So after a horrific morning of a screeching bike, I get to work, get all set up and discover....we have no internet!
Well, you know what that means. It means I write stuff for you guys! Here is that scene I had where Fozzie tries to incorporate sword juggling in his act.
Hint - it doesn't go well.
Enjoy!
Title: Untitled Scene
Rating: G
Idea: Not really sure. IIRC, it was either before I was writing Schotsky's or during.
“And now, here to tickle your funny bone, that funny man himself, FOZZIE BEAR!!”
The new format of the show seemed to be going well, at least that’s what Kermit the Frog thought. From humble beginnings to the big time, the frog from the swamps of Mississippi had hoped he’d be doing what he wanted and now he was.
The Muppet Show had been a spur of the moment idea, though one that had been building for some time. Kermit had spent years in the entertainment industry, getting his big break when he ended up meeting the show’s pianist Rowlf, who had been the sidekick to one Jimmy Dean. It was that meeting that had led to his meeting with one Jim Henson, the man whom he credited with bringing this whole thing together.
Jim had believed in him, believed in all of them, and when Kermit – along with four others – and come to Henson about the possibility of doing their own show, the bearded man had been all for it and all aboard.
Fast forward years later and Kermit found himself director, producer, and unofficial leader of their motely group, which had all started with five unconventional and unruly members. One of those members, Fozzie Bear, was currently on stage, supposedly doing his weekly monologue.
“Chief, did you okay Fozzie’s sword act?”
Young Scooter Grosse, the nephew to the JP Grosse, had been put in place by his uncle to literally keep an eye on things. The initial hope was that the teenager would report to his uncle the weird goings on that usually happened at the theater that the elder Grosse owned and was renting to the group known as the Muppets. While that may have been the case for the first few months, Scooter had happily and devotedly switched sides and was doing his best to help Kermit contain the madness that went on.
Lately, Kermit found himself leaning on the boy a lot more in terms of responsibility. Certainly, running a theater that was the backdrop to a television show, while also doing the financing, act booking, guest star booking, plus still making his regular appearances on Sesame Street, could be deemed a bit much for one frog and Kermit had gotten to the point where he was seriously considering hiring an assistant. He had been meaning to make a mention of it to Scooter, to help him put out the word that an assistant – both personal and business – would be hired, but the frog was starting to wonder if maybe he should start looking in instead of out.
Case in point, Scooter’s promptness always surprised Kermit, especially in terms of knowing when something wasn’t right. Fozzie and swords didn’t sound right in any sense of the word and Kermit nearly did a double take when the go-fer informed him of it.
“What sword act?” he asked. To his knowledge, he could not remember having a conversation with the bear comic that included the words ‘sword act’ or anything that resembled an act that would require swords. In fact, he was fairly sure that he had banned any type of act that included sharp instruments.
“Hey Kermit,” Gonzo the Great, the show’s performance artist – and probably the only person that could possibly be allowed anything of a sword act – called. “You’d better come take a look at this.”
The passageway from backstage to that of the stage itself was supposed to be clear, in order for acts to come on and go off stage as quickly as possible; that of course meant nothing to this troupe. It wasn’t uncommon for acts that were going up next or even those who weren’t even in the show that night to just loiter by the stage way in order to view the current act on stage.
Currently Gonzo, along with the resident leading lady Miss Piggy, were the ones loitering and it didn’t look as though they were actually worried and concerned for what was happening on stage at the moment. Normally, Fozzie’s act was more miss than hit most nights; it certainly didn’t help that the old men who sat in the balcony above stage left gave the bear grief every time he walked on stage, which of course did nothing to bolster Fozzie’s confidence.
The audience was never any help either. The bear and others had literally been booed off their own stage more than once.
However, on this night, the looks of concern wasn’t because the act was failing, it was because the act was dangerous. Coming over to stand in between the two, Kermit’s mouth literally dropped when he was able to see what the bear was doing onstage.
Fozzie Bear was in no way shape, form, or personality for daredevil like stunts. Those were usually left in the semi-capable hands of Gonzo the Great; Fozzie usually also did not go about changing his act without telling either Kermit or Scooter he was going to do so. So to see what the bear’s actual routine was…
Fozzie had somehow, earlier in the week, gotten it into his head that his stand up comedy act was passé; no one just did jokes anymore, they did other things, whether it be magic or using a puppet or dummy to enhance their appeal, they did more than just jokes. Fozzie, who was always set to do more for his act and give more to the audience, had decided that what his act needed was excitement.
Taking a page from the great book of his friend Gonzo, the bear realized that what was missing from his act was something dangerous; certainly they were aware that the audiences always enjoyed when they hurt themselves – they really needed a better clientele of audience members – so what better way of spicing up his act than doing something dangerous. That of course was a problem in itself as Fozzie didn’t really do anything dangerous, he also didn’t like doing anything dangerous; but for his act, his show, and his audience, he would.
Where he had gotten the idea, he didn’t know though he was sure he had seen it on a commercial during a late night movie marathon. He was going to juggle knives. Ginzu knives, the very thing his act was missing. Unfortunately, he didn’t own any Ginzu knives and then he saw it – scimitars. Like a knife and sword combined to make…a really curvy sword. It was genius! It was golden!
It was perfect.
And before he could even say ‘scimitar’, the bear had ordered it and had it shipped.
Now, this brilliant plan would have worked except for a few things – firstly, Fozzie didn’t know how to juggle. Secondly, he didn’t know how to juggle anything bigger than say a golf ball. Thirdly, he certainly didn’t know how to juggle knives or rather, swords in this case. Fourth, he had failed to mention to either Scooter or Kermit that he had changed his act and would be juggling five very sharp and very dangerous scimitars.
So now, Fozzie stood on stage doing his best to either catch said swords as they came flying down from where he had thrown them up in the air or avoiding them as they came flying down at him, while simultaneously trying to tell his original act, which was the one that Kermit knew about.
“Did you okay this?” Gonzo asked, turning a stunned look on his friend and employer. Truthfully, Gonzo was a little put out that he hadn’t thought of the idea of juggling swords; he had always thought the idea beneath him. Anyone could juggle swords! Except Fozzie, apparently, but the ability to juggle five incredibly sharp and dangerous weapons while telling jokes was new.
And of course Gonzo was concerned that, quite frankly, the bear was going to kill himself.
“No, I most certainly did not!” Kermit hissed, trying to reign in the amount of worry and anger that was coursing through him. “Scooter, who told Fozzie he could juggle swords?”
“Wasn’t me,” the go-fer replied. He had of course followed the frog as soon as Gonzo called him and was now witness to what was probably going to be the first Muppet death on stage. “I didn’t even know he could juggle.”
“He can’t,” replied both Kermit and Gonzo.
“Idiot,” muttered Piggy, who was seeming casually leaning against the doorjamb with her arms crossed. Even after this time, Piggy still seemed like an enigma to many of the Muppets; her very stance and stature cried ‘diva’ and she acted the part to the letter. This meant that, unless your name was Kermit, she treated you like a piece of gum she had accidently stepped in while crossing the street; however, for those that had gotten close enough to know the former Miss Bogen County winner, Piggy wasn’t as high maintenance or snotty as she seemed. Case in point, she may have been highly annoyed that the bear was going to ruin the next set, which just happened to be hers, and may have seemed to the world that she could easily work around a dead bear on stage, but that wasn’t the case inside.
Inside, Piggy was just as concerned and worried as the others were. And while she would probably never let it be known, she liked Fozzie and she certainly didn’t want to see him chop himself up into little bits. Oh, she was going to have words with the bear, should he survive this.
“Scooter.”
“Right!” There was a reason that the sixteen year old was turning out to be a very helpful asset; without Kermit even telling him, Scooter had gone ahead and made up a tin pan full of whip cream. It was a ‘in case of comedic emergency, throw’ plan that Fozzie and Kermit had come up with in the case that, when one of the bear’s acts were failing, someone would come out with that to not only put a stop to the act by literally ‘finishing the bear off’ but letting it be a more humane way than just pulling him off stage with the giant hook.
With pie pan in hand, Scooter handed it off to his boss, just at the moment one of the scimitars came down and nicked the bear on the arm. Kermit of course was a bit smarter, as he let the swords fall to the ground before heading out on stage. And Fozzie knew he was in trouble – Kermit had this look on his face that clearly said he wasn’t happy and holding a pie in his hand wasn’t helping the image.
“Fozzie.”
“Kermit,” the bear whimpered.
“It’s time to say good night.”
“Is the show over already?” cried one of the elderly gentlemen in the balcony.
“We’re still awake!” called the other.
Fozzie gulped, but stood straight and proud. He was well aware that this was probably not the best idea he’d ever had and he was probably going to get a stern talking to once he got off stage, but he had to note that Kermit at least had the foresight to get the pie and not the hook.
His frog, the best frog friend a bear could have.
“Do it and get it over with,” the bear replied.
“We’ve been telling you that for years!” called the old man.
“Keep that up and this pie’s gonna be aimed at you!” Kermit retorted, seriously not in the mood for the nightly banter that occurred with these two.
The audience of course loved it, having no idea the seriousness that was going on in front of them or what would happen once the bear got backstage. For their parts, Kermit and Fozzie did play it off as though the bear didn’t want the pie to the face – which of course he didn’t – and right as he tried to sprint around the frog, he got hit with both barrels, causing him to stumbled back thankfully into the waiting arms of the people he thought would be a little more gentle with him.
They weren’t.
Gonzo and Piggy were of course the ones to actively grab the bear and literally drag him offstage. A towel was thrusted in his hands and he was told to sit before being pushed back into what he hoped was a nice, normal chair and not the hot seat he had expected from Kermit. Unfortunately, while Fozzie had been well aware that Kermit was angry with him, he hadn’t even begun to imagine that his other friends would be just as livid.
On stage, Kermit did what he did usually best – cover for the others while some crisis was taking place backstage.
“We’re gonna get this all cleaned up,” he began. “Don’t worry folks, Fozzie’s fine.”
Fozzie loud cry of “ow!” was easily heard from backstage, causing the frog to turn towards the noise.
“I’m sure that was nothing,” he covered. “And now, here’s a great tune by our very own orchestra!” Kermit looked down at the conductor, Nigel, who stood in the orchestra pit. Luckily, because Nigel usually faced away from the audience, they couldn’t see his look of confusion or his expression that cried, “What?”
Also luckily, the Muppet Orchestra, which also consisted of members from the band The Electric Mayhem, had experienced enough Muppet Show shenanigans to have several songs at the ready. A song suggestion by bassist Floyd Pepper was all that was needed to start in on a little upbeat rock number that would hopefully provide the stage crew enough time to clean up Fozzie’s act and set up the next one.
And if all went well, it gave Kermit enough time to kill Fozzie Bear.
Returning backstage, Kermit noted the small cluster of Muppets off to one side. Fozzie sat in the middle, his uninjured arm being used to rub the back of his head from where Piggy slapped it; Gonzo was crouched on the other side with Scooter and a first aid trying to patch the bear up.
“Kermit!” the bear whined. “Piggy hit me!”
“Oh good,” he replied, sarcastically as he came up to the group. Turning to the diva, he continued with “Hit him again.”
“Not cool, Frog.”
“No Fozzie,” Kermit spat. “You know what’s not cool? Tomorrow’s headline – ‘Muppets Fozzie Bear kills himself on stage with juggling act’.”
“’Scuse me, Mr. Kermit,” one of the stagehands said, interrupting their conversation. Holding up the five scimitars that had been laying on stage, he asked, “What do I do with these?”
“I’ll take them,” Gonzo volunteered, only to receive a look from Kermit.
“No you won’t,” he said. To the stagehand, he said, “Go put them in the stock room. And lock it!”
“Oh come on, Kermit!” Gonzo protested, watching the stagehand – and those swords – go off without him. “I can at least juggle!” Here, he gave the bear such a fierce look, Fozzie actually squirmed in his chair. “If anyone is sane enough to juggle scimitars, it’s me!”
“I’m sorry,” Piggy asked. “What did you just say?”
“I said, if anyone is sane enough to juggle scimitars, it would be me.”
“That’s what I thought you said,” the diva nodded. “Allow me to offer a rebuttal. First, no one in this building is sane and secondly, no sane person would give you sharp instruments to play with.”
The performing artist was just about to retort to that, when that night’s guest star – the lovely Eartha Kitt – came from her dressing room. “Excuse me,” she purred. “But I seem to have a cow in my dressing room.”
“Maybe he was hoping for a steak in,” Fozzie chuckled. “Get it?” The group around him glared at him and his joke.
“A cow,” Kermit muttered. “Of course. Where else would a cow be?” The frog stalked off for the stairs, all the while grumbling about suicidal bears and even more suicidal whatever it was Gonzo was.
And can I just say....why was Eartha Kit never a guest on the Muppet Show? Or in any movie? Because...she was fantastic in the Emperor's New Grove and really, that's be honest - she's everyone's favorite Catwoman. She is.
Okay, so....I'm debating if I should include those scenes from other stuff or just make them actual series in themselves. What do you guys think?
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I wants new chapter to that too.
Oh, but it's okay for the monsters to have them?
