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TwoHeadedLlama
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Well, here it is. This is a fic I wrote near the beginning of my Muppet obsession, right after viewing the Lady Gaga holiday special. It revolves around the Electric Mayhem having to deal with her and company behind the scenes of the taping. I wasn't going to publish this, as the writing is pretty bad and the characters are very OOC, but my friend talked me in to posting it. Maybe someone on the site will like it too? Anyway, whether you want it or not, here it is...
Somewhere in a tucked away (which means hidden and heavily guarded against the public) film studio, Zoot, the saxophone player of the famed Muppet band, the Electric Mayhem, was trotting rather quickly down a carpeted hallway. He was carrying a box that was a tad taller than his head, which made it difficult for him to maneuver down the hallway without bumping into someone once in a while.
“'Scuse me, comin' through, sorry 'bout that,” he said as he bumped and pushed Muppets around in the hall. Zoot didn't really mean to do it, though he may have given Sam the eagle a slightly harder nudge than the others. Finally, he reached his destination. A door with a gold star on it marked 'Dr. Teeth'. This was his dressing room, and right now, Dr. Teeth was having an important meeting, a very important meeting.
Zoot began shifting the box around in his arms, trying to free one of his hands to knock on the door, with no success. The box was just too bulky. Zoot muttered something under his breath, then swung his left foot back in order to kick the door, when suddenly;
“BUM-BUM-BUM-TUSH-BRINNNN-KA-DADADA BROOOOOWNG”
A sonic blast of noise erupted from the dressing room, surprising Zoot, who fell over onto his back, with the box landing on his chest. He had never heard such a sound before, well, maybe a few times before, but not this loudly. Zoot tried to sit up, but the box was too heavy As he lay on the floor, wondering how long it would take for the music to deafen him, a familiar squint-eyed face appeared in his line of vision.
“Hey Lips, could you give me a hand here?” Zoot shouted.
“What?!” Lips yelled over the music.
“I said, could you give me a hand here!” Zoot replied, still yelling.
“I can't hear you, Zoot! Music's too loud! But would you like a hand?”
Zoot groaned, but the music drowned out the sound.
“Yeah!”
“What?”
“YEAH!”
Lips leaned over and picked up the cardboard box. As he did, Zoot got to his feet, and give the trumpeter a nod of thanks before putting his hand on the doorknob, only to discover that the door was already unlatched. So he gave it a small push.
Zoot and Lips stared in the doorway in disbelief. Dr. Teeth was sitting at his keyboard, but not playing it. Instead he seemed to be listening to a song, which was blasting out of the amplifiers that were usually used to amplify the band's instruments. They were hooked up to a small laptop, which was seated on a stool next to the keyboard. Teeth didn't seem to notice the two members of his band had entered the room, until Zoot walked up to the keyboard and waved a hand in front of his face.
“Oh, hey Zoot!” Dr. Teeth shouted. “You're early!”
He leaned over his keyboard and pushed a button on it. Instantly, the music stopped. Zoot and Lips sighed in relief.
“We're actually right on time, man,” Zoot said.
Dr. Teeth turned to look at a clock on the wall. “Ah, so you are! Five o'clock exactly,” he announced. “Guess that makes the others late.”
Lips peaked out over the top of the box. “Where do you want this, Teeth?”
“Oh, just put it on the floor somewhere. Preferably not on anyone's foot,” replied Dr. Teeth.
Lips nodded, and set the box down on the ground with a 'bump'. Dr. Teeth stood up and walked over to it, with Zoot following along behind him.
“Alright, boys!” said Teeth, clapping his hands together. “You know why we're here, dontcha?”
Zoot nodded, but Lips didn't seem so sure.
“We're here to talk about this year's Christmas special?” he ventured.
“Excellent, Lips! But this year's special ain't gonna be like any of the previous ones we've done. This time, we're goin' high class.”
Zoot scratched his head. “But I though we already did that class. And we passed it too,” he said.
“You don't seem to be quite on the level, Zoot. This year, the celeb we're playin' for is none other than the Queen of Modern Pop herself!” Teeth said excitedly. “The fantabulous Lady Gaga!”
“Lady what?” said Lips in confusion.
Dr. Teeth's eyes widened, and he stared at Lips in utter disbelief. “Don't tell me you've never heard of the gal?”
“Nah, man. I tend not to watch stuff rated more than PG,” said Lips.
Teeth chuckled. “Oh, she's not that kind of lady. She's one of the biggest modern pop stars on the planet! Her music sells millions! And her voice...she sings like a-”
“Gah-Gah?” growled a voice.
The three musicians turned to look in the direction of the voice. Standing in the doorway was none other than Animal, the wild, furry drummer of the Electric Mayhem. He was grinning broadly.
“Oh hey, Animal!” said Dr. Teeth, rushing over to greet him. “Have you seen Floyd or Janice around?”
“We're right here, man. But this furry door-stop has us trapped!”
Dr. Teeth peered over Animal's shoulder. Standing in the hallway was Floyd Pepper, the band's bassist. Next to him stood Janice, the only female in the band, also their only guitarist.
“Ah, there you are!” said Teeth. “Animal, think you could make a little room for our lovebirds to squeeze past?”
“Any more o' that talk and you'll be the one gettin' squeezed!” Floyd teased.
“For sure!” Janice chuckled in agreement.
Animal excited the doorway, and bounded across the room over to his drum-set, which was situated in the corner. He began to cover his drums with an assortment of hugs and kisses. Lips and Zoot tried their best to ignore his display, despite the noisiness of it. But after hearing Teeth's music earlier, they felt like they could handle any disturbing sound.
Floyd and Janice entered the room, with Dr. Teeth closing the door behind them. He then invited everyone to gather in the middle of the area, around the cardboard box. Dr. Teeth cleared his throat, and was about to say something, but Floyd interrupted him.
“Before ya start, Teeth, I'd like to know why in the name of heck were you talkin' about that Lady Gaga gal?”
Dr. Teeth frowned, and became noticeably nervous.
“Oh...I was just explainin' to Lips who she is. He's never heard of her.”
Floyd turned his head to look dramatically at Lips, who began to shift his feet timidly.
“Consider yourself lucky, man, 'cause Lady Gaga is about as 'musically talented' as a frog with laryngitis,” Floyd said darkly.
“WAAAAAAAIT!!!” Animal suddenly shouted, causing everyone to jump in surprise.
The wild drummer rushed into the corner of the room, and began to tug on some unknown object. The other band members watched him as he clawed and pulled at something in the wall. Finally, with a loud pop and a flash of electricity, the object came loose. Animal hopped back to his band-mates, holding it in his hand.
“Safe!” he said.
The group looked down at the mysterious thing, only to realize that the item Animal had just extracted from the wall was a security camera.
“Good thinking, Animal,” said Dr. Teeth. “Now we can talk without the mouse hearing us,”
“You know, technically, since this is, like, a fan fiction, we can say whatever we want with or without a camera,” Janice observed.
The band members nodded in agreement. Floyd cleared his throat loudly, bringing the attention back to himself.
“Anyway, as I was sayin',” he continued. “Lady Gaga is to music what Dane Cook is to comedy. Which means that she has forever tarnished the reputation of solid entertainment!”
“Now hold on just a second there, Floyd,” said Dr. Teeth. “Lady Gaga ain't that bad. Some of her music actually has a nice groove to it.”
“Heh,” replied Floyd. “It's all just a bunch of synthesized mumbo-jumbo. Sounds terrible. I can't even understand what she's singin' half the time, and I've heard some pretty weird stuff in my day!”
Dr. Teeth glared at him. “You just don't like change, Floyd. Lady Gaga's music is what the kids these days call 'hip'. Everybody loves it. So what if it's synthesized? It's still music, I mean, it ain't our music, but it's music, dig?”
“Heh, if she's hip, then I'm the biggest square since the baseball diamond. The kids today don't know anythin' about good music!” retorted Floyd. “Why, back in our day, we didn't have any of that fancy computer-generated junk. We had to-”
“WAAAAAAAIT!!!” Animal screamed again. He ran out of the room as fast as he could, only to return a few seconds later, carrying a rickety wooden crate. “Soap box!” he yelled, before slamming it down onto Floyd's feet.
“Ow! Geez, Animal!” Floyd said as he carefully stepped onto the crate. “But as I was saying, I'd rather listen to a minute of that Skillet junk than a couple seconds of her musical ear infection!”
Zoot looked confused. “Skillet? Who's she?”
Lips shrugged. “Probably a frying pan,” he answered.
“And that's not all, man,” Floyd said. “Have you seen her threads? They're really outasight! And I wish I meant that literally.”
“Slow down, Floyd,” Dr. Teeth declared. “Since when have you judged folks by what they wear?”
“Like, yeah Floyd,” said Janice.
“MEAT DRESS!! MEAT DRESS!!” Animal shouted with enthusiasm.
Everyone in the room gave Floyd a sideways look.
“Meat dress?” said Zoot.
“Sounds fattening,” Lips added.
“Like, yeah,” Janice muttered. “He does have a point. She's rully not a vegetarian.”
Floyd hopped off his crate, and walked over to the laptop that Dr. Teeth had. He positioned himself in front of it and began typing furiously. The others watched him in confusion.
“Come over here,” Floyd commanded, beckoning the rest of the band to come to his location. They obeyed, and crowded around the tiny screen. They stared in awe at the image on the computer, for there she was, Lady GaGa in all her guts-covered glory.
Floyd looked at Lips. “You see what I mean? A babe who's dressed up as a walkin' barbecue can't possibly be trusted to write a good tune.”
Lips stared at the screen for a few moments, studying the image carefully and thoroughly. After a couple of minutes, he finally spoke.
“She could have used leaner cuts,” he determined.
Floyd covered his face with his hand, while Dr. Teeth laughed loudly at the answer. The bassist glared at him in exasperation.
“I'll bet you bought her new cd,” he said.
“Oh don't worry, man,” Teeth chuckled. “I ain't that deaf. But the paycheck for this gig is looking pretty decent, and plus-” he leaned in close to Floyd's ear. “You know what'll happen if you say no...”
Floyd sighed heavily, realizing that his boss was right. Protesting wouldn't make a difference, he'd be forced to do it either way.
“Alright,” he said in a defeated tone. “I'll do it, but I guarantee I won't like it.”
“You know,” Janice said. “It could be worse. It could be, like, the 2002 special.”
Everyone in the room gasped in fear. Dr. Teeth made the sign of the cross on his chest, while Lips took a salt shaker out of his pant's pocket and tossed some over his shoulder. Zoot spit on the ground and turned around in circle three times. The rest of them simply prayed for the god(s) to forgive them for their sins.
“Careful what you say in here, baby,” Teeth cautioned. “You might doom this special before it's even begun!”
“Like, sorry,” Janice said. Floyd put his arm around her.
“How about we get on with the script then?” said Zoot.
“Great idea,” said Dr. Teeth. “They're over here in this box.”
The band started to follow him back to the cardboard box. As Floyd turned back to the computer to exit out of the website with the beefy content, his elbow hit a button on the side of the laptop. A silver CD slid out of the side of the machine. Curious, the bassist picked it up and read the label aloud.
“Artpop,” he exclaimed loudly. “By Lady Gaga.”
The band turned around to face him, shocked by this new information. Dr. Teeth chuckled nervously.
“Well...er...how'd that get in there?” he stuttered.
Floyd rolled his eyes. “You're such a sweet-talker, Teeth. And that's only the G-rated description.”
Everyone in the room laughed half-heatedly, except Animal, who was too busy eating the dressing room's wallpaper to notice.
To be continued...(Maybe)
Ring Around the Gaga
A Fanfic
Chapter 1: The Meating
Somewhere in a tucked away (which means hidden and heavily guarded against the public) film studio, Zoot, the saxophone player of the famed Muppet band, the Electric Mayhem, was trotting rather quickly down a carpeted hallway. He was carrying a box that was a tad taller than his head, which made it difficult for him to maneuver down the hallway without bumping into someone once in a while.
“'Scuse me, comin' through, sorry 'bout that,” he said as he bumped and pushed Muppets around in the hall. Zoot didn't really mean to do it, though he may have given Sam the eagle a slightly harder nudge than the others. Finally, he reached his destination. A door with a gold star on it marked 'Dr. Teeth'. This was his dressing room, and right now, Dr. Teeth was having an important meeting, a very important meeting.
Zoot began shifting the box around in his arms, trying to free one of his hands to knock on the door, with no success. The box was just too bulky. Zoot muttered something under his breath, then swung his left foot back in order to kick the door, when suddenly;
“BUM-BUM-BUM-TUSH-BRINNNN-KA-DADADA BROOOOOWNG”
A sonic blast of noise erupted from the dressing room, surprising Zoot, who fell over onto his back, with the box landing on his chest. He had never heard such a sound before, well, maybe a few times before, but not this loudly. Zoot tried to sit up, but the box was too heavy As he lay on the floor, wondering how long it would take for the music to deafen him, a familiar squint-eyed face appeared in his line of vision.
“Hey Lips, could you give me a hand here?” Zoot shouted.
“What?!” Lips yelled over the music.
“I said, could you give me a hand here!” Zoot replied, still yelling.
“I can't hear you, Zoot! Music's too loud! But would you like a hand?”
Zoot groaned, but the music drowned out the sound.
“Yeah!”
“What?”
“YEAH!”
Lips leaned over and picked up the cardboard box. As he did, Zoot got to his feet, and give the trumpeter a nod of thanks before putting his hand on the doorknob, only to discover that the door was already unlatched. So he gave it a small push.
Zoot and Lips stared in the doorway in disbelief. Dr. Teeth was sitting at his keyboard, but not playing it. Instead he seemed to be listening to a song, which was blasting out of the amplifiers that were usually used to amplify the band's instruments. They were hooked up to a small laptop, which was seated on a stool next to the keyboard. Teeth didn't seem to notice the two members of his band had entered the room, until Zoot walked up to the keyboard and waved a hand in front of his face.
“Oh, hey Zoot!” Dr. Teeth shouted. “You're early!”
He leaned over his keyboard and pushed a button on it. Instantly, the music stopped. Zoot and Lips sighed in relief.
“We're actually right on time, man,” Zoot said.
Dr. Teeth turned to look at a clock on the wall. “Ah, so you are! Five o'clock exactly,” he announced. “Guess that makes the others late.”
Lips peaked out over the top of the box. “Where do you want this, Teeth?”
“Oh, just put it on the floor somewhere. Preferably not on anyone's foot,” replied Dr. Teeth.
Lips nodded, and set the box down on the ground with a 'bump'. Dr. Teeth stood up and walked over to it, with Zoot following along behind him.
“Alright, boys!” said Teeth, clapping his hands together. “You know why we're here, dontcha?”
Zoot nodded, but Lips didn't seem so sure.
“We're here to talk about this year's Christmas special?” he ventured.
“Excellent, Lips! But this year's special ain't gonna be like any of the previous ones we've done. This time, we're goin' high class.”
Zoot scratched his head. “But I though we already did that class. And we passed it too,” he said.
“You don't seem to be quite on the level, Zoot. This year, the celeb we're playin' for is none other than the Queen of Modern Pop herself!” Teeth said excitedly. “The fantabulous Lady Gaga!”
“Lady what?” said Lips in confusion.
Dr. Teeth's eyes widened, and he stared at Lips in utter disbelief. “Don't tell me you've never heard of the gal?”
“Nah, man. I tend not to watch stuff rated more than PG,” said Lips.
Teeth chuckled. “Oh, she's not that kind of lady. She's one of the biggest modern pop stars on the planet! Her music sells millions! And her voice...she sings like a-”
“Gah-Gah?” growled a voice.
The three musicians turned to look in the direction of the voice. Standing in the doorway was none other than Animal, the wild, furry drummer of the Electric Mayhem. He was grinning broadly.
“Oh hey, Animal!” said Dr. Teeth, rushing over to greet him. “Have you seen Floyd or Janice around?”
“We're right here, man. But this furry door-stop has us trapped!”
Dr. Teeth peered over Animal's shoulder. Standing in the hallway was Floyd Pepper, the band's bassist. Next to him stood Janice, the only female in the band, also their only guitarist.
“Ah, there you are!” said Teeth. “Animal, think you could make a little room for our lovebirds to squeeze past?”
“Any more o' that talk and you'll be the one gettin' squeezed!” Floyd teased.
“For sure!” Janice chuckled in agreement.
Animal excited the doorway, and bounded across the room over to his drum-set, which was situated in the corner. He began to cover his drums with an assortment of hugs and kisses. Lips and Zoot tried their best to ignore his display, despite the noisiness of it. But after hearing Teeth's music earlier, they felt like they could handle any disturbing sound.
Floyd and Janice entered the room, with Dr. Teeth closing the door behind them. He then invited everyone to gather in the middle of the area, around the cardboard box. Dr. Teeth cleared his throat, and was about to say something, but Floyd interrupted him.
“Before ya start, Teeth, I'd like to know why in the name of heck were you talkin' about that Lady Gaga gal?”
Dr. Teeth frowned, and became noticeably nervous.
“Oh...I was just explainin' to Lips who she is. He's never heard of her.”
Floyd turned his head to look dramatically at Lips, who began to shift his feet timidly.
“Consider yourself lucky, man, 'cause Lady Gaga is about as 'musically talented' as a frog with laryngitis,” Floyd said darkly.
“WAAAAAAAIT!!!” Animal suddenly shouted, causing everyone to jump in surprise.
The wild drummer rushed into the corner of the room, and began to tug on some unknown object. The other band members watched him as he clawed and pulled at something in the wall. Finally, with a loud pop and a flash of electricity, the object came loose. Animal hopped back to his band-mates, holding it in his hand.
“Safe!” he said.
The group looked down at the mysterious thing, only to realize that the item Animal had just extracted from the wall was a security camera.
“Good thinking, Animal,” said Dr. Teeth. “Now we can talk without the mouse hearing us,”
“You know, technically, since this is, like, a fan fiction, we can say whatever we want with or without a camera,” Janice observed.
The band members nodded in agreement. Floyd cleared his throat loudly, bringing the attention back to himself.
“Anyway, as I was sayin',” he continued. “Lady Gaga is to music what Dane Cook is to comedy. Which means that she has forever tarnished the reputation of solid entertainment!”
“Now hold on just a second there, Floyd,” said Dr. Teeth. “Lady Gaga ain't that bad. Some of her music actually has a nice groove to it.”
“Heh,” replied Floyd. “It's all just a bunch of synthesized mumbo-jumbo. Sounds terrible. I can't even understand what she's singin' half the time, and I've heard some pretty weird stuff in my day!”
Dr. Teeth glared at him. “You just don't like change, Floyd. Lady Gaga's music is what the kids these days call 'hip'. Everybody loves it. So what if it's synthesized? It's still music, I mean, it ain't our music, but it's music, dig?”
“Heh, if she's hip, then I'm the biggest square since the baseball diamond. The kids today don't know anythin' about good music!” retorted Floyd. “Why, back in our day, we didn't have any of that fancy computer-generated junk. We had to-”
“WAAAAAAAIT!!!” Animal screamed again. He ran out of the room as fast as he could, only to return a few seconds later, carrying a rickety wooden crate. “Soap box!” he yelled, before slamming it down onto Floyd's feet.
“Ow! Geez, Animal!” Floyd said as he carefully stepped onto the crate. “But as I was saying, I'd rather listen to a minute of that Skillet junk than a couple seconds of her musical ear infection!”
Zoot looked confused. “Skillet? Who's she?”
Lips shrugged. “Probably a frying pan,” he answered.
“And that's not all, man,” Floyd said. “Have you seen her threads? They're really outasight! And I wish I meant that literally.”
“Slow down, Floyd,” Dr. Teeth declared. “Since when have you judged folks by what they wear?”
“Like, yeah Floyd,” said Janice.
“MEAT DRESS!! MEAT DRESS!!” Animal shouted with enthusiasm.
Everyone in the room gave Floyd a sideways look.
“Meat dress?” said Zoot.
“Sounds fattening,” Lips added.
“Like, yeah,” Janice muttered. “He does have a point. She's rully not a vegetarian.”
Floyd hopped off his crate, and walked over to the laptop that Dr. Teeth had. He positioned himself in front of it and began typing furiously. The others watched him in confusion.
“Come over here,” Floyd commanded, beckoning the rest of the band to come to his location. They obeyed, and crowded around the tiny screen. They stared in awe at the image on the computer, for there she was, Lady GaGa in all her guts-covered glory.
Floyd looked at Lips. “You see what I mean? A babe who's dressed up as a walkin' barbecue can't possibly be trusted to write a good tune.”
Lips stared at the screen for a few moments, studying the image carefully and thoroughly. After a couple of minutes, he finally spoke.
“She could have used leaner cuts,” he determined.
Floyd covered his face with his hand, while Dr. Teeth laughed loudly at the answer. The bassist glared at him in exasperation.
“I'll bet you bought her new cd,” he said.
“Oh don't worry, man,” Teeth chuckled. “I ain't that deaf. But the paycheck for this gig is looking pretty decent, and plus-” he leaned in close to Floyd's ear. “You know what'll happen if you say no...”
Floyd sighed heavily, realizing that his boss was right. Protesting wouldn't make a difference, he'd be forced to do it either way.
“Alright,” he said in a defeated tone. “I'll do it, but I guarantee I won't like it.”
“You know,” Janice said. “It could be worse. It could be, like, the 2002 special.”
Everyone in the room gasped in fear. Dr. Teeth made the sign of the cross on his chest, while Lips took a salt shaker out of his pant's pocket and tossed some over his shoulder. Zoot spit on the ground and turned around in circle three times. The rest of them simply prayed for the god(s) to forgive them for their sins.
“Careful what you say in here, baby,” Teeth cautioned. “You might doom this special before it's even begun!”
“Like, sorry,” Janice said. Floyd put his arm around her.
“How about we get on with the script then?” said Zoot.
“Great idea,” said Dr. Teeth. “They're over here in this box.”
The band started to follow him back to the cardboard box. As Floyd turned back to the computer to exit out of the website with the beefy content, his elbow hit a button on the side of the laptop. A silver CD slid out of the side of the machine. Curious, the bassist picked it up and read the label aloud.
“Artpop,” he exclaimed loudly. “By Lady Gaga.”
The band turned around to face him, shocked by this new information. Dr. Teeth chuckled nervously.
“Well...er...how'd that get in there?” he stuttered.
Floyd rolled his eyes. “You're such a sweet-talker, Teeth. And that's only the G-rated description.”
Everyone in the room laughed half-heatedly, except Animal, who was too busy eating the dressing room's wallpaper to notice.
To be continued...(Maybe)
