Chapter 6: If You Need Us, for any Reason at All
Deep in a mucky swamp early in the morning, with large winged insects buzzing by and dank smells wafting up from the muddy water, a three-foot-tall toad with a thin black wiry mustache and two tufts of hair under his broad chin ambled around in his “apartment”, which consisted of a shallow muddy cave hidden among the browned reeds of the swamp. He lived a few miles from the Gorg Province, which was not to his liking at all. Though he enjoyed the creepiness and the desolate nature of the swamp, he was still far too near Fraggle Rock, in his opinion.
Why couldn’t Fraggles enjoy lying, cheating, and stealing … like he did? That was the real way the world worked, after all. Back in Moraine, before his untimely banishment, one-upping and self-indulgence were as natural as breathing. Even that fool Goblin King had been expert in linguistic manipulations. He nearly retched, thinking of the Fraggles again. It was like they lived in their own little world, apart from every other region in the universe. He certainly couldn’t wrap his spindly green fingers around their actions: they were just too bizarre, too cute, too friendly…
He heard a faint tapping just outside his apartment. He looked high and low, finally spotting a tiny yellow worm with thick orange bands, bobbing its head, lying on a wrinkled sheet of paper. Wander McMooch smiled, which typically made anyone squirm. “Well,” he said, in a very greasy sleazeball voice, “haven’t seen you around my pad lately. Your master must keep you very busy.” He zoomed over to the worm, gently pushed it off the piece of paper, and picked up what looked to be a badly-written letter. He stood up, his wide eyes going back and forth as he read the contents to himself. He couldn’t believe who had written him: why, the threats contained therein dwarfed anything the Queen of Moraine had come up with – even after he contaminated her water supply as a prank that fateful day. He forced himself to chuckle “casually”, balling up the wad of paper in his hand. He stooped over to pat the worm on the head. “Do come again, little one, okay? Tell your master, also, that those shawls he sent me were positively hideous and moth-eaten! He always comes up with the best presents. You’ll tell him, won’t you?” The little worm nodded eagerly and left, inching away through the muck until it disappeared.
Just as the little worm left, a mist slowly advanced throughout the swamp. Wander shuddered, and not only because the mist cooled the air for the cold-blooded creature. An elegant woman with long silver hair, a fair complexion, and a thin light blue gown appeared within the mist. She smirked. “Why, Wander … I haven’t heard a reply from you. Esker informed me he offered to take you back home to Moraine in return for certain … actions … you could perform for us. I came to confirm his offer … and to remind you what happens when I am rebuffed, especially by slimy little toads like you.” She put a finger up to her lower lip. “Now, you certainly aren’t ignoring me, are you, Wander McMooch? After my offer? That would be quite foolish of you.”
Wander tried to laugh it off. “Royal Queen,” he exclaimed, inflating his body and gaining about two feet of height, “how wonderful it is to see you again!” He bowed, his face almost touching the muck below. His voice continued to suggest submissive adoration (or at least sucking-up). He straightened back out. He disliked being caught off guard by taller visitors … although he could make himself bigger (handy when dealing with Gorgs, especially), he always felt more vulnerable doing so. For him, making himself bigger merely made himself a bigger target for those who were not against violence. “I didn’t want to bother you until I had a couple of plans worked out, that’s all.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Mizumi replied with a certain fake politeness. “How do you plan on eliminating the Oracle from the Gorg Province?”
Wander scratched his chin. “Well, I could convince the Gorgs to start a recycling program … after all, no trash, no Trash Heap.”
Mizumi sighed. “I want her gone by tomorrow. Besides, how would you prevent Fraggles from contributing to her?”
Wander jerked back, startled. “Tomorrow? Why so soon?”
Mizumi frowned, glaring at the toad. “Your other plans?”
Wander didn’t like this one bit at all. Mizumi could be a vindictive little witch, but this seemed too … rushed … for her. She was either going off half-boiled or she had been letting her vindictiveness steep for years. Either way, it was incredibly frightening, especially if she wanted the Trash Heap dead. Wander didn’t like Marjory either, particularly because although she was made up of thrown-away odds and ends, she was gentile and compassionate and willing to have fun with Fraggles … not to mention her obsession with bringing about the universe in some sort of disgusting perfect harmony. “W-well,” he stammered, “the easiest and fastest way would be to kill off her little rat companions, Philo and Gunge. They maintain her life force somehow. Get rid of them and she weakens quickly.” He shook his head, his legs trembling. How was he going to set this up without getting killed either way? “The problem is, Your Majesty, that the Trash Heap is irritatingly powerful. The Gorgs give her a large portion of a year-end dish called … uh, what was it, again? Ah, yes … Goombah soup. It is sloppy mess of leftovers with remarkable rejuvenating properties. Even if you wanted to drown the Gorg castle … she might be able to stop you. It also makes getting near those two rats somewhat … frustrating,” he continued, keeping his head down.
Mizumi smiled. “I will send Drumlin to assist you tomorrow morning, should you have failed to eliminate the Oracle by then.” Mizumi then disappeared as well as the mist.
Wander could hear random swamp sounds such as croaking, gurgling, and the occasional birdsong. My, wasn’t he popular today? Threats from two different queens, both promising unimaginable suffering if he didn’t do as each commanded, even though the commands were in direct opposition to each other. He deflated himself and slumped down against the nearest wall, sighing. He would like nothing better than to get rid of Marjory once and for all. However, it had been decades since he’d been particularly nasty to Mizumi, too. While the letter’s author didn’t command him to harm Mizumi, Wander began to theorize that the omission was an implicit suggestion to do so. After all, the letter didn’t exactly forbid it, either, right? The letter said that if he let anything happen to Marjory … well, best not to dwell on what was promised. Furthermore, Mizumi had an unsettling appetite for amphibians. He knew he’d be in a stew if he weren’t careful.
When his heart stopped racing, Wander leaned back and smiled. This may turn out to be his most infamous con yet….
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The Great Hall of Fraggle Rock was filled to capacity. It was a large cave, with a central pool and multiple ledges and ridges that stretched up to the base of the Gorg well, some forty feet above. Every available spot in the three-dimensional space was taken by a Fraggle, from the loudly-colored hyper ones from what was known as the Rock to the blander-colored monotone ones from what was known as the Cave. A hushed mumbling pervaded the space. Every Fraggle held a small rough rock, which glittered as they spoke.
At the edge of the Fraggle Pond stood Red, Cantus, Mokey, Gobo, Wembley, and Boober, the one who obsessed over doom. Cantus played a few bars of his theme on his magic pipe to silence the crowd. He put the pipe away and motioned to the crowds. “We are all here,” he noted to Mokey.
The light purple Fraggle with the shoulder-length bluish-white hair nodded, her voice still silky and lacking Mokey’s usual dream-like quality. She raised her voice so all could hear (though it was barely necessary, as the acoustics permitted even the furthest Fraggles to hear her). “Fraggles … the time has come, not to say good-bye, but to join as one … in one movement.” She paused, inhaling deeply before continuing. “We have sent for allies among those called Silly Creatures. Humans … are a strange species, but I know there are those who have good hearts. Travelling Matt has used the cave filled with time-space portals to get help for us.”
“Great, we’re all going to die,” Red uttered under her breath.
“Those portals lead to many areas,” Mokey continued, ignoring Red’s comment. “You must all leave the Rock, carrying with you the tiny crystalline entities called Ditzies. In this way, the Rock, if darkened by the danger to come, can be re-lit.”
“Why don’t we just camp out with the Gorgs?” Wembley asked Cantus. “Besides, the Trash Heap can protect us as well.”
Cantus held his tongue.
Gobo noticed. “What is it, eh?”
Cantus lowered his head. “Madame Heap,” he replied solemnly, “will not live if she stays where she is.”
Red gasped. You could hear a single hair drop on the cave floor. Red could bear it no longer – she lunged at Cantus, grabbing him by his cloak. “You mean we aren’t there protecting her?” she screamed, shaking Cantus furiously.
“Red!” Mokey exclaimed, trying to pry her friend from the Minstrel. “We can’t protect her!”
Red had a death-grip on Cantus. Her face was tightly curled downward. “There are at least a million of us! If we all work together … we can stop it!”
Cantus shook his head. Red stopped. The look of his eyes calmed her immediately. “Red, courageous Red … we cannot help her. But her family can.”
Red eased off. “Her … family?” She glanced back at Mokey. “How can a Trash Heap have a family?”
Cantus put his hand on her shoulder. “We haven’t the time.”
Mokey nodded. “We need to evacuate the Rock in twenty-four hours.”
Gobo adjusted his vest. “So, what about the Doozers, eh? What about all the creatures of the Rock?” He bit his lower lip. “We’re not going to let them die, are we?”
Mokey replied, “The Doozers and those who are able will stay in the Gorg’s basement.”
“The Doozers don’t mind having their entire lives uprooted and destroyed?” Boober asked in his gloomy way. His voice reminded one of a trombone in quality.
Cantus shrugged. “They relish the idea that all their buildings will be destroyed … since it means they can start from scratch.”
“Figures,” Boober replied.
Red let Cantus go, turned to Mokey, and quieted her tone. “Mokey,” she pleaded, “you have to come with us. You’re … you’re my best friend.”
Mokey ran her fingers through one of Red’s pigtails. Her smile was warm. “Red … you and Gobo are natural leaders. It makes sense for you two to be in charge of the evacuation. I must stay behind with Cantus and Convincing John. We are the only ones who can hear the solution to this problem.”
Boober slowly worked his way to Mokey. It had been particularly hard on him, watching Mokey act strangely for so many years, ever since that awful nightmare. Of course, since he always focused on the negative … no one really noticed much. “Mokey,” he started, his voice nearly a whisper, “if you … if you need us….”
Mokey stroked his face. Her voice, for one brief instant, returned to normal. “I’ll call. Thank you, Boober.”
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Jenny and Sarah were cleaning up the arena where they had had a party, a rousing affair in honor of stellar reviews of opening night. Large monsters from the Muppet Theater helped with the big equipment, the Electric Mayhem had already carried away their portable instruments and sound systems, the stagehand Rick Hollandaise busily polished the crown he had lent to the show, and Ms. Bitterman was passed out on a lonely sofa in the far corner of the place, having been given a special concoction by a mischievous King Prawn, who was still more than a little upset about being conned by a beautiful woman.
Kermit called out for Jenny. She stopped sweeping, looked around, and spied the famous frog … with someone she felt she had seen before … somewhere. Kermit finally reached her, panting. “Jenny, Matt here needs our help,” he told her, pointing to the elderly creature beside him, who matched Kermit’s height. The creature had beige skin and fur, a tail with a white fluff on the end, a long white mustache and thick white sideburns. He wore a khaki jacket and a hat one might expect famous explorers to have.
Jenny snapped her fingers, a light appearing in her eyes and voice. “Ah, Travelling Matt – you attended the wedding in Manhattan Melodies, am I right?”
Matt nodded. He fidgeted. He sounded like a gruffer version of Boober, though his pitch varied more: “Yes, it was a very beautiful ceremony. However, I regret I have a favor to ask of you … if it’s okay.”
“Oh?”
“Matt here is a Fraggle from Fraggle Rock,” Kermit interjected. “Fraggles are magical creatures who can show up anywhere magic is needed.”
Sarah rolled her eyes, grunted, and turned from them, focusing on sweeping.
“Uh,” Kermit continued, doing a double take on Sarah, “anyway, they need a place to hang out until some … uh … issues are worked out in the Rock.” Jenny didn’t respond immediately. “I told him he could borrow my house on Sesame Street. But, there are so many….”
“We are quite intelligent and helpful creatures, Miss,” Matt offered tensely and hopefully. “There’s about a million of us strong. We obviously all can’t fit in one Silly Creature’s cave … but our strategy is to split up … temporarily … until the danger passes.”
“What danger?” a young male voice asked. Everyone turned to see a young man with curly brown-blonde hair. He stretched out his hand to Matt. “You’re Travelling Matt, right? You were at the ball….”
Matt twitched his nose. “Uh, the goblin ball? Yes!” he replied, nodding enthusiastically, shaking Toby’s hand. “Yes! I remember now! You’re the young Silly Creature who became heir to the throne of the Goblin Kingdom, am I right?” He turned to Kermit, smiling. “Brave young lad.” He glanced back at Toby. “We’re unaware of the identity of the one who threatens the Rock, I’m afraid.”
Toby bowed slightly. “Consider my place a sanctuary, then. I’d be honored to have such a prestigious guest.”
Jenny smiled. Sarah’s brother was such an accommodating sort, much like her father had been. She nodded. “Yes, we’ll be happy to help any way we can. We should be able to fit quite a lot of you in our theater.”
Kermit tapped Matt on the shoulder. “We might be able to come up with some space at our theater, too … though not to the same extent.”
Matt sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes. “I … I never would have guessed you Silly Creatures and talking Space Frogs could be so generous! The Fraggles will welcome your hospitality with open arms!”
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