Love Reign O'er News

[newsmanfan]

Part 32

They’d managed to avoid being ticketed somehow, even after Animal ate the highway patrolman’s ticket book; Kermit took cell phone photos of all of them with the cop and Piggy flirted a bit with him while she posted the pics to Facebook. Thank goodness he’s a fan, Kermit thought, waving goodbye with everyone else as the cop sped off on his motorcycle. Animal was scolded for trying to catch cars, and the Electric Mayhem broke into a spirited rendition of “Hold On (I’m Comin’)” as the bus pulled back onto the New Jersey Turnpike. Piggy gave her frog’s flipper a squeeze, and he sighed and leaned back in the stuffing-deprived seat.

“Feels kinda good to be on the road again, huh?” Scooter asked Kermit, checking all his mirrors. As cranky as this old bus was, he found he’d missed driving it.

“Yeah,” Kermit agreed, nodding. “I wish the circumstances were different. How far to Pittsburgh?”

“Oh, another…five or six hours, maybe…”

“Great,” Kermit sighed. There was no way he could even nap with the band playing so loud. Sitting there holding Piggy’s hand, he thought about what Rhonda had explained to him as they disembarked an hour ago: how the simple fact of the Newsman’s being involved with Gina apparently wreaked havoc on his own odd tendency to attract accidents, and the damage he’d unwittingly caused was only due to some energy he had being influenced by someone else with similar energy…or something like that. Rhonda had promised him Honeydew could explain it more clearly, which Kermit doubted, but he understood the gist of it. Feeling sad and a little guilty still, he gazed out the dark window at the lights of towns skating by. Piggy gave his hand another squeeze.

“What is it, Kermie? You look a little down,” she murmured to him.

Kermit sighed. “Well, I was just thinking…”

“Mm-hmm; what about?”

“About the Newsman and Gina,” Kermit said. He pulled his fingers away to gesture out the window. “He’s somewhere up ahead of us right now on a train, probably lonely and depressed, and convinced he has to run away to protect Gina! I mean, just imagine…I’m pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever been in love – she’s definitely the first girl who’s ever been fascinated with him – and he believes he has to stay away from her! I can’t even imagine how awful he must feel right now.” Kermit swallowed, shaking his head. “I mean…I know how I’d feel, if something awful had happened to you, Piggy, and I thought I’d caused it! I’d hate to be…” He looked at Piggy. Her eyes were closed. She was humming faintly. “Piggy?”

“Hmmm?” Innocent blue eyes opened for him. She removed one of the earbuds of her iPig mup3 player. “I’m sorry, Kermie, did you say something?”

Kermit scowled, shaking his head. “Never mind!”

In the rear of the bus, Rhonda tried to use a couple of instrument cases to dampen the noise. “Marty? Marty, can ya hear me?” she squeaked into her cell phone. “Okay, listen: I have an exclusive on the Muppet Theatre catastrophe and the Sosilly Theatre accident! I know the guy who caused ‘em both! Yeah, turns out it wasn’t even his fault; it’s a long story and a really juicy one, lots of sex and discrimination… Yeah, I’m going to pick him up right now, but it may be a while. We’re trying to catch him in Pittsburgh.” She paused, listening as her editor gabbled at her with his usual about-to-go-to-press-on-the-morning-edition panic. “Well I don’t know why Pittsburgh! I’ll ask him when we get there. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll phone in the story. The guy’s girlfriend is in the not-too-badly-hurt people’s ward at St Pancreas, and we’ll be bringing him back to her for the big tearful reunion soon as we can. Oh, and, uh…I’ll be needing per diem on this one. What? Well I don’t care what Rupert says! This is too good to miss, so you tell him the rat gets travel expenses, at least! Okay. Later.” Hanging up, she settled into an empty guitar case in satisfaction. This was shaping up great! Newsie reunited with Gina; the dangerous energy stuff cancelled out through the wonder of modern science; and a lovely human-interest story to boost her out of the freelance-reviewer pay level to boot!

“Back in the game,” she sighed happily, then yelled up at the musicians, “Hey! Anybody got any Cheez Doodlies?”




Gina sat at her Grandmama Angie’s kitchen table, dutifully drinking her rosehip tea. Her grandmother watched her with a sharp eye but a faint smile, so Gina knew she wasn’t in as much trouble as she’d thought. When she finished the tea, her grandmother nodded. “All right, now; let me see the leaves,” she directed.

As she’d been taught, Gina put her saucer over the china cup and quickly flipped them over together, waited a couple of seconds, then lifted the cup away. She sat quietly, watching Grandmama Angie’s face, as the old woman leaned over the table, peering through her tiny spectacles at the damp tea leaves and rosehip pieces spattered on the saucer. “Ohhhh…I see! Well now! Angelina, you have been very naughty! Oho ho ho!” the old woman chuckled.

Gina blushed. “Grandmama, I’m not six anymore. I don’t go by that name now.”

The old woman abruptly turned a scowl on her granddaughter. “What? So now my name isn’t good enough for you? The name my own grandmother gave to me, back in the old country?”

“Grandmama…” Gina groaned, pushing her hair back and rolling her eyes. They’d had this exact discussion so many times.

“Hmf! I see, I see how it is with you these days. Hanging around with those ugly boys with the tattoos and the earrings!”

“Grandmama…you told me Gandpappa had earrings and tattoos.”

“What?” The old woman’s gaze turned sharply to Gina, then slowly softened. She nodded. “Yes…yes he did. But that’s different. He was of the people.”

“Grandmama…I know this is a visit. I know I’m dreaming. What did you need to tell me?” Gina waited, both arms resting on the table. The kitchen was as her grandmother had left it, years back: it had far more herbs hanging in it, and the walls were plastered white, not golden. Still, it was nice to see the crusty old Gypsy again, and Gina’s patience returned. She sat and studied her grandmother’s round, worn face beneath her shawl, watched as wrinkled hands carefully touched the edges of the tea leaves on the saucer.

The old woman sighed. “You know how to read these.”

Gina nodded, but looked at her grandmother, not at the saucer. “Rosehip tea is for love fortunes.”

“Oh, so you do remember some of what I taught you! I wonder sometimes, what with you running around in jeans with tools like some kind of gadji mechanic!”

Gina sighed, slumping in her chair. “Grandmama…”

“Fine, fine, I’m dead, it’s not for me to judge, right?” The old woman stopped the scolding, looking at her granddaughter soberly. She sighed deeply. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes he does. Very much.”

“You know he’s older than you. I’d be a poor matchmaker if I didn’t warn you how—“

“I know that! It doesn’t matter!” Gina tried to suppress a sudden grin. “He certainly doesn’t look that much older…or act older…”

“Angelina!”

“Sorry…” Gina looked up apologetically. Her grandmother tried, but couldn’t keep a smile from her own lips. After a moment, both women started snickering and snorting. The old woman burst into loud laughter, and then they were both smacking the tabletop with their hands, laughing so hard they had tears forming.

Gina wiped her eyes, looking sadly across at the tiny little woman, wondering again how she herself had ever grown from such a small-statured family tree. “Grandmama…I’ve missed you,” she said quietly.

Her grandmother smiled, and touched her hand. Gina wrapped her fingers around the old woman’s. Grandmama Angie sighed. “You really want to be involved with a Muppet? You know how easily duped they are, right? Who’s to say some gadji blonde won’t turn his head and leave you alone and penniless?”

“Grandmama…I have my own income! And no. He won’t do that. He’s not like that.”

The old woman sighed, shaking her head. “No, no, you’re right…the boring ones don’t go astray. Still, this whole business with his soul and yours being in conflict…I don’t like it.”

“The scientists said it was because our souls were so much alike,” Gina argued.

“Scientists! Pah! What do they know?” Grandmama Angie shook an angry little finger at the necklace around Gina’s neck; it appeared now to be a wreath of roses. “You know what that foolish necklace they built is doing? Right now, is doing!”

Gina set her jaw. “I know it’s going to keep him safe.”

Grandmother and granddaughter glared at one another. Finally the old woman looked away, sighing. “My little fire…you’ve grown so much. I just…I only want for you to be happy. This is to be the last time we talk. This is to be your last knowing dream.”

“What? Why?” Gina was startled. This same old woman had taught her how to listen to her dreams, how to recall them and use them; it had never occurred to her she might one day lose the gift.

Grandmama Angie gestured angrily at the necklace. “Because of that! That thing is like a wall between you and your gift, little fire! You will become like…like a tiny coal too small to even light a cone of incense! You will be…like them. The gadjo. Blind to this world, seeing only what your eyes can see.” She stared seriously at Gina. “You won’t be able to see what’s coming at him.”

Frightened, Gina touched the roses. Not be able to help Newsie? “But…but they said it would stop the bad things! They said it would make him able to be with me without causing more accidents!”

The old Gypsy nodded. “They’re right about that one. He’ll be what he always was, and you’ll be…without the gift. Like your stupid cousin Ada, hah! Talk about unlucky! Oh, I warned your Aunt Majel it was a bad idea marrying that dry cleaner from Des Moines!”

“And…and what about his heart?” Gina asked softly, daring a glance at the tea leaves.

Grandmama Angie sighed. Then she smiled sadly, and put a hand on Gina’s arm. “He has a good heart. You’ve given him back that. When I met him, he’d forgot what it even was! Pah! Too caught up in being boring and stupid with his all-so-important news things!”

“Wait…what?” Gina stared at her grandmother, wideyed. “When did you—“

“I have to leave now,” her grandmother said. She reached up to give Gina a hug, and kissed her forehead. “You have a wonderful, bright, amazing life, my little fire. Know this: I am so, so proud of you.” She smiled, her eyes light with tears. “Hah! Look at that. You make the old turnip cry, eh?”

“Wait – what about the leaves?” Gina cried, looking worriedly from her fading, ethereal-seeming grandmother to the fading tea leaves and fading cup and fading table.

“Little fire…my Gina…you already know what they say.”

Gina gulped back a sob. “I…I love you, Grandmama Angie. I always will.”

“And I love you, Angelina.” Everything began to swirl, and Gina knew she was about to wake up. Suddenly her grandmother’s fierce voice cut through the haze one last time: “Oh, and tell them to look for him where the marsh is ****** up at the creek. He’s not going to Pittsburgh.” Gina heard a faint snort. “Who’d ever want to go to Pittsburgh?...”

Gina inhaled deeply, opened her eyes, and stared up at the soft beige ceiling of the hospital room. Her heart monitor beeped quietly, steadily. She blinked away her tears, and murmured, “Goodbye, Grandmama.”

“Gina? You okay?” a scratchy voice asked, and a furry hand touched her own. Gina turned her head slowly, mindful of all the injuries, and saw Gonzo gazing worriedly at her, perched in one of the uncomfortable chairs, a magazine abandoned by his side. Camilla snored softly, perched on the back of his chair.

“I’m okay, Gonzo, thanks.” She sighed. “Just a…just a dream.”

“Oh. Yeah. I have some bad ones too sometimes. There’s this one about Carl Sagan and a baloney sandwich…”

“What makes you think it was a bad dream?”

“You were crying,” Gonzo said, bewildered.

Gina shook her head gently. “No. Not bad. A little sad, but not bad.” She peered around the room; Beaker and Pepe had fallen asleep in the other chair, and the TV was tuned to some sort of old game show with a wide-smiling man and a bunch of sheep, pigs, and cows with the sound off. Honeydew had crashed on the unoccupied bed, and Rizzo was scarfing down a Jello cup with an old Small Mammal Illustrated Swimsuit Edition propped open against the scientist’s feet on the end of the bed. Gina tried to stretch, feeling more alert than she had in hours. “What time is it?”

Gonzo checked his cell phone. “Uh, almost four-thirty.”

Gina nodded. “Can I borrow your phone?”

“Sure…”

“Does it have Kermit’s number?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s that one there.”

Gina grinned. “The one labeled Being Green?”

“Yeah. Seemed easier to remember that way.”

Gina hit call, and waited for Kermit to pick up.




Kermit hung up, and leaned forward to tap Scooter’s shoulder. “Uh? Whuh? I’m awake!” Scooter yelled, the bus swerving as he jerked upright.

“Ack! Scooter!”

“Oh…sorry, chief. What’s up?”

“Do we have a road map?”

“Uh…sure.” Scooter handed the map over his shoulder. “Why?”

“That was Gina. She said the Newsman isn’t going to make it to Pittsburgh.”

“Oh…well, that’s good! I’m not sure the bus is, either!”

“Like, are we there yet? I rully need a break,” Janice called up.

“Yeah, man! How far can that guy run, anyway?” Floyd complained.

Kermit sighed. “Scooter, take this next exit and look for someplace with a bathroom, okay?”

“On it, boss!”

Kermit settled back in his seat, opening the map out. Piggy looked at it, then at him. “Um…what’s going on?”

Kermit shook his head, studying the map. “Gina said she had some kind of a…a dream, and she believes the Newsman didn’t stay on the train. She said to look for him where the marsh is ****** by the creek.” He met Piggy’s raised eyebrows with a shrug. “It didn’t make much sense. That’s all she knows, she said.”

“Uh, are we stopping? ‘Cause I think your drummer is about to start eating someone else’s seat,” Rhonda pointed out. Kermit looked to the back of the bus. Animal was chewing a chunk of old foam from his seat, which looked hardly anything like a seat anymore.

Kermit shuddered. “Eeesh! Yes, we’re stopping.” As he spoke, Scooter eased the ungainly bus off the highway and down an exit ramp. They’d left Philly behind a short time ago, and the lights of houses had become farther apart. He hoped they could find something out here, and wished he’d had the foresight to call for a pit stop farther back.

“Good,” Rhonda sighed, yawning. She noticed the map, and Kermit’s intense study of it. “What’re you looking for?”

“Some kind of marsh, or dam, or creek…I’m really not sure,” Kermit sighed.

Rhonda pointed ahead out the windshield. “Like that?”

They all looked up as a sign loomed overhead: MARSH CREEK STATE PARK, 5 MILES.

Kermit nodded. “That could do it!”




Crickets chirped, and unseen things rustled the grass. Darting fearful, blurry glances in every direction, the Newsman stumbled along the dirt path. He was rapidly regretting his decision to head away from the lights of a small town. Whatever Scott had given him had worn off, and he’d been rudely awakened by rough hands grabbing him by one arm and one leg and throwing him out of the kitchen of the diner car when the train slowed for a curve in the tracks. He hadn’t even had the chance to point out he was technically luggage, not a stowaway; he reflected now that maybe climbing up into the kitchen from the storage bin had been his mistake. But it had been so cold…

Shivering now, rebuttoning his sports coat to try to retain some little body heat, he walked slowly along, with no idea where he was heading, no idea how far from Pittsburgh he might yet be; no idea how long he’d napped, curled into as small a space as he could manage in the warm kitchen, before he’d been discovered. He couldn’t see much, with his glasses missing and the trees looming overhead. He really should at least have stopped at that gas station (at least, it had smelled like a gas station) and asked directions. Being lost and alone had been one of his worst fears since he was a child, ever since he’d been separated from his third-grade class trip in the museum (and mean Randy Higgins had run off with his glasses, laughing cruelly). Gulping, Newsie squinted into the surrounding darkness. Tree branches swayed overhead. Something hooted at him! He whirled, glaring, but the joker kept right on with his odd laugh: “Hoo…hoohoo! Hoohoo!”

Even lost in the wilderness, people laughed at him. Great.

Something sparkled up ahead. Thinking it might be a building, or some other sign of civilization, Newsie sped his pace up, trying not to trip on the rough footpath. The trees closed in, making him even more nervous. Suddenly he was right on top of the sparkling thing! Startled, he fell backwards, and sat there shaking, unmoving, for some time before he realized nothing else stirred. He reached forward and cautiously touched the sparkling thing. It was a road. The kind of road with shiny mica in the asphalt. Relaxing slightly, he blew out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and got to his feet. Looking up, he saw a bright moon slowly going down. Its light danced over the road. Relieved, Newsie decided to follow the pavement. There must be some sort of civilized place ahead, right? He’d find someone, and ask where he was, and…and…

He had no idea what to do after that. He couldn’t go home. Swallowing hard, he forced his feet into motion, his body still aching from the tragedy earlier that night. Had he not been a Muppet, he surely would’ve been laid up in a hospital bed…just like… No. No! He shouldn’t even think of her. She’d be better off without him around. She’d be safer. Nodding to himself, he walked along the road, barely able to discern something else sparkling ahead. Unlike the road, this appeared to be moving. He could smell green things, and plants decaying, and fish…water? He swallowed dryly. If he could find any that was safe to drink, he’d certainly like to wet his throat.

After a few minutes’ walk, during which he looked around constantly, never quite able to see what it was rustling through the underbrush on either side of the road, he saw a broad expanse of moving, shifting water ahead. The road seemed to come right down alongside it. He saw larger shapes stacked near the water’s edge, and then thought he noticed movement among the shapes. Stopping, he squinted ahead, unable to see anything but blurry forms. The larger things might be tables, or boats, or stacks of sandbags. As he tried to figure them out without coming closer, something smaller definitely shifted, moving away from the stacks…moving closer to him? “H-hello?” Newsie called out. His voice sounded very, very alone in the quiet night.

The thing paused, then hopped closer. It seemed to have…horns! Frightened, the Newsman backed away. Monsters! Monsters, out here in the country! All the stories he’d heard were true! The thing waggled its horns at him, then hopped closer again. With a yelp of fright, the Newsman turned and pelted down the road. As he headed into the darker part among the trees, unable to find the entrance to the dirt path again in the night, enormous yellow eyes suddenly came around a bend at him, and something huge roared and belched. “Aaaaah!” Newsie cried, nearly tripping as he tried to reverse. He ran back toward the water, sure the other monster was awaiting him still, but hoping it would also be spooked by the giant creature now hot on his rear. The glowing eyes blinked at him as the monster snarled over a bump, and now he could hear voices! Oh, no – those must be the screams of all its prior victims, trapped in its belly! It was huge! It would eat him! It would –

“A-HAH!” a tall reddish thing growled, jumping in front of him. With a shriek, Newsie’s feet locked in fright, and he pinwheeled frantically before keeling over. He didn’t even have time to experience the pain of his head hitting the asphalt before the skinny-legged reddish thing was bending over him – its hand reaching for him – its brow going up to reveal large staring eyes – its wide mouth gaping –

“TAG! You’re it,” the thing said, tapping his shoulder. “Hah hah hah hah!”

The drummer? His mind choked, recognizing the furry face and wide grin. Then the head injury caught up to the rest of him, and Newsie passed out.

 

[The Count]

Okay...

Was the reference the song Hold On I'm Coming by Sam Cook & Dave (whose last name I don't know)?

Good chapter...
The dream between Gina and her Grandma Angie was a very nice touch.
Sad that Gina's losing her gypsy gift because of the ionized copper necklace to keep herself and Newsie safe from further fowlups.
Was that really Animal who found Newsie headed back from the swamp in fear of some other critter or was that his delirium finally setting in before his blacking out?

Hopefully more gets posted soon as we need to knwo what happens next.

 

[Muppetfan44]

Wonderful updates! Very heart wrenching! I loved how Kermit was trying to be sentimental with Piggy but she wasn't paying attention (nice muppet spoof on the ipod!) I guess that's what Kermit gets for not paying attention to her while watching Casablanca.

Definitely excited to read more, so keep up the good work!

 

[newsmanfan]

Count: You got it. Sam & Dave; also very memorably done by the Blues Brothers.

Muppetfan44, thank you! I've put a lot into this and I'm glad it shows. Was up 'til way past sunrise last night writing the climactic next-to-last chapter. Worth every minute of lost sleep.

I see no one's biting on the obscure jazz reference. Hee, hee...

 

[Muppetfan44]

I thought for a second that the reference was for the jazz musician on the Simpsons, Bleeding gums Murphy, but that's I could think of regarding the jazz reference.

 

[newsmanfan]

Part 33

“Ya know, without the glasses, he does kind of look like –“

“Shh! He’s waking up!”

“Hey, Newsie? Newsie, ya in there?”

With a soft groan, the Newsman tried to focus. To his dismay, he remembered his glasses were gone. Suddenly a small creature hopped onto his leg; he cringed, but it said in a familiar voice: “It’s me, you idiot! You okay?”

“Rhonda?” He squinted and could just make out little rat eyes staring at him under blonde hair. Slowly his strained nerves came off red alert. Something green moved in front of him. “K-Kermit?”

“How are you feeling?” Kermit asked. Peering around, the Newsman could make out the taped-up old seat he was propped on, and a variety of very blurred shapes gathered on all sides, below, behind.

“Where’d you guys come from?” Newsie asked, bewildered. He heard Animal yelling somewhere in the near distance, something about a bunny rabbit.

“We have come to rescue you,” Miss Piggy said sweetly.

Newsie stared at her…well, at the large pinkish blur he was fairly sure was her. “How…how hard was I hit? I haven’t had hallucinations in a long time…” he muttered.

Someone snickered, but was quickly shushed. Kermit shook his head, coming closer so Newsie could make out his concerned expression. “You’re not hallucinating, Newsman. We came to find you and bring you home.”

“Home?” Newsie shook his head. “I…I don’t have a home anymore.”

“Gina’s waiting for you, ya twit,” Rhonda snapped, paws on her hips.

He recoiled. “No! I can’t…can’t be with her…she’ll get hurt…” He flinched as two firm flippers came down on his shoulders, and stared, frightened, at Kermit. “No! You don’t understand! You were right, Kermit! It is all my fault! I can’t go back!”

“No,” Kermit said gently, shaking his head. “No, it isn’t. And Gina’s fine, and she’s going to be fine with you there. Bunsen and Beaker came up with a solution.”

“We’re takin’ you back to that sweet, sweet love,” Dr Teeth agreed, leaning over a seat farther back. The other musicians chuckled.

“What you did for her was, like, sooooo groovy,” Janice said. “Like, you guys should be together, after all that!”

“Right on,” Zoot said.

“But…how…”

Rhonda sighed. “Look, you have this weird energy field thing, right? Well, so does Gina, and apparently when the two of you got together it just made all that energy go squirrely! And believe me, squirrel energy is the worst kind!”

“Things fall on her too?” Newsie wondered, confused. She’d never told him that! Had she been hiding her own horrible luck from him?

He winced as a tiny paw smacked the back of his head. “No, you idiot! Look, just accept it: the lab guys figured everything out, and they made this necklace thingy to fix it all.” Newsie rubbed his head, wondering how the heck the rat had even reached that high.

“All we gotta do is get you home!” Scooter spoke up from the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Animal! Come on, man! Time to go home!” Floyd yelled out the open bus door.

“Bun-ny rab-bit?” Animal growled hopefully, and suddenly the horned hopping monster was thrust in front of the Newsman’s face. He choked, squirming back, unable to get very far in the seat.

“Sure, you can keep the bunny rabbit! Now come on, let’s load up!” Floyd ordered, and the blurry horned thing disappeared with a squeak as Animal carried it to the back seat. Slowly it dawned on Newsie there weren’t any monsters here, just Muppets.

He squinted around at them all. “But what…what are all of you doing out here?”

Kermit smiled. “You heard Piggy. We came to rescue you!”

He blinked at them. “W-why?”

Piggy bit her lip, glancing at her frog. Kermit answered for them all. “Because you’re one of us, Newsman. You always have been. And we…we want you back.” Newsie was doubly astounded when in addition to Kermit’s hand on his arm, Piggy reached over and added hers as well. Slowly he felt more gentle hands on his shoulders, his arms, his knee, his nose… “Ah, Animal, I don’t think he wants you holding him there.”

“Sor-ry…”

“Come home,” Kermit urged him.

Newsie looked around at them all, trembling, astonished. “You…you want me back? After what I caused? The…the tornado? The holes in the floor?”

“It wasn’t totally your fault,” Rhonda said.

“Come home, Newsie,” Scooter said.

“Yeah, man. Who else could ever read the news?” Floyd asked, although he added under his breath, “If we ever get the show actually running again…”

Newsie swallowed, trying to take it all in. “And…I won’t be a jinx anymore?”

Rhonda shook her head. “I don’t think I’d go that far.”

“Gina will be safe. All of us will be safe,” Kermit said firmly. “Come home with us. Piggy’s already organizing a welcome-back party for you…aren’t you, Piggy?”

Fortunately, Newsie couldn’t see the frown which crossed Piggy’s face before she smiled. “But of course! I would not dream of letting such a happy occasion go by without a celebration for the return of our favorite journalist!”

“Really?” He blinked at her in surprise. “I thought you didn’t want me at your parties… Did you know, I think someone spiked the punch bowl last time?”

“Aha, ha, ha,” Piggy cooed. “Why, what a silly idea!”

Kermit flashed a scowl at her, but then patted Newsie’s shoulder. “We’re going home. All of us.” He gestured for everyone to take their seats, and as Muppets shuffled out of the aisle and into various battered benches, Kermit commanded, “Scooter, move this bus!”

“You got it, chief!”

Newsie sat in stunned silence as the bus wheezed into motion. Kermit gave him a smile, and went to sit in the opposite seat with Piggy. Rhonda sighed contentedly, settling onto the seat next to Newsie. He squinted down at her. “Did you…organize this? For me?”

Rhonda shrugged. “Eh, no big. You don’t need to th—“

Newsie gathered her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “Ack! No! Stop! No hugs! Sheesh,” she complained as he finally released her. She gave him a poke in the ribs, making him grunt in pain; though healing, he was still sore. “You don’t need to thank me! But I do get your exclusive interview, got it?” Able to smile at her, Newsie nodded, reaching for his handkerchief, feeling droplets at the corners of his eyes. He apparently had left it behind at the Sosilly along with his tie. Rhonda poked him again, less harshly, and he glanced down to find her holding up a lace hankie. Nodding thanks, he wiped the tears quickly, embarrassed, hoping no one else noticed.

Piggy looked away, and Kermit took her hand in his. He gave her a querying look. Well, heck, Piggy thought, sighing, I guess even geeks need love. She looked into her frog’s kind eyes, and sat up proudly, and gave him a firm nod. They’d done the right thing, and she was glad to be part of it. Kermit snuggled in next to her, and the bus climbed onto the highway for the long journey home.




Harlan Grosse Point Blanke was at the station early, as was his wont on Friday mornings in order to review the proposed specials or other planned events for the weekend. He hadn’t even sat down yet when his private line rang. Assuming it was his wife calling to remind him of some lunch date before he became engrossed in the morning meetings, he set down his croissant with low-fat buttery spread (a blend he had specially made from the excess profits of the station’s reality-TV show, Butter Me Up!) and his decaf coffee and answered, “Yes, honey, what did I forget?”

The voice on the other end was high, with a nails-on-blackboard quality…but even scratchier-sounding than his wife’s. “Mr Blanke, this is the ACLU. We’re calling in regard to one of your former employees, the Newsman. Is it true he was let go as part of an overall campaign to rid your station of all Muppet employees?”

“What?” Blanke sat down hard. “The ACLU?”

“Last year you fired five employees, yet your ratings were consistently average even after the firings, so your stated goal of raising ratings by cutting the least productive employees seems to us to be a smokescreen for your discriminatory policies!”

“What?” Blanke said, louder. “No! No, I…who did we fire?”

“The Newsman, Lewis Kazagger, Annie Sue Pig, your own cousin R.I.P. Grosse, and some rat named Bubba.” The voice paused, then continued suggestively, “Of course, if you fired the Newsman due to his notorious tendency to jinx things, we might not have enough for a civil-action suit. Why exactly did you fire the newscaster?”

Blanke, flustered, tried to drink his croissant. “Well, I – you’d have to speak to Lenny Muldoon, he actually does all the hiring and firing –“

“Well, Mr Blanke, he told us to talk to you.” As Blanke swallowed dryly, thinking in rising panic how much of their assets could get tangled in a civil suit, not to mention the bad publicity for the station, the person on the other end of the phone continued, “Look, we’re reasonable people, Mr Blanke! We completely understand if –“

“T-talk to our lawyers,” Blanke stuttered, and hung up fast. Shaking, he took a moment to compose himself, then shouted, “Murray!”

His assistant popped his head in the door. “Sir?”

“I need you to pull some files for me. All those...those Muppets we fired last year. The ACLU just called.”

“Oh, is this about that Newsman guy?” Murray asked.

“Who?”

“Short guy, kinda yellow, bad jacket…”

“Oh him,” Blanke said. Now he recalled the reporter. Honestly he couldn’t think of anything wrong with him…seemed kind of bland to him, really…but the board had voted to cut all Muppets. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time. “Is there something I should have been told about him?” Blanke demanded.

Murray shrugged. “Dunno. Always seemed kind of boring to me, but he’s been all over the news. Those jerks at KRAS accused us of firing him because we thought he’d go postal someday.”

Blanke glared at his assistant. “Has he?”

“Hard to tell. The Daily Scandal claimed so…”

“Hah!” Blanke snorted, and successfully took a sip of his croissant and a bite of his coffee cup, chewing absently while his brain turned over. Murray knew better than to say anything, and waited at the door. Finally Blanke decided what to do. “KRAS and the Scandal, huh? Those are both ConHugeCo outfits, aren’t they? Red Turner’s boys. You know how Rupert hates anything to do with Turner… Murray! Get me everything you have on this Newsguy, and I mean everything! Where he’s working now, where he lives, the exact story the Scandal ran. Oh, and tell the lawyers to pull something together to fight a civil suit, in case this doesn’t work.” He sighed, plopping back into his seat. “Who knew Muppets were listed under Equal Opportunity laws?”

At the desk of the social scene reporter for the Daily Scandal, Fleet Scribbler chewed a pencil disgruntledly. Boy, he’d really thought throwing out a possible discrimination lawsuit would have that station chief falling all over himself to denounce the Newsman! Oh, well, he’d just do what he always did, and make something up.

“Hey, creep, were your dirty lips next to my phone?” the social scene reporter exclaimed, kicking him away from her desk. “How many times have I told you to stay away from my stuff!”

Before he could come up with a clever retort, the editor stormed past, yelling, “Scribbler, you’d better have that story done in two minutes or I’ll run the one about a longtime gossip columnist being arrested for Muppaphone smuggling instead!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m almost done,” Scribbler growled, and hastened back to his own tiny desk to finish typing up his account of the Muppet Theatre Massacre, which might not have four-part harmony, but it did have a couple pics of the damage to the theatre floor which would look even better after the photo editor touched them up in TabloidShop. He’d make that stupid Newsie pay for messing up his face and his dignity! Typing frantically, Scribbler smiled. Just in time for the morning edition…




The nurses had just finished shift change when the flood began.

It started with a shriek in the main lobby, and several people scattering as a small troupe of rats stepped up to the desk. “’Scuse us,” the largest of them said. “When do visitin’ hours start?”

As the orderly on duty fled, screaming, Bubba looked at the other rats, shrugged, and said, “Guess dat means they start now! Heh heh heh.” Happily, the rodents headed for the elevator, riding up in a car with a startled patient in a wheelchair whose nurse had abandoned him upon seeing the rats pouring in.

“Hoof der foo sveen yager bork?” the man in the poufy white hat asked the emergency desk orderly, a young man not quite as jaded as the night admittance nurse.

“Uh…do you have insurance?” he asked, baffled.

Fozzie stirred from the row of chairs he’d fallen asleep in. “Oh! Hey, am I glad to see you guys! You know, this paperwork is really confusing!” He showed it to the Chef and Rowlf.

Rowlf scratched his head. “Uh, I think you only need to do that stuff if you’re a patient, Fozzie. Come on, let’s go find everybody.” As the three of them started for the elevator, the nurse ran around to block their way.

“Hey…no dogs allowed in here!”

“Oh, I’m with him,” Rowlf said, patting the Chef’s back.

The Chef nodded enthusiastically. “Ya, vistinns der tumpy-tumpa girlen,” he told the confused nurse, holding up a pot which smelled dubiously of boiled cabbage. “Hernen un sicky-socky soopen!”

“Uh…are you his seeing-eye dog?”

“No, his translator! He wants to go to Gina Broucek’s room,” Rowlf said.

“Uh…er…room three-twelve,” the nurse said, checking the admissions logs.

“Burn de bool!” the Chef said, giving the nurse an a-ok sign.

“He says thank you,” Rowlf said helpfully.

As they trotted down the hall to the elevator, Fozzie whispered to Rowlf, “Rowlf, did you just tell a lie?”

“You bet I did! I have no idea what the Chef ever says!”




When an orderly entered the patient’s room with breakfast, she set it upon the high rolling tray and started to move it toward the bed. “Good morning…time for breakfa…” Her voice trailed off as she slowly looked around, becoming aware of the fact the room was packed with strange creatures. Chickens roosted on the end of the bedframe. A weird blue thing with a hooked nose blinked at her from a chair by the bed. A dog, a bear, and a bug-eyed man in an Elizabethan collar with a fish in one hand stared at her curiously from the other bed. In a corner, the tallest eagle she’d ever seen nodded at her, hmming approval.

“Just leave it there, sister. We’ll take care of it,” a thin voice said at her feet. Startled, the orderly looked down to see a rat in a varsity jacket grabbing the bottom of the wheeled tray and pushing it over to the bed.

“Care to…join us?” some kind of fuzzy orange shrimp asked, rubbing her shoe suggestively.

Screaming, the orderly fled, slamming the door behind her.

“That was terribly rude!” Sam huffed. He leaned closer to Gina. “How fortunate you were already awake! I was not aware hospital employees were so noisy!”

“Me either,” Gina said, smiling.

“They only brought one bowl a’ oatmeal!” one of the rats complained.

“Perhaps we could order room service,” Bunsen offered. “Beaker, would you call the nurse, please?”

“Mee mee,” Beaker agreed, hitting what he thought was the nurse call button. Instead, the bed Fozzie, Rowlf, and Lew were sitting on started folding up. “Mee! Mee mee mee…”

“Oh, no, I think it’s this one here,” Beauregard said, pressing a button which set off some sort of alarm on the unused monitors by the bed.

Gina let the rats have the oatmeal, happily sipping from a small carton of orange juice. When she’d woken a short while ago to numerous whispered conversations going on around her and found what seemed to be most of the cast and crew of the Muppet Theatre gathered in her room, they’d told her the good news right away. Newsie was on his way home. She ran her fingers along the smooth beads of the copper necklace. He was coming home, and she would make sure he never felt he had to leave again. Several of the Muppets began arguing with the nurse who answered the call summons about how much food could be brought up; Bubba and Rizzo volunteered to raid the kitchen downstairs; the Swedish Chef poured out a bowl of soup for her which smelled like stewed tube socks; and the chickens clucked angrily when chicken soup was mentioned. Gina lay her head back on her pillow, smiling.

All his friends would be here, and her Newsie was coming home.




By the time the crowd of Muppets poured from the bus and marched irregularly through the front lobby doors, the nurses, orderlies, and even doctors gave them a wide berth. They stepped confidently up to the front desk, Kermit in the lead. “Uh, pardon me,” he began.

Every person in the room stopped and pointed at the elevator. “Th-three-tw-twelve,” the nurse behind the desk said, gulping.

“Oh,” Kermit said. The Muppets looked at one another, pleased. Kermit nodded. “Thank you!” As the entire troupe headed for the elevator, Kermit said to Newsie, “Well, that was easy.”

Newsie nodded back, relieved. He’d worried they might have to sneak in again.

On the ride up, he fidgeted with his sports coat and the string bracelet which was still around his wrist, though looking a little worse for wear. He’d done his best to comb his hair and straighten up just before they reached St Pancreas. Kermit patted his shoulder. A little surprised still at all this support, the Newsman gave him a nod of thanks. They filed out of the elevator on the third floor, and everyone else fell back to let Newsie take the lead. He looked back at them nervously. “What if it doesn’t work?” he whispered to Kermit.

“Well, then…then we’ll just have to figure out something else,” Kermit assured him.

“Or cryogenically freeze you,” Piggy muttered.

“Newsie, it’ll be okay,” Rhonda insisted.

Newsie swallowed, turned to the door of Gina’s room, and lifted his hand to knock. Before his knuckles could fall upon the door, Rizzo barged past with several other rats in tow, each of them bearing stacks of dishes full of various foodstuffs over their heads. “Hey, gangway!” Rizzo paused, letting the others troop into the room ahead, and looked up at Newsie. “Oh, look what the cat dragged in! ‘Bout time you got here!”

He was about to snap at the rat when he heard her voice. “Newsie?”

He rushed into the room, going straight to the bed. Gina was sitting mostly upright, her back supported by the raised top section of the mattress. She smiled at him. Gulping, afraid again, Newsie approached cautiously. She held out the hand which wasn’t tied into an IV drip. Trembling, he reached for her. Everyone stopped, collective breath held; Beaker ducked his head inside his collar, hoping they’d calculated the field frequency correctly.

The Newsman’s hand touched Gina’s. A ripple shivered through the room, as though the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees. Newsie stared at her. She smiled. Unable to hold back, he leaped onto a chair by the bed and leaned in to embrace her. She kissed his nose, then his lips; fervently he kissed back, only dimly aware of the sigh which swept through the assembled Muppets.

“This is rully sweet,” Janice murmured. Floyd nodded, holding her by the waist.

“Beaker, I think it’s working!” Bunsen whispered loudly.

Kermit watched, feeling both relieved and embarrassed, as his newscaster engaged in what clearly was shaping up to be a very passionate kiss with the young woman who loved him. He turned to Piggy, surprised to see a small tear in one lovely blue eye. “Piggy?” he asked.

“Hm?” she looked at him, realized what he’d noticed, and quickly dabbed at both eyes. “Oh! These hospital rooms are so dry it makes my eyes hurt!”

“Uh-huh,” Kermit said, smiling. She shot him a frown, but then squeezed his flipper.

Gina broke the kiss first, shifting painfully. “Ow…”

Alarmed, Newsie pulled back, making sure his body wasn’t leaning on hers at all. “I’m sorry! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, and stroked his cheek gently. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her, feeling better than that right this moment. “Um…what’s…what’s this cure?”

“Oh. This. Like it?” Gina indicated a copper bead necklace he’d never seen before.

“A necklace?” He looked from it to his bracelet. “You know, before all this I never heard of personal jewelry serving medicinal purposes…”

“That is the wearable psychokinetic energy field modulator device, specifically charged to block Miss Broucek’s original energy signature,” Honeydew volunteered. “Once your field has been exposed to the full effects of the anticharge, Newsman, you should revert to your original energy levels, and the psychokinetic manifestational attributes you’ve been experiencing should be cancelled out!”

“Uh…” Newsie said, blinking.

Gina pulled him close for another kiss. “It means we’re going to be fine. You and me, and everyone else. No more news reports backfiring on everyone.”

“Oh,” he said, relieved. He swallowed. “Um. But will they, er, still affect me?”

Beaker sighed sadly. Bunsen apologized, “I’m so sorry, Newsman. Returning both of you to a balanced state was the only way we could assure the worst effects of your combined fields would remain dormant.”

“Can you live with that?” Gina asked.

Newsie looked worriedly into her eyes. “Can you…can you live with me?”

“Definitely,” Gina said, and stroked his hair back. Closing his eyes, he held onto her arm, deep relief and gratitude and extraordinary happiness coursing all through him. “So,” she asked, “what happened to your glasses?”

Before he could tell her he had no idea, the door opened again. Everyone turned to see a paunchy, balding man in an expensive suit marching in, papers in hand, followed closely by a mustachioed man carrying a briefcase. Newsie’s eyes widened; even without his glasses, he knew the voice as soon as the man spoke: “I’m Harlan Grosse Point Blanke, station manager at KRAK. Where’s this Newsman?”

Scooter stood up, surprised. “Cousin Harlan?”

Blanke stared blankly. “Who is that?”

His assistant stepped up, muttering in his ear, “That’s your cousin Scooter. Remember, J P put him at the Muppet Theatre to oversee things?”

“Oh, right, right, hiya, Scooby. Now can anyone tell me—“

“That’s Scooter,” the young man corrected, annoyed, but his pompous cousin wasn’t listening. Instead, Blanke stepped over to Newsie, looking awed, holding out his hand.

“Mr Donaldson! An honor, sir. Big fan. I, ah, didn’t realize you knew these…er…these Muppet folks.”

Newsie stared at him in utter surprise. Gina spoke up quickly. “Oh yes. Sam’s been a supporter of Newsie’s for years. How can we help you, Mr Blanke?”

“I have?” Sam the Eagle wondered, puzzled.

“Er,” Blanke said, clearly discomfited that the great Mr Donaldson wasn’t shaking hands. “Well. I, uh, I have been closely following the recent scurrilous reports in some of our rival’s news media, and I am appalled, completely appalled, at the allegations about the Newsman…especially in connection with KRAK! So, in reviewing his files, I have come to the conclusion that perhaps the news director was in error when he let this star reporter go, and I’ve come to offer him his job back.”

Astounded, Newsie started to protest. “But you were the one—ow.”

Gina kept her fingertips on Newsie’s arm after the pinch to hold him still. “Well, I’m not sure the Newsman would want that job back, Mr Blanke.”

Rhonda jumped onto the bed, getting in Blanke’s way. “And after my special report in today’s edition of the Post, he’s gonna have lots of people knocking on his door! I’m sure People and Discover are gonna want to go in-depth nationally on how that poor man was blamed for several disasters at local theatres, only to learn he was the victim of…of…”

“Explosive concurrent protosimilar manifestational psychokinetic field syndrome,” Honeydew offered.

“Right,” Rhonda nodded. “And you just know PBS will want to do a special…”

Blanke chewed his lower lip, worried. “No, no, no! No, he needs to come work for us again! We could use a…a new…”

“Field reporter in charge of Muppet news and first-on-scene lead?” Newsie suggested, trying to deepen his voice. The others all looked at him. Gina suppressed a giggle.

“Yes! Yes! That’s a fantastic idea, Mr Donaldson!” Blanke nodded. “And…and we’ll start him off with a bonus for the first-televised rights to his exclusive story!”

“I think he’ll need a special reports editor for that,” Gina said, looking pointedly at Rhonda, who squeaked and stood up proudly.

“You do have a Muppet special reports editor, don’t you?” Newsie asked, giving Blanke his sternest glower.

“Oh, of course, yes, of course!” Blanke said, starting to sweat.

“I’ve been talking to Mr Donaldson here,” Rhonda said casually, “And he says ABC will offer me twenty grand and all the cheese I want yearly, provided I deliver well-packaged Muppet-sensitive programming…”

“Thirty! And more cheese than you want!” Blanke said immediately.

“Sold!” Rizzo cackled. He looked at Rhonda. “You need an assistant, right?”

“Well?” Blanke asked Newsie. Newsie looked at Gina. She smiled.

“Give me the contract. I’ll vet it and if it looks right, I’ll pass it along to the Newsman,” Newsie said gruffly.

“Wonderful! Wonderful! Tell him to report to the station tonight and we’ll get started—“

Gina nudged Newsie. He cleared his throat. “Monday.”

“Monday! Fantastic! Monday! All right, thank you so much, Mr Donaldson. Tell him we’ll see him then!” Nervously looking around at everyone, Blanke exited. His assistant sighed, opened the briefcase, tucked away the papers, and nodded at Newsie.

“Nice to have you back, Newsman,” he said.

“See you tomorrow, Murray,” Newsie replied, a grin building as the assistant followed his boss out.

When the door shut once more, Kermit spoke up. “Well look, Newsman, I can’t pay you that much, and I don’t know if we’ll even be able to get the Muppet Theatre running again anytime soon…but you’re welcome to the News Flash job, if you still want it.”

Newsie couldn’t make out anyone’s features, but the silence in the room spoke volumes to him. “I’d be happy to,” he said, emotion deepening his voice, and the room erupted in laughter and cries of “Yeah! Yeah Newsie!”

Gina pulled him close for a kiss. Amazed at how fast his life seemed to be turning around for the better, Newsie reveled in her touch, gently stroking her cheek in return. The Muppets continued to chatter happily. An argument over who would get the cheddar in the deal broke out between Rizzo and Rhonda. Bunsen and Beaker engaged in a detailed discussion of the theory behind the modulator device for the Swedish Chef’s benefit, although he stood scratching his head at their tech-heavy language. Piggy kissed Kermit. Scooter talked with the band and Rowlf about the music he thought might work best at the upcoming auction. Kermit nodded and tried to be happy amidst the general celebration, though privately he felt this was only one crisis solved, with the larger one of the damaged theatre still to go.

Gradually, all of them became aware of a subtle pressure building in the air of the room. “Whoa, does anyone else feel that?” Gonzo asked, the chickens clucking as they drew together around him nervously.

“Kermit, dat feels like a storm!” Fozzie said, looking around.

Kermit quickly looked at the Muppet Labs duo. “Bunsen! I thought you said you’d solved things!”

Everyone slowly stopped talking and looked at the Newsman and Gina, who had one arm each around the other, kissing deeply, eyes closed, oblivious to all else. A definite sense of charged air grew in the room. “Meep!” Beaker said, feeling his hair standing up straight.

“Er…we did,” Bunsen answered, staring at the couple on the bed. “Perhaps I neglected to mention that the psychokinetic energy field anticharge would only take full effect once the…er, individual fields…ah…combined fully once more?”

“Fields? Looks more like tongues,” Piggy muttered, astonished.

The rats began backing toward the door. “Ah…nice reunion everybody seeya later,” Rizzo said hurriedly.

“Uh…is Animal still on the bus?” Scooter asked, shivering at the breeze from nowhere swirling through the room.

“Yeah, man; we thought he could make sure we didn’t get towed for parking on the street,” Floyd replied, blinking in astonishment at the duration and intensity of the kiss. “Uh…maybe we should go feed him!” He hustled out, with the rest of the band on his heels.

“Perhaps the rest of us should…” Bunsen began, pointing at the door.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Kermit said, backing away as well. Suddenly he was hit in the face by Newsie’s sports coat as Gina tossed it across the room. “Eeesh! Everybody out!” Kermit yelled.

Newsie and Gina continued the kiss, too caught up in the building energy surrounding them both to notice as the rest of the crowd fled the room. When the door slammed shut again, Sam the Eagle stopped Pepe trying to sneak back in. “Where are you going?” Sam demanded.

“Oh. Ah…I think I left my nail file in theres,” Pepe tried.

“Shoo! Shoo!” Sam shouted, chasing the king prawn away. He scowled. “Weirdo!”

Newsie broke the kiss, panting, amazed as Gina swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. “But…but…here? Aren’t you…uh…still hurt?”

“I…don’t…care,” she replied, equally breathless, shoving the blankets down.

“Um,” Newsie managed, glancing around the suddenly empty room, overwhelmed by some exhilarating form of electricity he could feel all around them both. “Gina, uh, I’m not sure this is –waaaagh!” She grabbed him and swung him into the bed.

In the hall outside, Sam, Rowlf, and Fozzie stood a few feet away, keeping an eye out to make sure the couple had some privacy and no nurses or anyone else bothered them. Rowlf hummed “Daisy, Daisy” loudly. Sam glared down the hallway at the nurses’ station, although all the nurses steered clear of them. Fozzie’s ears perked, and his eyes widened. He leaned closer to Rowlf. “Ah, Rowlf? I thought Gina was all hurt from dat accident?”

“Uh, yeah?” Rowlf said, glad he didn’t show a blush.

Fozzie listened again. “So…why are dey jumping on the bed together? Mom always said dat was a bad idea, you might get hurt!”

“Oh. Uh.” Rowlf scratched his ear, trying to come up with something to answer that. “Um. Well, sometimes people in, uh, in love, like to jump on beds together.”

“Ohhhh,” Fozzie said, pointing a finger at the dog sagely. “I get it!”

Rowlf looked at him. Sam looked at him. Fozzie nodded. “’Cause if you’re in love, da other person won’t let you fall off da bed! Right?”

“Uh…right, Fozzie. You got it.”

 

[Muppetfan44]

Loved the new update! Finally a happy outcome for the Newsman!

 

[ilovemusic]

I finfished reading the first chapter today. (I'm a very slow reader in English...)
Funny! And poor Newsie! D: That's the bad side of slapstick.

 

[newsmanfan]

I finfished reading the first chapter today. (I'm a very slow reader in English...)
Funny! And poor Newsie! D: That's the bad side of slapstick.

ilovemusic, take your time. I'm just happy people are reading! I actually finished the rough draft of the final part of this story late last night, and already other story ideas are percolating through my fevered brain. I can't NOT be writing. I'm open to suggestions, too, from anyone, as to what they'd like to read next. (I already have one request for a Beaker story, which might be fun...I love writing psuedoscientific gobbledygook!)

And thank you Muppetfan44! Glad you like thus far. It ain't over yet...

 

[newsmanfan]

Part 34

At least, Kermit reflected, everyone would have one last hurrah, even though he doubted they’d be able to raise enough money to fix the theatre. He’d dipped deep into his and Piggy’s savings in order to rent the grand ballroom at the Sedgewick for the night. Scooter and Dr Teeth had managed to round up a pretty good crew of performers and celebrities who’d donated special items for the auction, and when he’d checked the advance ticket sales thus far they looked promising. It was even possible they’d sell the room capacity. However, as the frog watched his capable second-in-command supervising the placement of the stage risers at one end of the ballroom, he found it hard to feel anything but a sinking sense of finality.

Scooter sent the stagepigs off to get the bunting, music stands, and podium which would decorate the platforms, then trotted over to Kermit. “It seems to be going smoothly so far, chief! How’s the Chef coming with the buffet layout?”

They both craned their necks around numerous small tables to the long buffet taking shape near the opposite wall from the stage. “Roon de fol der fondue!” The Chef complained, waving a pair of salad tongs at the harried kitchen staff the hotel had provided.

“It’s getting there,” Kermit sighed. Scooter nodded.

“Well, here’s the finalized schedule of acts. I think it’s a winner!” Scooter smiled, giving Kermit the handwritten sheet with the order of the auction and concert, and darted after a stagepig. “Hey! I said the center! Don’t you know what a center is?”

Kermit read down the list. They’d decided finally to combine the auction with musical performances, so that guests who might not wish to bid on anything could pay for a seat and enjoy a concert…or so bidders could be entertained between rounds of the auction. It did look like a decent list: Paul Simon, Steve Martin, and his dear friend Julie Andrews had volunteered their talents; Alice Cooper was being picked up at the airport by Beauregard and Uncle Deadly even now; Whoopi Goldberg had already checked into the hotel and would be their auctioneer. Several of their Hollywood friends had either promised to be there to show their support or had sent regrets, but with donations toward the reconstruction of the Muppet Theatre. Scooter and the Newsman had worked out a press release and distributed it to every radio and TV station, every newspaper, and a number of influential local blogs.

Rhonda reported gleefully just that morning that Scribbler’s attempt at a further smear piece on Friday linking Newsie to the theatre catastrophe had only made local media more interested in carrying stories about the Muppets. Kermit had cajoled Piggy into watching the special report Rhonda and Newsie had produced and aired Tuesday night, and even though she had snorted and muttered comments all the way through it (“Interviewing anti-terrorism officials about the potential of psycho-energy to destroy buildings? Who does he think he is, the real Donaldson?”), she’d still snuggled with Kermit the whole show, so he knew she was privately happy Newsie had found his place again. At least somebody’s life seemed to be going well.

He hopped over to the table where the auction items would be laid out one at a time for bidding. At the top of a ladder above it, Gina’s tall tattooed friend from the Sosilly was adjusting a tiny spotlight. He’d already put up a number of colorful lights roughly pointed at the performance area of the platforms, which would be fine-tuned as soon as the musical instruments were in place. “Hey, we really appreciate you helping us out with this,” Kermit called up.

“Oh, no problem,” Scott said, checking the angle of the spotlight and then climbing down the ladder. He grinned widely. “Since the Scottish Play’s been postponed ‘til this weekend while they’re fixing the grid and checking the fire-safety stuff, I had a little time to kill.”

“Well, thank you,” Kermit said, nodding, watching the lanky young man resetting the sixteen-foot ladder on his own, apparently without effort, to resume work on the music-stage lighting. “Thank you for doing all this. And please tell your boss we appreciate the loan of the lighting equipment.”

“No big. Too bad Gina’s missing out,” Scott grinned. “She loves doing concert lighting! She was so miffed when I said I’d do it ‘cause she can’t go up ladders yet.”

“I’m really sorry she’s still sore,” Kermit offered.

Scott went up the ladder again to aim the lights approximately where the musicians would each stand. “You bet she’s sore! A Muppet gig and she’s not the one who gets to light it! Huh huh huh!”

Dr Teeth, Floyd, and Animal came through the double doors leading to the service hallway. Floyd was pulling Animal, and Animal was pulling a rolling cart piled with his drum kit and the upright piano from the theatre. “Hey, looks like we’re good to get it on!” Dr Teeth said, looking at the platforms. “Come on, the faster we get set, the faster we can practice our set!” Zoot, Lips, and Janice came slowly in behind them, gazing around at the spacious setting.

“Get set! Get set!” Animal growled.

“Kermit!” Turning, Kermit saw Whoopi grinning and holding her arms wide. Smiling, he hurried over and hugged her briefly. “Wow, some swanky place,” Whoopi commented, looking at the chandeliers and fancily-dressed tables.

“Yeah,” Kermit sighed, “I just hope it brings in the big spenders.”

“Kermit, don’t you worry about that. I have a great feeling about tonight.” She smiled at him.

“Thanks so much for coming,” Kermit told her, managing to feel a little better; Whoopi always projected such an upbeat attitude it was impossible to remain depressed long in her company.

“Anything for my favorite frog,” Whoopi promised, then straightened up, looking around again. “So where’s your gofer? I wanted to go over the list with him; I think reorganizing the order of some of the items might produce better results.”

“Sure, whatever you think will work,” Kermit agreed, knowing she had far more experience putting together charity events than he did. He pointed out Scooter as the gofer ran back in and started tacking up bright green and yellow bunting around the platform edges. As those two expert planners conferred, Kermit sighed, and decided he might as well go find Piggy for a quick lunch. There was still much to do before the event tonight, and he could really use a small break. On his way out of the ballroom, Gonzo stopped him.

“Hey Kermit, did you see a cannon laying around anywhere?”

Kermit stared at him, baffled. “A cannon?”

“Yeah. I forgot to autograph it! It’s my entry for the auction: the very first cannon I ever shot myself out of! But now I can’t find it…”

“Eeesh,” Kermit muttered, hurrying away. Leave it to Gonzo to lose a cannon. He hoped nothing else would go awry.




“Come on, let me see it,” Gina called from the sofa.

“I, uh, I really don’t know about this…”

“Let me see it,” she insisted.

Reluctantly, Newsie came into the living room, smoothing down his new coat. He glanced down at himself, then looked worriedly at Gina. “Are you sure this is a good look for me?”

Gina studied him from head to toe, biting back a giggle. The warm-gray coat with tiny pink pinstripes, pale pink shirt, solid gray pants, and paisley black-on-gray tie set off his reddish hair nicely, she thought. She had given in on the shoe issue, allowing him to hang onto his favorite Oxford wingtips. She beckoned him closer, and when he came to her, she favored him with a kiss. “You look very stylish.”

“I look like a Mafioso,” he muttered unhappily. “From Miami.”

“No, you look like a journalist who’s finally moving up,” she corrected. She stroked from his chin up his left cheek.

“Uh…did I miss a spot?” Newsie asked uncertainly.

Gina frowned at him, sitting back against the sofa cushions. “What exactly are you shaving? You don’t get stubble.”

Deliberately ignoring that issue, Newsie sat down next to her, taking her hands in his and kissing them. “Please be careful tonight.” The doctor’s orders had been to wear a flexible brace, like a half-corset, around her ribcage for at least the next week to protect her worst injuries, and to move around as little as possible while the bones knit. The past few days, Newsie had been waiting hand and foot on her…a far more enjoyable duty than it had ever been with his mother. No screaming, no guilt trips; just learning how to cook a few simple things (with Gina sitting in the kitchen gently directing him), the rather pleasant task of helping her wash everywhere in the shower (by standing on tiptoe he could just reach her shoulderblades), and spending almost all of each day and night in her company. Although after that first intense reunion at the hospital they’d been more…cautious, Gina had managed to teach him a couple of additional things about being intimate. He studied her face now, anxious but happy, amazed when he thought of all that had happened just in the past few days.

“What are you thinking?” she asked softly, stroking her slender fingers through his hair. He’d become quite fond of that gesture.

“I was just thinking…it’s Wednesday…”

“Wednesdays make you smile like that?”

He blushed, and she giggled. He was so easy to tease.

“No. I mean, it’s only been a few days, and…and…”

“And it feels like a month already?” Newsie nodded, and Gina smiled back. “Yeah. Same here.”

They’d done a lot of what Gina had promised him for his day off which had been interrupted by Scribbler, the worst day of his life so far. That day already felt long past. They’d spent the mornings and afternoons lounging in bed or on the sofa; Gina had challenged him to read poetry aloud to her, and had been surprised to discover he could actually soften his voice when given the right material. His quiet, heartfelt reading of “Prufrock” had made her sigh in wistful contentment. They’d flipped through newspapers together and spent hours snuggled close with hot coffee and fresh beignets, or else soda and spicy popcorn while watching “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Abridged” (Gina’s choice) and “Arsenic and Old Lace” (Newsie’s) and “Tangled” (which neither had previously seen, and the antics of the killer horse had them both laughing so hard that Newsie fell off the sofa and Gina had to pause the movie and rewrap her rib-brace).

While walking him through which herbs and spices to season a goulash with, Gina told him bits of folklore from central Europe about each one. Over meals he told her some of the history of the Muppets, how Piggy had romanced Kermit for years until she’d thought he’d never give in and then the frog had surprised her by arranging a marriage during a movie shoot. He spoke gradually of his own life, how he’d held various part-time jobs through college while pretending to his mother his grades had been good enough for a full scholarship, because she’d refused to finance his education. Gina spoke of her lost parents, who’d gone down with a cruise ship somewhere between the Florida Keys and the Bahamas while taking their stage magic act into the lucrative vacation market, and how her Grandmama Angie had raised her since age six.

What the Newsman found most astounding was how easy it was for him to speak of things with her that he’d never, ever told anyone else. She could even match some of his worst experiences. Just last night, as he’d lain beside her with one arm gently over her stomach, a discussion on his anxiety over going back on the air had led to him confessing his very first humiliation in public speaking, in sixth grade. The report he’d presented on one of the Tom Swift books was his first attempt at delivering exciting copy before an audience. Not only had his classmates booed him, not only had the teacher simply sat there shaking her head, but when he’d promised them the entire Tom Swift series was “a real kick in the pants”…well.

Gina didn’t laugh. She kissed his nose, and told him a story from her own childhood, of being ostracized for being “that crazy Gypsy kid”; how one of her classmates had even spit on her in the gym bleachers one day because his parents had told him Gypsies were filthy, cheating, lying people. Upset for her, Newsie had glared around the darkened room and said, “If they ever, ever say anything like that to you again, you tell me, and I’ll…I’ll write such an exposé of the bigots they won’t be able to walk out in public without being sued by a dozen different human rights groups!”

She did laugh at that, and stroked his cheek, and pulled him close for a kiss. “My fierce journalist, righter of wrongs.”

“Information can change the world,” he’d argued, and she’d kissed him into silence.

“So can you,” she’d whispered, making him blush, and then the exchange had become rather non-vocal. At least, not coherently so…

“I love you,” Newsie told her now, forgetting all about the pink shirt and new suit.

She smiled. “And I love you.” She’d said those words to him every day now, starting right after the incredibly electric morning in the hospital. He’d never, never get tired of hearing them. She tugged his tie down a little; nervously he readjusted it tightly against his shirt-collar. She snickered at him. “Stop fussing! You look great!”

Tonight was his first official night back at KRAK. He’d spent a couple of hours this afternoon writing the news stories he planned to present tonight. The special on the dangers of psychokinetic energy and his own personal experience with it, which he and Rhonda had quickly filmed Monday and which had aired last night, seemed to have gone over well. At least it garnered decent reviews in the serious papers and on the Huffington Post and Scientific American sites, which was enough to make H G P Blanke stop a little of his constant worrying. Twice on Monday, while negotiating contracts and later picking a cameraman to start shooting the special, Newsie had overheard Blanke muttering something about the ACLU. That might be worth looking into later, Newsie thought, but for now, all that concerned him was the auction and Gina.

“You look amazing,” he responded, taking a moment to admire again the long off-the-shoulder dress of copper-colored satin with an overlay of dark russet lace. “I’ll join you as soon as I can,” he promised her.

“I know. I’ll be fine, Newsie. Relax. And so will you.” She smiled again.

“We should head downstairs; the cab will be here any minute,” Newsie said, standing and helping Gina to her feet carefully. He wasn’t sure her going out was such a good idea, but she’d insisted on attending the auction. She grimaced as she straightened up. “Are you okay? Did you remember to bring your pain medicine?”

“Newsie…I haven’t taken the pain meds in over twenty-four hours.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because they make me sleepy, and I want to be awake for this.” She stroked his hair into place with soft hands, and met his concerned gaze with another smile. “I’m fine. Come on, Important Journalist! You have a broadcast to get to, and I have an auction to go people-watch at. Are there really going to be movie stars?”

“I hope so. I know we’ve invited a number of them.” Together they left the apartment, went down to the lobby, and met the cab just as it pulled up to the curb. Her hand over his was a comfort as they sat close together in the back seat. With the salary the rats had helped him land, and a contract guaranteeing it for the next three years, he might be able to ride to work whenever he chose now. At the very least, tonight he’d make certain Gina wouldn’t be put in any strain.

She played with the copper beads around her neck, and gave him a worried look. “I wish I could tell if something was going to hurt you from your report tonight.”

Newsie flushed pink, but shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Gina, I went years with no one to warn me, and no one caring enough to help. I’m used to it. At least now…at least now I have you,” he said, looking into her eyes. When she bent her head he rose up to kiss her. Hearing her say she loved him every night was more than worth any pain he might suffer from a News Flash. She held onto him for the rest of their ride together, and he counted himself extraordinarily lucky.

Newsie dropped Gina off at the Sedgewick Hotel first, helping her from the street to the front door and kissing her hand so she wouldn’t try to bend down. Once she was safely inside, he climbed back in the cab and sped toward his first night as the Special Muppet Correspondent and Investigative Reporter for KRAK, rereading his own typed news copy along the way. He hadn’t shown it to her.

If tonight turned out as he hoped, maybe his friends would not only forgive but be able to quickly forget the damage he’d done.