'ping.' Ping!

Boober: [over his shoulder] I felt a 'squd' once.

Red: Ew.

*****

Quick note: the game that Wembley and Janken play in the first segment was lifted from Andy Warhol's Blood for Dracula, which is a truly memorable film. Not a good film, but you won't forget it in a hurry.

*****

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[The Count]

Thanks for these outtakes.

*Hides in an oubliette until food fight finishes.

 

[Slackbot]

No problem. There was one 'lost scene' between Mokey and Sidebottom, but I can't find the footage. Weird.

Er... you know what Fraggles do with oubliettes, don't you?