Voiceless (Dedicated to Richard Hunt)

[Ozymandias]

Thank you! I've just got another 2-3 chapters to go and the fic will be finished, so I think in the next couple of eeks I'll concentrate on finishing this.

 

[bouncingbabyfig]

Oh good! I missed reading it!

 

[Twisted Tails]

I knew it! I was born before Richard Hunt passed away. But the truth was I listened to Jim Henson's performance of his Sesame Street and Muppet creations. It's sad that my mom only thought about Jim Henson, not Richard Hunt.

 

[Twisted Tails]

Thank you! I've just got another 2-3 chapters to go and the fic will be finished, so I think in the next couple of eeks I'll concentrate on finishing this.

Oh Ozymandias, post more when you can. I understand your writing is taking forever, but I like the way you are dedicating this story to Richard Hunt. I am now dedicating and paying a tribute to Jim Henson to my fan-fic. The link is - http://www.muppetcentral.com/forum/threads/remembering-jim-henson.51408/ After you read a chapter or the whole thing, please comment. Thanks!

 

[Powerstars]

*sniff*...I love this, but....
*sharpens nagging stick*
You didn't think I'd come empty handed, did you?

 

[bouncingbabyfig]

*Looks at when this was last updated*
*Looks at current date*
*Dusts off nagging stick*
Hehe...

 

[LipsGF4Life]

What?

 

[bouncingbabyfig]

What?

Oh, a nagging stick is where you get on the author's back for not updating their current story, it's a little inside joke on the forum.. hehe

 

[Fraggline]

​

Sweetums sat back in his bunk, his hands behind his head, unable to speak. Out of all the Muppets, had been the only one to have seen this coming. John Henson had stepped in to control his movements almost a decade ago, because Richard could no longer physically do it. At the very least, it had given him time to prepare himself for this moment. ​

​

He turned to his side and quietly curled up into himself, grieving quietly. It wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t. Richard had been a wonderful man, so talented and so outgoing, and, overall, so loving to everyone. Losing him like this…well, it was going to take everyone a long time to recover. ​

​

Everyone…Sweetums sat up and dried his eyes. Grieving could come later. Right now, the others (especially Scooter, poor fellow) would need him. He would be there for them, a strong giant who would hold them as they cried, and who would comfort them without a voice, and then he would grieve. Not yet though. ​

​

Godspeed, Sweetums thought, pushing himself off of the bunk and pulling on his tattered peasant shirt. It wasn’t a long walk from his place to Muppet Studios, fortunately.​

​

​

​

Hi!
I just stumbled across this story, so I haven't read it all yet; but I have to tell you that this piece of writing--especially the quoted portion--is, well, I can't describe it as less than work of a gifted person. It has that quality that Gone with the Wind has. And the characterization is spot-on; it's absolutely gold.
Sorry for being so gushy, but I feel like I'm reading something that Jerry Juhl could have written.

​

 

[Ozymandias]

WOOOOOOW, this story has received a lot of unexpected attention lately. 0_O I was not expecting this at all! Thanks, you guys! ​

Anyways, first off I would like to apologize for saying I would finish Chapter 11, but not getting it done when I said I would. I could say that life has been really busy lately, but that's just an excuse. I'm sorry.

Secondly, to pay penance, here's Chapter 11, in all it's glory. Second to last chapter, folks!

Finally, I would like to apologise if the writing isn't at it's best quality at the moment. I had the WORST case of writer's block ever while writing this, and I hope it doesn't show too much. DX

Anyways, enough rambling, on with the story!

******


They’d talked for a long time. Or rather, Dr. Teeth had talked, Janice had listened and had occasionally written down a question or gestured in response to something. Floyd had offered to talk to her about it, but Dr. Teeth had shaken his head at the suggestion.



“Floyd,” he had said, patting the bassist on the shoulder, “You’re a good man, and you’ve done a lot, not just for Janice, but for the band. But right now, you need a break. This is something I need to discuss with her alone.” He was grateful that Floyd hadn’t argued any further.



A few days after the funeral Janice had indicated that she was ready to work with the band again, playing guitar. Dr. Teeth had been relieved; they had all their instruments at least. However, there was still one thorny problem they had to deal with first.



“So here’s where we stand.” Dr. Teeth said flatly, leaning forward and cupping his chin in his hand. “You can still play. We still have a show, but…” He exhaled, wondering how she would take the news. “I talked to Kermit, made a few phone calls at the Jim Henson Co.”



Janice, who was sitting on a chair across from him in the dining room of the boarding house the Mayhem had rented, raised an eyebrow. An unspoken question hung in the air between them. And?



“They’re asking around the other Muppeteers now, but if no one’s able to step up and speak for you well enough, well…it could be a minimum of six months before they consider hiring anyone new.”



Janice’s shoulders slumped at that news. She leaned forward slightly and rubbed her temples, exhaling softly, trying not to lose control. On one hand, she didn’t have to face a very sudden transition from one voice to another, and with a few months’ time she would be able to ease into the idea of a new voice, a new Muppeteer. On the other hand, she loved to play her guitar, but she loved to sing too, and not having a voice was becoming very frustrating. And those six months were a minimum…



Dr. Teeth thought of reaching out to her and comforting her, but thought better of it. Janice sat up after a minute, still struggling to keep control, but steadily calming down. She took the piece of paper near her and wrote down a question.



So what are we going to do about next week’s show?



“I’ve been thinking about that. I know you’ll be playing with us next week, but a good chunk of our songs have backing female vocals, and Floyd and I can’t handle it all on our own. What would you say to us temporarily hiring a substitute singer?”



Janice blinked, and then looked somewhat angry.



“We wouldn’t be replacing you,” Dr. Teeth added quickly. “Just your vocals until you can get your voice back. Once you do, and you’re in fine singing shape again, we’ll let the other singer go.” The anger left Janice’s face, and she turned her head to the side, staring out the window and crossing her long, near-bare legs. She looked thoughtful. Dr. Teeth sat back in his chair and waited. After a few minutes, she picked up the pencil.



I’m not in love with the idea she wrote, but there doesn’t seem to be anything else we can do right now. Can I help pick her out? When are we going to run auditions?



“Yeah, of course you can.” Dr. Teeth said, relieved that she wasn’t fighting the idea. “We’ll start posting notices later today and tomorrow, and have auditions three days from now. You know, give time for word to spread. Hopefully that’ll give whoever we pick time enough to learn next week’s set of songs and get some practice in with us before opening night. It’s short notice, but that’s all we can do right now.”



Alright. Who’ll we get to design the notices? A piece of paper with rip-off phone number tabs on the bottom isn’t going to cut it.



As the conversation continued back and forth, Dr. Teeth was relieved more than anything else. Considering the circumstances, Janice was taking this surprisingly well.



The conversation inside of Janice’s head, however, was a different story.



They’re trying to replace you.



Like, no, they’re not. And we need this.



They’re trying to replace you.



That is a lie. Now, like, let’s get back to the subject at hand, please. And since when did I start having conversations inside of my head?



The doubts promptly shut up. Janice sighed and rubbed her forehead. This was going to be a long six months.

​

Beaker tilted his head to the side as a crumpled up piece of paper flew past him. Bunsen slid his palms over his gleaming head in frustration, ending with his forehead planted firmly on the desk’s surface. He muttered some dark gibberish under his breath and sighed loudly. Beaker looked away so that the distressed scientist wouldn’t see him smile. Designing something that would get the very last bit of toothpaste out of the tube was turning out to be harder than either of them had anticipated. It was getting close to ten-thirty, the closing time, and the moon was shining through the basement window. If Beaker stood directly below it, he could see a sliver of its silver face.

“Coffee.” Bunsen muttered, and then straightened up. His back popped, and he winced. “I’m going to get some coffee. You want any, Beaker?” He said, looking over to where his assistant was seated.

Beaker shook his head and smiled again. Clearly, Bunsen didn’t remember what happened the last time Beaker ingested coffee. Bunsen headed out, only to bump into Kermit in the hallway. He was so surprised that he didn’t even notice that Kermit’s muppeteer was standing behind him.

“Oh! Goodness!” He exclaimed, putting his hand up to his mouth. “Kermit!”

“Hello Dr., how are you this evening?” Kermit said pleasantly.

“Oh, very good, I was just heading to get some coffee. What brings you down here at this time of night?”

“Oh, Steve and I were just heading in to go talk to Beaker. Is he in tonight?”

“He is. If I may be so bold as to ask, what for?”

Kermit gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry Bunsen, that’s between us and Beaker, at least for the moment. May we come in?”

Bunsen nodded. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes, I’m just going to go and…”

“Get your coffee.” Steve said. Bunsen looked over at the shaggy-haired young man, who had his hands in his pockets and was smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah.” Bunsen said, feeling kind of dazed. He nodded to the pair of them and headed on down the hallway, rubbing his forehead.

Beaker was still sitting by one of the lab tables, with several books on quantum physics spread out before him, along with a lined notebook. This little notebook had been his lifeline for the past several weeks, as he wrote in it not just the phrases needed to communicate with Dr. Honeydew, The Swedish Chef and others, but in secret, when his pain over Richard’s passing came on strong, he wrote out his pain in the scribbling’s from a no.2 pencil. He kept a special section of the book for that, one which no one else was allowed to see, at least not yet.

He had to admit it though; living without a voice was proving to be a bother. Bunsen had been very understanding about the matter, and ever since he had asked for Beaker’s forgiveness, the friendship between the two of them had improved drastically. He had supplied Beaker with a computer in the lab, so that Beaker could communicate via the writing program on it. Mind you, they were planning to purchase a computer to input their data anyways, but it was still a kind thing for Bunsen to do. It still didn’t alleviate the fact that, without his customary meeping, Beaker was having a horrible time just trying to function from day to day. He missed Richard so much, and he missed what they used to have, but Beaker needed his voice back.

The door swung open behind him. Beaker turned around, wondering how Bunsen had managed to grab his coffee so quickly. He blinked, surprise showing on his face when he saw Kermit there in his face. Wrong green muppet. His surprise grew even greater when he saw Steve Whitmere, Kermit’s Muppeteer, standing behind the frog with a sheepish grin on his face.

An awkward silence filled the room. Beaker stared, uncomprehending. What were Kermit and Steve doing in the lab so late at night.

“Er, hi ho Beaker.” Kermit said, clearing his throat. “I bet you’re wondering why we’re down here.”

The carrot-haired muppet nodded.

“Steve and I have a bit of a proposition for you.” Beaker’s eyebrows, so rarely seen due to being hidden behind his bulging eyes, rose at that. Kermit wondered how on earth he was going to word what he had to say next.

“As you well know, I have been in contact with Jim Henson Co., asking various Muppeteers if they would be willing to step up and give Richard’s former muppets voices for the time being, at least. Sweetums and Statler already have their voices back.”

Beaker sat up straighter at that. He had heard about Sweetums but he hadn’t heard about Statler. He looked past Kermit at Steve, and his jaw dropped. No way. No way, no way, no way…

“Well, we…that is, Steve and I…” Kermit rubbed the back of his head, feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

“May I speak for myself, Kermit?” Steve asked. Nervous, yet relieved, Kermit nodded and stepped back.

Steve stepped forward and got down on one knee in front of Beaker to see the muppet at eye level. Beaker was trying his hardest in his shock not to laugh. What, is he going to propose to me now? However, what Steve had to say next confirmed Beaker’s earlier suspicions.

“Beaker, what would you say to me being your new Muppeteer? I’ve proven to the folks at Jim Henson Co. that I can do a good impression of the voice that Richard gave to you, so now I’m asking you personally. Before you make your decision, know that Kermit already explained to me what processes go on when a muppet gets a new Muppeteer, especially if the old Muppeteer has passed away,” Beaker’s mind was reeling. They want me to share a Muppeteer with KERMIT? They want me to share a Muppeteer with the world’s most successful frog? Me, Beaker? Are you serious?

But if I do this, would I betray Richard’s memory?

“And I want you to know that I’m not replacing Richard. No one can ever replace Richard.” Steve blinked a few times and took a deep breath. “However, I will do my best to upload the legacy he’s left behind in you, if you choose to have me. So what do you say?”

Beaker seemed lost in thought for a few moments, then, realizing that the young man did have a point, slowly nodded. From behind Steve’s shoulder, Kermit smiled. He’d be proud to share a puppeteer with the young assistant.

“Thank you.” Steve stood back up to his full height, and Beaker walked into the middle of the room, not wanting to crash into any delicate equipment. Steve put his hand on Beaker’s shoulder, and in moments, Beaker went limp. Steve caught him before he could crash to the floor in a pile of felt and orange fuzz, then quietly set everything up. It took about five minutes, total.

Beaker sat up, looked around. The first thing that he noticed was that Steve’s hands were warm. The second thing that he noticed was the horrible scratchy pressure that had been on his throat since Richard had passed away was gone. Timidly, carefully, he attempted to speak.

“Meep?”

It wasn’t Richard. It would never be Richard.

But it was close enough, and for Beaker, that was just fine.

When Bunsen came in with his coffee, the first thing he noticed was that Beaker was meeping away happily, so overjoyed at finally being able to speak. He wasn’t voiceless anymore. Secondly, he noticed Kermit and Steve standing nearby, listening to him with looks of peace and joy on their faces. Steve’s work was done.

In his haste to give Beaker a hug, Bunsen completely forgot about his coffee. He ended up flopping the steaming, rich smelling mug on Beaker’s lab coat, causing the hapless assistant to omit several high pitched shrieks as Bunsen apologised profusely.

Kermit looked at Steve and smiled. Things were finally starting to return to some sense of normality in The Muppet Show.