Muppet Fanfic: Something worth waiting for

[Leyla]

Short chapter, I admit, but it works as a nice cliffie.

Thanks so much, Renee and TogetherAgain. You're so encouraging. It really keeps me going with this! How lovely to read such nice comments from such great authors. TogetherAgain, I am quite sure that I would faint at being referenced in your writing. It's encouraging to hear you like my diction, as I'm not entirely sure my writing style is really suited to the Muppets. Well, I'm sure someone will call me on it if I get too unMuppety.
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The dress rehearsal continued to be rocky, with two incidents of Muppets being unexpectedly eaten, not to mention the Swedish Chef’s cherries jubilee turning out to be excessively jubilant and dragging him offstage like a homecoming hero, but it was not until Gonzo’s act, when rocky actually rode.

Backstage, a small group of Muppets watched in amused fascination, mixed with varying levels of uneasiness, as the little blue Whatever announced his latest contribution to the world of art. Gonzo didn’t always gather rave reviews when he performed, but he had no trouble at all gathering a crowd.

“And the frog man approved this did he?” Floyd muttered with a rueful shake of his head.

“That frog would approve of anything that’s not good and decent. When an all-American act comes along like Wayne and Wanda’s…”

“Oh, leave off, Sam. Kermit knows what he’s doing. He’s gotten us this far hasn’t he?” Rowlf stood up for his long time friend, chiding Sam without taking his eyes off the coming spectacle.

“You’ve made my point for me,” the eagle groused, which is difficult for an eagle to do.

“Like, where does he get all these crazy ideas from?” Janice looked around briefly before snuggling into Floyd’s side.

“Don’t ask,” Rizzo advised firmly, “I asked him once, and unless you want to here a thirty minute rave on the role of cosmic fish in self-determination, you shouldn’t ask him either.” He paused for a moment, and then added thoughtfully, “I think he spends too much time with his mold collection.”

Onstage, Gonzo was psyching up his imaginary audience with words like “stupendous,” “daring,” and “monumentally dangerous.” He gestured with an energetic flourish to his treasured stunt cannon, which was freshly fired during a brief cameo with the Electric Mayhem. “Here she is, the cannon which will propel me through a field of flaming bolts fired from the row of crossbows that you see arranged here. In the interests of Art, I will perform this stunt while reciting e.e. cummings’ beloved poem, In Just-. Due to popular request, and the insistence of a certain frog,” he added playfully, “this time the crossbows will face away from you and will embed themselves harmlessly into the backdrop that you see hanging there,” he paused and his face lit up in an eager grin, “unless I time it just right!”

“Oh, brother,” Rizzo said with a long-suffering sigh, “I’m gonna go make sure there’s a working fire extinguisher handy.” He started away but didn’t get far before he heard Fozzie’s soft question.

“Worried?”

Startled, the rat immediately shook his head, “Who, me? Nah, weirdo knows what he’s doing. I just…really like that tie.” With a last nervous glance towards the newly burning crossbow bolts, Rizzo headed off to find an extinguisher small enough for him to maneuver.

“Hah ha!” Gonzo barked out a short, not entirely sane laugh. “Look at that! Triggered to fire in sequence as the cannon does. Aren’t they great?!” With one last lingering glance at the six well-polished weapons, Gonzo approached the cannon. “Ladies and gentlemen, as fun as this looks, I must advise you not to try this at home.”

With an excited little giggle, the daredevil lit the fuse, then quickly darted to the opening of the cannon and slipped fearlessly inside.

In the split second before he was shot into the air, Gonzo felt the cannonball under his feet and realized he’d made a terrible mistake. By the time he’d managed to think about warning someone, he was already in midair. The heavy cannonball pushed into his feet and altered his trajectory, slamming him brutally into the stage floor while continuing in its own path. Over the sound of his own head ringing with the impact, he heard the groaning and sharp crash of metal and a chorus of alarmed cries. A feminine shriek pierced the din as darkness clouded his vision. Something was burning. Gonzo’s mind swam into unconsciousness but not before he felt the cool blast of a fire extinguisher spraying foam all over him.

 

[Smiles]

Gasp! I hope that fire extinguisher helped enough. And a feminine shriek? could piggy have been hit with the cannon ball? I suppose I must wait and see.

And the two snowths in the earlier chapter, priceless. I must be great to be a snowth....

 

[TogetherAgain]

Cliffhanger, indeed! OY! Oy, Gonzo, please be all right... come on, please... And the feminine shriek! I think I agree with Smiles that that has something to do with Miss Piggy, and her needing that "similar assistance" mentioned in chapters past. Ohhhhh!

MORE PLEASE! ...Or, if we're going with that multi-lingual nagging... MEHR, BITTE!

 

[Leyla]

It's all downhill from here, folks!

Well, before I post this, I feel the need to warn you that it contains the b- word.

No, not that b-word. Blood.

It's dark... but if Lisa can kill off innocent frogs, and Kermit's mom can have cancer, and if Scooter can be a zombie... well then... I can play too.

Still, let me know if I go too far, eh?

Lisa: (Yay! I know your name now... I think...) You and Smiles are about to find out about that feminine shriek. Hope you like it. And you of all people can't complain about what I''m about to do.

super muppet:Thanks, bud!

Smiles: Aw, thanks for posting. I'm glad you liked it! Everyone should have a pair of snowths to follow them around and be annoying and cute.

And now... beware!
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“Gonzo, speak to me! Are you hurt?!” Tiny hands were stroking his nose in anxious little movements.


He shifted experimentally, feeling the warm ache of newborn bruises. Beautiful. Gonzo opened his eyes cautiously and was instantly jolted by the sight of the beady eyes of his roommate, no more than an inch away from him. Odd to see the little guy at this angle, Gonzo mused thoughtfully, pushing Rizzo back far enough so that he could sit up.


“Yeah,” he answered cheerfully, though not without effort. “I’m definitely hurt.” Even if it had occurred to him to repress the satisfied laugh that naturally bubbled out of him, he wouldn’t have. Rizzo managed to look both relieved and disgusted at the same time.


“You always have to make a scene out of every scene, don’t you?” he grumbled, still panting slightly from the fright of the accident.


Gonzo smiled ruefully at his friend. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan that. ‘Betsy’ wasn’t supposed to be loaded with anything but gunpowder and me!” He poked cautiously at his blackened fur. Flecks of ash crumbled to the floor. “I’m really cooked this time.”


“Or you would be, if I wasn’t such a good shot with fire suppressants,” Rizzo said pointedly, bringing another smile to Gonzo’s face.


“Well, I knew I could count on you, buddy.” A commotion had been going on around them since he’d regained consciousness and presumably before then. Muppets were darting past him in both directions, but a lot of the activity was focused on the left wing of the stage.


Suddenly, the noise level dipped and Gonzo clearly heard Scooter ask, “Should we call an ambulance?” The formerly blue creature frowned and started to twist around, looking towards the area where many of his fellows had congregated.


Rizzo grabbed his nose and pulled his head back. “Listen Gonzo, I don’t want to get you upset but-”


He stared at Rizzo, eyes widening as realization dawned like a black sunrise. “Oh no,” he whispered, suddenly feeling sick, “someone got hurt? Besides me?”


Without waiting for a reply, Gonzo bolted to his feet. It was one thing to hurt himself, to risk himself; it was another thing entirely to risk someone else. Yes, the daredevil played fast and loose in his stunts. Everyone knew that. However, from simple experience, Gonzo knew that injuries that would be serious, or even fatal for a human did not hinder him overly much. In fact, Muppets in general were rather impervious to a wide variety of impacts, explosions, karate chops, consumptions and awful puns.


Still, they weren’t invincible. Kermit had once given them a bad scare when he’d been hit by a car. That incident had later inspired scenes in The Muppets Take Manhattan; a movie, which in turn, got the frog into hot water of a different variety.


Rizzo was actively pulling on him now, helplessly dragging his feet along the wooden floor as the rat tried to deter him. “Hey! Stop! Wait, Gonzo!”


Gonzo did stop. He had caught sight of something that gave him chills. There, on the floor, near to the front edge of the left wing curtains, was the thin, red, sheen of blood.


Blood.


“Oh,” he whispered, “no.” Gonzo had nothing else to say.


Rizzo tugged gently on his crisped fur. “It’s- it’s not as bad as it looks,” he said quietly. “Really; it’s not.” The metal catwalk that once hung above the stage, high up in the rafters now lay in a heap where the cannonball had sent it crashing to the floor. It was not far from where Hilda the Wardrobe Lady laid now, surrounded by concerned Muppets.


She had fixed his teddy bear, his only friend for a large part of his life. Not willingly at first, but she’d fixed him. What had he done?


“No, no,” she crooned in her wavery, heavily accented voice. “I’m alright. I just had a bit of a fright with that big thing zooming down at this poor old lady. Now, help me sit up.” She smiled sweetly as she extended her hand. It was ignored.


“You are very brave, madam,” Sam said, at his most stately, “but you were unconscious for some time. I must insist, as moral leader of this organization-”


“You’re not listening to me,” Hilda protested as she sat up on her own with difficulty. “I’m not hurt. It didn’t touch me.” She shook her head vigorously, a reassuring testament to her sound health. “It was only the fright, only a faint.”


Gonzo wove through the crowd and skidded to Hilda’s side, dropping to his knees. “Hilda!” He cried dramatically, “Are you okay?!” The exasperation in her face was palpable.


“No! I’m sitting on the cold floor, and no one is listening to me! Someone let me up!” Anxiety gripped him tightly for a moment before he processed her words, then relief washed over him like the sweet caress of a thousand gallons of cooking oil.


“So you’re alright? Oh thank goodness!” He tugged her into an exuberant hug, unconcerned for the moment with her annoyed struggling. Just as quickly, he bounced to his feet, pulling her up with him. Gonzo held her shoulders until Hilda regained her balance, not to mention her composure. He released her, still beaming with excitement and relief.


By the looks of it, Sam was preparing a doozy of a lecture on proper safety procedures. It was just as well that Scooter, with his typical talent for timely intervention, called out, “So, no ambulance then?”


“Arggh!” Hilda moaned, tossing her head back to vent her frustration to the heavens. “No ambulance!” Somewhat more quietly, she grumbled, “So sorry to disappoint.”


“Oh, that’s okay!” Scooter waved cheerily, “I don’t mind. Cancel the ambulance!” He yelled, as though it were a disaster-laden sketch.


Gonzo’s attention drifted elsewhere as homey commotion broke out in a mess of stern admonishments, wardrobe-related complaints and snippy comments about a certain weirdo. Said weirdo heard none of it; he was thinking… about blood.


Mostly to himself, he murmured, “Somebody got hit; they must have.”


Rizzo, whether he caught the soft comment or not, was frowning at the spots on the floor as well. “Who-” he began.


“Miss Piggy!” the wardrobe lady called out firmly, refocused on her craft. “You insisted on a flashy costume for that numb-” Confusion slickly entered her voice as she began peering around through the gradually dispersing crowd. “Miss Piggy? Where-?”


As people do, the other Muppets stopped and began peering around in a reaction nearly as contagious as yawning.


“Piggy?”


“Oon fer derr Piggy?”


“Miss Piggy?”


The babble dropped abruptly, then rose slowly again as this new conundrum caught their attention.


“She was just here.” Hilda mumbled, looking around in growing anxiety. “She was angry about the feather dress.” The lady’s face twisted into a puzzled frown as she reflected about what had happened. “She pushed me and then… it was coming down so fast.”


Muppets began turning grimly towards the wrecked catwalk, but Gonzo didn’t follow the crowd.


Instead he stared at the faint, sporadic trail; fear sending him into an intense concentration that only those who walked the thin tightrope of genius and insanity could understand.


“Rowlf.” He said, almost without realizing it, “Look at this.” Wordlessly, the brown-eared dog turned, saw what the little blue Whatever was seeing.


Gonzo moved slowly; never taking his eyes off the floor, he knew the dog followed, with Rizzo too moving skittishly after them. He felt Fozzie’s gaze and knew, without hearing the bear’s soft, plodding steps, that Fozzie followed them as well.


In unnerving quietness, they walked slowly into the seldom-used left wing. The gruesome trail was sporadic and hard to trace, but now Gonzo could feel where it was leading, feeling in that strange way he had of feeling, which mystified even him.


Silently, they tracked behind the backdrop that held the cold dead shafts of the recently spent bolts. Moments later, they slipped past the usually high-traffic backstage area, past the table where Kermit held the show together with spit and wishes, past the odd props that littered the place with no care for rhyme or reason. Quietly, up the rickety wooden stairs they moved, headed towards the dressing rooms.


She hadn’t made it quite that far.


Rowlf and Fozzie bolted forward with alarmed shouts that Gonzo didn’t hear. Miss Piggy was sprawled against the door to her fiercely guarded sanctuary. There was a strangely natural grace to her pose that juxtaposed sharply with the dazed expression in her heavily lidded eyes. Blonde hair that seemed meant to shine in spotlight was red with blood that was beginning to crust over. Her right ear had been torn in what must have been an excruciatingly painful injury, but she made no effort to stem the resulting flow.


Guilt hit gonzo so crushingly that he thought he would asphyxiate. Rizzo quivered against his leg, breathing meaningless reassurances in a stunned whimper. Fozzie was already calling for Scooter, still soundless to the daredevil’s ears. Gonzo wondered if she had passed out; Piggy was so still, despite her slightly open eyes.


He had his answer when Rowlf reached gently towards her head. She blinked, her eyes lagging behind the movement, and startling Rowlf. Noise was gathering in the air around them; he felt it, but still Gonzo did not hear it. Everything in him was tuned to Piggy’s nearly inaudible, utterly calm words.


“I think I bumped my head on something.”

Elsewhere in the world, Kermit shook the hand of a talk show host and settled in for a friendly chat about charity and stardom.

 

[TogetherAgain]

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Well, be glad I can type, because I sure can't talk. No, you didn't go too far, I don't think... You didn't go too far... but Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh how far you went!

First of all, love Gonzo's reaction to himself being hurt. And to Rizzo. And then to thinking Hilda was hurt, and the whole thing about nobody listening to Hilda, and that ambulence...

And the blood. Oh... the blood. And following it. And Gonzo knowing that Rowlf was there, and Rizzo was there, and Fozzie was there... And then, finding Miss Piggy... Her hair... and ear... and the blood... and Gonzo just not hearing anything, anything, but her... "I think I bumped my head on something"... Oh Piggy...

I have to tell you, I very rarely actually cry over fanfiction, movies, books, and such... Usually I'm just struck into numbness... But, let me tell you... Not while reading, but while commenting... my eyes are most definitely wet. And that's more than most writers can usually get from me.

Before I nag, I have to rave about your diction again.

He stared at Rizzo, eyes widening as realization dawned like a black sunrise. A black sunrise... Oh, gosh good grace...

In fact, Muppets in general were rather impervious to a wide variety of impacts, explosions, karate chops, consumptions and awful puns. I needed that. Especially the part about the puns.

Blood. I love one word sentences. When they're used right, they just pack this mind-blowing punch that's about the emotional equivilent of falling through a trap door. I'm falling now, I'll let you know when I land.

Anxiety gripped him tightly for a moment before he processed her words, then relief washed over him like the sweet caress of a thousand gallons of cooking oil. That description is just so perfect for Gonzo.

“I don’t mind. Cancel the ambulance!” He yelled, as though it were a disaster-laden sketch. I can hear exactly how he yells it. That's just great.

Gonzo’s attention drifted elsewhere as homey commotion broke out in a mess of stern admonishments, wardrobe-related complaints and snippy comments about a certain weirdo. Said weirdo heard none of it; he was thinking… about blood. Oy! It's funny-ish, a "homey" commotion, because it's so Muppet, and "a certain weirdo," I dunno, I think I've got a thing for that kind of obscurity. And then you just hit me with that "blood" again and, "Oh yeah- I still need to be panicking. ...PANIC!!"

“Miss Piggy!” the wardrobe lady called out firmly, refocused on her craft. “You insisted on a flashy costume for that numb-” Confusion slickly entered her voice as she began peering around through the gradually dispersing crowd. “Miss Piggy? Where-?” Oh, you cruel player of emotions! Now I absolutely know, between the foreshadowing and this comment, that it's Miss Piggy's blood. But when I first saw "Miss Piggy!" I thought they had found her, then. But, no. She's just, not around. Where is she? And only the select few realize that if there's blood, someone must be hurt, and if Miss Piggy's gone... and now you make me wait for them to find her... Oh, you cruel player of emotions!

As people do, the other Muppets stopped and began peering around in a reaction nearly as contagious as yawning. <Headslap.> Did I mention that I love your diction?

Instead he stared at the faint, sporadic trail; fear sending him into an intense concentration that only those who walked the thin tightrope of genius and insanity could understand. Like I said. Did I mention that I love your diction?

Noise was gathering in the air around them; he felt it, but still Gonzo did not hear it. Everything in him was tuned to Piggy’s nearly inaudible, utterly calm words. Ditto my last two comments. I can feel that sound, too- maybe I'm delusional, but I think I even see it.

Elsewhere in the world, Kermit shook the hand of a talk show host and settled in for a friendly chat about charity and stardom. You recall that trap door I mentioned falling through a while back? I just landed.

MORE PLEASE!

 

[Smiles]

Oh Gee....wow, just wow. I'm really glad Lisa gave out those teddy bears for her story cause man do I need it now.

You wrote this beautifully, I must say. I started laughing at the beggining with Gonzo and Rizzo. And then I was shocked when Hilda was hurt, cause I wasn't it expecting it. Then I was soooo relieved when Hilda was okay, I was like 'it's okay teddy everyones fine'. But you are one tricky person.

Cause then you hit me that whole Piggy thing and I nearly had a heart attack!!

Let me tell you, when the bloody parts come in movies, I always cover my eyes. I found out the hard way this doesn't work so well with fanfics.

MORE! MORE! MORE! (please!)

 

[Leyla]

Oh, gee, thanks so much! I can't tell ou how much your support means to me. Unfortunately, I'm miserably sick right now so I'm gonna hold off on writing today, and even on replying to all the great stories that have been posted lately! I want to be alert enough to rave properly. Anyway, thanks, thanks, thanks, and I'll update as soon as I'm up to it.

Take care,
Leyla

 

[TogetherAgain]

Aw, feel better soon, Leyla! It's no fun being sick. Not that you need anyone to tell you that right now, I'm sure you're perfectly aware of it. Anyway, get well soon!

 

[Leyla]

Thanks, sweetie! I'm getting there. Updating tommorow, writing into the wee hours tonight!

Leyla

 

[Ruahnna]

I'm slow to keep up with everyone else's writing, but I enjoyed reading through this one tonight. You have a wonderful ear for dialogue, Leyla (and I'm very picky about dialogue) which I think is one of the most important aspects of capturing character--so much so that you don't have to litter your interactions with "he said" and "she said" all the time. Lovely language, too, dear. Keep at it. (And feel better!)
I was surprised at the dark turn your story took, but I am trusting you to right this lifeboat before everyone sinks, so carry on. (But don't you be hurting my pig, 'kay?)