RedPiggy's Comeback King Saga (a re-write)

[The Count]

... Absolutely love how this is turning out, what with the expanded extra story. But one small quibble or question. Isn't Slimey an orange worm with yellow stripes, not the other way around? Other than that, it's great and I look forward to more being posted.

 

[RedPiggy]

*shrugs* I dunno, that's like asking if a zebra is white with black stripes or vice versa

 

[The Count]

Yeah... Thought so. Just that going by how he was described to me, plus the little figure I have to find while restoring my overall figure display to prominence, he has an orange head and tail end with yellow stripes. Oh well... Post more when you can.

 

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 10
(Spring, 2011AD)

Junior Gorg looked out somberly through the window in the belfry of the Gorg Castle, sighing, watching as Wander McMooch gathered greaseberry leaves … and berries … and roots … in the garden below. Suddenly, he heard someone climbing up the ladder. He turned to find Pa, panting at every rung, appearing through the trap door.

Pa blinked twice before speaking, trying to control his voice. “Junior … do you know what’s happening in our garden?”

Junior nodded. “Yes, Daddy … McMooch is down de-yah takin’ gweasebewwy plants,” he replied in a casual, matter-of-fact tone.

Pa finally stood before him, scowling, his eyes all squinty. “Greaseberry plants? McMooch? Junior, if you sold our castle to that thieving little toad again….”

Junior shook his head, backing up to the window, his hands waving wildly. “Nonono, Daddy! I didn’t sell the castle again! He said he needed ‘em for tomowwow.”

Pa threw his head back in indignation, his arms thrashing around. “And why do we care what he wants? Why are we giving him my greaseberry plants? You know I hate not having greaseberries for breakfast,” he exclaimed, then continued under his breath, “and lunch and dinner.” Pa poked a finger at Junior. “If you were still King …”

Junior sighed and turned his back on his father. “Pa, don’t start up with dat again.” He paused. “I don’t want to be King of da Universe.”

Pa turned from his son, clenched his fist so tightly it hurt, bit his lip so hard it bled, and cursed silently to himself. He tried counting to twenty, though it didn’t help much. When he felt he could talk to his son without choking him, he turned and inhaled deeply. His voice was far more subdued. “Junior,” he began warily, “I … I know you think I’m some old fool, out of touch with how things ought to be. I was against you having Fraggles as friends. I was against you throwing the sacred Gorg crown away to who knows where.” He sighed, the pain in his voice becoming more evident. “Junior, tomorrow you celebrate five hundred years of living in this universe. Destiny has decreed you would become a great Gorg King … perhaps … even greater than King Gorgous himself. It is a king’s duty to help those in his kingdom. It’s in the air, Junior, my boy. A darkness is coming and we’re all in danger.”

Junior still avoided eye contact, staring out the window. “I don’t have to be King of da Universe to help my friends, Pa.”

Pa gently put his hand on his son’s shoulder, bowing his head slightly. “You don’t have to be a king to be friends … but if you were King … there would be certain rules, such as enemies not just taking over your land. The only way a kingdom can change hands is to win it in battle or offer it in trade.”

Junior barely turned his head. “Pa, we don’t have a kingdom no more.”

Pa nodded, his voice exasperated. “Exactly! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell ya, boy! If our home is no longer the great Gorg Kingdom, then anyone can just waltz on in and do whatever they want with it! You’ve got friends now … do you really want to put them at risk … all because you don’t want to grow up?”

Junior sighed, turning slowly towards his father. “The Shadow said I could be anything I wanted! And … and … da Fwaggles said it’s bettah not to have a boss at all! I’m only twying to do da wight t’ing, Pa.”

Pa closed his eyes. “If Fraggles told you putting garden shears up your nose was a good idea … would you actually do it?” He opened his eyes, his facial expression filled with sincere pleading. “Fraggles are Fraggles. Gorgs are Gorgs. I realize we’re all connected, Junior, but it doesn’t mean we all have to live the exact same way!”

“He has a point,” noted a deeper gruff voice. “If everyone sang exactly the same, there would be no harmony.”

Junior and Pa looked around and spotted a yellow-orange Fraggle, taller than the usual ones, with red tufts of hair and a mellow expression. Junior recognized the voice as the Shadow. He pointed at the Fraggle. “You! You told me I could be anyt’ing I wanted!”

The Fraggle nodded gently. “I also told you you could become a great Gorg King.” He sighed. “The trouble with the universe is that there are so many options, wembling is inevitable. I thought you were different.”

“I didn’t wemble!” Junior protested angrily. “I made a choice! I chose not to be King!”

“So you went back on your previous decision … which makes you a wembler,” the sage Fraggle replied, making Pa chuckle in agreement.

“What pwevious decision?” Junior retorted, offended.

The Fraggle shook his head. “Junior Gorg!” he exclaimed with irritation. “You promised to play the Royal Kazoo. It can only be played by a great Gorg King. You played it! All you ever wanted was to prove to your father you could be a great Gorg King. Then, just as suddenly, when the safety of all our futures was almost assured … you went back on your word! What is right for the goose is not always right for the gander … you cannot succeed living a Fraggle’s life, just as we cannot succeed living the lives of Doozers or Gorgs.” Cantus pointed emphatically at Pa. “Your father is not as clueless as you think, Junior. He was blind to the nature of the Universe … but so were you, once. You can’t throw away an old song just because it’s no longer in fashion. There will always be a need to learn from all melodies, no matter how out of place they may seem at the time.” He sighed resignedly. He didn’t like getting on to others … but even his patience had limits.

Junior Gorg bowed his head in shame. Pa’s eyes were widened, his mouth agape. He had never been … understood … to this extent before, certainly not by a mere Fraggle. It had become a cliché to think of Pa Gorg as an out-of-touch conservative who placed tradition above the needs of the present. Pa would never admit it, but his father had considered him a dunder-headed lummox with crazy ideas when he was a child. It was, after all, an unsung tradition … to hate the foolish ideas coming out of the mouths of your children. Pa may have had his faults, but so did the next generation … and so did the generations that came before. Pa’s eyes began to moisten. This was the first time in decades … maybe centuries … that Pa had felt so … so … validated….

<><><><><><>

Sarah sat on the porch swing just outside the back door to Toby’s house. His parents had sold it to him so they could travel to Europe, despite Irene’s (Sarah’s stepmother) protests. She thought Toby should make his own way, that selling the house to him was spoiling him. However, they couldn’t argue with the amount of money he paid for it, thanks to his software development career.

The full moon cast a soft glow on the ornate back yard, filled with ornamental flowers and shrubs. She just couldn’t take being inside anymore, not with all the shouting and singing and dancing. Toby, naturally, was at the top of his game, providing for the Fraggles who had to escape Fraggle Rock for some reason. Toby had really come along, having learned the finer points of making people happy when he was Goblin King. While she was proud of him, Sarah could not share in his success.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” asked a low male voice. Sarah looked around, finally looking down to find a blue Fraggle with red hair, a brown cap, and a dark red scarf. His eyes weren’t readily visible.

“Sure, I guess,” Sarah replied quietly. “Partied too hard, huh?” she asked, trying to make polite small talk.

The Fraggle shook his head. “I’m not the party type.” He looked up at her. “Oh, I’m Boober, by the way.”

“Sarah. Toby’s my half-brother.”

Boober jerked back a little. He glanced back and forth. “Uh … he looks like he has all his limbs to me….”

Sarah couldn’t help but smile. “No, no … it means we only share one parent, not both.”

“Oh,” Boober replied, sighing with relief. “Do you mind if we just sit here? I’m not much of a conversationalist,” he requested, his shoulders drooping.

“Sure … I like things to be nice and quiet, myself.”

He nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

For three hours the two gently swayed on the porch swing, staring at the moon as it glowed on the various plants. They soon couldn’t tell if the party was still going on. It could’ve been because they all finally got tired … or Sarah and Boober were just really self-absorbed at the moment. Sarah glanced at Boober out the corner of her eyes. He was staring at his swaying feet, his tail slowly curling and uncurling, his lower lip trembling. Finally, he broke the silence. “Do you,” he said hesitantly, “do you think … it’s all over for Fraggle Rock?” His voice quivered at the end.

Sarah’s face was crestfallen. This poor creature was taking it hard, she thought to herself. She put an arm around his shoulders, hoping that was an appropriate gesture. “I … don’t know, Boober.”

Boober sniffled. “Heh … at least you’re honest,” he replied, looking up at her. “All my friends said it was definitely going to be okay.” His voice tensed. “But what if it isn’t? What if this marks the end of our race? What will happen to my laundry? I mean, those shirts and socks aren’t going to wash themselves….”

Sarah cocked an eyebrow. “You do laundry?” she asked skeptically. She smiled, trying to make a joke, “Maybe you could give my brother some pointers. There’s a whole room filled with dirty laundry.”

Boober turned his head toward the back door.

“Boober,” Sarah continued in a slight panic, “I didn’t mean to make light of your situation. It was a bad attempt at humor.”

Boober glanced back at her as if dazed. “Huh? Oh,” he replied, shaking his head, “I’m not offended. I was just wondering why I didn’t bring my bleach nuts with me. Maybe a little laundry would ease my mind. Nothing is as comforting as stain removal.”

Sarah couldn’t help but smile. So, she thought to herself, this would be what she would be like as a Fraggle.

Boober noticed her expression. “So, you’re not into the whole ‘eternal optimist’ thing either, right?” He paused, pointing to himself. “You’re like me?”

Sarah took her arm off and stared at the moon. “I consider myself a realist, not a pessimist. I just want things to be normal.”

Boober nodded. “Me too.” He waited a few minutes before continuing in a quieter voice. “Everyone always thinks I dampen the mood. They’re the ones who never think about the consequences of their actions. No one listens to me when I tell them we get away with everything we get away with because of nothing but sheer dumb luck, that’s all.”

Sarah nodded. She found talking to Boober easier than she would have expected. “People are like that, too. My brother thinks I’m an idiot for not jumping at the chance to do something fantastic and magical. He doesn’t listen to me, really listen, anyway. If I had accepted the offer to leave my world and live carefree in a magical land … it would stop being magical!” she exclaimed, passion increasing in her voice. “My dreams would become normal! I’d go from trying to make a living here to trying to make a living there!” Tears started welling up in her eyes. “Someone I loved very much … well, grew to love … would stop being the man of my dreams. I don’t want to take that away from him, Boober. He’s practically the King of my entire Universe,” she continued wistfully. “The last thing I want to do is take away his specialness.”

Boober patted Sarah’s hand with his own, making her flinch slightly. He sighed, not responding for several minutes, letting the cool night air take away their heavy thoughts. “I … feel the same way,” he said finally. He sang a short, melancholic, wistful verse …

You and I,
We nearly cried,
Although … our love was strong.
And by and by,
We’d start … to sing … along…

Sarah wiped away her tears and stroked his back. “You have someone like that?” Boober nodded silently, trying to keep from sobbing. Sarah continued, “She didn’t come with your group? Maybe we can head over to the theaters and see if she’s with them.”

Boober shook his head, sniffling. He wiped his nose with his scarf. “No, she stayed behind. Mokey.” He made a fist. “She just had to be the hero! She’s getting as bad as Gobo and Red! What is she going to do? Paint the bad guy a picture? Offer them a radish from the Gorg’s garden? Why can’t she just run and hide … like we … like … I … did?”

“And you regret your decision?”

Boober stared at Sarah in disbelief. “You’re one to talk! No offense, but it sounds like your boyfriend needs you … and all you can do is put on a play and hide in the back yard!” He pulled away from her. “I’m … I’m sorry. I’m just really stressed. I just want everything to get better. I … want Mokey to be safe, to be herself again.”

Sarah fought back tears. Had she really been selfish all those years? Had she avoided helping those who needed her? All throughout her adulthood, she tried to keep from needing her friends from the Goblin Kingdom. She didn’t want to appear as though she couldn’t handle problems herself. Now … she was aware that perhaps she should have wondered if they needed her, if Jareth needed her. And here was a whole race of beings who faced extinction … and she was the only hold-out … the only one who hadn’t risen to the challenge willingly.

“I know, Boober,” she said amidst sobs. “I wish I knew how to save your home.”

And just as Boober expressed his thanks, a flash of inspiration hit Sarah like a nuclear bomb.

Sarah stood up, nearly flinging Boober off the swing. She pounded her fist into her palm. “I need to get to the theater!”

<><><><><><>

At the edge of the lake below Mizumi’s castle, an obese young woman with short thick black pigtails, dark freckles on her cheeks, and black lipstick stood. She wore a patched-together blouse with a broad frilled collar and knee-length shorts that threatened to fall off her rotund form. She licked her lips as she spied a few small minnows in a shallow pool.

“Drumlin?” a sultry voice asked.

Drumlin turned to find Mizumi standing next to her. “Care for some fish, Mum?” she offered in a gargly voice as though she were heavily congested. She grunted as she stooped over, inhaling deeply, the waters of the shallow pool vanishing into her through her mouth and nose. She snorted, her face slightly fuller than it was before. She picked up a couple flopping fish, but her fingers were so thick she snuffed out their lives immediately. “Huh,” she shrugged, tossing the snapped minnows back with the dying others. She turned toward her mother. “I don’t see why we don’t attack already, Mum,” she continued as though nothing had happened. “The Gorgs are without a King, so it’s not like we have to observe the rules.”

“Despite my temper, we are still a civilized kingdom, my dear daughter,” Mizumi replied with a smile. “I offered a chance for McMooch to redeem himself. I must abide by it.”

Drumlin shrugged, the water in her belly sloshing audibly. “You know he’s gonna stab you in the back, Mum.”

Mizumi blew her daughter a kiss. “Of course he will. However, I need an excuse to execute him. Failing to eliminate a simple Oracle is all I need. After the Gorgs are finally eliminated, perhaps you and your sister can run the place. I hear there’s a fantastic ever-present flood in the basement. You’ll feel right at home.”

Drumlin bowed, smiling greedily.

<><><><><><>

High atop the north tower of a large beige stone castle, a lone figure held a crystal ball, which showed a car speeding through the busy streets of New York. A chime went off somewhere deep within the castle. The figure smiled, his cloak rustling as he shrunk, turning into a beige-and-white barn owl. As the full moon illuminated the surrounding area, the owl flew off in the direction of a place he never thought he’d ever return to.

 

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 11
(Spring, 2011AD)

No one can blame you,
For walking away ….

Sarah turned off the radio as she pulled into the staff parking area of the theater. She knew that crown was the solution to the Fraggles’ problem, even if she didn’t know quite why. She quickly tied up her dark brown hair, leaving several strands dangling around her face. As she fumbled with her keys to the back door, she realized she knew why she had discovered the solution. After years of trying to avoid it, she had made a wish … she had re-connected with a magical gift given to her by Jareth decades ago.

This was the first time she wasn’t repulsed by the idea.

Hundreds of Fraggles were sprawled out on the floor throughout the theater corridors, sleeping soundly. She tried to tiptoe around them. It would be dawn soon, but surely these creatures deserved to sleep in. She worked her way to the basement, when she discovered Rick working on the crown. He gasped, nearly dropping the now-shiny crown on the floor.

“Christ, Ms. Williams … you nearly gave me a heart attack. I’m an old man, y’know!” he exclaimed bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said quietly. “I need the crown.”

Rick stared at her. “You … need … the … crown,” he repeated very slowly. “This crown? Why?”

Sarah realized telling him the truth would just sound weird. “Uh, there are some … um … production stills I need to make for some flyers.”

Rick cocked an eyebrow. “At three-thirty in the morning?”

Sarah scoffed, trying to hide her insecurity. After all, it was his crown, right? What claim could she possibly have on it? “And yet you’re messing around a closed theater this early in the morning?”

Rick chuckled. “Your boss told me to babysit that furry little firecracker and her friends … for an extra thousand.” He smirked. “So ….”

Sarah sighed, brushing strands of hair from her face. “How much do you want for it?”

Rick shook his head. “It’s a pricey family heirloom,” he replied. “I don’t think you can afford it.”

Sarah took a few steps closer, her voice slightly more stern. “A family heirloom that you keep in a theater basement?”

Rick licked his lips. “I suppose … for fifty thousand, I could tell myself that it’s for the greater good and all….”

Sarah’s eyes got so wide they threatened to pop out of her head. She even forgot to breathe. After a few seconds, she finally managed to screech, “Fifty thousand?” She shook her head, trying to get her voice under control. “You know what? Fine. Fifty ….”

A sharp high-pitched gasp interrupted her. “Nicky! How could you?” exclaimed a female voice.

Rick and Sarah turned to find Miss Piggy (whom Sarah knew only from her media work) standing in the doorway, her golden-blonde hair curling slightly at the neck, a somewhat small-for-her-size robin’s egg-colored sequined gown, lavender elbow-length gloves, and a pearl necklace hanging loosely around her thick neck.

Piggy’s eyes were widened, her mouth gaping open. She placed a gloved hand on her chest and spoke in a sing-song manner. “I couldn’t believe it!” she told “Nicky”, trying to sound as innocent and dainty as she could. “I came here looking for vous, and one of those hamster things told me you had stolen a crown!”

Red Fraggle, her fiery hair down against her back, and wearing a pink robe, appeared beside Piggy and jabbed her with an elbow, her face frowning. “We are Fraggles, not hamsters, lady,” she snapped, glaring up at the pig’s face.

“Whatever, kid,” Piggy growled, not looking at her. She maintained her glare at Nicky. “I thought you promised moi you were different!” She started to growl again. “I’m not goin’ back to the slammer just because you can’t keep your klepto meathooks off someone else’s property!”

Sarah gawked at the stagehand. “You stole this crown?”

The old man ignored her. He smiled warmly, trying to sweet-talk his way out of this situation. “Piggy,” he started in the most suave voice he could muster at his age, “those Caribbean cruises don’t pay for themselves, my dear.” He pointed at the crown. “I was fashioning this myself! I was gonna sell it on eBay and use the money to get us some VIP tickets to a swank European concert!” He pouted through his smirk. “I only want the best for you, my dear.”

Red shoved her way past Piggy, jabbing a finger angrily at the male Silly Creature. “You stole that crown! That was Junior’s!”

“Prove it!” Rick/Nicky retorted tauntingly.

Piggy lowered her head. “I … I believe you, Red,” she stated mournfully. “Nicky has a teensy-weensy little problem with risk-taking behavior.” She roared, “He knows it’s a risk to upset moi!” Piggy nodded at the crown. “You two return this crown to its rightful owner, s’il vous plait,” she continued with her normal melodious tone. Like flipping a coin, her voice changed back to a snarl. “I’ll deal with him.”

“Now, Piggy, my beautiful basket of bacon,” Nicky began as Sarah and Red grabbed the crown and took off for the Fraggle hole upstairs on the backstage wall. They could hear some yelling and crashing as they reached the hole which was very large, though Sarah would have to bend her head a little.

They ran through the tunnel, lit without lights somehow, Sarah noted. Red led the way as Sarah carried the awkward crown. Red yelled back as she ran, “Hey, you want me to carry that?”

Sarah panted a little. “No, it’s okay. It’s as big as you!”

Red groaned. “Please! I pump granite every morning!” She dodged into a tunnel to the right. “It can’t be that heavy!”

Sarah remembered dashing away from the Cleaners, who operated a large drill-like device in the bowels of the Labyrinth. Middle age wasn’t helping her at all, she noted to herself. Time to renew that gym membership…. She ducked to avoid a stalactite. “The back wall of the … crap … theater is only five feet thick! How does this tunnel keep going?”

Red paused as they came to a room with multiple tunnels, shrugging. “I dunno,” she replied absent-mindedly. “Magic, I guess.”

Sarah chuckled. “Ah.” She noticed Red seemed indecisive. “Are we lost?”

Red put her hands on her hips. “Of course I’m not lost! I’m not Gobo’s Uncle Matt!” she replied, annoyed. “I’m trying to think of tunnels that you can fit into without scraping your head on the ceiling!” She finally bounded toward a wide tunnel on the left. “Don’t worry … it shouldn’t take more than an hour to reach the Gorg’s garden.”

<><><><><><>

Junior Gorg awoke in his bed, feeling very stuffy. He wished there were a way to move the stale air of the castle. It gave him permanent sinus trouble. He sat up on the edge of his bed, removed his radish-printed pajama shirt, and began to rummage around his nightstand for his usual khaki jacket. When he closed a drawer and looked up, he noticed two figures cloaked in brown robes, one slightly taller than the other. Both were around six feet, thought Junior. The taller one pulled back its hood, revealing a dark-skinned female with sea-green shoulder-length hair and matching gown. She let the robe fall gracefully to the top of the nightstand on which she stood. Her head was adorned with broken knick-knacks. Her face beamed, a gentle smile caressing her features. The other one removed its hood, revealing a more male look, with feathered blond hair that also reached to his shoulders. His features were more chiseled, his eyes marked with strong black liner. He wore a stern expression. Both, however, congratulated him on his five-hundredth birthday.

Junior could not help but gawk at his visitors. “Wh – what do you want fwom me?” he asked in a whisper, so as not to awaken his parents, who slept a few rooms down.

The blond-haired one spoke with a smooth deep voice. “The safety of the universe is at risk. We have come to fulfill the prophecies.”

Junior sighed, wiggling his feet and rubbing his hands together. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said reluctantly. “I gotta take my wightful place as King of da Universe or my Fwaggle fwiends could all die.” Junior pointed at each of them, asking them who they were.

The female nodded toward the male. He replied, “You know me as Sir Hubris, former King of the Universe.”

Junior stood up, grabbed the male in his large brown furry hand, and shook his head. “Uh-uh … da Fwaggles twied that on me alweady many ye-uhs ago. Nice twy, Gobo.”

“Sir Hubris” frowned. “Do I look like a Fraggle, you overgrown buffoon?”

Junior stared at the being in his hand. He didn’t feel like a Fraggle. Junior gasped, nearly dropping the Legend, and flung him back onto the nightstand. Junior fell to the ground, bowing repeatedly, sobbing uncontrollably. “Suh Hubwis! It weally is you!” he cried in a full-fledged panic. “I – I – I would give you da cwown you gave my ancestuhs … but … but,” he stammered, his heart racing, “… but I thwew it away! I nevah found out where it went, neither! And now you’re gonna tell me and my family we have to go wandah da universe forevah!” He blubbered still.

Junior noticed a small hand on his quivering chin. He looked up, his eyes crossing at the sight of the female, she was so close. She laughed cheerfully, with a tinge of sympathy. “Dear Junior Gorg,” she began, her voice silky and calming, “even a lost heart can be found again … why not your crown?” She looked up at the nightstand where “Sir Hubris” clutched his torso from the aching he felt. He stood up and rolled his eyes.

Lummox, he thought to himself. Sighing, he replied, “Since I cannot fulfill the legend and take back what was mine, the legend is negated.”

“Wh – what does that mean?” asked Junior, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“It means,” Sir Hubris noted irritatingly, “that the legend foretold I would return to take your crown. Since you have no crown, the legend no longer has any meaning. It must be started anew.” He pointed to Junior’s bedroom door. “Go to your family and celebrate your birthday. For later this morn … you will yet again be King.”

<><><><><><>

Wander McMooch sighed, leaning against the tremendous gate that led to the Gorg property as the sun rose above the horizon. He had inflated himself to almost six-and-a-half feet high, since he knew he would be visited by Mizumi’s daughter, Drumlin. He had only seen her when she was a young child, before his banishment. He wore a shaggy red coat with a leopard-print collar and a pink broad-rimmed hat with a couple of feathers in a wide white band.

The ground started to vibrate in short intervals. He looked to the right and saw nothing out of the ordinary. However, when he looked to his left, he spied an obese brunette woman stomping toward him. Small puddles disappeared as she walked past them. She seemed to grow marginally larger each time. Wander gulped as she approached, taking a couple of steps back.

“You’re bigger than I remember,” gargled Drumlin.

Wander retorted, “You aren’t exactly petite either, sweetie.”

Drumlin frowned and grabbed Wander by the throat. He could feel himself shrink as she drained him of moisture. She let go after he had reduced in size by a foot or so. She laughed maliciously. “Is the Oracle dead already? Or am I gonna have to do it myself?”

Wander gasped for breath. His whole body ached from the sudden loss of moisture. He tightened his coat around him. He hoped he could get through this conversation without dying. He bowed. “Milady, the Trash Heap is just far too powerful for me,” he whined. “Perhaps I could show you where she is. Far on the other side of the Gorg property lies the Oracle, beloved by … ugh … Fraggles and Gorgs alike. She’s behind a great tree by their well.”

Drumlin nodded, called him a filthy coward, and went with him across the Gorg front lawn, where they could hear singing and dancing inside the tremendously huge Gorg castle. As they approached the great tree, Drumlin chuckled eerily. “I hope this goes by quickly … I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”

Wander asked absent-mindedly, “Oh? What did you bring with you?”

Drumlin smiled, licking her lips. “Bufonidae burritos,” she replied, rubbing her ample tummy.

Wander shivered uncontrollably for a moment. They rounded the tree … to find a large pile of dark mud. Wander jerked back in surprise, shaking his head vigorously. “Nonononono,” he stuttered, “she should be here! She can’t move on her own!” He zoomed back and forth around the space, searching high and low. “Even Philo and Gunge can’t move her! This is absolutely impossible!”

Drumlin adjusted her patched-together blouse, shrugging. She stooped down to the pile of mud, inspecting it. “And you’re sure she can’t teleport?”

Wander moved back a foot or two. “No – at least, not herself, anyways,” he replied, quivering.

Drumlin stroked her chin. “Gorgs probably did something with her. Perhaps they were warned …?” She glared at McMooch, who felt as though he were about to faint. “I’ll see if there are any clues here … before you’re punished for your idiotic failure.” She reached toward the top of the pile of mud, absorbed most of the moisture in it, leaving behind a dried pile of dust, which blew away in a sudden breeze. She stood up, engorged with moisture, and noted satisfactorily, “Hm, berries, fruit, and some chocolate cake, I think.”

Wander nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes! Junior Gorg is celebrating his birthday today! They must have hidden her in their kitchen!”

She listened for the continued sounds of partying. “Well, let’s go pay them a visit, shall we?” She turned and wobbled off toward the castle. However, a few feet around the tree, Drumlin groaned, rubbing her belly. Wander kept a safe distance from her, out of sight. He could hear her cough violently. The sound of dripping made him come just close enough to see her sweating heavily. She gargled up water from her throat. She glanced at him with hatred out the corners of her eyes.

McMooch cackled. “Don’t you remember why I was banished, you fat, frelling fae?” he taunted. “I poisoned the lake water underneath your Mommy’s castle! You’ve just absorbed about thirty pounds of water laced with concentrated greaseberry juice. It’s the slickest stuff in the universe!” He laughed maniacally. “Soon you’ll just fall apart from the inside out!” He continued to laugh as she gurgled and gargled and died, spilling into a veritable pool of water.

Wander decided it was time to high-tail it out of there. He started to zoom away in the opposite direction, toward the entry to Fraggle Rock, when he was stopped mid-zoom by a dark-skinned woman, who smirked triumphantly. “Are we ready to head back to the Trash Kingdom, Wander?” she asked.

“Are you certain Mizumi can’t find me there?” he pleaded. “She’ll kill me for what I’ve done!” He bows, shaking. “You know, I never really wanted to kill your daughter, right? I mean, we had our little disagreements … but I swear I could never harm Marjory!”

The Queen of Trash patted McMooch on his head, smiling sympathetically. “Wander McMooch … you are an immoral toad tossed away like garbage from your own home,” she told him. “But in my kingdom I can breathe life into anything thrown away … so long as they are treasured by someone. I have no doubts I can re-purpose even you.” She teleported them both to her kingdom; far away from the Gorgs, the Fraggles, and Moraine.

<><><><><><>

In the main room of the Gorg castle, the three Gorgs sang songs, with many creatures from deep within Fraggle Rock (who now stayed with the Gorgs) providing backup:

Once there’s Ma and once there’s Pa,
Sang of love forever….
Junior plays and Junior sways…
Hey! He’s so clever!

Pa slapped his son on his back, nearly bowling him over onto various Doozers and other creatures, laughing. He sang the next two lines:

Five-hundred – it’s not long at all!
The rest … just get better!

Then, the whole group sang:

Out the door, five hundred more!
Sing! Altogether!
Sing! Altogether!

Just as they finished singing, they heard a scream from low in the wall. Red came running out of a hole in the wall, followed by a female Silly Creature … with the …

… with the …

… crown ….

The three Gorgs gasped … and so did Sarah, who was completely unprepared for the size of these beings. She bent her neck back to see them. She gulped, feeling her knees tremble. They soon heard a rustling sound, as a tiny bird fluttered in onto the Gorg’s dining table, transformed into “Sir Hubris”, and bowed.

“Suh Hubwis!” Junior exclaimed.

Pa and Ma nearly fell backwards in shock. “Sir Hubris?”

“Jareth,” Sarah gasped.

Jareth smirked, avoiding Sarah’s presence. “You’ll forgive me if I make this quick. Time is short.” He inhaled deeply. “Millennia ago, a Gorg was made King of the Universe. At the time, I promised to return to the land of Gorgs to take back what was mine.”

Pa and Ma clutched each others’ hands, terrified of the news to come. For the legend foretold that Hubris would run them from their home.

Jareth continued with a hurried voice. “Yet, as fate would have it, the kingship was rejected. Having broken the spell, Junior Gorg, you have set your fate upon an unknown path. If you wish, I shall crown you King of the Universe. It will be your task to rule the Universe as you see fit, for good or ill. Junior Gorg, what say you?”

All eyes turned to Junior. You could hear a pin drop, despite how many creatures were present.

Junior bowed his head, shuffling his feet nervously. He bit his lower lip.

“You can do it, Junior!” Sarah belted out unexpectedly. Her voice was filled with certainty and passion. “You can’t have ‘no’ for an answer! From everything I’ve heard about you … I know you can be a great Gorg king!”

“Weally?” Junior asked, awe-inspired that a strange being would just offer that out of the blue. He nodded. “I, Junior Gorg, humbly accept the cwown fwom Suh Hubwis, so I can pwotect the cweatures I have come to love and wespect!” As he finished proclaiming his acceptance, the crown vanished from Sarah’s hands and appeared on top of Junior’s head, sparkling with a newly-polished sheen.

The crowd of creatures broke into loud applause, cheering and whooping wildly. When the noise died down, Jareth turned to Sarah and Red, his face filled with worry. “Return to New York,” he told them. “Do not stay in Fraggle Rock. Mizumi is on her way and … she is … upset.”

“What about Madame Heap?” Red bellowed so that Jareth could hear her. “I’m not leaving if she’s not safe!”

“Madame Heap is in danger?” Junior asked, his eyes wide. Why didn’t he know this?

Jareth shook his head. “She and her companions have been taken to safety to the Trash Kingdom. Go!” he barked. “You each have your parts to play! You have played them well … now leave, before it’s too late!” He noticed Sarah’s disappointed expression. He smiled warmly. “Sarah … protect the Fraggles. I cannot protect them from here. We need you.”

 

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 12
(Spring, 2011AD)

Mizumi’s carriage arrived shortly before noon to the Gorg property. She leapt out, her silver gown slightly more blue than her hair. She rushed to the Gorg castle … met by Junior Gorg, who wore a purple robe … and a royal crown. He brandished a golden scepter decorated with scenes from Gorgous the Great’s life, topped with a black crystal orb. His brow was furrowed … his voice sure. “You are invading the Great Kingdom of da Gorgs,” he bellowed sternly. “Weturn to your home or I will slay you!”

Mizumi cursed silently to herself. Somehow, some way … the oaf was king again. By the looks of the scepter … Jareth had a hand in this. Mizumi, however, would not be turned away so easily. She fumed. “My daughter was killed on your property, Gorg!” she screamed. “I demand restitution – you will permit my entry into Fraggle Rock!”

“Weally?” Junior asked, his serious tone suddenly turning into innocence. “Uh, yo-uh daughtuh was thumped?” He waved to the surrounding area. “Here?” He shrugged, his voice a bit more casual. “I didn’t do it!”

She glared at an opponent easily more than thrice her size. “You, Your ‘Majesty’, are responsible for my pain! I demand you let me enter!”

The King of the Gorgs stared at his scepter, nodding slightly. He glanced back down at the queen with the ever-reddening face. He tried to sound “royal” again. “Not only was your daughter here to hurt wesidents of my domain,” he began, “but it was a citizen of yo-uh own countwy who thumped her! Now begone … and come here no more!”

<><><><><><>

Cantus, the Minstrel, peered hesitantly out of the hole that led to the Gorg’s garden. The time had come, he knew. He had heard the soft nervous whispers of the Rock: The drop becomes the stream becomes the pond becomes the flood. He saw a powerful sorceress threaten the Gorg King. If he exhaled completely and closed his eyes, he could just hear water flowing through her. He understood that this was the danger that threatened the Rock. He smirked. Fraggles were known to be lovers of water … there were even fully aquatic Fraggles called Merggles who had adapted specifically to the medium. The mystical Minstrel had a love of irony, and this, dangerous as it was, brought him a modicum of amusement. Cantus felt a nearly exhausted presence behind him. Without turning, he whispered, “Is everyone out of the Rock?”

A higher-pitched version of his voice with a certain tenseness lacking in the Minstrel responded, “Yes, except for Mokey … she said she found a cave far out into the Rock, closer to the Cave.” He took a few breaths. “She swears it will work.”

Cantus nodded. “Mokey … and the Song that sings for her … listen well to the Song of the Rock. If they say it will work … it will.” Cantus turned, placing an arm on the other Fraggle’s shoulder. The other Fraggle had gray skin, a messy tangle of black hair, a short black mustache, and a dark purple jacket over a black shirt with a white collar. He seemed a little cross-eyed.

The other Fraggle wiggled his nose, his arms slightly trembling, his belubious puffed out. “Do you think this will work? I’ve never sung without them before.”

Cantus smiled warmly. “John, you want them to be safe, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

Cantus patted Convincing John on the shoulder. “As long as this creature has few targets….”

“You mean ‘us’….”

Cantus nodded and continued, “… then we need not fear for the safety of the Rock. The other Minstrels are with the Silly Creatures in Outer Space. This is the only way we can protect our home.”

John snorted in amusement. “Are you trying to convince you or me?”

They both smiled and turned back to the hole, where the sorceress was still arguing with the Gorg King.

“She looks pretty powerful,” John noted, adjusting his collar to give himself some more breathing room.

“Mm,” Cantus replied, nodding.

John coughed. “How many verses do you think it will take to convince a sorceress like her?”

“Twelve, minimum,” Cantus answered immediately. When John gagged and nearly fainted, a small smirk appeared on Cantus’ face.

John shook his head, sighing, placing his hand on his chest. “Don’t tease me like that!”

After they had watched for a few more moments, John leaned back against the tunnel wall and sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow with a small cloth from one of his jacket pockets. John cleared his throat. “I don’t know how you do it, Cantus,” he said. “No matter what gets thrown at you, you just bounce back like it was just a soft breeze. I’ve tried and tried, but I just can’t seem to get the hang of it.” He noticed Cantus staring at him without a response. John continued, “I’m an awful wembler --.”

“Everyone is a wembler,” Cantus acknowledged softly. He shook his head slowly. “I’ve never met anyone too definite … at least, I don’t think I have,” he said, looking back through the hole to make sure the sorceress wasn’t approaching.

Convincing John sighed, exasperated. “Cantus … I … I just … can’t. You make music that makes flowers grow, while I sing to get Fraggles to do whatever strange thought goes through my head at the time. I’ll never match you.”

Cantus gently put his hands on both of John’s shoulders. He stared straight into John’s eyes painfully for several moments before stating softly, “I’ve tried to save her, John. I’ve tried to elicit every song I can think of from her … but I can’t save her. I need you to work on her some.”

John trembled. “What’s … I mean … where are you going?” He shook his head. “I know you’re not telling me that --.”

“I’m telling you that I’m auditioning you for a verse, nothing more,” Cantus replied. He pulled away and smiled that calm, warm smile of his. “It may be nothing. I may, despite a lack of history of it, be actually wrong.” He smiled wider. “I hope I am. What has become of Mokey may yet prove to be one of her greatest strengths.” He sighed. “I just want someone like you to be there for her in case I’m right.”

“But I don’t have that kind of power!” John protested.

Cantus shook his head. His voice got sterner. “Don’t make me argue with you, John. I’m the one Fraggle your songs don’t affect. What do I have to do to convince you that you, too, can make the Ditzies glow and the flowers bloom?” He waved toward the back of the tunnel. “If you sang one of your convincing songs to a poison cackler, you could make it harmless. If you sang one of your convincing songs to a boulder, it would move out of your way.” He sighed again. “John … you may not sing my song, but you sing a song just as powerful. You just have to believe in yourself.”

<><><><><><>

Mizumi was now just out of Junior’s reach, assuming he didn’t lunge for her. She stretched out her hand. Junior felt a strange sensation, as though he were sweating profusely to the point of collapse. A fine mist traveled from his fur to her palm. Mizumi had not wanted to battle the goblins, for they were stupid but plentiful and obstinate. However, there were just three Gorgs here … and none had experience with a real battle (or so she had heard). Although they were gigantic, Gorgs typically kept to themselves, never venturing far from their territory. Mizumi could feel the sheer strength of the Gorg King. He was far more powerful than the largest ogre she had ever come across. She could feel his fear and his thoughts about his parents and his desire to see the universe.

“Daddy,” Junior mumbled as he wobbled back and forth. So, he thought, this was what it felt to be thumped by magic.

The orb atop the scepter turned into a barn owl and flew in circles before taking off away from the castle.

Mizumi stopped her attack on the Gorg King and glared at this sudden development. “Jareth!” she roared. “You will not escape me!” As the bird flew towards the Gorg well, Mizumi became like a fog … a furious fog that rushed toward the well. Within minutes she was atop the edge of the well, returning to her normal form just long enough to see the owl dive far into the caves below, pulling out of the dive slightly to the right. She became like a waterfall and flowed in torrents into the well. She flew past the Fraggle Pond, towards the back of the Great Hall, following the bird intently, without a thought for anything else. Nothing but the echoing splashes could be heard throughout the Rock.

After nearly half an hour of chasing the agile little owl, Mizumi pushed herself to her limits and caught up, turning back into her usual form, clutching the fowl’s thick neck, only to be astonished as it transformed …

… becoming …

… a furry, brown …

… thing.

It smiled, though as shaggy as the fur on its face was, it was hard to tell. “Hi!” it exclaimed cheerfully in a high-pitched grating voice. “Gosh, you’re pretty!” It waved with one hand as it clutched her arm with another. He was roughly three feet tall. His legs dangled above the ground. He reminded her of a really, really shaggy dog with no tail. He grunted as she held him fast against the cave tunnel wall. “Uh … do you want me to be a dog? I’ve never seen one before. What does it look like?”

She dropped him and took a couple steps back. Her face was frozen in shock. “What … are you?” she asked in a whisper.

The creature rubbed its neck and perked up. “I am called Skenfrith , Milady,” he replied with a smile. He pointed at her. “You want it … I become it!” He shrugged, as though anticipating her next reaction to being tricked. “And you can’t hurt me … it was already pointed out to me that everything will turn out alright!”

Mizumi’s tone grew deadly. “Is that so?” she asked, tightening her fists. She had been hoodwinked … again … by the most powerful being she had ever met. She didn’t know whether to eviscerate Jareth or throw him to the ground in a passionate embrace.

A trilling melody made Mizumi gasp. It reminded her of rainfall dropping on metal. She looked to her left. Down a broad tunnel, she saw two small shadows, leaping playfully as the melody continued. Fraggles, she decided silently. The melody stopped, and she heard similar voices laugh.

She walked toward the infuriating sound. “How dare you mock me?” she hissed, forgetting the empathic shape-shifter. “Your allegiance to the Goblin King shall ruin all of you!”

Immediately after her warning, the melody started up again, but segued into a rousing gospel-like melody, which resonated in the tunnels. One of the shadows began to sing frantically:

Now listen to me, honey,
We're laughin' 'cause it's funny,
Because we haven't got anything to lose...

“That’s your opinion!” shouted the livid Queen of Cups. She chased them through tunnel after winding tunnel, the same rousing tune angering her more and more. She nearly overtook them in a large cave filled with multicolored crystals. One was a relatively tall orange-yellow Fraggle with a long robe, while the other was a short gray one with a loud purple jacket. The gray one continued to sing most of the lines, with the other one backing him up:

After all, Queen, you're used to power,
And you're as pretty as a flower,
But you have never before heard our tunes (heard our tunes).
And you can try to snatch us, try to catch us, but now with Cantus,
There's a magic even you cannot deny (not deny),
And we're a hummin' though you're comin' but, you see, our song … just … can't … die! (It lives on!)

As they reached the chorus, the melody slowed a bit, becoming less like a shouting match and more like an actual song:

Yeah! Listen to Convincing John,
And all your troubles will be gone.
I’m gonna tell it, spell it, sell it,
Just for you!

They separated for a moment, dashing among the various crystalline structures, which seemed to glow in sync with the melody. As Mizumi chased them out of the cave, they continued to sing. As they sang, as the music played, she noticed how much brighter and livelier the tunnels were. But it made no difference, she vowed to herself: she would not rest until they were all destroyed, down to the very last leaf of the very last plant.

So, now we're getting closer,
And I make a good composer,
And if it's answers you seek, then you shall find (find).
So follow us to the cave,
Though you may want to rant and rave,
Because you think we're gonna leave you behind (behind)!

The air got mustier as they continued. Mizumi could see flickering lights up ahead.

We have a spell, and we have a smell,
For there wasn't any bath at the hotel,
Therefore we really hope that you don't mind (mind).
The cave is near, the cave is HERE!
Now our destinies are intertwined!

The taller one sang the chorus as they entered a very large cave, nearly barking the words, they were so forceful:

Listen to Convincing John!
And all your troubles will be gone!
He's gonna tell it, spell it, sell it,
Just for you!

Mizumi stopped. The cave was rather large, well over three feet above her own head. Torches hung on the walls, illuminating several drawings, most of a very primitive nature. Many seemed to identify ancient human activities. However, shadows cast by the various rock formations prevented her from seeing the images further along in the cave. In the center of the cave, a light purple Fraggle female sat cross-legged, chanting silently to herself. Mizumi felt drawn to this Fraggle. By now she realized she was being set up. However, what Fraggle magic could harm her? What was this song supposed to accomplish? Was she to dance herself to death? Perhaps it was merely a delay tactic. All this, though, she mused to herself, was awfully … well-thought-out … for a small group of dancing rodents.

She decided to see what the female Fraggle was up to. Unlike her departed daughter, her absorption powers could materialize thoughts, allowing her to know what her opponent knew. The only reason she had ended her attack on the Gorg King was that she discovered he truly did not know about Drumlin’s death. Besides, she admitted to herself reluctantly, she had become hopelessly vindictive. She wanted to punish everyone, everywhere … all for her humiliation. She stretched out her hand, feeling the creature’s thoughts enter her. Strange, she thought: there were two sets of thoughts. Possession? She saw humans and humanoids … and a strange crustacean-like entity bound to a living vehicle … all within the deep reaches of the universe. As she delved deeper into the being’s unconscious … an image of a blue, elegant (and bald) woman appeared. The woman smiled. “Are you certain you wish to continue? I’m not known for being completely pacifistic.”

Mizumi pulled away, amazed at the strength of the mind within the lowly creature. As her mind began to clear of the images, she realized the others were still singing:

Now then, let Mokey go, Queenie,
You don't want to seem a meanie,
She can't answer if you let her choke (choke)!
Put her down and you will succeed,
And you will find you have a need,
To realize this is not some sick joke!

Listen to Convincing John,
And all your troubles will be go-o-one…

Suddenly, the flute’s melody transformed into a more complex melody, one that seemed to lighten the cave somewhat and bring it to life. Flowers began to bloom. The air took on more pleasant smells. Mizumi looked for the Fraggles, who had joined hands, bobbing up and down and humming. An acrid smoke rose from the ground. The Queen of Moraine coughed, her skin irritated by the particles in the air. She lunged toward the trio to stop them from their bizarre ritual … but the smoke became too thick. It threatened to choke her.

After about fifteen very long seconds, Mizumi felt a strong chill in the air. The smoke dissipated. She coughed to expel the last of the smoke from her throat and began searching for the Fraggles, who had disappeared. Perhaps it was a teleportation spell, she mused. They must have hidden themselves further within the cave. No matter … she would hunt them down and kill them slowly, perhaps using the pools in Fraggle Rock to drown them. She heard strange footsteps further down the tunnel where they had entered. She followed the sound and came across a set of small nearly hairless brown creatures with large heads, not even a foot tall. They gasped as they noticed her. Soon, they began chatting among themselves in some meaningless tongue, and motioned for her to follow them.

As she followed the small creatures, a feeling of unease took over her. It was too cold. It was too cold … and … the air didn’t feel right. She clapped her hands loudly to startle the small beings. They glanced at her nervously, stopping dead in their tracks. She told them solemnly, “I am looking for small furry creatures obsessed with singing. Bring me to them, or I will kill you all.” They looked at each other, chattered some more unintelligibly, and motioned for her to follow. They brought her to a large opening, where sunlight was very weak. Clouds covered most of the sky near the horizons. The opening appeared on a high cliff, looking over a sprawling valley. Geysers erupted here and there in various clearings in a forest where the trees were barely thriving. She could hear jazz-like music wafting up from a dying area of the woods. The tiny creatures pointed in that direction, nodding enthusiastically, and dashed back off deep into the cave. No matter, she reflected, for I do not need them.

As she reached the bottom of the cliff, a burst of steam blew her backwards. She screamed and writhed in agony, her skin seared by the high temperatures of the geyser. She struggled to stand, but the pain was immeasurable. Her gown was nearly destroyed, barely hanging off her skin. The clothes burned her skin, so she removed them. Every inch of her made her feel as though she were being boiled alive. She attempted to reach the place where she heard the music. She would make them pay for this.

The cold air was the only benefit to this whole debacle, she thought bitterly to herself. Her skin was bright red and beginning to peel in places. As she neared the source of the music, she could hear some deep gravelly vocals, set to a blues number:

Quicksand … sucked my momma down ….

Mizumi entertained herself with the thought that she was close to getting her revenge. Suddenly, a metal trap beneath her feet snapped shut, bringing the barely ambulatory Queen down with a crash. She cried out in anguish.

“Hm,” stated a very gravelly voice that varied in pitch somewhat, “this one’s rather … uh … unconventional.” A long pause, followed by multiple voices chuckling. “Perhaps this particular species is … evolving at a much faster rate due to adverse environmental pressures.”

Another pause. This time, a deeper, smoother male voice with a bit of an accent and a hint of a hissing quality spoke with bemusement, “Maybe, Crazy Lou. Let’s just get down ta business, shall we, ladies and gentlemen?”

Mizumi, through her squinted and tear-filled eyes, spotted a large hulking shape approaching her … a purple bipedal lizard, taller than the average fae or human, with a pale yellow underside, small horns emanating from its brows and the side of its triangular head, a black leather jacket … and … and … a long thick tail with four spikes on the end, one of which was broken. Her eyes widened as the pain dulled. She glanced around. There was another bipedal reptilian with pale brown skin, a broad face, tiny round eyeglasses, and the same black leather jacket style. Yet another approached nearby … an athletic creature with green scales, dark sunglasses, and a Mohawk of sorts consisting of long pale green spines. This one spoke, its voice reminiscent of Jareth’s dwarf Hoggle, except that it sounded younger and more intelligent and not nearly as rough on the vocal chords, “She’s not exactly dead yet, guys. Maybe it’s too soon to start ripping off her flesh from her bones.”

The purple one looked up in shock. He shook his head, sighing disgustedly. “We’re not gonna go t’rough dis again, are we, Scooter?” he whined. He glared at the vulnerable humanoid, smirking maliciously, licking his reptilian lips (if they had them at all). “We … can wait.”

 

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 13
(Spring, 2011AD)

Despite everything that had happened, the Fraggles in Outer Space had enjoyed themselves. They had danced, sung, and made merry until their feet were sore. Jenny and Kermit had forbidden the Fraggles from feeling that they have to repay them … but the Fraggles insisted on helping with the operations of both theaters, especially after Jenny’s stagehand had to retire unceremoniously. They had found him bruised and groaning in the basement, which was littered with broken set pieces and props. Besides that, the crown was gone … though Red and Sarah had explained to Jenny what had happened.

Over at the Muppet Theater, Kermit was backstage, as usual, overseeing set designs. Wembley Fraggle walked up to Kermit, who was busy reading from some notes. “Uh, Mr. Frog?” he asked hesitantly.

Kermit smirked, not taking his eyes off the page. “Wembley … I told you you can call me Kermit.”

Wembley nodded. “Mr. Kermit, sir? Is there anything else we can do for you?” His voice was filled with hopeful exuberance.

Kermit glanced at the young green-yellow Fraggle with the banana-tree shirt. “You don’t have to do anything, Wembley,” he replied. “Look, we appreciate the help, but don’t feel like you’re obligated to help us out.” Kermit tried not to sound as curt as he did when Jenny had offered the same help years ago. After all, Kermit realized that, much like his neighbors on Sesame Street, Fraggles were very innocent and naïve.

Wembley grunted and nodded emphatically. “Yeah, yeah … but you know … ‘when it feels real good, like a feeling should, then it’s understood, you gotta (grunts twice) pass it on’!”

Suddenly, various Fraggles and Muppets started singing impromptu:

Pass it on (pass it on),
Pass it on (pass it on),
Wish upon (wish upon),
All the good things that you do.

Pass it on (pass it on),
Pass it on (pass it on),
When it’s gone (when it’s gone),
It will bring good luck to you!

“I get it! I get it!” Kermit exclaimed, stopping their song, though the others laughed as they continued with their work. Kermit sighed.

Wembley chuckled. “Well, it’s just that,” his head swayed back and forth with each phrase, “I’ve been thinking … and I know a way you could get more involvement with your theater!” He dramatically spread his arms, facing the dressing rooms on the back wall of the second story floor. “Picture it … young Silly Creatures … bored stiff from doing Silly Creature things … your theater … filled with all kinds of creatures and monsters … it’s the perfect opportunity … you could help the young Silly Creatures learn about making plays!” He glances back at Kermit, whose mouth was slightly agape as the Fraggle continued his pitch. “You could help young Silly Creatures learn about how to interact with all kinds of different beings … and they can learn how to make stuff and use their imagination and sing songs and everything! What do you think?”

Kermit paused before speaking. “Uh, well, that’s something we could look into, I guess….”

“It’s a great idea!” shouted Scooter, an orange gopher (or go-fer) with short red hair and large glasses and a lime-green Muppet Show jacket, as he zoomed in on the conversation.

A crustacean half the size of Kermit, Wembley, and Scooter with a tassle of unkempt red hair and four arms, appeared from behind Scooter. “And we could be making very much more monies, okay?” Pepe, the King Prawn, walked up to Kermit and playfully punched him on the shoulder, his voice lowered in all seriousness. “There is a Lamborghini with my name on it, okay?” He pointed at Wembley. “You should really agree with this guy, Kerr-mit.”

Scooter gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll go run the numbers….”

“But,” Kermit interjected.

“And I will be getting ze permits, okay,” Pepe offered, running off.

“But,” Kermit repeated.

“Don’t worry, Boss,” Scooter replied, placing his hand gently on Kermit’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of everything.” He jogged towards the exit.

“But,” Kermit said again. He sighed, shaking his head. “This could be a liability insurance nightmare.”

“Is that bad?” Wembley asked, nervous that maybe he caused his host some trouble, putting one hand up to his quivering lower lip.

Kermit shrugged. “It’ll be fine until a monster eats a kid or Crazy Harry blows them up.” He patted Wembley on the shoulder to reassure him, smiling. “Other than that, it may just work!”

<><><><><><>

In the ornate throne room of the castle of Moraine, with fountains everywhere spewing all kinds of liquids and robots hanging up against the walls, a hundred or so exquisitely dressed guests stared at the throne, where Esker placed a small crystal tiara on the head of a thin young woman with long black pigtails and a scar running through her left eye. A cloud with a face on it hovered proudly above her.

“Princess Moulin,” Esker bellowed, quieting the crowds, “we entreat you to rule the Land of Cups with devotion and wisdom.” He bowed low, followed by the attending gathering.

The new Queen of Moraine smiled and threw up her arms, causing the fountains to erupt into a dazzling and sparkling display of acrobatic trajectories. The crowd cheered wildly.

<><><><><><>

On the far edge of the Gorg Kingdom, behind the great Gorg well, a rousing tune sprang up as the scent of compost once again filled the air. The Trash Heap sang in her scratchy voice, assisted by Philo and Gunge, who jumped up and down wildly in celebration:

I've been up and I've been down.
I've been dragged all over town,
Trying to find a place to lay my head.

After all the pain and woe,
Here's the only thing I know,
Couldn't last a day without my friends.

Philo and Gunge took up a line:

Trash is back, trash is back in town!

Marjory exclaimed,

Oh and I'm home for good!

Philo and Gunge sang the only line they sang for this song:

Trash is back, trash is back in town!

Marjory continued to shout exuberantly, her large body wiggling with every movement:

Oh yeah, let me tell ya about it!

Through the nights and through the days.
I had wandered in a haze.
Now I know my family loves me true.

Friends and Mother both are near,
Lonely's not a word I fear,
Cause now I know you all will pull me through!

(Trash is back, trash is back in town.)
Oh and I'm here to stay.
(Trash is back, trash is back in town!)

<><><><><><>

Cantus, Convincing John, and Mokey all sat down, leaning against a ridge next to the Fraggle Pond, staring at the high ceiling of the Great Hall. As exhausted as they were, they couldn’t help but smile. They all could sense the rest of the Light returning to the Rock. They began to hear a familiar carol waft down the tunnels towards them, sung by what sounded like every Fraggle who lived in the Rock:

There's a rhythm.
There's a rising.
There's a dream of green that needs to wake,
A password,
And a promise,
That the earth will never ever break.
It's coming,
Feel it humming,
In the hearts we share with rock and sky so raise … your … voices… high. . .

The song repeated for a few verses before soon the whole Great Hall was teeming with life again as Fraggles, Doozers, and other creatures, even Skenfrith, joined in the song.

Mokey felt someone staring at her. She turned to her head to her right and saw Red bounding towards her, arms waving madly. Mokey’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping. “Red! Stop! Wait!” But it was too late, Red practically tackled her, squeezing her friend as hard as she could.

“Oh, Mokey!” she exclaimed. “You’re alright!” Red sniffed back some tears. “I just knew you would be!”

The inhabitants of the Rock cheered, hugging and congratulating each other. Mokey saw Boober hang back in the crowd. She managed to squeeze past about twenty Fraggles and Doozers. Upon reaching him, she kissed him on the cheek.

Boober jerked back in shock. “Why … why did you do that?” he asked, rubbing his cheek.

Mokey smiled. In her natural voice, filled with a dream-like quality, she replied, “I heard you, Boober. Just remember,” she said, starting to sing an upbeat song quietly to garner as much privacy as one could have among a throng of Fraggles,

Boober, my friend,
Is on his way,
We can have a super holiday.

Stay a little longer with your friends.
Play a little longer with your friends.

Boober gawked at her. “M … Mokey,” he stuttered, “does … does this mean that you’re back to normal?”

Mokey patted him on the shoulder with one hand as she tapped his hat with the other. “You know how your alter-ego Sidebottom is a part of you?” He nodded. Mokey smiled warmly. “I now have another part of me.” She paused, slightly pouting. “Does that bother you, Boober?”

Boober stared at the ground floor for a few moments and then shrugged. His face lit up and he laughed. He grabbed both her hands in his. “Mokey,” he proclaimed cheerfully, “now we can go on double dates and not have to invite anyone else!” He laughed again.

Mokey grinned, though she was a little taken aback by his response. “That sounds … like … fun!” She joined him in laughing at their strange situation.

<><><><><><>

Sarah had finally finished cleaning up the stage in preparation for the night’s show. Toby had congratulated her on taking charge of her situation, helping to save countless creatures from destruction … and on finally letting magic within her heart. She wiped her forehead, absent-mindedly tying up her hair. She picked up the broom from the stage floor and turned, bumping accidentally into someone’s chest. Before she looked up, she saw a golden pendant shaped vaguely like a straight-on image of a flying bird. She looked up and gasped. A blond-haired man with chiseled features, thin sunglasses, and slicked back hair tied into a ponytail grinned at her. He took her by the shoulders and repositioned her so she would see an amazingly ornate crown, fashioned from gold and silver and rare jewels, roughly the size of the one returned to Junior.

“It’s a present,” he noted dryly.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she embraced the King who stood before her, fearful that he would just be a figment of her imagination.

Alone on the stage, they shared a long and well-deserved kiss.

 

[RedPiggy]

Act 2: Comin’ Back

Scenes that may help:
Muppet Babies
Waiter Grover
Muppet Family Christmas Home Movie
Boober’s Quiet Day Pt 1 (for Sidebottom, Tosh, and Storyteller)
We Love You Wembley Pt 3 (for Lou)

Chapter 14
(Early Summer, 2011AD)

Ma Gorg, her ample blonde hair pulled up into a bun, patted her husband’s furry gray-blue hand as he lay in bed. He had kept his squinty eyes closed for the better of the morning. Her pale lavender face with the upturned nose was slack. She had been at his bedside all night long and she was near exhaustion. She struggled to keep her eyes open.

Pa groaned. He clutched at his right leg. His voice was gravelly with age. “Oh, this ol’ war wound….”

Ma sighed. Her voice, though weary, was melodious. “Oh, Husband and Retired Caretaker of the Universe,” she cooed, “surely it cannot be all that unpleasant?” She continued with a much sharper tone. “Besides, yesterday it was your left leg.”

Pa opened his eyes and glared at her. He had not trimmed his long sideburns or the long shaggy hair on the back of his fuzzy head for days. “Don’t tell me where I hurt, woman!” he protested. “I’m one-thousand and ten years old! I think I know where I hurt!”

She patted him on his arm patronizingly. “Of course you do, dear.” She put both hands on her hips as she sat on a small wooden stool from the living room. “Honestly, you act like you’re about to keel over.”

Pa whined. “But, Ma – you know as well as I do I haven’t been feeling the burning wildfires of youth lately! Cut me some slack, will you, my dear?” He tried to sit up, but fell back down on his pillow. “Where’s Junior? I … I want to talk to him! I’ve still got advice to give!”

Ma shook her head and rose from her seat, standing almost twenty feet tall. “I am not sending for our Loving Son and King of the Universe, Pa,” she replied. “He’s heading to a meeting with the Royal Court of All That Is. I am not bringing him home just so you can worry him with all your depressing whimpering.”

Pa screamed as he sat up despite his pain. “Drat and Deuteronomy, Mother!” He paused to massage his leg. “I am not whimpering! I may not be the oldest Gorg in existence … but I am leaving this world soon!”

“You’ve said that for half a century!” Ma shot back, though her voice began to waiver. He had started bewailing his fate when the first leaves of the Nirvana tree started to fall. The Nirvana tree was a sacred tree planted at the coronation of each Gorg king. When the last golden leaf fell, it would be time to crown someone else.

Pa had not taken that very well. Now, every little ache and sneeze portended some dreadful catastrophe.

“It’s true, Mother!”

Ma stared at her husband. They had been married for 537 years, and all this time he had tried to get out of doing many of the things a Gorg King should do. Sure, he had been a loving husband and a devoted father … but he couldn’t fool her. He was a coward. And yet, deep in her heart, she felt some anxiety. Despite all his frustrating faults … she wanted to spend all of eternity with him. Being away from him was far too painful.

Still, he usually whined like this to get out of work, which he usually turned over to his ever-eager son.

But, Junior wasn’t here.

Ma sighed again. “Fine. Let’s assume for the sake of argument that you really are unwell. I have given you every remedy noted in the Book of Gorgs. Something should have worked by now.”

Pa whimpered, lying back down, unable to sit for more than a few minutes. His tone was that of resignation. “Remedies only work if you can get better at all, Mother,” he noted sadly. “I can’t get my legs to stop hurting. It’s starting to creep up my back, too.”
<><><><><><>

“Okay, wait a minute!” Wembley screeched in the Storyteller’s ear (well, Fraggles didn’t have visible ears, but, whatever). He wore a loose white button-down shirt with banana tree with sunset patterns on it. He had light green skin and blond hair, a long nose, and a blond belubeous (the puffy tuft of hair at the end of their tail). Fraggles were, in general, two-feet tall.

“What’s the problem?” the Storyteller replied. She had long graying pink hair, golden skin, round purple glasses, and she wore a long red robe.

Wembley huffed and puffed. “Well … well … what is it with you? You’re going to kill off Pa Gorg?” He screamed, running around in circles, jumping up and down in a huff.

The Storyteller waited until Wembley stopped. Her face was skeptical, her eyelids half closed. “Are you quite finished, yet?” He waited a few moments, bobbed his head from side to side as he tried to decide how to answer, and then he affirmed he was finished. She nodded. “Good. What have I been telling you about storytelling?”

Wembley grunted and shrugged. “Well, it … it isn’t real … is it?” he asked timidly.

She sighed. “You gotta keep the audience going. You can’t be afraid to change the tone if the situation calls for it.”

“But,” he groaned, “I don’t understand! Why do you always have to have characters face danger and destruction?”

The Storyteller sighed and shook her head. “Because, Wembley … that’s where the drama is. Besides, if you have some twists in there, then the initial pain will pay off. It’s basic storytelling. If you want to learn the tricks of the trade, you just gotta go with it.”

Wembley groaned. He noticed a cushion in her cave that looked recently sat on. “Uh, who else has been here?”

The Storyteller’s head lowered and she shuffled her feet. Her tail drooped. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said finally. She shrugged. “Let’s change the subject, shall we? Let’s see, where was I…?”

<><><><><><>

Pa Gorg, back in the days when he had just become King of the Universe, sometime in the thirteenth century of what humans called (at the time) Anno Domini (which Pa assumed meant “To dominate a ‘no’”), stared through the small window of his hiding place, which consisted of some ancient human stone ruins. He had been asked by various human kings to help out with a great battle. As King of the Universe, it had been his royal duty to commit himself to helping out other kings.

Many Gorgs had been run off by these awful creatures. Some had supposedly fled to the northernmost regions of several continents. However, without a steady supply of radishes, they would certainly disappear … literally. Pa hailed from what the humans called “Europe”, but with every passing human generation, he felt more and more uncomfortable. They could easily be destroyed if in small groups, since an individual of the species was rarely taller than his knees. However, there were just so many of them now. He had heard of a few Gorgs being tied down and thumped in their sleep by whole armies of the pests.

Pa could hear the roaring battle cry as the fight began. Spears, arrows, horses, swords … the sounds of heavy footsteps and clanging metal made him shudder. There were probably millions of the tiny creatures. The stench of war flooded the entire area. Pa glanced at a parchment he had been given by those who wanted him to be on their side in battle. He shrugged. Something about a “den” – he couldn’t read the sloppy handwriting very well, and some of those human languages were torturous to learn. At least there was a garden there, he mused to himself. Lots of trees, fertile soil, plenty of water from several rivers … in short, it was paradise. According to the legend, no one else lived there anymore. That was fine with him. He’d leave these creatures to their own problems, get a wife, have some heirs to the throne, and call it a day.

And the best part was that it should only be a few weeks’ walk from where he was now.

<><><><><><>

“Argh!” Travelling Matt screamed as he fled the large black and brown “dog”, which had a very powerful narrow jaw that he was definitely not interested in testing for strength. Matt liked to wear a khaki uniform, a pith helmet, and a thin white scarf around his neck. He was the most famous explorer of Fraggle Rock. He was famous mostly for his uncanny ability to find things even when he’s not looking for them. Whereas many saw it as dumb luck, Matt considered it proof of his natural talent and instinct.

He began to wonder just how long this creature could run. He had been chased throughout “Central Park” for nearly an hour now, and he was beginning to feel that burning in his legs that signaled a need to quit running.

But that creature was still very angry….

He felt the creature tackle him to the ground, snarling and growling. The hard path made of some strange type of Silly Creature pour-able rock scraped his beige skin.

He was getting too old for this. Back in his prime, he could outrun any creature, even Gorgs. He was known for his athletic prowess all his life.

And if he didn’t get away now … it might just be his very last expedition.

“Hey! Back off! Woof woof!” bellowed a gruff male voice.

“Go on, shoo!” yelled a much younger and naïve male voice.

Matt could hear the creature who threatened to thump him yip as it was suddenly taken off Matt’s back. He felt two small hands grab him by the arms. He moaned as he was stood up. He glanced around, not focusing on anything in particular. An orange head with red hair and bold black round glasses filled his vision completely.

“Are you okay, sir?” asked the orange head, the owner of the young male voice.

“I said sit!” ordered the gruff voice from further away, which grunted as the cruel barking monster continued to struggle.

Matt tried to focus, but his heart was running away with him. “Gobo?”

The out-of-focus orange head shook. “No….”

“Morris?”

“Uh, the cat, the dance, the game, or the town?”

“The Fraggle,” Matt noted wearily, finally feeling as though he could catch his breath.

The other Fraggle-like being shrugged. As Matt focused on him, he could see that this being had external ears and no tail. Obviously he wasn’t a Fraggle. The creature was about Matt’s height, and wore a lime green jacket over a black shirt and blue pants, the kind Silly Creatures called “jeans”. “Sorry, never heard of him,” the being said casually. His face continued to show intense concern. “Did that Doberman bite you?”

“No, but maybe he was pinched!” shouted the gruff voice dryly.

The orange creature nodded toward Matt’s left, ignoring his friend’s bad pun. “We can get you to a hospital if you need patching up.”

Matt turned and saw a large rotund brown shaggy dog with long droopy ears, an oval black nose and a broad black-lipped mouth. He stood on his hind legs, unlike the dog being held forcefully by the collar. The upright dog shook his head and grunted with each attempt by the angry creature to escape. “Hey, Scooter … why don’t you take him out of here?” strained the upright dog, though he was nearly slanted back forty-five degrees from the effort to keep the furious dog at bay. “I don’t think I can hold him much longer.”

“Sure, Rowlf,” the orange creature replied, grabbing Matt by the arm and pulling him away briskly.

About a half-hour later, Scooter helped Travelling Matt to a bench. Matt put his elbows on his knees, letting his arms sway next to his legs, which were still aching something terrible. Scooter bit his lower lip and adjusted Matt’s clothes, looking for rips. Scooter stepped back. “Well, it doesn’t look like that Doberman got you,” he noted satisfactorily. “How do you feel?”

Matt panted, his tongue hanging out. “I … I feel … as fragile as … a Doozer stick.” He dramatically flung himself back against the back of the bench. His white sideburns and mustache were dripping wet from sweat.

“A Doozer stick?” Scooter asked curiously.

Matt stopped panting and stared at him in shock. “How can a Fraggle not know what a Doozer stick is?”

Scooter chuckled and snapped his fingers. “Oh! I’m not a Fraggle. I remember now … a couple months ago you guys hung out in the Muppet Theater.”

Matt twitched his nose. “Well, I stayed with the young Master Toby … but, yes, there were some Fraggles in that theater.”

Scooter nodded for Matt to continue. “So … is Fraggle Rock okay now?”

Matt smiled. “Yes, everyone is quite happy with the way things turned out … uh ….”

“Scooter.”

“Yes, Scooter, that’s it.” Matt sighed. “I want to thank you and that upright dog creature for saving my life. That first dog creature was going to eat me!”

“Sorry I’m late!” huffed the aforementioned bipedal brown dog as he finally ran up to them. He put his hands on his knees and panted. After a few moments, he managed to catch his breath. He extended one hand. “Hey, there! Rowlf the Dog. You okay?” Matt nodded. Rowlf nodded too, putting his hand back and shrugging. “I don’t mean to blame the victim … but you really made that dog mad back there. He said you were trying to attack his owner.”

“What!” Matt screamed incredulously. “How dare that snarling beast accuse me of something so … so … unFragglish!” He scoffed. “The nerve!”

Rowlf nodded with exaggerated movements. “Oh, you’re a Fraggle, huh?” He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “No wonder.” He perked up and patted Matt on the knee. “Look, I know you folks don’t know a lot about how this place works, but dogs don’t like it when you hop on their owner’s shoulders and start beatin’ on ‘em.”

“But, but there was a worm creature snaking its way from the dog’s neck to the Silly Creature’s ears!”

Rowlf and Scooter stared at the elderly Fraggle with their mouths open. They couldn’t believe their ears.

“I was only trying to free them both from such a horrible monster!” Matt continued to protest.

Rowlf stroked his chin. “Hm, that Doberman did have a snapped leash, alright. And just about every human has an iPod while they’re joggin’.”

Scooter scooted over to Rowlf and whispered into his ear, “How can anyone confuse a leash and some earphones with a worm?”

Rowlf glanced over at his friend and shrugged. He glanced back at Matt. “Don’t worry about it. It was just some misunderstanding. Why don’t you go with Scooter. I’ll go talk to that Doberman and explain what happened.”

<><><><><><>

Ma slapped Pa, making him wince. He rubbed his cheek. “What in blue blazes did you do that for?” he yelled.

Ma pulled back the covers. Tiny dots were swarming all over the fur on his legs, and a long trail of them led to end of the bed, down the leg, and across the bedroom floor.

Ma put her hands on her hips. “You’ve been eating snacks in bed again, oh Perceptive and Intuitive Husband of Mine,” she growled, shaking her head. She stomped off toward the door. “I can’t believe you made me keep watch over you just because you can’t resist chips in bed. If you ate in the kitchen like you should --.”

 

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 15
(Early Summer, 2011AD)

Toby, a young Caucasian man in his twenties wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans, sat at his computer desk, staring at his monitor. He moved the mouse every so often, rotating a virtual three-dimensional image of a solar array that would help convert solar energy into electricity. Toby had once been kidnapped in his infancy by a magical being called the Goblin King. In his teenage years, he had ended up heir to the Goblin Kingdom. Now that he was back in the “normal” world, he paid the bills by creating software. His sister (well, half-sister), Sarah, was a top Broadway writer. Her latest hit, “The Comeback of Sir Hubris”, was breaking all the attendance records.

On the other hand, he wondered if her success had anything to do with her wish to do so. The Goblin King enjoyed giving her her every heart’s desire. However, both the Goblin King and Sarah would act severely insulted if he insinuated such a thing.

“Meep meep, meep meep meep," came a high-pitched voice from behind. The tone was one of resigned confirmation.

Toby turned toward the source, a four-foot-tall lanky male in a white lab uniform with pale skin, a tubular head, large white googly eyes, and a large tuft of bright red hair. “Well," Toby offered, “do we even need the inverter, Beaker? I mean, I don’t think they’re on any kind of grid at all – at least, Sarah didn’t think so.” He pointed at the monitor. “I think DC’ll work just fine.”

“Meep, meep meep meep meep, meep meep meep, meep meep," Beaker replied, shrugging. “Meep meep, meep meep meep?"

Toby nodded. “Yeah, we can put a battery on it. Do you think we’ll run out of supplies? I mean, this is a pretty big array we’ll have to build. What did Dr. Honeydew say? Did he want to add anything?"

Beaker went off on a long tirade, his tone of voice suggesting boredom regarding Dr. Honeydew’s opinions. He shook his head, continuing his rant with increasing frustration and anger, his finger jabbing forcefully in the air.

Toby’s brows rose, his hands out in a placating pose. “Hey, calm down, dude," Toby interrupted in a bemused voice. “I wasn’t implying you didn’t have good solutions.” He winked. “I know who the real talent is, okay? Why do you think you’re here?"

Beaker’s narrow mouth went slack. He shrugged. “Meep meep, meep.”

Toby smiled. “Exactly. Don’t get so defensive, Beaker. If this project works out, it will be an amazing accomplishment. We’ll have something to be truly proud of.”

<><><><><><>

Red Fraggle frowned, her knuckles aching. She was trying to climb up the Great Hall again, for about the twentieth time this year. She had managed to climb up about thirty feet up the craggly rock walls of the large cave. All anyone could see below her was an orange-yellow dot with a red long-sleeved turtleneck sweater and two fiery red-orange pom-pom-like pigtails, with her tail swaying beneath her. They couldn’t make out her facial expressions (luckily for her). She looked up again: in about ten feet, she’d hit the large stone bricks that marked the beginning of the interior to the Gorg’s well. It would be about another six or seven feet to reach the lip of the well. She would go down in Fraggle history as the only Fraggle to get all the way up to the very top. However, at about the height she was at right now, the cave walls arched into a vaulted ceiling, making it nearly impossible to hang on.

She groaned to herself. If she couldn’t get to the top, she’d at least try to beat her personal best, which was about two feet away. She felt her fingers and toes begin to slip on the beginnings of the dome-like ceiling. She dared not look down: she would be extremely lucky to hit the Fraggle Pond below, but it was only so big around, and she wasn’t sure she would survive the adventure unscathed if she fell.

Far below, a large crowd of Fraggles craned their necks, trying to see if the Fraggle Rock Swimming Instructor would actually pull it off this time. Most of them cheered her on, but a couple here and there started to mutter how messy it would be if she splattered all over the Great Hall floor.

One Fraggle, rather overweight with multiple chins, munched on a clear-white Doozer stick, which was cast from pulverized radishes and flavored with an assortment of different spices and vegetables, depending on the season and the location of the nearest Doozer mill. He had a tangle of brown hair, pink skin, and puffy eyelids. He wore a robe that looked as though it were made of burlap.

As Red continued her climb, the Fraggles began to sing:

Red can climb the highest mountain,
Red can burn those calories,
Red can best the other Fraggles even now!
Red can never worry ‘bout it,
Red can never, ever freeze,
But Red, just think, you might even go ka-pow!

For you might never, ever, ever,
You might never, never, never,
Reach the top,
Of the Gorg well!

“Yes I can!" screeched Red from her perch high above the Great Hall, making everyone laugh.

The overweight Fraggle felt someone tap him on his shoulder. He turned, half-interested, to see a strange “Fraggle” with dark orange skin, glittery eyelids with long black lashes on small googly eyes, bright red braided hair pulled up into a ponytail with a few strands dangling along each side of her face, tiny rounded diamond-pierced external ears, strange red and blue clothes like Silly Creatures wore … and no tail. His eyes widened (as much as they could), his voice surprisingly high-pitched and scratchy, “Who … who are you?"

The strange creature smiled and took out a piece of paper from her pocket. She read from it, her voice a little deeper than Red’s, “Uh, let me get to the point of this letter, here: ‘The Fraggles are invited to an event in Central Park, to test their athletic skills against all types of creatures, including human children. It will be a multi-cultural extravaganza designed to teach each other about different types of athletic events from all around the world. We would be pleased to have representatives of Fraggle Rock join us for this momentous occasion. Signed, Kermit the Frog and Gonzo the Great.’” She looked up, batting her eyelids as small pebbles began to rain down on them. “So, anyone can come, but the letter is addressed to Red and Gobo Fraggle. You know where I might find them?"

The heavy-set Fraggle turned and pointed to the ceiling above them as the Great Hall resonated with the wail of Red as she fell from her perch finally. “Red’ll be here any second," he told her casually. He glanced over … at nothing but cave wall. He searched for the strange creature, finding her leaping up to a thick vine, lunging off a small cliff, hurling through the air on the vine, weaving one leg around the vine for stability, grabbing at Red with one arm, nearly being pulled off the vine at the weight of the falling Fraggle, and landing with a “Ta-da!" on the large rocky arch on one side of the Pond, Red Fraggle leaning back and forth before fainting and falling to the ground with a “thud”. The obese Fraggle waddled over to the arch and looked up … as everyone else was also staring at the strange new arrival. “That was inspiring! My name is Large Marvin! What’s yours?" A chorus of “Yeah, what is it?" echoed throughout the Great Hall.

Suddenly the female creature shook slightly, her voice quivering with unease. “Uh, the name’s ….”

“Hey, look! A letter!" shouted Red, who had stood up at last, rubbing her head and clutching at the piece of paper. She read it aloud voraciously and gasped with delight. She stared up at the arrival. “This is a great idea! Of course I’ll come! This ‘Central Park’ place is in Outer Space, right? That’s where that frog guy lives.” She started to re-read the letter to herself over and over again.

“Hey, uh, don’t worry ‘bout Red, eh?" said a male Fraggle with an eager voice. He had orange skin and red-purple hair and wore a yellow long-sleeve shirt with red stripes and a brown vest. “She tends to get excited about things like contests and stuff. Are you from around here?" He stared at her when she seemed too intimidated to respond. He chuckled, smiling warmly. “My name’s Gobo. You can come down, you know. We don’t bite.”

The new arrival jumped down with a grunt, dusted off her pants, and grabbed the orange male Fraggle by the hand and shook it, smiling. “Well, I’m not a Fraggle, but my parents lived in caves like this. When they died my brother and I were adopted by a man named J.P.” She lowered her head in embarrassment, her cheeks turning slightly red, which brought out the color of her hair. “Sorry, I keep meaning to introduce myself. My name’s Skeeter. I’m a personal trainer and Olympic hopeful.”

Her response was met with a lot of “oh’s” and “ah’s.”

Gobo stared at her blankly. “What’s an ‘Olympic’?"

Skeeter sighed and reared her head back in thought, as though the answer were written on the ceiling. “Well, the Olympics are a series of major sports tournaments held every four years by humans. They keep telling me I’m too short … but I’m determined to prove I can outperform them all.”

 

[RedPiggy]

Chapter 16
(Early summer, 2011AD)

Far from the Great Hall, far from most Fraggles, two female Fraggles skipped along a remote tunnel, humming a cheerful melody. Eventually, the slightly bigger one, a female Fraggle with lavender skin, deep maroon lashes, and pink long hair with purple strands here and there, stopped. Her voice suggested permanent wonder of all around her. “You know, Tosh, I wonder if Wembley will go to Outer Space. I hope he doesn’t get hurt out there.”

Tosh, a smaller pink female Fraggle with pale algae-tinged hair, sighed as she tugged on the red leash holding a large lion-like creature with a golden mane. “I’m sure Wembley will be fine, Lou. Rock forbid any of those Fraggle Five not go for fame and glory.”

Lou gasped. “Tosh … where did that come from? We were all invited to that Silly Creature contest. You sound … almost … bitter.”

The lion-like creature sauntered up to its owner and licked it tenderly, trying to comfort her. Tosh groaned, her voice getting louder and louder. “Boober acted like he wanted a safe, normal life. I knew he had a crush on … on … that Fraggle, but I offered a kind of calm anonymity I thought he’d enjoy! That Fraggle has completely lost her gourd!"

“You’re jealous!" Lou exclaimed in shock.

Tosh snorted. “I am not!"

Lou smiled teasingly. “You are! You are you are you are," she chanted melodiously.

Tosh shook her head. “I’m not jealous – I’m hurt, Lou!" she retorted, frowning. “I thought it meant something when Boober hung out with me. All Boober ever said he wanted was to do his laundry and keep out of trouble. That kind of thing is impossible hanging out with Gobo and his friends! I feel like he promised me a reward for running an errand for him … only to discover he already had the thing he sent me to find!"

Lou hung her head. “You feel betrayed?" she asked quietly.

Tosh nodded, her tail drooping. “Yeah," she replied solemnly. “He gave me the cold shoulder.”

Lou frowned and shuddered. “Your shoulder’s not the only one that’s cold.”

They headed down the tunnel and came across a hole filled with ice. They looked at each other. Tosh’s lion-like creature took one paw and broke the ice, shattering it. A stiff icy breeze nearly numbed their noses.

“M-maybe we s-should have p-packed mittens," Lou chattered helpfully.

<><><><><><>

The Storyteller sighed, dusting the furniture in her cave. She was one of the few Fraggles to have an actual door, so she could concentrate on creating her tales in solitude. The older a Fraggle got, the further from the Great Hall they tended to live. Oh, near-constant singing and dancing was fun and all, but as they got older, they realized there could be a great deal of fun in “retirement” as well. She had her long graying pink hair tied up so she could clean without having to blow strands of hair from her face every so often. She stopped momentarily to wipe the sweat from around her glasses.

A knock on the door startled her, making her chirp in fear. She opened it to find Cantus, who had orange-yellow skin, red tufts of hair on either side of his head, as well as a red goatee, which was starting to gray. He wore a simple purple robe, his twin flute tucked neatly into a long pocket. “Cantus!" the Storyteller exclaimed. “What … a surprise! I didn’t hear you approach.”

Cantus barely shook his head. “I didn’t want the others to hear me come.” He paused for a long time, though the Storyteller was used to that from him. “I want you to come with me.”

Storyteller sighed and took his hand in both of hers. “Cantus," she told him frankly, “you know your sister would do absolutely anything for you … but you gotta stop all this ‘come’ and ‘go’ nonsense.” She patted his hand. “If I wanted to just up and wander places … I would have gone with Matthew.” She sighed and retreated back into her cave and plopped down on a small blue cushion. She waved for him to enter, her voice one of experience with his vagueness. “Come on … out with it, Cantus. What’s the deal this time?"

Cantus slowly entered, leaning against the doorway. His voice stayed mellow, but the Storyteller could detect a faint hint of impatience growing. Strange, she thought, that that would happen so close to the beginning of the conversation. Usually it took him at least ten minutes to get frustrated. “I want you to see something.”

Storyteller leaned forward, frowning. “Cantus, if you’re taking me out on a camping trip to look at blooming cave lilies again….”

“The Rock is not just the Rock," Cantus replied (sort of). “The Rock is also the Cave. It is also a great many other places no one ever sees … not even Matt.”

“Cantus, the story’s dragging, dear," the Storyteller lectured. “Pick up the pace or your audience’ll fall asleep.” She leaned back. “We’re not getting any younger.”

Cantus frowned briefly. “Do you remember me telling you of young Gobo at the time of the Festival of the Bells many years ago?"

The Storyteller nodded. “Yeah, little guy wanted to prove the location of the Heart of the Rock. So what?" She wagged a finger at her sage brother. “You and I know where it is. What’s the big deal?"

Cantus shook his head. “That was not the point….”

The Storyteller groaned, exasperated. “The point was you wanted him to listen to his heart. We all know that, Cantus. It’s your main theme. You go on and on about it.” She shrugged, wanting to change the subject. “Want some cider?"

“No, thank you," he replied absent-mindedly. He walked over to a large plaid cushion and sat down gingerly, exhaling with relief. He scratched his head. “I have found other Hearts in my travels, Sis," he continued wearily. “All are magic and all bring light.” He stared at his younger sister. “I want two Fraggles to look for the strangest Heart of all.”

Storyteller laughed, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “Let me guess: uh, Mokey Fraggle, and, uh, let’s see … uh, who else would be suckered … er … inspired … to go along with one of your new missions?"

“Actually, I planned on sending Tosh and Lou from the Rock.”

The Storyteller’s eyelids opened more fully. “Tosh and Lou? Why them, of all Fraggles?"

Cantus smirked. “Because they need to have a verse.”

“Here we go," Storyteller grumbled. “Tosh and Lou felt underappreciated and useless and third-tier. Helpful ol’ Cantus will give them a sense of importance --.”

“They already have importance," Cantus interrupted curtly. “I only wish to help them see that for themselves.”

<><><><><><>

“I’m with Beastie," Tosh said emphatically, watching her lion-like creature shiver and pull away from the hole leading to an icy tunnel. “I’m not going in there.”

“But Cantus said we were looking for something," Lou replied in a whining tone. “I would say we found something, right?"

“Exactly … it’s found," Tosh retorted. “Let’s go back to the Rock.” She saw Lou approach the hole, despite the cold. “Lou, it’s not the time of year for the Rock to slow down and get covered in ice yet. What if we go in there and spread that cold to the whole Rock?"

Lou shot Tosh a harsh glance. “You’d rather Gobo or Boober get all the glory?"

Tosh sat down on her knees, her tail swaying back and forth. “What if there isn’t any glory in there? What if it’s blame?"

Lou stared at Tosh for several minutes, the only sound being the wailing of the icy breeze. “You know Tosh, I don’t know why Boober and you didn’t work out either," she said finally, inhaling deeply and plunging into the hole.

Tosh finally dragged Beastie with her through the hole, shivering, and coming out into a cave that seemed half as tall and wide as the Great Hall. All of the walls and the floor were covered in ice, and there were no plants at all. The first thing really strange Tosh noticed was a series of planks of wood sticking out of a wall to her right, about four feet or so off the ground, smothered in ice. Tosh finally noticed Beastie staring at something to her left. It was a gigantic stone pillar. Beastie pulled Tosh toward the other side of the pillar. There stood Lou, shivering, her head moving back and forth as if reading something. Tosh joined Lou and noticed a set of Fragglish inscriptions carved into the pillar. Beastie, meanwhile, was jerking its paws off the icy floor one at a time, trying not to freeze to the ground.

Lou pointed at a squiggly line just underneath a lantern made of copper or something. “That one says ‘Rhythm’.”

Tosh squinted. It was hard to make out some of the symbols for all the ice. She pointed at a small tree creature engraving. “That one is ‘Rise’, right?"

Lou nodded. “The little box with the line sticking out at the bottom is ‘Dream’ and … and … I can’t seem to make out some of it because the frost is in the way," she noted curiously, with a tinge of frustration. She scanned the rest of the images as they went down the pillar. There were a couple of box pictographs, a large tree-creature, and a set of three vertical lines. “Hm," Lou continued, “it says, ‘ Password’, ‘Promise’, ‘something something’.” Lou’s eyelids widened as she grabbed Tosh in amazement. “Tosh, do you know what this is?"

Tosh nodded, jumping up and down, partly for her excitement and partly to encourage more circulation in her near-frozen tissues. “It’s the Carol of the Festival of the Bells!" she screamed. As if it were going to burst out of them at any moment, they began to sing:

There's a rhythm.
There's a rising.
There's a dream of green that needs to wake,
A password,
And a promise,
That the earth will never ever break.
It's coming,
Feel it humming,
In the hearts we share with rock and sky so raise … your … voices… high. . .

A tiny light inside the lantern started to flicker before disappearing. Tosh and Lou laughed and headed toward the hole. They gasped.

It wasn’t there.

<><><><><><>

Cantus finished his cup of cider and handed it to his sister, who placed it neatly in a bin filled with all her other dirty dishes. He licked his lips. “You always did make the best cider.”

Storyteller shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a gift," she replied casually. She turned toward him, placing her hands on her hips. “Now, why do you want me to go with you to this ‘new Heart’ thing, huh, Cantus? I tell stories … I don’t go out trying to find them. I let them come to me.”

Cantus motioned for her to come closer. When she did so, he whispered into her ear for a few moments. The Storyteller’s tail drooped.

“I will be waiting at the Crystal Caverns tomorrow morning," Cantus said, standing and nodding as he left the Storyteller’s cave.

The Storyteller had been standing outside her cave for several moments after Cantus left, when Wembley came bounding toward her. “Hey!" he screeched. “Miss Storyteller, uh, ma’am? I need your help with a story!" He was bouncing up and down in anticipation.

The Storyteller felt like she was in a haze that was sapping her energy. “Uh, okay … what story do you want to hear?"

Wembley shook his head. “No no … I’m writing a story about our adventures in Outer Space!" he replied exuberantly. “I need some help, though.” He put a finger on his lower lip as he began to think. “Now, do you know anything about magical water fairies?" He chuckled. “I want to bounce some ideas off of you about why that one magical water fairy was in the Rock….”
This isn’t necessary to know for the sake of the plot. However, if you want to know which island I have in mind … this deals with that.