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bouncingbabyfig
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Okay, so I'm gonna write some one shots of each of the muppet characters, since writing short stories seems to be getting popular on the fanfiction forum. Now, these won't be as fabulous as the ones everyone else writes, these will just be simple and sweet. Now, I hope you enjoy!!
One shot Beaker:
Beaker honestly couldn't explain why he kept doing the same thing over and over. Why he went to work in the morning, and came home bruised and bandaged in the evening. How many times had he been asked: "Why do you do it? Why do you always put your self in harm's way?"
Truthfully? He had no idea. The logical answer would be he needed to pay the bills and groceries some how, and surely that was a part of it.
Did like to blown up from time to time? No. He didn't go to work just to be poked, prodded, sliced, or diced. Someone might say that Beaker did what he did in the name of science, and that might be true. The muppet theater would never have been his personal first choice for a job, Beaker had never really been one for theatrics. But the thought of glamor and bright lights had been enticing, especially if it would help put science out into the media. However, everyone only knew him as always getting blown to smithereens, shrunk, multiplied, and many other things that caused him to shudder involuntarily.
He knew deep down that it was all scripted, only meant for some humor and hilarity. He wouldn't mind that, Beaker actually loved to make and see people smile, especially children. What really bothered Beaker was that people had stopped caring, or they laughed to much. Everyone had stopped asking if he was okay after each experiment mishap, no one glanced his way when he whimpered or moaned in pain. They all brushed him off as if he wasn't really hurting, he was acting. In truth, that was the deepest cut of all.
Yet, there had always been two people who showed they cared. As far back as Beaker could remember, after each segment of Muppet Labs, as soon as they were away from the lights and camera, Dr. Bunsen Honeydew would immediately turn his full attention to his faithful assistant. On occasion, Beaker would want push the good doctor away and let his pride build the walls between them. But Honeydew would always break through no matter how hard Beaker shoved. In a sense it was bitter-sweet, the same person who had "unintentionally" hurt him, also cleaned his wounds.
Beaker, though he tried no to be, was grateful for that show of kindness. As soon as Honeydew had put the frazzled assistant into sorts, said assistant would mumble a small "meep" of thank you before darting up the stairs to his dressing room. He would then trudge home to his small apartment, climb the stairs(the elevator had been broken for years), and close his room door. It was a modest home, and despite the sad upkeep of the apartment itself, he was proud of what he'd accomplished with his small corner of the world.
And there, on the table waiting for him like always, was a small tray of soup with warm, home made bread and jam. A small note would rest next to the soup bowl, which would still be fresh and hot, and he would sit and read the small note while eating his supper.
As for being crazy, well, that certainly was debatable.
One shot Beaker:
Beaker honestly couldn't explain why he kept doing the same thing over and over. Why he went to work in the morning, and came home bruised and bandaged in the evening. How many times had he been asked: "Why do you do it? Why do you always put your self in harm's way?"
Truthfully? He had no idea. The logical answer would be he needed to pay the bills and groceries some how, and surely that was a part of it.
Did like to blown up from time to time? No. He didn't go to work just to be poked, prodded, sliced, or diced. Someone might say that Beaker did what he did in the name of science, and that might be true. The muppet theater would never have been his personal first choice for a job, Beaker had never really been one for theatrics. But the thought of glamor and bright lights had been enticing, especially if it would help put science out into the media. However, everyone only knew him as always getting blown to smithereens, shrunk, multiplied, and many other things that caused him to shudder involuntarily.
He knew deep down that it was all scripted, only meant for some humor and hilarity. He wouldn't mind that, Beaker actually loved to make and see people smile, especially children. What really bothered Beaker was that people had stopped caring, or they laughed to much. Everyone had stopped asking if he was okay after each experiment mishap, no one glanced his way when he whimpered or moaned in pain. They all brushed him off as if he wasn't really hurting, he was acting. In truth, that was the deepest cut of all.
Yet, there had always been two people who showed they cared. As far back as Beaker could remember, after each segment of Muppet Labs, as soon as they were away from the lights and camera, Dr. Bunsen Honeydew would immediately turn his full attention to his faithful assistant. On occasion, Beaker would want push the good doctor away and let his pride build the walls between them. But Honeydew would always break through no matter how hard Beaker shoved. In a sense it was bitter-sweet, the same person who had "unintentionally" hurt him, also cleaned his wounds.
Beaker, though he tried no to be, was grateful for that show of kindness. As soon as Honeydew had put the frazzled assistant into sorts, said assistant would mumble a small "meep" of thank you before darting up the stairs to his dressing room. He would then trudge home to his small apartment, climb the stairs(the elevator had been broken for years), and close his room door. It was a modest home, and despite the sad upkeep of the apartment itself, he was proud of what he'd accomplished with his small corner of the world.
And there, on the table waiting for him like always, was a small tray of soup with warm, home made bread and jam. A small note would rest next to the soup bowl, which would still be fresh and hot, and he would sit and read the small note while eating his supper.
I noticed how late it was, so I decided to make you some dinner.
You're welcome. *wink* Try not to over work yourself,
you can only do so much. Enjoy the food!
Love, your neighbor and friend,
Lucinda.
He'd read the note over and over, and he'd smile. No one knew him the way Lucinda did, and that made everything worth it. Beaker would never be able to truly tell her how much she meant to him. Maybe he didn't need to, maybe she already knew. So, when someone asked him why he did the things he did, or was he just crazy? The answer would be, he loved doing what he did because he loved the people he worked with. He was happy making them happy. Did he get hurt? Yes, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. But, there was always good times to be had at the studio.As for being crazy, well, that certainly was debatable.
Shocker there. *Sarcasm* Anyhoo, we'll see if I can get Gonzo up and running by tonight! Thanks Newsie, yes Bunsen does seem...oblivious to Beaker, but it was interesting to write about him caring more.