^ Duly noted Ruahnna. Also, I can't help but giggle at the term "muffining."
You learn something new everyday, it seems. Thanks!
As of this chapter,
Voiceless is now over 10,000 words long. 0______0
EDIT: *dying with laughter*
Ahahahahaha! Ozy can't count! Ozy can't count! She can't count, even though she's reading a 'How to Count' book!
I just realized I accidentally put chapter four in TWICE, meaning that chapter 4 is actually chapter 5, Chapter 5 is chapter 6 and so forth. In other words, this is technically supposed to be chapter 9. XD XD XD
In any case, onto Chapter 9!
**********
Chapter 9
“I’m sorry, but we cannot do for Richard what we did for Jim. I don’t think it is what the family would want, anyways.” The director of the memorial said.
“I understand that,” Kermit said quietly over the phone. “I wasn’t suggesting that. I’m just saying that we would like to contribute in some way, other than just coming. Shall we donate flowers, or should I or Scoo—Rowlf give a eulogy? Something for us to show just how much Richard meant to the Muppets.”
“Hmm…Kermit, could you hold that thought for a moment?” There was the sound of muffled conversation, then, “Hello?”
“Hello?” Kermit said, uncertain who the voice belonged to, “This is Kermit the frog.”
“Oh! Hello Kermit, this is Jane.” At first Kermit couldn’t recall ever meeting a Jane, but then he suddenly realized who she was, having given his condolences to her only a few weeks earlier.
“Jane Hunt?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ve heard a lot about you, Kermit.” Richard’s mother* said.
“And Richard told me a lot about you.” The frog said. Jane laughed softly, but her heart wasn’t quite in it.
“The memorial director said that you wanted to ask me something.” She said.
“Ah, yes. Umm, well, I was wondering, is there anything the muppets can do at the memorial to pay tribute to Richard? I mean, he was a big part in a lot of our lives, and we really loved him and thought very highly of him here at the theatre.”
“That sound like a wonderful idea. Do you have anything in mind?”
“Well, would you like Rowlf or I to do a short eulogy for Richard, or for us to donate some flowers?”
“Hmm…actually, I was going to contact you soon myself, as I had a similar idea.”
“Oh, ok, what can the muppets do for you?” Kermit asked, surprised.
Jane told him. He blinked, surprised, then grinned. He was surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. After a few more minutes conversation, he hung up, then pulled out his phone book and started dialing.
“Hey, Rowlf? Do you feel like sitting on the piano bench for Richard?”
“What’s the plan?” The dog asked.
“You’ll see, I have to make a few phone calls first.” The memorial would be that Saturday, and it was Monday now, so maybe, just maybe, they could make it.
*******
The last muppet he needed to talk to was still in the building. Good.
“Bunsen told me you played the guitar.” Kermit said. Beaker had been stooped over a diagram that was laid out on one of the lab tables, but turned around at that. There was a pencil sticking out from his hair, presumably tucked behind his not-visible ear. He yanked out the pencil and ripped off a corner of the paper, then scribbled a message on it. He handed Kermit the paper and waited for Kermit to read it. It took the frog a few minutes to decipher the words simply because the quality of the written letters was so lax. Beaker’s handwriting was synonymous with the term ‘chicken scratch’ for a good reason.
Yes, I can. Why do you ask?
“We want to do a tribute to Richard. Thing is, we would be singing, and I know you guys can’t do that right now, but I wanted to include you guys in some way, seeing as he was your Muppeteer.”
Beaker took the paper back and wrote another sentence, was about to hand it back to Kermit, then shook his head and wrote some more.
I prefer to sing Will they laugh at me?
“Well, it’s a funeral, so they’d better not.” Kermit said. Beaker nodded.
“Does that mean you’ll do it?” Beaker took back the piece of paper and wrote on the back of it. What about Janice?
“Dr. Teeth asked her if she would already, and she agreed, but we need a second guitar for the song. Please, Beaker?” Kermit pleaded. The red-headed scientist nodded.
“Thank you. We’ll be meeting in the orchestra pit in two days to practice, since Jane told us what song she wanted us to perform. We should have sheet music available for you by then. Wednesday at 7.”
Beaker nodded and returned to his work. Kermit, seeing that the conversation was over, walked out of the lab room, lost in thought. Sweetums already indicated what he wanted to do, Statler and Scooter will handle the candles, Scooter’s going to be standing with the Hunt family, and now Janice and Beaker have a part to play. Kermit smiled slightly. I hope we can do your spirit justice, Richard. I really do. He ducked into his office and picked up a framed photo that sat next to his address book. It was a picture of Kermit, wearing last year’s winter scarf. A bearded, brown-haired man’s face was beside him, and man and frog were both smiling.
Hey, Richard, while we’re on the subject, say hi to Jim for me, will you?
**********
Saturday dawned crisp and cold, with a fresh layer of snow on the ground. Miss Piggy pulled open her curtains, and milky white light filtered through her boudoir window, revealing a four-poster bed, a vanity dresser and embroidered silken dressing screen, among other things. She pulled the belt of her bathrobe a bit tighter. Her hair, still soaking wet from the shower she had just come out of, was wrapped turban-style in a towel on her head. She leaned closer to the window to gauge the weather better, and saw that a blanket of smudgy grey and white clouds had been pulled across the sky, rumpled in some places and stretched thin in others, occasionally falling to reveal a bare patch of naked, brittle blue sky. Piggy shivered and stepped back, turning towards her walk-in closet. She had picked out her outfit in her head several days ago, but was just now about to put it on. It was near the back of the closet, but she pulled it out, along with the shoes and other necessary items.
The black dress would fall to about her knees when she tried it on, and the sleeves were long and ended in lace. It was by no means a fancy dress, but it was insanely important to Miss Piggy because it served one specific purpose.
I do not want
To wear this dress again.
Her full-length mirror was on rollers, so she positioned it so that she could see herself without being seen from the open window. The towel came tumbling down from her head, revealing long, tangled locks. She ran a brush through it several times, then stepped lightly behind the dressing screen. She had to make sure the dress would fit her, of course, though she had doubted she had packed on much weight since the last time she’d worn it, a mere seven or eight months earlier. The bathrobe tumbled down around her feet.
It fits like a glove,
A modest design
With curves in all the right places,
But black, that cloying colour,
Is not for moi.
Piggy looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, touched her bare shoulder in the mirror, smiled. Then, quickly, she finished getting dressed, tugging the black cloth over her head.
I slide it on,
And in that moment
I am back there again,
Looking at his closed casket in the harsh light
It still fit. Piggy didn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed. She took off the dress (as she didn’t want to get hairs all over it while she was styling it), but kept on the slip that was needed underneath. Shoving on her bathrobe again, she checked to see if the hair curler was heated up yet. It wasn’t quite yet, but would be by the time she was finished drying her hair.
The hair dryer droned on as she ran the brush through her golden locks, trying to avoid thinking about what was going to happen today. She had insisted that she would go and pick up Scooter, seeing as he didn’t have his licence yet, and his uncle could not come as he was out of town. She didn’t want Kermit exhausting himself and locking up his own feelings inside him, like he almost did that…that other time.
And though we stand against the backdrop of
A sea of faces,
This silence has put you
In a cage of glass
My feet hurt in these shoes.
Miss Piggy pinned her thick hair up on her head, then started working in layers, methodically pinning each fistful of curls upwards as she went. The style required some bobby pins and hairspray, but wasn’t too flashy to be wasted underneath a wide-brimmed hat with a silken black lily tucked into the headband. She’d wear her pearls, but no gloves or rings this time.
I reach out
But you cannot feel me.
I call out
But you cannot hear me.
You and they have gone
Where I cannot follow.
She turned her head from side to side, satisfied with her efforts, then stood up to finished getting dressed. The waist was emphasized by a silk sash and there was black lace around the collar, but the rest of the dress was made of a duller black cotton. Nothing overly fancy. Piggy slipped her string of pearls around her neck, then dabbed a splash of Northern Light onto her wrists and neck. For a moment, the room was filled with the scent of cedar and jasmine, with a hint of myrrh, but the perfume faded to a noticeable presence on her skin.
I am lost among the mourners
And you stand there,
Surrounded by the silent,
Alone.
So I cry out for you who cannot
And we become the voice
For those who cannot speak up for themselves,
For this silence is poison.
She doesn’t put on any mascara or eyeliner today…just in case. It’ll just be some smoky blue eye shadow, foundation, a hint of blush to enhance her rosy cheeks and some red lipstick today. Satisfied, she sat on the edge of the bed, struggling with pantyhose, and then slipped on a pair of plain black pumps. Half an hour before she had to be outside Scooter’s house.
She looked at herself one more time in the full-length mirror.
I do not want
To wear this dress again.
********
*I'm not sure what relationship Jane Hunt had to Richard Hunt, so I'm just going to assume that Jane was his mother. If Jane was actually his sister, cousin or other relationship, please let me know and I will see if I can edit this post ASAP.
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