Chapter Three
Saying yes to somebody always meant saying no to somebody else.
Nobody knew this better than Wembley fraggle. He’d grown up in the family with lots of brothers and sisters, and he was somewhere near the middle of the end (he couldn’t remember exactly where) which meant that he was likely to get told what to do a lot. He was so good at telling how other people were feeling that occasionally he almost forgot what his own feelings were, and settled for just trying to keep everybody as happy as possible. Everybody’s point of view had good things about it- how could he possibly choose?
Mokey had notice how stressed Wembley was when Gobo had left and gave him a diary to write in. Over the next three days he wrote three entries.
First day
Hello! Uh, am I doing this right? Okay, the first thing that happened today was that Red was really grouchy. I think it was because Gobo left. Boober and Mokey don’t know why yet, but I do. I read one of Boober’s books about growing up and it says that when fraggles start growing up they look for mates but don’t always necessarily pick the right one. The book talked about a lot of other things that it said were natural and wonderful, but they didn’t sound natural and wonderful. But I guess because the book says so it must be right. I wonder if Gobo believes everything you read about in books. I’ll go ask him! Oh, he’s not here. Right.
I think I’m done writing today.
Second day
I had Mokey read the first entry which I thought I could do since I left out some stuff about the girl Gobo leaving over being Mokey and she said it was very good but to write about my feelings and not everybody else’s all the time. I asked her what I should write about because I have trouble deciding things because everything seems good and I don’t want to miss anything that might be extra good, and she said I should try to write about my childhood. Mokey is very profound. I like that word. I know a lot of big words but I don’t like to use them because my thoughts go fast and they go everywhere sometimes and sometimes I don’t even get to say them properly or say them at all. So I have a lot of big words in my head but none of them come out of my mouth. Sometimes they’re not words but pictures. But I don’t tell anybody about them because I’m sure their head pictures are better than mine. What was I going to talk about? Oh yeah, my childhood. I have 14 brothers and sisters. Pokki, Tokki, Cara, Angela, Syter, Plok, Plendon, Artie, Sweetie, Maxim (Boober would like him because he believes in a lot of weird sayings) Rossetia, Lark, Dexdon, and Randel. We had a lot of other family and friends so the cave was always crowded. I had fun, but I didn’t always get what I wanted which is okay because even then I had trouble making up my mind. Going on my own was weird though, because I had to make so many choices. It’s a good thing that I found Gobo to help me. But I don’t want to talk about him right now. I don’t think he’d mind because he can’t see what I’m writing.
Now I want to talk about Red. I think that Red loves Gobo but Gobo loves Mokey but Mokey loves Boober so it’s all a big mess. I’m not really interested in mates yet. She is very brave Red I mean but sometimes she gets scared and sad and pretends that she’s not. I’m really the only one who can tell when she gets scared and sad but I don’t mention it because she’d say she wasn’t. She is though. I can feel it. She can also get Gobo to change his mind which I think that makes her a superhero because no one else can do that. Everyone else of my friends is so amazing but I don’t really do much. But I don’t want to talk about that either. I think I’ve run out of things to talk about and I’m kind of tired. Goodbye.
Third Day
Today Boober and Mokey asked me what was going on with Red and I think I told a lie. Can you lie if you just shake your head without saying anything? I wanted to tell them what I knew I really did. For some reason my mouth wouldn’t quite work and my throat got all tight. What if I was wrong? And then before I could get my thoughts together to say what I felt like I needed to say, they’d already thought I didn’t know anything. I was shaking my head because I was trying to put my thoughts together, see?
I want to tell them that Red is crying at night. I want to cry at night but I can’t because that would worry them and Red’s already worrying them so I have to be the not-worrying one.
I like my diary. When I write in it my thoughts don’t run together quite so badly. I can actually write slowly enough that this doesn’t look as bad as the other two entries did, and it has punctuation and pauses between long ideas. I might even start using some of my big words that I know.
I can even say bad things without hurting anybody in my diary. Like how Gobo has been making me mad. He’s the explorer and the mature one so I think he’s being selfish by acting like this. There I said it. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.
I can’t believe I just wrote this. I mean I miss him I do but he’s making me sad it’s horrible and I’m being mean but so is he… Talking usually clears things up. I’m sure if I just talked to him… And I would actually talk this time. I wish it was easy for me to say what I want to say, but I don’t want to hurt anybody. But what do you say when someone is hurting someone else?
I’m also going to make a choice today because I’m tired of seeing everybody so hurt and worried. I’m going to talk to Red because she’s been acting weird like she’s got some place to go. I think she may be going to look for Gobo and I want to go with her because I want to tell Gobo how I feel. It doesn’t really matter whether he likes it.
Did I really just write that? I don’t want to hurt his feelings but I think it’s something he needs to know.
I have to say goodbye for now but it won’t be long because if Red lets me go with her on the trip, I’m taking you with me. I’m even going to name you. I think I’m going to call you Mudwell after another friend of mine that I don’t get to see very often anymore. Here I go…
ooo
Red refused to tell herself why she wanted to do this, how easy it was to fantasize about the consequences of her succeeding. She wondered where these strange thoughts were coming from, if they would all turn out to be a sham, just like Gobo’s view of Mokey.
Stop it. He knows what he wants. Besides, he drives you crazy. This is probably just the power of suggestion because all the mushy stuff going on. Who would want to mate with you anyway? You and your broken rock hockey sticks and dirty sweaters and…
Red threw another item into her already bulging pack, becoming a whirlwind, barely stopping to notice what she was packing. She wasn’t pretty. She wasn’t even nice. Who would want to mate with her? More importantly, why did she even care?
“Uh, Red? Are you sure you should bring the barbells? They seem kind of heavy.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.”
Red unpacked her barbells, conscious of the unbroken stare Wembley was aiming at her.
“Something you want?” She asked, pointedly implying with the tone of her voice that Wembley had better speak up.
Wembley inhaled, exhaled, and repeated. About 20 times.
“Geez Wem! Spit it out already! I have places to be!” she debated packing the rock hockey puck that Gobo had given her for her birthday but decided against it, throwing it a little too carelessly against the wall.
“WhenyougotolookforGobocanIpleasegowithyou?”
Red took a minute to sort the mush that had come out of Wembley’s mouth. “Who says I’m going to look for Gobo?”
She was somewhat taken aback, worried that she had been found out. If she could be read that easily…
“I just thought you might,” said Wembley, looking down at the floor, “because you like him so much.”
This time, Red did drop her pack. “No I don’t! I’m just… Mad! Yeah that’s it! All of his whining is… inconvenient!”
She flushed. It was only a little bit, but it was enough to push aside any wembling Wembley might have done about Red contradicting him.
“Red… It’s okay.”
She stared at him like a cornered animal. When had Wembley been able to do this? How?
“I grew up in a big family, so I know about this kind of stuff. Look, I brought a bag. It has radish bars, and I told Mokey and Boober we were going on a trip, so… Please let me come? Somebody needs to talk to him, he’s been gone so long already, and I’m worried.”
Red sighed. “I guess if you really want to. But you can’t be slowing me down.”
“I won’t.”
ooo
Gobo awoke with a groan.
Where am I? My head hurts…
In fact, since he could sense the light that would hit his eyes if he opened them, Gobo went out of his way to avoid doing so. He was lying on something soft, something that smelled faintly of moss.
Slowly, he endeavored to open his eyes. This proved to be a mistake, and he groaned and attempted to turn over.
“Hey! He’s alive!”
A high pitched, far too energetic voice sounded from directly in front of him.
“Turn the lights down, Candonella. The Ditsies are shining a bit too brightly, I think,” said an elderly voice on his left.
The voice in front of him sang a single, soft note. “Aaaaahhhhh…”
“Good. That’s better. Try to open your eyes again, sonny.”
Gingerly, Gobo opened his eyes again, and found that the room was now only half lit. Had he been more alert, he would’ve been fascinated by a culture that was able to communicate with Ditsies, but now he could only gather his clouded wits about him. “Wh… Where am I?”
“Just relax, sonny. you’re in good hands here, though yeh might want to stop appearin’ outta nowhere like that. Seems like yeh ask for trouble even more than Candonella.”
Gobo finally sat up, despite his headache. Though he was dizzy, he could make out an elderly Fraggle on his left side, and a yellow Fraggle with pink hair sitting on the edge of the moss bed he was in.
“Oh no! I was supposed to go to… to…”
Funny, I knew where I was going before I left…
“Hold your horse flies, sonny. We need to know your name first. Soon as you’re patched up, we’ll contact the Mapper’s Guild and send yeh on your way.”
“My name’s Gobo.”
“I see. Well, young Gobo, you got any family? Anybody who might be coming to look for yeh?
Gobo sighed. It was hard to think all of a sudden. Funny, he couldn’t remember if he had friends. He remembered faces, to be sure, but when he tried to remember who they were, their significance escaped him like sand running through tight- fisted fingers.
“I… I don’t know.”
The elderly Fraggle squinted at him. “Yeh don’t know? What do yeh mean?”
Yes… Faces… But who were they? “I… I think so. I’m not sure.”
“Yeh know where yeh live?”
“I…”
Yes, a place, a name… Songs…dancing… But where? I need to try to…
But nothing was coming, and Gobo was forced to admit the truth.
“I can’t remember.”
--------------------Author's Note---------------------------
I refuse to apologize. Mwa ha .
Boober needed a break from getting amnesia for a change. Bernie phoned me.
In psychology class, I learned that getting total amnesia was really rare, so I won't cop out with that trope. It will be more interesting than that.
According to my head canon, relative to us, Fraggle skulls are harder and fit more tightly around the brain. This is the result of years of evolution and issues with falling rocks. It makes concussions less common, (since the brain has a harder time moving in and potentially getting damaged by the skull) and skull fractures unlikely. However, when head injuries occur, they are more serious. This would explain every episode of this show that ever involved head injury ever.
I had a really fun time writing Wembley's diary entries. I imagine his anxious mind prevents run-on sentences from even being sensed on his radar. I have way too much fun writing him, to be honest. I call myself Mostlikemokey (why change my name after all of my time on here? Besides, it's still pretty much true) but I see, like... Almost all of myself in Wembley too. Bliffenstimmers.
And if you look closely at his list of siblings, you'll see I stuck my Fragglesona in there somewhere. Couldn't resist.
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