TMS fanfic: Masks

[Slackbot]

A quick illo for the next part, sorta-kinda.

http://negaduck9.deviantart.com/art/Night-walk-184886533

 

[Lil0Vampy]

:3 Wonderful, dearie! You're a terrific writer, by the way.

 

[Slackbot]

For my next act, I shall post an ode to cannibalism titled...

Masks, Part 6:​

Deja Vu​

by Kim McFarland​

*****

The curtain opened on Muppet Labs. This time the lab table was set for breakfast, with juice, a carton of milk, and what looked like an extensively modified coffee percolator. Dr. Bunsen Honeydew was wearing a night cap, and Beaker had a robe over his lab coat. Honeydew began, "Good morning from Muppet Labs. It's a scientifically established principle that breakfast is one of the most important meals of the day. And the centerpiece of every breakfast is unquestionably the cereal."

Beaker held up a box of Sugar Caltrops and said, "Ta-dah!"

"Yes—wait, no, Beaker, not that one. The other one."

Beaker meeped, looking at the box, then shrugged and presented a box of Kap'n Alphabet.

"Yes," Bunsen said approvingly. "Now pour the cereal, Beakie." Beaker placed a bowl on the table and poured the cereal in. "Oh, that looks delicious... but there's still one problem. The letter X. I see one right there." Beaker peered into the bowl, took out a piece, and tossed it over his shoulder. Bunsen continued, "No cereal is perfect. Either you must accept their flaws—raisins, those icky oat flakes in granola, green loops that utterly spoil the aesthetic harmony of fruit-flavored cereal, or, in this case, unwanted letters of the alphabet—or spend hours removing them before you eat." Beaker shook his head and meeped tiredly. "Well, settle for second-best breakfasts no longer with the Muppet Labs Cereal Sorter! Just put the cereal in, program it to remove unwanted elements, and enjoy the deliciousness of idealized cereal. Beaker, will you do the honors?"

Beaker squeaked in the affirmative and put the bowl into the former percolator. Bunsen said, "Now let's remove the letter X... and while we're at it, I never was fond of W or H. They're so spiky." Beaker pressed some buttons on the front, then asked a question. Bunsen said, "Good thinking, but actually I do like Y. Y? Y not?" He tittered at his own joke. Beaker shook his head and pressed another button, and a panel above the cereal bowl opened. Spidery metal arms reached down into the bowl and began rifling through the cereal. When they found a letter they did not like they tossed it out.

"You see, within moments you can have a perfect breakfast—" Bunsen flinched as a piece of cereal ricocheted off his head. "Though the science of Muppet Labs." Beaker squeaked and moved away; the sorter was picking up speed and pelting him with letters. Bunsen held up a hand to protect his face and asked, "Good heavens, is this cereal all H, W, and X?" He took out the empty bowl. "I suppose it was. My, what a terrible breakfast that would have been!"

The machine was flashing a red light and beeping demandingly. Beaker poured another bowl of cereal and nervously edged it into the machine. The metal arms darted down and began flinging more cereal about. Bunsen, flinching as pieces struck him, said, "This machine is as versatile as it is useful. It can also be programmed to sort other edibles, making tan M&Ms and grapes in fruit salad a thing of the past. So, good day from Muppet Labs."

**

MC Frontalot was waiting backstage, chatting with Kermit as he waited for his final number. The two scientists left the stage. Their footsteps crunched; some of the cereal had made it this far. Kermit told them, "Great stuff! Keep it up."

Bunsen replied, "Thank you, Kermit. I only hope that it will be used for the betterment of mankind."

Kermit said in an aside to Frontalot, "They didn't do any property damage this time. I want to encourage that."

Scooter hustled up to Kermit. "Good news, boss. We're not going to overrun after all, since the mess won't take any time to clean up, and it'll be behind the curtain anyway."

Behind them, Beauregard, carrying a load of heavy-duty cleaning equipment, looked out onstage. After a moment of surprise, he dropped it all with a noisy crash and went out with a mere push broom.

"Well, you ready?" Scooter asked MC Frontalot.

Frontalot replied, "It's just me and a mic, rappin' to the audience. No skit, no crossed-out or penciled-in lines to memorize. Yeah, I'm ready. Nothing could possibly go wrong."

"You underestimate us," Kermit quipped.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Kermit said, and went onstage to introduce him.

Scooter crossed behind the curtains to backstage left, where the rest of the cast for this number were waiting. Bobby Benton was holding the bar of a baby carriage, in which reposed one of his Baby Band, a blue-eyed, blonde little girl wearing a frilly dress and a diaper. Scooter asked her, "Are you ready?"

The baby took the pacifier out of her mouth with an audible pop and replied, "I was born weady!"

She held her arms up. Bobby lifted her out of the stroller and set her on the ground. She toddled into the wings and waited for her cue. Scooter glanced back at the collection of props for the act. All was fine. He stepped out of the way and went over to the camera console.

He and Janken watched the act on the monitors. Amazingly, it went by perfectly smoothly, if you considered that Frontalot's script had not mentioned any of the act accompanying his song and ignored the crunching sound they made every time they took a step. Scooter had turned away when he heard a stifled laugh. Looking back, he saw that Beauregard had stepped out in front of the curtains and was sweeping up the rest of the cereal.

**

After the show Beauregard went out to tidy the audience; he had finished cleaning the stage during the show. Most of the Muppets, after changing out of their costumes (where applicable), gathered around the camera console. They all wanted to see how the show looked. Janken was happy to oblige, and played back the acts as they were requested.

On the other side of the theater, Pops the stage doorman was reading a tabloid, his feet up on the desk, when he heard a knock at the door. "Come in," he shouted.

The back door opened, and a Monster entered. She looked grandmotherly, or at least her dress and grayish hair did. Pops asked, "What can I do for ya?"

She asked, "Would it be possible for me to speak to The Great Gonzo?"

"Oh, sure. Just a minute." He turned in the direction of the stage and shouted, "Hey, Gonzo!"

From the other side of the theater came an echoing shout, "What?"

"Somebody here to see ya!"

"Okay, coming!"

Pops glanced at the woman. She looked uneasy. He said, "Don't worry. Gonzo's a little weird, but he's a nice fella."

She smiled a little stiffly. "I'm sure he is."

Gonzo emerged from the backstage right wings. Pops pointed to the lady with his thumb and said, "Ya got a visitor."

"Really? Hi," Gonzo said amiably.

"Hello, Gonzo. How have you been?"

That was an odd opening question for someone he didn't know. He answered, "Fine. And you?"

"I've been well." She paused, then said, "Gonzo... do you recognize me?"

Gonzo was about to say no, but something about her voice was vaguely familiar. He looked at her carefully. She had light green fur, a short yellow beak, and featherlike, dark green hair that was shading to gray. Fairly nondescript for a Monster. Still, he had the feeling he'd seen her somewhere. "Jog my memory. Where would I remember you from?"

"Missouri," she said in a low voice.

Missouri? He hadn't been there since... oh. A memory clicked into place, suddenly and startlingly vivid. He stared at her and went pale. Then he turned away. "I have nothing to say to you," he murmured.

The woman stepped forward, one hand out as if to touch him, but held back. "Gonzo? I just want to ask you one question."

"What?" he said, his voice tight.

"What happened to you?"

He was silent for several seconds, as if ignoring her. Then, without looking back, he beckoned with two fingers. "Come with me."

**

Beauregard came up to Kermit and said, "Mr. Kermit, it's going to take me longer to clean the theater than I thought."

Kermit glanced at Bo. The janitor looked unhappy. He left the crowd watching the 'rushes' and asked, "What's the problem?"

"It's the new concessions," Bo said. "When it was just popcorn and soft drinks I could use the blower to push the popcorn and cups to the front and sweep them up, then mop up the spilled drinks, but now that we've got candy and hot dogs and things, it makes more of a mess."

"Is there a lot of that?" Kermit asked, glancing over at the rest of the cast to see if he had anyone's attention. He did. Rizzo the Rat's ears had perked up at the mention of discarded food.

"Oh, yes. I can do it all, it'll just take a while," Bo told him.

Raising his voice slightly, Kermit said, "It's a shame that you'll have to clean up all that food by yourself."

Bo sighed, then straightened up determinedly. "Yeah, but a janitor's gotta do what a janitor's gotta do."

Out of the corner of his eye Kermit said that all the rats were listening now. Kermit said, "Atta boy, Bo. Still, it's not fair to put the whole burden on you, all those half-eaten hot dogs and boxes of chocolates and candy bars. Tomorrow we'll look into hiring a full cleaning squad."

"Aaaah!" Rizzo screamed, unable to take it any longer. "We'll do it!"

Feigning surprise, Kermit asked, "Are you sure? It's a big job."

"We know! But we can handle it!" He calmed himself somewhat, then said, "Bo's taken out so much garbage, he's practically a rat himself. What kind of finks would we be if we didn't help out one of our own?"

"Ratfinks?" another rat volunteered, but was ignored.

Bo was genuinely touched. "Wow, thanks, guys! I don't know what to say."

"Don't say nuttin'! Just get outta the way!" Bo stepped back, and the rats scampered into the seating area. Within seconds they were flinging surprisingly clean drink cups, wrappers, and other such trash into the aisles so Bo could put them in the bin.

**

Gonzo led his visitor into his dressing room and shut the door firmly behind her. "What happened to me? What do you think happened to me?" he said in disbelief to his former foster mother.

"I never knew," she explained. "You just disappeared. You were living with us one day and gone the next. We searched for months, but there wasn't a clue what happened to you. We thought... when you were never found, we gave up hope that you were still alive."

He looked away. Of course they hadn't found him. He had done his best to drop out of sight. He said, "You remember the train yard a mile away? I rode a boxcar out of town."

"Why?"

"You were going to send me back."

Long pause. Then she said, "Why do you think that?"

He exclaimed, "Yours was my sixth foster family! You think I didn't know the signs by then? I couldn't take being told 'Go away, we don't want you' yet again, so I left."

"But where did you go?"

His shrug looked like a spasm. "I don't know. I just stuck with the train until it stopped somewhere far away. I don't remember where I got off."

"All alone? You were only fourteen-"

His eyes on the floor, he said, "Maybe. Nobody really knows how old I am, not even me."

She asked, "How did you get along afterward?"

She sounded so concerned. Bitterly he thought, too little, too late. "Eh. I managed. I kept out of trouble. Eventually I got a job here. That's all you need to know."

"We missed you," she said softly.

He burst out, "Then why were you going to send me away? Why did everyone always unhook me and throw me back? What was wrong with me?"

"Nothing was wrong with you, Gonzo. You weren't happy with us."

That answer shocked him. She continued gently, "We could tell that you didn't want to live with us. We hoped that you would eventually warm to us, but you didn't. We couldn't keep you if you were unhappy. We hoped that you would find a family that would be better for you."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You were going to throw me back for my own good. You and five other families. Talk about killing someone with kindness."

"I'm sorry..."

"Yeah. Me too. And none of you ever said anything to me about it. Didn't anyone think of asking me what I wanted?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Yeah." He could feel years' worth of bitterness close to the surface, and he told himself to speak carefully. Keep control. He was not a child any longer; she had no claim on him. He took a deep breath and said, "If you'd asked, I'd have told you that what I wanted most was a last name."

She paused, surprised. "You already had one."

"Frackle? That was just a label they stuck on me. They thought I look like a Frackle, so I must be one. Hah. What I wanted most was for someone to give me a real last name. Make me part of their lives, not just some kid passing through." He tried to laugh; it sounded like a cough. "It took a while, but eventually someone wanted me enough to give me a name."

"Someone did adopt you?" she said hopefully.

"No." He gestured at a framed playbill hung on the wall. It was cheaply printed, and had yellowed with age.

She read it. It was for the grand opening of The Muppet Show, back in the seventies. Juliet Prowse was the headline, followed by a list of Muppet performers. She looked carefully to see if there was anything she was missing, then said, "I don't understand."

"I didn't want them to bill me as Gonzo Frackle. I hated that name. I told them, just call me Gonzo. Someone thought that was too plain, I guess, and billed me as 'Gonzo the Great' because it sounded better. I kind of liked that, and it stuck. So I changed my name to 'Gonzo The Great'. Why not?"

"'The Great' is your last name?" she said.

"Middle and last, yeah." He considered not completing the story—his personal life was none of her business! but decided to go on nevertheless. "It was, anyway. I changed it again last year. I got married."

She had noticed the nest next to the makeup desk. "To Camilla?"

"Yes. She gave me her last name. I was happy being Gonzo The Great... but it's even better being Gonzo Orphington."

"Congratulations."

He wasn't about to tell her about their daughter, Billie. They had kept her existence out of the media to protect her from scrutiny, and he saw no reason to confide in this woman.

He said nothing more. He did not look at her. He had not looked her in the face since he first recognized her. He was visibly tense, as if her mere presence was painful to him. She said, "Gonzo... I'm sorry I upset you. And I understand. I hope you and Camilla are very happy together. I wish there was something I could do..."

"There's only one thing you can do for me," Gonzo said in a low voice.

"What is it?"

"Don't tell anyone how you know me," he said.

Their eyes met. She saw anger in Gonzo's eyes, and bitterness... but mostly pain. She said, "I won't." She reached for the door handle, and when he said nothing more she opened it. "Goodbye."

**

When, soon afterward, Camilla came to the dressing room to let Gonzo know that they had reached his act in the rushes she was surprised to find it locked. She pecked on the door. A moment later the lock clicked and the door opened.

She entered. Gonzo was behind the door, and he looked terrible. "Gonzo?"

He shut the door and locked it again. "I'll be okay in a minute."

She doubted that. What happened?

"Someone came to see me. My last foster mother." His voice cracked, and he put his hand over his mouth.

He had only spoken to her once about his childhood, and although he had included few details, just the way he had talked about it told her clearly what a sad time it had been. This visit had brought that back to the surface.

Camilla was not a good talker, but talk was not what he needed. She put her wings around him. He embraced her tightly and pressed his head to what, for a hen, passed for a shoulder. He was trembling. When he started making soft gasping sounds and she felt tears drip onto her feathers she reached up and stroked the back of his head with her wing.

When Gonzo could speak again he said, "I thought all that was long behind me. But just seeing her, hearing her voice. it brought it all back. I remembered everything so clearly. Like it just happened. And you know what the worst part is?" he whispered. "She said they were going to send me back because I wasn't happy with them. But I never trusted them because I knew they'd just reject me like every other family did. If only I'd known!"

Gently she stroked his cheek with her wing feathers. Looking upward, he took several deep breaths, then continued, "Funny... I hardly ever cried back then. Sometimes I felt terrible, like there was no hope things would ever get better, but I didn't cry about it. Why now?"

She told him, It's safe to cry now.

"Yeah," he said softly. He was safe with her. He didn't have to pretend with her. She was the first person in his life he had trusted completely. He said, "I never told anyone here but you about that part of my life. I don't want anyone to think of me as some poor jerk who's messed up because nobody loved him when he was a kid. That's over with. I don't want anyone to know about that."

She clucked softly, You're loved now.

He paused and thought about that. Then he said, "Yeah," and hugged her tightly again.

**

Soon someone tapped on the door. Gonzo, who had pulled himself together, opened it. It was Fozzie. "Hey, you missed your act."

Gonzo said, "Sorry, Camilla and I got a little distracted. Y'know." He grinned a grin he did not feel. "How'd it look?"

"It looked great! Did you plan to get stuck on the balcony?"

"Nah. Just got lucky," Gonzo said.

"Anyway, we're going home now. C'mon."

Gonzo and Camilla left, his arm around her back. He chatted with the others, feigning cheerfulness, but she could feel the tension in his arm and hand.

**

The Muppets went back to the boarding house in the Electric Mayhem's bus. The other hens had been watching over Billie. As he picked his daughter up Gonzo thought that, as much as he wished otherwise, he couldn't forget his past. He was content with his current life, and had pushed those sad memories aside for years, but now... if his former foster mother talked about him... the thought frightened him. She wouldn't, he told himself; she had left him alone for so long, why give him trouble now? She wouldn't be that cruel. But, he thought, she had once before, without realizing it. He could only hope that she understood what it would do to him, and leave him alone now.

Gonzo looked down at Billie, who was half asleep in his arms. He promised himself that his daughter would never feel like he had. She would never wonder where her place was in the world. As long as he was alive she would always have a home, and she would always know that she was loved.

*****

All characters except Janken, Billie, and the unnamed Monster lady are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. MC Frontalot (AKA Damian Hess) is a real person and thus would be copyright © himself. His website is http://frontalot.com/ and you should totally visit it and download lots of his music. All copyrighted properties (and real people) are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Billie, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[The Count]

Just finished reading this now... Couple of quick little things to point out.
"though Muppet Labs", shouldn't that be "through Muppet Labs" instead?
Bobby Benton... Shouldn't that be "Bobby Benson" instead?
"Out of the corner of his eye Kermit said…" Shouldn't that be "Kermit saw" instead?

Other than that, it was a great update... Funny that Frontalot doesn't know not to say "what can happen?" at the Muppet Theater. The scenes with Gonzo show the pathos of the piece, tieing to why the story's titled "Masks". Thanks and hope to read more from you soon.

 

[Slackbot]

Lil0Vampy - Thanks! Glad you're liking this story.

The Count - D'oops. Three, three goofs, ah-ah-ah. Two were due to my posting from a draft missing the final edits, and I simply misremembered Benson's name. I'd correct those--and the em-dash bug--if I could, but, well, I can't. Anyhow, good catch.

Front has two more shows to go, so I think it's a safe bet that he won't tempt fate so foolishly again. I'm happy that you caught Gonzo's mask; I didn't know if I was being too vague. Er, subtle, I mean. Yeah, that's the ticket. We'll see a third mask next ep.

 

[Slackbot]

Yeah. Me again. Here's another flippin' dose of​

Masks, Part 7:
Interlude
by Kim McFarland​

*****

The next morning Gonzo was still feeling unhappy and worried about his former foster mother's visit. He didn't want to talk with anyone about it; he feared that if he dredged up more memories of that time he wouldn't be able to force them back again.

It was quiet in the boarding house, as most everyone was sleeping in. Yesterday had been the first day of filming for the TV show, and people had been in a partying mood after the show. He and Camilla had retired early. To forestall any questions he had simply implied that he and Camilla required privacy. However, he had never been less in the mood in his life.

Gonzo sighed as he puttered in the kitchen. He wasn't hungry. Last night's encounter weighed on him, making him feel trapped and unhappy. In the past it could have triggered a spell of depression. However, he was not going to let that happen, he told himself. He was not going to pull away from his friends and let it get to him. Even if he tried, Camilla wouldn't permit it, bless her.

For now, he just wanted to take some time and sort it out for himself. He couldn't do that in his family's room; if he became upset again it would distress Billie. She picked up on emotions very quickly. But the far end of the back yard was safe. He wandered past the Jacuzzi to the less-tended area, his feet making crunching sounds as he stepped on fallen leaves and sticks.

He was surprised to see that someone had beaten him to it. Scooter was sitting on the bench, his chin in his hand and a pensive expression on his face. Gonzo asked, "What's up?"

Scooter looked over. "Hi, Gonzo. Nothing much. Just taking a break."

Gonzo sat down beside him. "Looks like you've got something on your mind too."

Scooter started to deny it, then admitted, "Yeah, I guess so. I guess, with both college and the show at the same time, I'm a little overwhelmed lately."

"I bet," Gonzo said quietly. He patted Scooter on the back and said, "You do a great job, you know."

"Thanks. I really love the show; I'd never leave it. I'm taking a lighter load of classes, but still. I know I can get through it, but sometimes I wonder how."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Gonzo said.

Scooter doubted Gonzo did, but he appreciated the sympathy. He said, "I could just quit college for now. I mean, it's not like I need a degree. But I really don't want to. I lucked into The Muppet Show because my uncle owned the theater, and I bet I could stay here the rest of my life. Heck, I might. But, well, this is something I want to do too."

Gonzo remembered his college days. It had been hard, working full-time and taking classes too, but after years of living as a homeless dropout he had felt it vital to get a decent education. Not just to have a degree, but for his self-respect. Scooter must feel the same way. Gonzo said, "You want to do something on your own."

"Yeah, it's like that." Scooter paused for a few moments before he continued. He had not admitted this to any other Muppet, but, now that he thought about it, perhaps Gonzo was the one to talk to. "Also, well, I wanted to meet some new people. Not that there's anything wrong with you guys, but, shoot, before I went to college I never even had a date."

"Oh, yeah, I understand that," Gonzo said. "And now?"

Scooter gave a small smile. "Yeah."

"Find someone you like?"

Scooter looked away. "I'm not sure. I can't tell. I'm new at this."

"It's not that hard," Gonzo said. "You either like dating her or you don't."

"No, I mean... no, never mind." Scooter shook his head.

"C'mon, Scooter."

"Well... how can you tell if you're in love?"

"Whoa, that's the deep end of the pool," Gonzo remarked.

"Never mind. I was just thinking," Scooter said quickly.

"Nah, it's okay," Gonzo said. He glanced upward, thinking. "If you'd asked me years ago I'd've said true love hits you like a lightning bolt, and you just know she's the one for you. But that's just wishful thinking. You can be attracted to just about anyone, and it can sure feel like the real thing at the time. But it takes a lot more than a case of the hots to make it last. I mean... well, you know how I used to be." Gonzo chuckled.

Scooter smiled. "All the chickens, the cow..."

" Miss Piggy... Madeline Kahn..."

"Big Bird!"

"C'mon, how was I supposed to know that someone that big and beautiful was a kid? I thought he was a chick, not a chick."

They both laughed. Gonzo said, "Anyway, that 'Wow!' stuff doesn't last. For me and Camilla it started out like that, but we really didn't really know each other. We spent a lot of time trying to impress each other, showing off and pretending we were perfect. Which is kinda silly, I guess, because who wants to fall in love with a mask? But after a while we got over that and, well, just grew together. I guess that's not much of an answer, though."

"It's still a nice story."

"Yeah," Gonzo said. He realized that he felt a little better now. The tension had faded.

Scooter asked, "Did you ever worry about what people thought of you?"

"Sometimes. Most people don't understand that there's a fine line between performance artist and kook."

"No, I mean... well, because of who you dated."

Gonzo shrugged. "I never really thought about it. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," Scooter said, glancing away. "Just a random thought."

"Oh. So... got someone you're thinking of?"

"Well, yeah, I guess..."

Aha, Gonzo thought. He knew it. "What's she like?"

"Nice, fun to be with... and we can talk about anything."

"That's a good start."

"Yeah. And... well, it's someone I keep thinking of."

"Anyone we know?" Gonzo asked.

"I don't wanna say."

"C'mon." Gonzo nudged him. Scooter shot him a frown. Gonzo decided to back off. "Okay, never mind. Just have fun. Take your time and figure it out for yourselves."

Scooter relaxed. "Yeah. Oh, you forgot something."

"What?"

Scooter grinned. "'Be yourself'."

Gonzo grinned back. "Yeah, that too."

"I feel a little better now. Thanks, I guess it helps just to talk about it."

"No problem. Any time."

"Say, who was your fan last night?"

Gonzo's smile vanished. "Nobody."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. She was just, just a fan, that's all."

"Was there a problem?" Scooter asked, concerned.

"No. Never mind, it's not important. She won't be back anyway," Gonzo said, getting up. "I've got to get back."

Scooter watched, mystified, as Gonzo hurried back to the house.

**

Gonzo knew that he had overreacted. An innocent question shouldn't have upset him like that. He needed to come up with something to tell anyone who asked without making them curious. He didn't like lying to his friends, but he had no intention of explaining his past as a runaway and vagrant. It was nobody's business but his own.

He went back into his and Camilla's room. The bed had been replaced by a futon; Camilla was uncomfortable sleeping that far off the floor, especially with a young chick to care for. This was just as comfortable for Gonzo, and Camilla could scrunch the cover up to make a nest.

Camilla looked up. She had not expected Gonzo to come back so soon. He had gone to clear his head, so he said, and his mood was no better now. Billie was less observant. She scampered over to a box, then pulled out a book and went to Gonzo. She held the book out to him and squeaked expectantly.

Camilla watched as he smiled and accepted the book, then sat down. Billie plopped down on his lap while he put the book on the floor in front of himself. The chick pointed at the word balloon on the cover. Gonzo said in a funny voice, "Hello, everybodeee!" Billie giggled, then opened the book and pointed at the next bubble. She had already figured out that the words on the page had something to do with speech.

Camilla left Gonzo with Billie. That would cheer Gonzo up for now, she knew; he loved playing with his daughter. But, she felt, he needed more than domesticity to break this funk, and now. Fortunately, she already had a good idea what would help.

**

By the time she came back they had reached the end of the book, but Billie had vetoed the idea of finishing. She flipped through the pages at random, pointing at speech bubbles and sound effects, which Gonzo would then say. She was trying to parrot them back, which was appropriate, as she looked like a little parrot.

By the time Billie closed the book to demonstrate that she had had enough for now, she had managed a few new words and made a good start on some others. Gonzo said, "Wow."

"Wa," Billie replied.

Camilla clucked to Gonzo. He replied, "Yeah, but that's okay. I didn't know if you'd go for that in the first place."

She said, I just had to think about it. And I decided, why not?

"Oh! Well... cool!" he said, momentarily at a loss for words.

We have enough time today before the show. And the other hens will watch Billie. I just asked them. Are you ready?

"You're really serious," he said wonderingly. When he had first broached the subject, she had been startled and worried. Not wanting to upset her, he had dropped it. He hadn't expected her to bring it up again.

I'm not as adventurous as you are, but I trust you. I'm willing to try.

"Wow," he said.

"Wa," Billie echoed.

That caught Gonzo off guard, and he laughed. Billie giggled as well. Gonzo said, "Well... be back in a minute!" He picked Billie up and carried her out to the balcony where the other chickens roosted. They were expecting him. Gonzo said, "Hi, girls. Thanks for babysitting."

The hens clucked cheerfully. Billie was the only chick any of them had hatched in years due to the scarcity of roosters, so they welcomed the chance to unleash their pent-up motherly instincts on her. He put her down, and she toddled over to her feathery godmothers, squeaking cheerfully.

Camilla was outside the door to their room, pulling a gym bag with her beak because she could not pick it up. Gonzo slung the bag over his shoulder. At the front door they ran into Scooter, who had a bundle of papers in his hand. Gonzo said, "Sorry about cutting you off earlier. I didn't mean to get crabby."

"That's okay. I guess we've both got stuff on our minds. Where're you going?"

"Camilla and I are just going out for the afternoon. What about you?"

"I've got to give Frontalot a copy of the final script. The copier's still down, so I printed it off."

"Where's he staying? The hotel near the theater?"

"Yeah."

"We're going by there. I can run it over to him," Gonzo offered.

"Really? Thanks." Scooter handed Gonzo the script.

A moment after they left, Scooter wondered what was up with the gym bag. There were no gyms in that area of town.

**

Finding himself with an unexpected few hours of free time before the show, Scooter decided to take a walk and clear his head. Oh, there were things that he could be doing for the show, but nothing that really had to be done. What the heck, everything would be just fine if he took a break.

He didn't really need to worry, he told himself as he walked down the sidewalk, his hands in his jacket pockets. He had good friends. He wouldn't call them friends if they were closed-minded or judgmental; he did not gravitate to that sort. But he was in unfamiliar territory, and worried that he might make mistakes and hurt himself or someone else.

Forget it for now, he told himself. Things always worked out. Even disasters could be sorted out. He found a newsstand and glanced through the magazine rack. One slick caught his eye; Miss Piggy and several other actresses were on the cover. He recognized the image as one from an old photo shoot. He picked the magazine up and thumbed through it.

Piggy had a six-page spread, photos with a few paragraphs about her early life. There were even photos of her as a piglet in various pageants. She was really cute back then, all ruffles and blonde curls and big blue eyes.

Scooter bought a copy for Piggy. She'd like this.

**

That evening at the theater, the copier was still not working. But Frontalot had his script, and the rest of them had rehearsed and knew their parts as well as they ever would, so they were good to go.

Frontalot was flipping through his script, reading his scenes. He commented to Kermit, "There isn't a lot of resemblance between this and last night's show."

"Yeah, it's like that sometimes. Some say it keeps our creative edge sharp; others say it just leads to chaos."

"What do you say?" Front asked.

"Yes," Kermit replied without hesitation.

The back alley door opened, and Gonzo and Camilla came in. Gonzo was still carrying the gym bag; they had come straight here. He said cheerfully, "Hi, guys! Ready for another show?"

"As ready as I was yesterday," Frontalot answered.

"Good! C'mon, babe," he said to Camilla. The two climbed the stairs.

Last night Gonzo had been quiet and glum; now he was as bright-eyed as ever. Kermit wouldn't have thought that the prospect of another show would cheer anyone up so much, but then this was Gonzo. He specialized in odd behavior. He put that thought aside and continued going over the script with Fronatlot.

*****

All characters except Billie are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. MC Frontalot (AKA Damian Hess) is a real person and thus would be copyright © himself. His website is http://frontalot.com/ and you should totally visit it and download lots of his music. All copyrighted properties (and real people) are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Billie and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[Slackbot]

Welcome to another completely forgettable chapter of...

Masks, Part 8:
Miss Piggy's Bad Day
by Kim McFarland​

*****

The Muppets were about to begin the third and last show with their guest, MC Frontalot. They had gotten most of the glitches ironed out, so things were going smoothly now, more or less. The copier technician had finally arrived and was dismembering the machine. Everyone gave it and its unpredictable puffs of toner a wide berth.

Frontalot was currently talking with Sam the Eagle. "When I first met you, Sam, I thought you were one of those self-righteous, holier-than-thou, bullheaded types."

"Certainly I am not," Sam replied stiffly. "I have the head of an eagle."

"I can see that. I meant... no, never mind."

Sam told him, "And when I first met you. I assumed that you were one of those inarticulate thugs who pollute the airwaves with ill-conceived noise. I must admit that I was proven wrong in this case."

"Really?" Frontalot said, surprised. He would not have expected any of his music to get through to Sam, and he especially would not have anticipated him admitting it.

"Yes. You are quite articulate."

Frontalot thought, he might have guessed. "It seems like you hate everything on the show. Why do you hang around?"

Sam looked him in the eye. "I am an eagle of deep convictions. If this is the one way I can possibly make a difference, to slow the tide of bad taste, then I will bear the yoke."

Wow. What could anyone say to that? "Well... more power to you, then."

"And to you as well," Sam said without a trace of sarcasm. "I will see you on the stage."

*

The show started out with Gonzo's bungee cannon stunt. He managed to hook the balcony rail with his nose again, and this time Janken was ready; he had two cameras set to capture it, one on the side got a long shot and one above the balcony that could zoom in. After that was the discussion segment, a relatively static number as far as camerawork was concerned. There was still plenty of chaos onstage as Muppets tried to act out Wagner's Die Walküre without any clue as to the actual storyline. But it was funny, and that was what mattered. This time the chickens and penguins chased Bean about the stage, clucking and quacking "Kill the wabbit." By the time the curtains closed half the audience had joined in.

When that number was over Scooter met Miss Piggy as she came offstage on the left. "Miss Piggy, have you see this?"

As she took off her winged helmet she glanced at the magazine in his hand. Seeing herself on the cover, she stopped in the middle of shaking out her hair. Quickly she put the helmet aside, took the magazine, and began flipping through it. Her inital look of delight faded suddenly. She lingered for a moment, staring at one photograph, then quickly closed the magazine. In a sugary tone of voice she said, "Why, no, Scooter, I hadn't seen this. When did it come out?"

"I bought it yesterday."

She looked at the cover. It was this week's edition, which meant that it had been on sale for days. "Well, it is very... interesting. May I keep this?"

"Sure. I got it for you."

"Thank you, Scooter dear. And, um.... has anyone else seen it?"

"It got passed around the house all day yesterday."

"Oh, great," she said under her breath.

"I would have shown it to you then, but I didn't see you. Everyone thought your baby pictures were really cute."

"Why, yes, they were. But then, all babies are beautiful, aren't they?" She affected a breathy laugh, then swept away.

Janken glanced back, then asked Scooter in a low voice, "Was that the same magazine you showed me?"

"Yeah," Scooter said, mystified.

*

Miss Piggy shut her dressing room door harder than she intended. Then she opened the magazine on her makeup table. There they were, pictures from so many of the pageants her mother had entered her into during her childhood, starting with one in which she had been a tiny piglet. She had been a beautiful baby. But, she knew, that kind of beauty didn't last.

The pictures were presented in chronological order, with dates and blurbs about the pageants. She only remembered bits and pieces of them; they ran together into a blur in her mind, she had been in so many. Then she stopped when she saw a picture of herself wearing only one glove. The other was in her hand; she had just taken it off for a moment.

The picture clearly showed the tips of her fingers. Her mother had tried everything she could, from painting them pink to filing them down, but nothing she had done then—and nothing that Miss Piggy had been able to do since—could hide the ugly, hooflike fingernails. She remembered that day. She couldn't remember why she had removed her glove, although there had been some reason. Her mother had caught her, and afterward….

Miss Piggy took a pair of scissors out of her makeup kit. She carefully cut the picture out of the magazine, then viciously tore it up, crumpled the pieces, and dropped them into the trash can.

*

The second act began with Fozzie's monologue. He had a new set of puns based on rap, and again they weren't funny. But they inspired some good comebacks, so it was a technical success.

Meanwhile, they were fitting the set for Miss Piggy's song together behind the curtains. As before, the garden swing posed the biggest problem. They couldn't put it together beforehand and carry it onstage; the frame wasn't tight enough, and it would fall apart. Now Sweetums was holding one side of the frame together while Thog tried to fit the crossbar into it.

Miss Piggy, dressed in a white sundress and carrying a matching parasol, covered her eyes with a white-gloved hand and shook her head, grumbling "I don't believe this."

Fozzie finished his monologue with most of his dignity intact. The lights in front of the curtain went down, and the lights on the stage brightened. When the first sliver of light showed between the parting curtains, the orchestra began to play a lilting tune. Miss Piggy's face lit with a stage smile.

The audience began laughing.

Her smile froze. She glanced around. Sweetums was still holding one side of the swing, his eyes closed in a doomed effort to make himself inconspicuous. She hissed, "Get off the stage!"

"But, Miss Piggy—"

"I said GIT!"

Sweetums fled. Miss Piggy smiled at the center camera, and began singing sweetly as she walked through the ivy-filled garden,

"On a magic night
When the way you feel
Is a mystery,
It will be revealed.
Could be an angel
From up above
With a flower from the garden,
The garden of love."
​

She plucked a rose from the bush, closed her eyes, and sniffed it as the frogs echoed her last line. The frog nearest to her whispered "Don't get on the swing," but, absorbed in the moment, she did not hear him. She tossed the rose into the stream, then continued as the frogs sang backup:

"On another day
It may come again.
It’s a valentine
From a special friend."
​

She crossed to the swing, which was set up over the small pond, and took one of the chains in her hand.

"That certain someone
You’ve been dreaming of-"
​

She stepped onto the swing—if she sat she would not be visible enough to the audience—and began swinging. The frame creaked ominously.

"With a flower from the garden,
The garden of love-"
​

The last word of the line turned into a yell as the frame of the swing collapsed, dropping her into the water below with a cannonball-like splash.

Scooter flinched when the swing gave way. He stage whispered from the wings, "Miss Piggy, are you okay?"

Miss Piggy, completely soaked, rose from the pond like a clothed, full-figured, angry version of Botticelli's Venus. She belted the next lines out, as if daring anyone to laugh.

"The garden of love!
There are mysteries that no one knows.
Someone offers you a single rose."
​

Scooter, having given up the stage as beyond his ability to manage, watched over Janken's shoulder as Piggy struggled out of the pond, hampered by her wet dress, still singing. Janken, feeling Scooter's hand on his shoulder, murmured "Whoever said 'madder than a wet hen' never saw a wet pig." But he kept the camera on her face.

On the other side, Kermit watched as Miss Piggy continued through her song. The others around him were laughing. Maybe later it would be funny, but right now it wasn't. He hurried up to her dressing room.

Miss Piggy plucked another rose and clasped it to her bosom as she sang,

"There’s no limit to the love that grows,
Or the treasures
And the secret pleasure
Of the garden, garden of love."
​

She made her way to the side of the stage and tossed her head dramatically. Her hair flapped back in her face with a wet splat. She spat it out of her mouth.

"That special angel
You’ve been dreaming of
With a flower from the garden, the garden of love.
Garden of love."
​

She tossed the rose into the audience as the music faded.

As soon as the curtains closed she stomped offstage. All the other Muppets were stifling their giggles. Glaring at them, she raised a fist and snarled, "All right, who wants the first knuckle sandwich?"

"Good save, Piggy."

She whipped around to face the volunteer. It was Kermit, and he wasn't laughing. He was coming down the stairs from her dressing room, carrying her robe. Seeing that the moment of danger had passed, he said, "I hope it wasn't cold out there."

She let him put the robe on her. "The stage lights are warm," she grumbled.

"Good," Kermit said. He guided her up the stairs.

*

They went into Miss Piggy's dressing room. When the door was closed Miss Piggy snapped, "They were laughing at me!"

"Yeah," Kermit agreed. When she glared at him he said, "They'd have laughed if it happened to any one of them. I'm impressed how you hung on to the end."

"Well, of course, what else would a star do?" she said, willing to be flattered. She went behind a screen to change.

He could see that her mood was softening. "Anyone can take a pratfall. But you took this one in style."

"Of course. Style is moi's middle name."

Kermit saw the magazine Scooter had given her. "I guess it always was. I didn't know that you were in beauty contests when you were little, Piggy. You never mentioned it."

"There's a reason for that," she grumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Oh, nothing," she sang out. "Really, moi cannot take credit for moi's early beauty. After all, aren't all children beautiful?"

"I guess so," he replied. He flipped through the pages. "Still, I'm surprised I've never seen anything about this before." He turned a page, and saw that one photo had been cut out very carefully. He glanced at her makeup mirror. She posted her favorite pictures of herself around the edges. He did not see any old pageant pictures. He almost asked about it, but something warned him that would not be wise if he wanted to keep her calm, and he left well enough alone.

*****

All characters except Janken are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. MC Frontalot (AKA Damian Hess) is a real person and thus would be copyright © himself. His website is http://frontalot.com/ and you should totally visit it and download lots of his music. The song The Garden of Love is copyright © WingNut Films. All copyrighted properties (and real people) are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Billie and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[The Count]

Yaey! Thank you for the update. Good to have a fic to rely on in that regard around here... We seem to lose more fanfics that way.
Sam: "Of course not, I have the head of an eagle". Cute, cute joke.
Saw the swing fiasco coming a mile away... You could've ended it right there and then after Piggy took the dive... But finishing the song was a good different choice.
Piggy having hoofed nails... Interesting. Then again, it's those kinds of little details that we as fans obsessively ponder about from time to time.

Very much you thank. You will soon more post?

 

[Slackbot]

When I write these things, I tend to picture them as if they were on film. I imagined Sam striking a profile pose after the joke about his head, but that didn't come across well in prose.

I imagine if you were familiar with a certain movie you'd have anticipated not only that the swing was going to break, but exactly when.

I've always wondered why Miss Piggy always, always, always wears gloves. We've seen one hoofed pig--Lydia--and it occurred to me that Miss Piggy might have hooves too, which of course she would want to cover up because trotters are distinctly unlovely. Because she has hands, they'd look more like thick, black, weirdly-shaped fingernails. If she could file them down and paint them to look like nails she would, but that would involve cutting deep into the quick, which is a painful no-go, as her mother found out the one time she tried. So, she shapes them to look like fingertips and covers them up.

 

[Slackbot]

Here's another chapter, full of words and quote marks and signifying nothing, of...

Masks, Part 9:​

Once More, With Feeling​

by Kim McFarland​

*****

After Miss Piggy had calmed down enough to laugh at the mishap that had dumped her into the water during her song, or at least to pretend to laugh, Kermit came back downstairs and looked around for Scooter. The stage manager was not on this side. He was probably backstage left; he spent more time there, now that Janken was working the cameras on that side. The heavy red curtains were closed. In front of them MC Frontalot was being chased around by a baby girl in an exoskeleton apparatus, and behind them Beauregard was clearing the stage of soggy cereal.

Gonzo handed Kermit a solid red necktie. "Here, put this on."

Kermit looked at it skeptically, then at Gonzo. The weirdo was wearing, instead of his usual purple suit or loud jacket, a white shirt with pocket protector, a red necktie, and a pair of glasses. "What's this for?"

"C'mon, just do it. It'll be cool."

"You say that about waterfall skiing."

"And it is!"

Rowlf came up behind Kermit and tapped him on the shoulder. Kermit turned around. Rowlf was wearing a pair of glasses as well. "It's okay. We have a gag planned."

Gonzo added, "Nobody'll get hurt. I didn't plan it."

Kermit shrugged mentally and clipped the tie to his collar. "What the hey."

*

After Frontalot's song was finished and he and the baby had taken their bows, Kermit hopped onstage. "Well, that 'wraps' up the show for the night. Let's hear it for our very special guest star, MC Frontalot!" He waved his arms and cheered, and the audience applauded.

Frontalot said, "Thanks, Kermit, and great tie. But you say that to every guest."

"I say what to every guest?"

"That the guest is special. It's nice piece of fiction, but, if everyone's special, then nobody is, if you think about it."

"This time I mean it," Kermit told him. "In fact, you've been a huge influence on all of us. Hasn't he, guys?"

The rest of the Muppets joined them onstage. They were wearing white shirts with pens or pocket protectors, ties, and thick-rimmed glasses.

"Okay, I see what you mean," Frontalot said, startled. This had not been in the script.

Scooter, still wearing his usual green jacket, came out onstage, looked the rest of the cast over, then said to the audience, "Wow, for once I'm the cool one!"

"Anyway, thank you for coming, and we'll see you next week in The Muppet Show!"

The orchestra began playing the closing theme. The Muppets chatted with Frontalot and mugged for the audience as they applauded.

*

As soon as the audience area was empty Rizzo called, "C'mon, guys!" and the rats streamed out from behind the curtains to feast on abandoned concessions. Backstage, Kermit unclipped his tie and said to Frontalot, "Thanks for being such a good sport. I guess it is pretty crazy, doing a show that's half off script, but we're so used to it we kind of forget it."

"Actually, it was a lot of fun. I can honestly say I've never had an experience quite like this."

"There's two sentences we don't often hear together," Kermit remarked. "We'll be filming some backstage scenes tomorrow."

"Sure. Do you have a script?"

"Are you kidding?"

Frontalot grinned. "Yeah, I know better by now."

*

On the other side, many of the Muppets were watching the show's 'rushes' on Janken's console. Others were helping put props and scenery away, as they would not be needed again immediately. Pops, the stage doorman, called out from his cage, "Gonzo!"

Fozzie, who had seen Gonzo climb up to the catwalk, said, "He's up in the flies."

"Tell him there's a lady here to see him."

"Okay." He waved to the visitor—a mild-looking, tan-furred woman—and said, "Hi, ma'am, I'll go find him."

"Thank you," she replied.

Fozzie crossed the stage and looked up at the catwalk. Gonzo was helping Sweetums fly backdrops back into place. "Gonzo!"

He looked down. "Yeah?"

"You've got a lady visitor."

Gonzo paused, then said worriedly, "Who is she? Did you see her?"

"She didn't say. She's a Monster, I think. Are you expecting someone?"

"Um, never mind."

Gonzo leapt off the catwalk, grabbed one of the ropes, and rappelled down the wall. Then he crossed the stage, becoming tenser with every step. Who could be here to see him? It had only been a few days since one of his former foster mothers had visited him, and though they had only spoken for a few minutes, it had torn him up. And there were five more of them.

He nerved himself for the worst before turning the corner to Pops' cage. When he saw his visitor—a small woman with short tan fur and neatly-brushed brown hair—he stared for a moment in shock.

She said, "So you do remember me?"

"Are you kidding?" he exclaimed.

*

Camilla, who had not been helping clean up the theater due to her lack of hands, was waiting in the dressing room when Gonzo came in, leading an unfamiliar female Monster. From his expression, she guessed this was not another of his former foster parents. He shut the door and said, "Camilla, this is Catherine Monster. She helped me get off the streets back when. Catherine, this is Camilla, chicken actress extraordinaire and the love of my life."

Catherine smiled warmly, without a hint of surprise, and held out a hand to Camilla. "I'm pleased to meet you. And please call me Cathy."

Camilla offered a wing, and the two shook hands, more or less. He told Cathy, "I sure am glad to see you. I was kinda worried when they told me a Monster woman was here for me. My last foster mother came around a few days ago, and that didn't go well." Camilla clucked sympathetically, and he put an arm around her.

"I can imagine," Cathy answered. Once Gonzo had come to trust her he had opened up about his past, and she had been sadly unsurprised to find out that he was yet another one who had slipped through the cracks of the foster care system. She had seen all too many of them, people who had either run away as children or, discharged at the age of eighteen without any life skills or family to back them up, ended up on the street.

"She didn't contact you, did she?" he asked.

Very seriously she answered, "We do not release information about our 'clients' without a subpoena."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

"That's all right. Gonzo, I came to see you because I was in this city, and, well, I've kept tabs on you. I suppose it's silly, but I guess I'm a bit of a fan."

"Really," Gonzo said, surprised, then turned to Camilla. "How about that? I finally got one."

A little embarrassed, Cathy said, "I like to think of you as our success story. It makes me happy to see you doing so well. And I must thank you both for fighting for your rights in court. The precedent set when you and Camilla were declared 'legally human' will benefit us all!"

"Oh, that." He scratched the back of his head. "I can't take the credit for that. Without Miss Piggy's lawyers and Sam's translations and everyone's moral support we wouldn't have gotten anywhere. As for being a success story..." He took out his wallet and fished out a photo. "That's our little girl. Her name is Billie. She was hatched last year."

"Oh?" Cathy said, surprised, as she looked at a green, fluffy chick with a parrotlike beak. "She's lovely! I didn't know about her."

"We've been keeping her a secret. Considering all the noise the tabloids made over me marrying Camilla, we didn't want them to find out we had a baby too. They'd pick on her just for existing! I'd appreciate it if you kept this to yourself."

She handed the photo back. "I'm good at keeping secrets, Gonzo."

He put the photo back, saying, "Yeah, I know. Wouldn't have told you about Billie if I didn't trust you with mine. Um, on the subject... Camilla knows all about me, but nobody else does. You know."

"Yes, I do. Don't worry, I understand."

"Thanks. So, what brings you to town? Another rescue?"

"Actually, no. I'm no longer a case worker; I'm overseeing the outreach efforts. We're having a charity show here in a few weeks. It's not really a fundraiser; the TMI does pretty well on our founder's investments. It's more an effort to raise awareness. Not a lot of people realize that there's a real problem, and that it can be solved, one person at a time."

"Yeah," he said, nodding thoughtfully.

She continued, "And since I was here already, I would have felt foolish if I didn't see one of the Muppets' shows and say hello."

"I'm glad you did," Gonzo said sincerely. "What kind of show will it be?"

"The usual kind of thing. Whatever we can use to get people to come so we can spread the message."

"Can I help?"

She paused a moment, then told him, "Gonzo, I didn't come here to ask for your help. I really did just want to say hello. But I will not say no if you have time to be in the show."

"I mean it," he said earnestly. "I wanna help. You—the TMI—are the reason I'm here instead of sleeping on park benches. Nobody should ever have to live like that. You do good work."

"Then I accept," she said, pleased.

"Cool!"

Someone rapped on the dressing room door. Scooter called, "We're about to leave."

"Coming," Gonzo replied. He told Cathy, "We gotta go. Um, can I have your number?"

She handed him a business card. "That's my cell phone."

He put the card in his wallet. "Thanks. I don't have a cell phone. They break too easily. I'll call you tomorrow. Say, will you be free during the week?"

"I can make some time. Why?"

"Maybe you can come over and visit," he said, opening the door.

"I'd like that."

*

They walked down the stairs and out the alley. The other Muppets were boarding a psychedelically-painted bus. Catherine stared at it. Gonzo said, "Yeah, it's for real."

"Wow," she managed.

"You should see it in the sunlight. If you stand too close you'll get dizzy. I'll call you tomorrow."

"All right. Thank you."

Catherine left for the theater parking lot, and Gonzo and Camilla boarded the bus. There weren't two seats together for them, so she sat on his lap. Rowlf, who was sitting next to an empty seat, said, "Here, swap with me."

"Nah, this is comfy," Gonzo said with a grin, and put his arms around the hen. She leaned back against him.

The bus started up. Fozzie, in the seat in front of them, turned around and asked, "Who was that visiting you?"

"An old friend," Gonzo replied.

Camilla suggested, Maybe some of the others would help her too.

I was thinking the same thing, he clucked back.

Rowlf, who could not understand chicken speak and thus misunderstood the subject of the private conversation, said, "Sheesh, you two."

*****

All characters except Janken and Catherine Monster are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. MC Frontalot (AKA Damian Hess) is a real person and thus would be copyright © himself. His website is http://frontalot.com/ and you should totally visit it and download lots of his music. All copyrighted properties (and real people) are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.