redBoobergurl
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Good old Ernie. I loved the shape conversation, very cute. Must have more!
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The Best Neighbor
- Thread starter Convincing John
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Convincing John
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More cameos comin' right up! Most of 'em are Muppets, plus one celebrity (well, more of a celebrity in the late 80's) who worked on TV with Alaina Reed (Olivia) years ago on another show. She seemed to fit in this chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter 19
Max realized why the line was taking so long by the time he reached the front of it. The line was made up almost exclusively of men. Each one was trying to catch a glimpse of the cashier's window.
There were two men ahead of Max. The one at the front of the line just stood there, staring at the cashier. A sign above the window read "CASH OUT/CASINO CARDS PURCHASED HERE". Max then saw why the men were so eager to get in line and also why the line was so slow.
At the window was a woman. She was a black woman in her early thirties wearing a tight-fitting, cherry red dress that barely covered her Mae West figure. A massive mound of jet black teased hair encircled her cocoa-complexioned face. Deep, dark brown eyes winked at the men with long, curling, come hither eyelashes. Her shiny, magenta lips curled in a sultry smile as she talked to the man in front of her.
The voice did not match this woman at all. It was as if the woman were trying to talk seductively and whine through her nose at the same time. None of the men in line seemed to care as they gazed at her. Max watched as she talked to the man at the counter. Max could read the name "Sandra" printed on a name tag just inches from her cleavage.
"Well, hi there!" she squeaked. "You comin' back for another Casino Card, sweetie?"
"Humma..ma...uh huh..." the man was fishing through his pockets, furiously looking for money. All the while, he never took his eyes off the woman. He finally found some twenties wadded in his left pocket and handed them over.
"Thank you, you sweet, generous man!" she puckered her lips and lightly touched the man's chin with a long, red fingernail. She put the money in the cash register and printed out a card from another machine. As she slid the card towards him, she leaned forward. "You come back and you see me again," she tilted her head, curled her lips in a pout and made a 'sad puppy face'. "won't you?" she pleaded.
"Ahh...d..d...mahhm...yeah..." the man sputtered as he took the card.
"Okay, tell all your buddies to come see Saaaandra to get their Casino Cards!"
The man nodded, his eyes still glazed over and a dopey grin stretched across his face.
"Okay now, bye-bye cute stuff!" Sandra held up a hand and wriggled her long, painted fingernails at him.
The next man eagerly stepped up to the counter.
"Well, hi there!" Sandra squeaked. "You comin' back for another Casino Card, sweetie?"
The second man gaped like a goldfish, then searched for money in his pockets that wasn't there. In desperation, he pulled out his pocket knife and noisily scraped at his molars. Finally, he pried out all of his gold fillings. He winced, put the fillings on the counter and said "You accept theesh?"
Sandra's disgust was evident to Max. She hid her grimace well as she pulled a manila envelope from under the counter.
"Just...put 'em in there..." she struggled at the next word. "...sweetie." The man eagerly scooped his fillings in the envelope and handed them to her. Sandra took the envelope as if she were holding the tail of a dead mouse. After putting it in the cash register, she composed herself and her usual seductive expression was back.
"Now here's your card. Go have fun! You tell your friends to come see Saaaandra, OK?"
The man, now with a fresh card and several toothaches, gleefully left the line for the Blackjack table. Now it was Max's turn.
As Max stepped forward, he sniffed a lemony scent. Sandra made a face as she sprayed Lysol where the fillings had been. She put the can away and looked up.
"Well, hi there!" she repeated in her nasal, Mae-West-on-helium voice.
She's a broken record, thought Max.
"You comin' back for another Casino Card, sweetie?"
Max tried to compose himself as Sandra batted her eyelashes at him. As she did Max's eyes began to glaze over. At last he remembered the huge coin he had won earlier.
"N-no...I'm here to cash this in. I won it at the machine and I just want to see how much I got..." Max never took his eyes off her as he reached into his pocket and handed her the large gold coin.
Sandra took the coin and put it in another machine where similarly printed coins were kept and counted. When she did, a little ticket popped out. Sandra tore it off, read it and her jaw dropped in surprise.
"Do you know what you just did?" she asked incredulously.
Max shrugged. He had no idea.
"You just won five thousand dollars!" Sandra squealed.
"Wh--wha?" Max blinked.
"Oh my goodness! This is incredible! Congratulations!" She opened the cash register and beckoned Max closer with one long, red fingernail. "Come here, sweetie. Give me your hand."
Still in a daze, Max did as he was told. Sandra took his hand and turned it palm upwards. She then counted out the bills as she put them in his hand.
"There's one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand...and FIVE thousand! You are one very lucky man!"
Max stood there, stunned. He ignored the dirty looks from the gamblers behind him as he turned away from the cashier's counter.
"Now hold on, wait a minute, sugar," said Sandra. "you wouldn't think about leaving just yet, would you?"
Max looked back at her, then at the sudden amount of wealth in his hand. "Uhhh..."
"Because when a man wins that kind of money, it's customary to treat a lady to a meal at the buffet." Sandra leaned forward, her ample bosom falling and rising with each hot breath Max felt on his face. Her plucked eyebrows raised seductively.
"You interested in treating a lady to dinner? I am simply," she tossed her hair a little and leaned a little closer. "famished."
"Uhmmum..mum..." Max felt his ears turn red.
"I thought so." Sandra leaned to a little microphone and pressed a button with her knuckle (so she wouldn't break a nail). "Oh Carl, I'm finishin' my shift now. Send Mewwwy up to Window 1, please."
Much to the chagrin of the gamblers in line, Sandra left the window and met Max, who was waiting away from the line. She suddenly held up her hands and put one to her cheek.
"Ooh! I forgot my purse!" she exclaimed. Sandra leaned forward and held up her finger to Max's face.
"Now you just wait here, sugar. I'll be--" she lightly tapped Max on the nose twice "right...back." Max watched her turn around. With a dreamy look in his eyes, he watched Sandra totter away on her stiletto heels and wiggle in all the right places.
As she disappeared around the corner, Max felt the money in his hand and snapped back to reality. He couldn't believe his luck! Five thousand dollars in his hand and a dinner date with one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen! He put the money in his wallet and sighed. Finally something was going his way! He couldn't quit his job, but he could save up...or pay off some student loans or...
That woman...
At last he had money to go out on dates! That's what he'd use it for! He was going to date this woman!
Max happily wrung his hands, feeling joy for the first time in ages. His heart soared! At last, things were going to be--
"MAX!"
Max's face fell like a sack of sugar.
Oh no. Not now! Why now? Max thought woefully.
Frass waddled up to Max. Max could see that Frass had a few more fresh red marks on his face. From the look of it, Frass never did get that Everclear he ordered.
"We're leavin'! It's past 5 already! We gotta hit the road. I suppose all your quarters are gone, huh?"
"W-Well..."
"I thought so," Frass huffed. "Spending your hard earned cash on the slot machines all night, I bet."
"Uhh..."
"Well, c'mon, Max! If we're gonna catch that frog, we gotta get goin'!"
Max looked pitifully towards the corner, hoping for Sandra to return. She didn't.
"Don't you need to cash your chips, sir?" Max asked, trying to stall for time.
The places where Frass's face weren't red blended to match the rest of it. His eyes didn't meet Max's.
"I don't...need to cash in." he muttered uncomfortably.
"Well, you could stay to eat..."
"No time. I wanna catch that frog!"
Frass's beady eyes squinted, reading Max's pleading expression.
"What are you lookin' like that for? You wanna gamble some more?" Frass nearly roared. "I'm not giving you any more money to play! Now get GOIN'!" Frass gave Max a shove towards the revolving door.
With one last pitiful glance, Max watched where Sandra had disappeared. His heart gave a jolt as he saw the edge of her red dress peeping from around the corner. Then they were gone.
A fuzzy, black and white image of Frass and Max played on a security monitor behind Sandra. She was just reapplying her lipstick. As she snapped her compact shut, a massive green monster trudged up to her.
"Heyyy, Sandra!" he bellowed in greeting. Carl liked Sandra. Thanks to her, casino card purchases (from the men anyway) had skyrocketed since she was hired. A lot of men lost games on purpose just so they could get in line again to buy another card from her.
"Hey Carl! I'm goin' home now."
"All right, just lemme look at the stats for your shift," Carl punched a button on the cash register and a long strip of paper rolled out. "Uh huh, looks good...someone lost ten grand at the Blackjack tables! Ha ha ha! No one's won anything yet...good good...ooh! We got fifteen more cars today! A Lincoln Town Car, very nice..." Carl's eyes then bulged at the last item on the list.
"Someone WON five thousand dollars?" he snapped. "How did THAT happen?"
"He got a jackpot coin from the slot machine." explained Sandra.
"And he CASHED IT IN?" Carl fumed. "He didn't get another Casino Card and spend it?"
Sandra raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, can't people cash in and just leave if they want to?"
"Yeah, but we ain't supposed to TELL 'EM!" Carl yelled.
"Look," Sandra scowled and poked Carl in the chest with a red fingernail. "that poor boy had next to nothin' when he came in here. I saw him."
"So?" snorted Carl. "That's what we do here! When someone comes in with next to nothin', we make sure they leave with absolutely nothin'! You don't let people leave here with MONEY!"
"Well I don't care what you think!" she slung her purse over her shoulder. "Now that I am done with my shift, I'm plannin' to go out that door with that man and have dinner!"
"You're going to do what?" asked Carl, leaning in as if he had trouble hearing.
"HAVE DINNER!" Sandra yelled.
"Don't mind if I do!" yelled Carl.
Sandra screamed in terror as Carl gripped her shoulders and stuffed her head into his gaping maw.
The men who hadn't left the line yet were now in shock. They booed Carl and yelled in protest as he continued to gobble up Sandra. Her nasal screams were now muffled by the booing and Carl's loud "MWAM MWAM MWAM"s as he ate.
A moment later, Carl, oblivious to the crowd's disapproval, wiped his mouth with his wrist and smacked his lips. He turned to the crowd, his belly bulging. Suddenly, his mouth opened wide.
"BLEEEEEHHHHHHRRRRP!" he belched. Two stiletto heels and a tube of lipstick flew out of his mouth. "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! Now if ya wanna buy more cards, just go to Window 2!" he pointed to the right and left the booth.
A goofy looking man in a horrible toupee popped up from behind the second desk. He smiled excitedly like an overactive infommercial host hired to peddle a product guaranteed not to work.
"HI everybody! It's ME, Todd Kapoodle! Don't forget, when you leave the casino, there's all kinds of GREAT deals to check out at Todd Kapoodle's Used Car Emporium!"
"Hey! That's the guy who sold me that crappy car!" someone yelled. "the flywheel was made outta Legos!"
"Yeah, mine too!" yelled someone else. "And the carburetor in mine was held together with Scotch tape!"
"The tires he sells are pre-flattened!"
"The bucket seats in his cars are nothin' but upside down ice cream buckets!"
"Get him!"
"BOO!"
The crowd's boos shifted from Carl to the salesman. They threw their drinks, Sandra's shoes and casino chips at him. A dirty ashtray bounced off his head, sprinkling cigarette butts in his toupee. Carl pointed and laughed as someone's Bloody Mary splattered all over the salesman's freshly ironed, light blue shirt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Max walked alongside Frass. It was still dark, but the early morning traffic was buzzing around the edge of the city. Frass watched a baker's truck, a semi carrying fruits and vegetables for a grocery store and bus after bus trundle along the perimeter of the parking lot.
Busses...
"Max, I got an idea."
Max's head, just downcast a moment ago, snapped to attention.
"We're gonna split up. Gimmie the keys." Max obediently surrendered them. "I'm gonna take the Maybach. You take the bus over there." He pointed with a fat finger towards the bus stop. We'll make it to that street quicker this way."
"Yes...yes sir."
"I just hope you got enough money for fare, cause I ain't givin' you no more."
"Yeah, I got some change," Max replied. Plus about five grand more, he thought.
"Good. We'll meet up there. Now get goin'!" Frass pointed again.
Max nodded, then walked across the parking lot to the cold, open bus stop with no bench. Meanwhile, Frass waddled to the Maybach, stuffed himself into the driver's seat and cranked up the heater a few minutes before taking off.
Max watched him go. It was obvious his boss didn't drive much. He nearly hit a car pulling out of the parking lot. He didn't use the turning signal at all and changed lanes back and forth without warning. Max winced as the Maybach weaved and finally merged with the rest of the sporadic traffic.
Max shivered as a sudden rush of cold wind whipped around him. There was no one else nearby. The closest person Max could see was someone crying her way to the parking lot. She had gambled her car away and was weeping miserably in the empty parking space. Every so often, someone would appear in the moonlight. It was some completely poor person sailing over the parking lot courtesy of the casino's ejection tube. At the right angle, the people who flew in front of the moon looked either like clumsy, broomless witches or a blooper from "E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial".
The mournful sobbing and occasional thumping of bodies against cars was depressing. Max remembered the money in his pocket. Should he give it to these poor people and help them out, or would they just go and gamble it away again?
Before he could think about it any longer, Max noticed lights from the other direction. Headlights. Max squinted and shielded his eyes as the bus pulled up to the curb.
The doors hissed open and Max saw an unusual bus driver. He was something like a cross between Harpo Marx and Marty Feldman with a lavender complexion. His googly eyes spun unsettlingly above a permanent Chesire Cat grin. A bus driver's cap sat lopsided on his fuzzy head.
"Hiya, friend!" he said in a chuckling voice. "Need a lift?"
Max did, but he was wary of the bus driver. Still, it was either ride the bus or stand out in the cold. So Max climbed aboard.
"Exact change, please!" said the driver, pointing to a sign. Fortunately, Max had the two dimes and a nickel. As he put them in the little box next to the driver's seat, the driver noticed someone else climbing aboard. Max took a seat as a blue-headed balding man wearing a three piece suit put a quarter in the box.
"Does this bus go to Sesame Street?" asked Max. The driver nodded excitedly.
"Oh good," said the blue headed man. "That's where I want to go, too."
"What's that?" asked the driver.
"I said," the blue man repeated. "that's where I want to go, too."
"All right!" the driver reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He stuck it directly to the blue man's suit as a strange "twang" echoed from nowhere. "Now you can go--" he pointed to the number sticker. "Two!" The driver laughed crazily as the bus's doors hissed shut.
The grumpy man took a seat across from Max and unfurled his newspaper. "At least it's not as bad as that waiter I have to put up with." he grumbled.
As the bus stopped every few blocks or so, Max watched in amazement at the assortment of passengers the bus picked up. There were some other blue men like the first passenger behind Max (one of whom spoke English punctuated with sound effects). A pointy headed green man with sleepy eyes sat and cuddled his girlfriend: a massive, dark blue monster wearing a necklace, brown, curly hair and a crooked pink bow. The man didn't seem to mind her thick unibrow or her pointed teeth. Another unibrow in the room belonged to a large, smug-looking rabbit in a super hero costume. The rabbit held a carrot and some celery as though they were trophies for all to admire. A group of hippies sat in another row. They were lead by something that looked vaguely like Kermit with thick orange hair that hung over his eyes. Four other redheads sat with them. They were all nearly identical. Each one had moptop hairstyles, bobbing antennas protruding from their heads, beady eyes and light grey suits with stovepipe pants. They chatted with British accents to a pair of twin cats with curly brown fur. A confused looking cowboy idly scratched his mustache as he sat not a seat, but in a saddle. His slightly exasperated horse had to turn around so the cowboy could pay the driver. For some reason Max couldn't figure out, he was sitting backwards in the saddle.
It went on this way for a few blocks until Max was crowded by riders of all colors, shapes, sizes and species. There were even things Max weren't sure fit into a species. The best example of this was a rider next to the blue balding man.
"So between Cookie, Mr. Music and Mr. Hemlock they couldn't guess who I was. Say, are you done with the Sports section?" The blue man handed it to the rider: a large, red, letter "X".
It was impossible to hear any one bit of conversation as the bus got fuller and fuller. As Max waited patiently, he heard a single word being repeated in the crowd: Kermit.
There it was again: Kermit...yes, someone definitely said 'Kermit'!
Max pricked up his ears and looked for the speaker. There! Between the lion chewing on a bunch of broccoli and the smartly dressed flamingo were three monsters.
"Excuse me...excuse me..." Max leaned forward to them. "Sir?"
A tall, grey monster with a high, peaked head turned around.
"Yeah?"
"Did you say 'Kermit?'"
"Yeah, I did--"
"You know him?" asked Max excitedly.
"Kermit's my name, but I know other Kermits!" the monster replied.
"Kermit the Frog?" asked Max, his hopes rising.
The grey monster made a face. "Kermit the Frog?" he shook his head. "My name is Kermit the Forg," he gestured to a second grey monster with a bullet-shaped body and a pink nose. "that over there is Kermit the Grof," he waved a floppy arm towards a turquoise monster with a nose like a pear. "an' that's Kermit the Gorf."
The turquoise monster spoke up. "Some people call me 'Maurice'."
A nearby bearded hippie made a scratchy 'wolf-whistle' sound effect on his guitar and laughed.
Just then Max noticed that each monster wore yellow t-shirts with their names printed on them.
"You guys know a 'Kermit the Frog'?" asked the tall, grey monster. The other two sratched their fuzzy heads.
"Nope."
"I don't know him personally," shrugged Maurice. "But I think his t-shirt'll be ready Thursday. Does that help?"
Max sighed and shook his head. As the monsters went back to their conversation, Max sat back and stared at the ceiling. Even among the din, Max felt sleepy. He had been driving for hours and it had taken a toll on him. Somehow, the chaos around him was soothing...the monsters chatted, the rabbit super hero sang while feeding the horse a carrot and the cowboy some celery, the moptop musicians sang a little with the cats and the letter 'X' cleared its throat. Throughout all this, the driver's hyper chuckle made itself present every few seconds. It was Max's own set of characters from Wonderland. Sleep finally overtook him as the bus stopped to pick up a grinning man in a loud suit and derby hat who eagerly sat between as many people as he could.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Psssshhhhh! The bus's brakes hissed to a gentle stop.
"Sesame Street! End of the line!" snickered the driver.
Max awoke groggily. As he pulled up the bill on his cap, he noticed the bus was empty except for himself and the driver.
Was this all a dream? Max thought. It was still dark outside. Condensation was on the windows, blurring everything in a single shade of grayish-navy blue. His joints were stiff. How long had he slept?
"End of the line! C'mon, pal! Let's go!" the driver grinned. The doors opened to reveal nothing but cold, bluish-black darkness.
"I'm at...Sesame Street?" Max repeated as he stood up on tired legs. There was nothing to see outside.
"That's right m'friend!"
"And I'll find...Kermit here?" Max asked aloud, more to himself than the driver. He made his way to the bus's exit. Ahead was a row of buildings too blurry to make out. It was a city block, all right, but something immediately didn't make sense. It didn't feel right to him. Still, the bus ride was a godsend compared to driving Frass around. Wherever he was, if this was Sesame Street, it was better than that rolling coffin with that rotten sausage smell.
As Max grasped the rail and walked gingerly down the steps, he remembered his manners.
"I appreciated the ride. Thank you."
"What's that?" the googly-eyed driver asked as he leaned forward.
"I said 'thank you'!" Max repeated.
"All right!" the driver said as he reached for something. In one swift movement, he stuck something horseshoe-shaped to Max's shirt. As he did, an odd "twang" came from thin air. The driver pointed to the letter 'U' on Max's chest.
"Thanks a lot, U!" The driver screamed uncontrollably with laughter. "You get it?" he yelled. "THANK U! Thank YOU!" The driver let out another howl and tossed a handful of confetti in the air. "THANK U!" A short, zippy, bouncy tune played, presumably from the same place as the twang.
Max hastily stepped backwards onto the pavement as the doors hissed shut. The bus drove away as the driver, still in hysterics, continued to throw confetti in the air. In a moment, the bus was gone and Max was left staring in silence at the spot where it had been.
Ka-clunk, ka-clunk!
Max turned around to see a vague, small shape jumping from trash can to trash can.
Just a cat...Max thought as the feline ran away with a newfound treat in its mouth.
It wasn't until the noise had stopped that Max realized how quiet it was in this part of the city...
...and dark.
...and deserted.
This couldn't be Sesame Street.
First of all, there was not a light to be seen anywhere. Only the crescent moon above provided the little light Max had to see the littered sidewalk. Crumpled papers, leaves and other small pieces of airborne garbage swirled around in the light wind.
As Max got closer to the main building in front of him, he saw that every window had been boarded up. A large, revolving door had been replaced by plywood and planks. Over the doorway's remains hung a curious bas relief sculpture. Max squinted at the shapes. They looked vaguely like limp arms covered in hair. The building's name, or what was left of it, was over the sculpture. Some of the letters had worn off (or fell off) years ago, leaving "F r y A ms" behind.
"I bet that driver took a wrong turn," Max thought aloud. "I must be lo-" he caught himself in time. He didn't want to finish that sentence after what happened on that highway with the yo-yo man.
"I'll just wait till it gets light, then I'll find a...gas station or something and get directions."
Max brushed away some leaves from the abandoned stoop, peeled the letter 'U' from his shirt and tossed it away as he sat down to wait for dawn.
The Westminster Chimes rang out from a distant clock tower. 6AM...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More to come.
Convincing John
Chapter 19
Max realized why the line was taking so long by the time he reached the front of it. The line was made up almost exclusively of men. Each one was trying to catch a glimpse of the cashier's window.
There were two men ahead of Max. The one at the front of the line just stood there, staring at the cashier. A sign above the window read "CASH OUT/CASINO CARDS PURCHASED HERE". Max then saw why the men were so eager to get in line and also why the line was so slow.
At the window was a woman. She was a black woman in her early thirties wearing a tight-fitting, cherry red dress that barely covered her Mae West figure. A massive mound of jet black teased hair encircled her cocoa-complexioned face. Deep, dark brown eyes winked at the men with long, curling, come hither eyelashes. Her shiny, magenta lips curled in a sultry smile as she talked to the man in front of her.
The voice did not match this woman at all. It was as if the woman were trying to talk seductively and whine through her nose at the same time. None of the men in line seemed to care as they gazed at her. Max watched as she talked to the man at the counter. Max could read the name "Sandra" printed on a name tag just inches from her cleavage.
"Well, hi there!" she squeaked. "You comin' back for another Casino Card, sweetie?"
"Humma..ma...uh huh..." the man was fishing through his pockets, furiously looking for money. All the while, he never took his eyes off the woman. He finally found some twenties wadded in his left pocket and handed them over.
"Thank you, you sweet, generous man!" she puckered her lips and lightly touched the man's chin with a long, red fingernail. She put the money in the cash register and printed out a card from another machine. As she slid the card towards him, she leaned forward. "You come back and you see me again," she tilted her head, curled her lips in a pout and made a 'sad puppy face'. "won't you?" she pleaded.
"Ahh...d..d...mahhm...yeah..." the man sputtered as he took the card.
"Okay, tell all your buddies to come see Saaaandra to get their Casino Cards!"
The man nodded, his eyes still glazed over and a dopey grin stretched across his face.
"Okay now, bye-bye cute stuff!" Sandra held up a hand and wriggled her long, painted fingernails at him.
The next man eagerly stepped up to the counter.
"Well, hi there!" Sandra squeaked. "You comin' back for another Casino Card, sweetie?"
The second man gaped like a goldfish, then searched for money in his pockets that wasn't there. In desperation, he pulled out his pocket knife and noisily scraped at his molars. Finally, he pried out all of his gold fillings. He winced, put the fillings on the counter and said "You accept theesh?"
Sandra's disgust was evident to Max. She hid her grimace well as she pulled a manila envelope from under the counter.
"Just...put 'em in there..." she struggled at the next word. "...sweetie." The man eagerly scooped his fillings in the envelope and handed them to her. Sandra took the envelope as if she were holding the tail of a dead mouse. After putting it in the cash register, she composed herself and her usual seductive expression was back.
"Now here's your card. Go have fun! You tell your friends to come see Saaaandra, OK?"
The man, now with a fresh card and several toothaches, gleefully left the line for the Blackjack table. Now it was Max's turn.
As Max stepped forward, he sniffed a lemony scent. Sandra made a face as she sprayed Lysol where the fillings had been. She put the can away and looked up.
"Well, hi there!" she repeated in her nasal, Mae-West-on-helium voice.
She's a broken record, thought Max.
"You comin' back for another Casino Card, sweetie?"
Max tried to compose himself as Sandra batted her eyelashes at him. As she did Max's eyes began to glaze over. At last he remembered the huge coin he had won earlier.
"N-no...I'm here to cash this in. I won it at the machine and I just want to see how much I got..." Max never took his eyes off her as he reached into his pocket and handed her the large gold coin.
Sandra took the coin and put it in another machine where similarly printed coins were kept and counted. When she did, a little ticket popped out. Sandra tore it off, read it and her jaw dropped in surprise.
"Do you know what you just did?" she asked incredulously.
Max shrugged. He had no idea.
"You just won five thousand dollars!" Sandra squealed.
"Wh--wha?" Max blinked.
"Oh my goodness! This is incredible! Congratulations!" She opened the cash register and beckoned Max closer with one long, red fingernail. "Come here, sweetie. Give me your hand."
Still in a daze, Max did as he was told. Sandra took his hand and turned it palm upwards. She then counted out the bills as she put them in his hand.
"There's one thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand...and FIVE thousand! You are one very lucky man!"
Max stood there, stunned. He ignored the dirty looks from the gamblers behind him as he turned away from the cashier's counter.
"Now hold on, wait a minute, sugar," said Sandra. "you wouldn't think about leaving just yet, would you?"
Max looked back at her, then at the sudden amount of wealth in his hand. "Uhhh..."
"Because when a man wins that kind of money, it's customary to treat a lady to a meal at the buffet." Sandra leaned forward, her ample bosom falling and rising with each hot breath Max felt on his face. Her plucked eyebrows raised seductively.
"You interested in treating a lady to dinner? I am simply," she tossed her hair a little and leaned a little closer. "famished."
"Uhmmum..mum..." Max felt his ears turn red.
"I thought so." Sandra leaned to a little microphone and pressed a button with her knuckle (so she wouldn't break a nail). "Oh Carl, I'm finishin' my shift now. Send Mewwwy up to Window 1, please."
Much to the chagrin of the gamblers in line, Sandra left the window and met Max, who was waiting away from the line. She suddenly held up her hands and put one to her cheek.
"Ooh! I forgot my purse!" she exclaimed. Sandra leaned forward and held up her finger to Max's face.
"Now you just wait here, sugar. I'll be--" she lightly tapped Max on the nose twice "right...back." Max watched her turn around. With a dreamy look in his eyes, he watched Sandra totter away on her stiletto heels and wiggle in all the right places.
As she disappeared around the corner, Max felt the money in his hand and snapped back to reality. He couldn't believe his luck! Five thousand dollars in his hand and a dinner date with one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen! He put the money in his wallet and sighed. Finally something was going his way! He couldn't quit his job, but he could save up...or pay off some student loans or...
That woman...
At last he had money to go out on dates! That's what he'd use it for! He was going to date this woman!
Max happily wrung his hands, feeling joy for the first time in ages. His heart soared! At last, things were going to be--
"MAX!"
Max's face fell like a sack of sugar.
Oh no. Not now! Why now? Max thought woefully.
Frass waddled up to Max. Max could see that Frass had a few more fresh red marks on his face. From the look of it, Frass never did get that Everclear he ordered.
"We're leavin'! It's past 5 already! We gotta hit the road. I suppose all your quarters are gone, huh?"
"W-Well..."
"I thought so," Frass huffed. "Spending your hard earned cash on the slot machines all night, I bet."
"Uhh..."
"Well, c'mon, Max! If we're gonna catch that frog, we gotta get goin'!"
Max looked pitifully towards the corner, hoping for Sandra to return. She didn't.
"Don't you need to cash your chips, sir?" Max asked, trying to stall for time.
The places where Frass's face weren't red blended to match the rest of it. His eyes didn't meet Max's.
"I don't...need to cash in." he muttered uncomfortably.
"Well, you could stay to eat..."
"No time. I wanna catch that frog!"
Frass's beady eyes squinted, reading Max's pleading expression.
"What are you lookin' like that for? You wanna gamble some more?" Frass nearly roared. "I'm not giving you any more money to play! Now get GOIN'!" Frass gave Max a shove towards the revolving door.
With one last pitiful glance, Max watched where Sandra had disappeared. His heart gave a jolt as he saw the edge of her red dress peeping from around the corner. Then they were gone.
A fuzzy, black and white image of Frass and Max played on a security monitor behind Sandra. She was just reapplying her lipstick. As she snapped her compact shut, a massive green monster trudged up to her.
"Heyyy, Sandra!" he bellowed in greeting. Carl liked Sandra. Thanks to her, casino card purchases (from the men anyway) had skyrocketed since she was hired. A lot of men lost games on purpose just so they could get in line again to buy another card from her.
"Hey Carl! I'm goin' home now."
"All right, just lemme look at the stats for your shift," Carl punched a button on the cash register and a long strip of paper rolled out. "Uh huh, looks good...someone lost ten grand at the Blackjack tables! Ha ha ha! No one's won anything yet...good good...ooh! We got fifteen more cars today! A Lincoln Town Car, very nice..." Carl's eyes then bulged at the last item on the list.
"Someone WON five thousand dollars?" he snapped. "How did THAT happen?"
"He got a jackpot coin from the slot machine." explained Sandra.
"And he CASHED IT IN?" Carl fumed. "He didn't get another Casino Card and spend it?"
Sandra raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, can't people cash in and just leave if they want to?"
"Yeah, but we ain't supposed to TELL 'EM!" Carl yelled.
"Look," Sandra scowled and poked Carl in the chest with a red fingernail. "that poor boy had next to nothin' when he came in here. I saw him."
"So?" snorted Carl. "That's what we do here! When someone comes in with next to nothin', we make sure they leave with absolutely nothin'! You don't let people leave here with MONEY!"
"Well I don't care what you think!" she slung her purse over her shoulder. "Now that I am done with my shift, I'm plannin' to go out that door with that man and have dinner!"
"You're going to do what?" asked Carl, leaning in as if he had trouble hearing.
"HAVE DINNER!" Sandra yelled.
"Don't mind if I do!" yelled Carl.
Sandra screamed in terror as Carl gripped her shoulders and stuffed her head into his gaping maw.
The men who hadn't left the line yet were now in shock. They booed Carl and yelled in protest as he continued to gobble up Sandra. Her nasal screams were now muffled by the booing and Carl's loud "MWAM MWAM MWAM"s as he ate.
A moment later, Carl, oblivious to the crowd's disapproval, wiped his mouth with his wrist and smacked his lips. He turned to the crowd, his belly bulging. Suddenly, his mouth opened wide.
"BLEEEEEHHHHHHRRRRP!" he belched. Two stiletto heels and a tube of lipstick flew out of his mouth. "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! Now if ya wanna buy more cards, just go to Window 2!" he pointed to the right and left the booth.
A goofy looking man in a horrible toupee popped up from behind the second desk. He smiled excitedly like an overactive infommercial host hired to peddle a product guaranteed not to work.
"HI everybody! It's ME, Todd Kapoodle! Don't forget, when you leave the casino, there's all kinds of GREAT deals to check out at Todd Kapoodle's Used Car Emporium!"
"Hey! That's the guy who sold me that crappy car!" someone yelled. "the flywheel was made outta Legos!"
"Yeah, mine too!" yelled someone else. "And the carburetor in mine was held together with Scotch tape!"
"The tires he sells are pre-flattened!"
"The bucket seats in his cars are nothin' but upside down ice cream buckets!"
"Get him!"
"BOO!"
The crowd's boos shifted from Carl to the salesman. They threw their drinks, Sandra's shoes and casino chips at him. A dirty ashtray bounced off his head, sprinkling cigarette butts in his toupee. Carl pointed and laughed as someone's Bloody Mary splattered all over the salesman's freshly ironed, light blue shirt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Max walked alongside Frass. It was still dark, but the early morning traffic was buzzing around the edge of the city. Frass watched a baker's truck, a semi carrying fruits and vegetables for a grocery store and bus after bus trundle along the perimeter of the parking lot.
Busses...
"Max, I got an idea."
Max's head, just downcast a moment ago, snapped to attention.
"We're gonna split up. Gimmie the keys." Max obediently surrendered them. "I'm gonna take the Maybach. You take the bus over there." He pointed with a fat finger towards the bus stop. We'll make it to that street quicker this way."
"Yes...yes sir."
"I just hope you got enough money for fare, cause I ain't givin' you no more."
"Yeah, I got some change," Max replied. Plus about five grand more, he thought.
"Good. We'll meet up there. Now get goin'!" Frass pointed again.
Max nodded, then walked across the parking lot to the cold, open bus stop with no bench. Meanwhile, Frass waddled to the Maybach, stuffed himself into the driver's seat and cranked up the heater a few minutes before taking off.
Max watched him go. It was obvious his boss didn't drive much. He nearly hit a car pulling out of the parking lot. He didn't use the turning signal at all and changed lanes back and forth without warning. Max winced as the Maybach weaved and finally merged with the rest of the sporadic traffic.
Max shivered as a sudden rush of cold wind whipped around him. There was no one else nearby. The closest person Max could see was someone crying her way to the parking lot. She had gambled her car away and was weeping miserably in the empty parking space. Every so often, someone would appear in the moonlight. It was some completely poor person sailing over the parking lot courtesy of the casino's ejection tube. At the right angle, the people who flew in front of the moon looked either like clumsy, broomless witches or a blooper from "E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial".
The mournful sobbing and occasional thumping of bodies against cars was depressing. Max remembered the money in his pocket. Should he give it to these poor people and help them out, or would they just go and gamble it away again?
Before he could think about it any longer, Max noticed lights from the other direction. Headlights. Max squinted and shielded his eyes as the bus pulled up to the curb.
The doors hissed open and Max saw an unusual bus driver. He was something like a cross between Harpo Marx and Marty Feldman with a lavender complexion. His googly eyes spun unsettlingly above a permanent Chesire Cat grin. A bus driver's cap sat lopsided on his fuzzy head.
"Hiya, friend!" he said in a chuckling voice. "Need a lift?"
Max did, but he was wary of the bus driver. Still, it was either ride the bus or stand out in the cold. So Max climbed aboard.
"Exact change, please!" said the driver, pointing to a sign. Fortunately, Max had the two dimes and a nickel. As he put them in the little box next to the driver's seat, the driver noticed someone else climbing aboard. Max took a seat as a blue-headed balding man wearing a three piece suit put a quarter in the box.
"Does this bus go to Sesame Street?" asked Max. The driver nodded excitedly.
"Oh good," said the blue headed man. "That's where I want to go, too."
"What's that?" asked the driver.
"I said," the blue man repeated. "that's where I want to go, too."
"All right!" the driver reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He stuck it directly to the blue man's suit as a strange "twang" echoed from nowhere. "Now you can go--" he pointed to the number sticker. "Two!" The driver laughed crazily as the bus's doors hissed shut.
The grumpy man took a seat across from Max and unfurled his newspaper. "At least it's not as bad as that waiter I have to put up with." he grumbled.
As the bus stopped every few blocks or so, Max watched in amazement at the assortment of passengers the bus picked up. There were some other blue men like the first passenger behind Max (one of whom spoke English punctuated with sound effects). A pointy headed green man with sleepy eyes sat and cuddled his girlfriend: a massive, dark blue monster wearing a necklace, brown, curly hair and a crooked pink bow. The man didn't seem to mind her thick unibrow or her pointed teeth. Another unibrow in the room belonged to a large, smug-looking rabbit in a super hero costume. The rabbit held a carrot and some celery as though they were trophies for all to admire. A group of hippies sat in another row. They were lead by something that looked vaguely like Kermit with thick orange hair that hung over his eyes. Four other redheads sat with them. They were all nearly identical. Each one had moptop hairstyles, bobbing antennas protruding from their heads, beady eyes and light grey suits with stovepipe pants. They chatted with British accents to a pair of twin cats with curly brown fur. A confused looking cowboy idly scratched his mustache as he sat not a seat, but in a saddle. His slightly exasperated horse had to turn around so the cowboy could pay the driver. For some reason Max couldn't figure out, he was sitting backwards in the saddle.
It went on this way for a few blocks until Max was crowded by riders of all colors, shapes, sizes and species. There were even things Max weren't sure fit into a species. The best example of this was a rider next to the blue balding man.
"So between Cookie, Mr. Music and Mr. Hemlock they couldn't guess who I was. Say, are you done with the Sports section?" The blue man handed it to the rider: a large, red, letter "X".
It was impossible to hear any one bit of conversation as the bus got fuller and fuller. As Max waited patiently, he heard a single word being repeated in the crowd: Kermit.
There it was again: Kermit...yes, someone definitely said 'Kermit'!
Max pricked up his ears and looked for the speaker. There! Between the lion chewing on a bunch of broccoli and the smartly dressed flamingo were three monsters.
"Excuse me...excuse me..." Max leaned forward to them. "Sir?"
A tall, grey monster with a high, peaked head turned around.
"Yeah?"
"Did you say 'Kermit?'"
"Yeah, I did--"
"You know him?" asked Max excitedly.
"Kermit's my name, but I know other Kermits!" the monster replied.
"Kermit the Frog?" asked Max, his hopes rising.
The grey monster made a face. "Kermit the Frog?" he shook his head. "My name is Kermit the Forg," he gestured to a second grey monster with a bullet-shaped body and a pink nose. "that over there is Kermit the Grof," he waved a floppy arm towards a turquoise monster with a nose like a pear. "an' that's Kermit the Gorf."
The turquoise monster spoke up. "Some people call me 'Maurice'."
A nearby bearded hippie made a scratchy 'wolf-whistle' sound effect on his guitar and laughed.
Just then Max noticed that each monster wore yellow t-shirts with their names printed on them.
"You guys know a 'Kermit the Frog'?" asked the tall, grey monster. The other two sratched their fuzzy heads.
"Nope."
"I don't know him personally," shrugged Maurice. "But I think his t-shirt'll be ready Thursday. Does that help?"
Max sighed and shook his head. As the monsters went back to their conversation, Max sat back and stared at the ceiling. Even among the din, Max felt sleepy. He had been driving for hours and it had taken a toll on him. Somehow, the chaos around him was soothing...the monsters chatted, the rabbit super hero sang while feeding the horse a carrot and the cowboy some celery, the moptop musicians sang a little with the cats and the letter 'X' cleared its throat. Throughout all this, the driver's hyper chuckle made itself present every few seconds. It was Max's own set of characters from Wonderland. Sleep finally overtook him as the bus stopped to pick up a grinning man in a loud suit and derby hat who eagerly sat between as many people as he could.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Psssshhhhh! The bus's brakes hissed to a gentle stop.
"Sesame Street! End of the line!" snickered the driver.
Max awoke groggily. As he pulled up the bill on his cap, he noticed the bus was empty except for himself and the driver.
Was this all a dream? Max thought. It was still dark outside. Condensation was on the windows, blurring everything in a single shade of grayish-navy blue. His joints were stiff. How long had he slept?
"End of the line! C'mon, pal! Let's go!" the driver grinned. The doors opened to reveal nothing but cold, bluish-black darkness.
"I'm at...Sesame Street?" Max repeated as he stood up on tired legs. There was nothing to see outside.
"That's right m'friend!"
"And I'll find...Kermit here?" Max asked aloud, more to himself than the driver. He made his way to the bus's exit. Ahead was a row of buildings too blurry to make out. It was a city block, all right, but something immediately didn't make sense. It didn't feel right to him. Still, the bus ride was a godsend compared to driving Frass around. Wherever he was, if this was Sesame Street, it was better than that rolling coffin with that rotten sausage smell.
As Max grasped the rail and walked gingerly down the steps, he remembered his manners.
"I appreciated the ride. Thank you."
"What's that?" the googly-eyed driver asked as he leaned forward.
"I said 'thank you'!" Max repeated.
"All right!" the driver said as he reached for something. In one swift movement, he stuck something horseshoe-shaped to Max's shirt. As he did, an odd "twang" came from thin air. The driver pointed to the letter 'U' on Max's chest.
"Thanks a lot, U!" The driver screamed uncontrollably with laughter. "You get it?" he yelled. "THANK U! Thank YOU!" The driver let out another howl and tossed a handful of confetti in the air. "THANK U!" A short, zippy, bouncy tune played, presumably from the same place as the twang.
Max hastily stepped backwards onto the pavement as the doors hissed shut. The bus drove away as the driver, still in hysterics, continued to throw confetti in the air. In a moment, the bus was gone and Max was left staring in silence at the spot where it had been.
Ka-clunk, ka-clunk!
Max turned around to see a vague, small shape jumping from trash can to trash can.
Just a cat...Max thought as the feline ran away with a newfound treat in its mouth.
It wasn't until the noise had stopped that Max realized how quiet it was in this part of the city...
...and dark.
...and deserted.
This couldn't be Sesame Street.
First of all, there was not a light to be seen anywhere. Only the crescent moon above provided the little light Max had to see the littered sidewalk. Crumpled papers, leaves and other small pieces of airborne garbage swirled around in the light wind.
As Max got closer to the main building in front of him, he saw that every window had been boarded up. A large, revolving door had been replaced by plywood and planks. Over the doorway's remains hung a curious bas relief sculpture. Max squinted at the shapes. They looked vaguely like limp arms covered in hair. The building's name, or what was left of it, was over the sculpture. Some of the letters had worn off (or fell off) years ago, leaving "F r y A ms" behind.
"I bet that driver took a wrong turn," Max thought aloud. "I must be lo-" he caught himself in time. He didn't want to finish that sentence after what happened on that highway with the yo-yo man.
"I'll just wait till it gets light, then I'll find a...gas station or something and get directions."
Max brushed away some leaves from the abandoned stoop, peeled the letter 'U' from his shirt and tossed it away as he sat down to wait for dawn.
The Westminster Chimes rang out from a distant clock tower. 6AM...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More to come.
Convincing John
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Max, you doomkof... Then again, we shouldn't blame him, he probably hasn't kept up with Sesame's renovations throughout the years. If he had, he'd know not to throw away that U and put it up to complete the Furry Arms Hotel's name. But at least he's on Sesame.
Was Sandra meant to be Jackie Reed? It worked quite well, though maybe Spamela could've been inserted into that role.
The highlight was the bus ride Max ended taking.
Bus Manifesto:
Harvey Kneeslapper, Driver
Mr. Fred Johnson
Simon the Sounds Man
Tony
LouLou
Captain Vegetable
Little Jerry and The Monotones
The Beetles
Chip Cat
Dip Cat
Forgetful Jones
Buster the Horse
Chicago the Lion
Placido Flamingo
Kermit the Forg, Gorf, and Grof
Alphabet Character: X, from What's My Part?
Absolutely loving this, especially how you're combining old school and current SST. Please post more.
Was Sandra meant to be Jackie Reed? It worked quite well, though maybe Spamela could've been inserted into that role.
The highlight was the bus ride Max ended taking.
Bus Manifesto:
Harvey Kneeslapper, Driver
Mr. Fred Johnson
Simon the Sounds Man
Tony
LouLou
Captain Vegetable
Little Jerry and The Monotones
The Beetles
Chip Cat
Dip Cat
Forgetful Jones
Buster the Horse
Chicago the Lion
Placido Flamingo
Kermit the Forg, Gorf, and Grof
Alphabet Character: X, from What's My Part?
Absolutely loving this, especially how you're combining old school and current SST. Please post more.
redBoobergurl
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I can't say much more than what Ed just said, loved the bus ride full of cameos, that much I know! Keep it coming!
Convincing John
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I didn't think of Spamela...hmmm...maybe she'll make a cameo yet. The woman in the casino is Jackee Harry from that show 227. I have a few of the episodes. For those who haven't seen (or don't remember) the show, here's a clip:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3H1w4MFBgM
I didn't think Max had kept up with Sesame's changes because his TV has worse reception than Oscar's. (lol). That's why he's so clueless about where he is right now. I still hear some people today saying "wait...they can see Snuffy now? When did that happen?"
I had a ball with this chapter and cameos are so much fun. There will be more story soon.
Convincing John
Convincing John
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New update (lots here, too!)
Oh, and the last guy who got on the bus in the last chapter was Mr. Between (the betweeniest guy you ever seen).
Chapter 20
Jingle jingle went the keys in Rowlf's paw.
Only Rowlf and Bob knew about the place. Maybe Kermit did too, but he never mentioned it. Rowlf had been awake for some time and since Hooper's wasn't open yet, he needed a place to do his morning musing. He wanted to play piano, but he didn't want to wake up Bob.
Instead, Rowlf quietly left Bob's apartment and descended the little stairway. Except for Bob, only Rowlf had a key to the old place...maybe except for Kermit.
Jingle jingle...
They were a pair of identical, simple keys, worn and plain, but Rowlf looked forward to using them. Twenty minutes was all he needed before the others would be awake. It had been so long for him...
He had to see the place again.
Not far from where the Happiness Hotel Bus was parked sat a large, yet nondescript storage building. Rowlf smiled. It hadn't changed. Many things did here, but this place never did.
Click click went the key in the lock.
The door opened and Rowlf turned on the light.
Lining the walls from floor to ceiling were thousands upon thousands of shelved videotapes. Each one was hand labeled and arranged by year. Every memorable moment that had ever happened on this street was recorded, carefully labeled and archived. It was an archiver's paradise...if they specialized in researching educational animation, songs about cooperation or wanted to write a thesis on the behavior of googly-eyed monsters.
Rowlf passed section after section he was unfamiliar with. He knew where he needed to go. He knew it was here. He knew it was.
Some of the tape's labels had familiar handwriting on it. A few were even by his own paws. Some things had been transferred to newer tapes as the old ones began to deteriorate.
Rowlf took special care to inform Bob about this project every few months. He wanted to keep updated. This place was his home too. He didn't want the memories and the history to die.
So much was here...some well remembered, some seen once then shelved, some completely forgotten by nearly everyone, some infamously remembered.
Rowlf chuckled as he read the spine of one tape: THE TELLY MONSTER--DEBUT. That was one he hadn't seen in a while. In fact no had seen it in a while...a long while.
There was one tape even Rowlf wasn't sure about. He read the spine: TEST SHOW--GORDON:--? No one knew who that guy was. No one would ever know, probably. It would always be a mystery.
No matter. Rowlf had found the tape he was looking for.
Good old Joe.
Many people were comfortable asking Rowlf for advice. But when Rowlf himself needed advice or just a pick-up, he often turned to Jeff or Joe. He loved those guys...
He missed those guys...
But he had the tapes and the music carefully preserved. That was what mattered.
Carefully, Rowlf pulled the master copy of the song he needed from the shelf. He had faith in what Kermit was trying to do for Mister Rogers...but he just needed reassuring.
Near the entrance of the room was a TV/VCR/DVD combo on a cart. Rowlf plugged it in and soon an image appeared on the screen. Gonzo called it a swarm of hyperactive raisins battling furiously in a vat of sour cream. Most folks called it "snow" or "static".
Rowlf put in the tape, not bothering to set the clock on the VCR. It flashed 12:00 as the TV image changed to black. Rowlf sat on the floor and gazed at the screen like he did when he was a puppy.
Light, soothing music started, accompanied by a kitten slowly climbing a set of stairs. He didn't mind the cat in the film. Normally he hated cats...but this one was all right.
"Trying...and trying again..." sang the voice.
It was a voice like no other. It was warm and reassuring. The words were sung confidently, gently and calm. It could only be Joe. No one else had that unique sound. If coming in from the snow and finding fresh butter cookies from the oven had a sound to associate with them, it would be the sound of Joe singing.
"Just keep on try--iiiinnnnng..." Joe's voice echoed pleasantly in the vast warehouse of tapes.
Rowlf needed this little moment. Here they were on a quest with, he had to admit, a questionable outcome. As much as he admired Kermit and believed in finding 'The Best Neighbor', he had his doubts.
Joe erased those doubts from Rowlf's mind with ease.
"So much try-iiiinnnnng...."
The little boy in the film finally caught the football and jumped with joy at his accomplishment. Rowlf smiled for him.
They would keep trying...they would find 'The Best Neighbor'. They just had to keep on trying, like Joe said.
"Thanks, Joe." said Rowlf quietly.
The tape ended and Rowlf carefully rewound it. As he put the tape away in its case, the "tv snow" returned onscreen. Rowlf hummed contentedly as he put the tape away. Rowlf turned around, full of confidence and security only a place like this could provide.
All at once, the light from the open doorway was extinguished by a large shape. Rowlf's confidence extinguished along with it. He froze as something massive and stinking of rotten sausages and gingivitis blocked the exit.
"Well, hello there, little doggie." sneered Edd Frass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit was out on an early morning walk. He needed some time to think. He had asked a lot of kids about the drawing. Unfortunately, none of them claimed the picture was theirs. Often, their parents were with them to verify it.
Despite his own unsuccessful attempts, Kermit liked talking with the kids. It was fun. You never really knew what they would say or do. They were all just beginning to know about the world and saw everything with fresh eyes.
He forgot how much he missed the kids now that he was at the theater. He came back now and then, but it was just too busy with the show each week.
Every once in a while, when the theater was in full chaos backstage, Kermit had a daydream. People wondered sometimes how Kermit could handle the stress caused by "a group of crazies". It was simple. While the others ran into various theatrical problems, quarreled with each other, blew things up and tried to perform under the constant boos from Statler and Waldorf, Kermit had a momentary daydream. It varied, but it usually involved himself sitting on top of a brick wall explaining what a square was or drawing a letter in the air with his finger. It was so simple, yet so fulfilling.
Scooter caught him once or twice doodling basic shapes on the theater schedule. That was nothing. Everybody doodles at work. However, the time Scooter saw Kermit idly writing an "M" in the air backstage took a little bit more creative explaining. Lucky for Kermit the "M" didn't actually appear there. It couldn't. That only worked on this street and nowhere else.
He loved the theater. He loved performing. But when things just got too much, Kermit wished he could leave the theater for a while. A vacation to him was here, giving a talk about the number 4 or explaining why things are the "same" and "different". It was the same type of therapy to him as a beach at sunset would be to a regular person.
Kermit walked on, past the tire swing, past the brownstone, past Oscar's can and Big Bird's nest. He turned the corner and the street he was on now was considerably darker. He had heard about this part of the street being built, but he was never here while everything was open and running.
It was all from a brief, but now forgotten time. There was a hotel, some kind of a dance studio...Kermit tried to remember what else. He glanced up at the buildings in front of him. They were all boarded up and deserted. Not even the street lights were lit yet.
Someone sat on the stairs. Kermit stopped. He didn't know who--
He did know who that was...
"Kermit?"
...
"Max."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....
"I've seen you before..." Frass stepped forward. "thanks to the internet and that...Too-Tube...or whatever it's called, I've seen you on there."
Oh no...thought Rowlf.
"Yeah," Frass nodded slowly. "I was lookin' for videos on Bugaboo's main rival company, Purina."
Rowlf stepped back as Frass took another step forward.
"And you know, I saw some of their commercials...and guess who I saw in those commercials?"
"Uhhh..."
"That's right, pooch. You. Now you may not know this, but the Bugaboo Dog Chow Company does not take kindly to rival brands. At our company, we may not use the freshest ingredients. We may not have health standards that are--hmph--'up to code'. We may not sanitize the equipment in the factory. But there is one thing our company is truly dedicated to--" Frass's tiny eyes gleamed maliciously as he slowly wrung his oily hands. He took another step forward. "--eliminating our competition, bit by bit. Purina may be a big company, but I can make sure you never make another commercial for them."
Rowlf took another step back. His shoulder was nearly touching the TV.
"I also found out that you work for that frog who's trying to wreck my plans to build a new factory. Thanks to that 'Too-Tube', I saw you playing the piano on there. Let me tell you something, mutt. You've played your last song, that's for sure. When that frog tries to find out where you went, I'll call the news and tell them you had an 'accident' and went to 'doggie heaven'." Frass reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out something that looked like a dead snake. It was a ratty, well-worn leash tied into a noose. Loose dog hair poked from the knot Frass had tied in it. "I've used this before with other little doggies who shill for other companies. I don't intend on stopping now."
"Wait! before I..." Rowlf looked at the noose and gulped. "--go, don't I get a...last request?" Rowlf pleaded.
Frass's beady eyes narrowed.
"What kinda request? Better not be any funny business, pooch."
"No, no! I just..." Rowlf thought fast and came up with a plan. An idea came to him as he noticed one of the tapes on the shelf. Aha! "C-can I watch my favorite little film from the collection first? It won't take long, I promise! It's just a little film about milk."
Frass took a heavy, silent breath.
"Fine. But just to make sure you don't try anything, I'm gonna sit here and watch it with you!"
Perfect! thought Rowlf. His voice, however, said: "O-okay, okay, it's right over here..."
Frass watched Rowlf's every move as he put the tape in the VCR. The film's countdown started. Rowlf sat down and appeared to watch the screen, but was merely staring at the TV knob. His ears tuned out the TV, replacing the sound with a symphony tuning up in his imagination.
I hope this works. thought Rowlf.
Frass, meanwhile, watched the screen. The film started out with a cat drinking milk out of a dish. Footage of kids drinking milk followed. All the while, light guitar music played and someone hummed in the background.
"Milk," a flat voice said. "Did you ever wonder...where it came from?"
The guitar played on as another kid poured a glass of milk.
"Do you ever wonder...where it comes from before the carton?" the voice asked.
Grainy footage of a dairy farm appeared as a cow walked by and mooed. The narrator continued in its monotone, almost robotic voice. Nearly every sentence it spoke paused awkwardly in the middle and was followed by a second awkward pause filled only by the guitar.
"Milk is made in the body of the cow. Most of the milk we drink is made by cows."
A second voice sang along with the melody, in complete contrast with the emotionless voice.
"Hey cow...I see you now..." it sang.
A cow mooed, but not a regular moo. It mooed halfheartedly, as if it were bored. It was more of a "Muhhh..." than a "moo".
"Up before the sunriiiise...birds by your siiiiide....watching the clouds pass byyyyy....." sang the second voice in an Art Garfunkel-type manner.
More cows appeared on film. Normally cows don't look enthusiastic, but these cows looked especially listless and tired. It was almost as if they could hear the lilting, lullaby-like music.
"Making the miiiiiillllk...." the singer crooned.
"Most...of the milk we drink...comes from cows..." the narrator's halting delivery interjected.
Rowlf stared directly at the TV knob, staring at its tiny ridges, watching how the way the light reflected off its edge. He let his eyes blur and his mind wander. In his imagination, he was playing at Carnegie Hall. Beethoven's 5th Symphony began in a full orchestra. The string section carried the strong melody as the kettledrums rumbled in the background. Rowlf imagined himself playing the piece and let his eyes go out of focus just a little. He pretended the TV knob was a glint of light from the brass section. Buh-buh-buh-bummm.....buh-buh-buh-bummmmm....played the symphony in his mind. He had to stay fully awake and concentrate. No bovine-related thoughts or tinkling guitar notes could enter the concert hall in his imagination. His paws flew over the keys, his eyes watched the notes as he played. He couldn't make a mistake.
"The cow makes milk for her baby...the calf," droned the narrator. "but she makes much more milk than her calf can drink."
Another long pause was filled by guitar and more grainy footage of stumbling cows.
Frass continued to watch. Barely a minute had passed and Frass felt like he had been standing there for an hour. It was one of the most boring things he had ever seen. Why would anyone select this to watch as a last request?
"So twice a day...on farms all over America...in the morning...and in the evening...is milking time."
In Rowlf's mind, a fluffy-haired conductor waved his baton wildly and gestured with his arms to each section in turn. The cymbals flashed, ready to collide: Crash! Crash! Moooo.
Moo?
Rowlf looked up and saw something out of place near the percussion section. One of the cymbal players was replaced by a farmer and a lethargic cow. The farmer milked the cow, oblivious to the orchestra around him. Rowlf watched the cow try to graze off the harp as the farmer squirted the milk into an old bucket. Rowlf's mouth threatened to yawn as an acoustic guitar's mellow notes wove their way into Carnegie Hall...
NO! Rowlf fought the vision and intruding sound. He had to concentrate! He had to focus! The cow and farmer metamorphosed back into the cymbal player. The milk bucket transformed back into the music stand. 'No cow, I DON'T see you now!' thought Rowlf determinently. The brass section drowned out the guitar with a powerful 'E-flat'.
As the footage showed a dairy farm, there was a yawn. Frass was getting both bored and tired with the film. It was like a fragmented C-SPAN lecture with elevator music. He let out a silent yawn, showing rows of tartar-stained, yellow ochre teeth.
"Hey cow, I see you now..."
The film had a strange effect on Frass. A sudden wave of drowsiness came over him. Cartons of milk slid by in a comforting, hypnotic way. The singer hummed on. Frass's eyes gradually went out of focus as his fatty head began to nod.
"Did you ever think how so many cartons...coming into so many stores...means...so many cows?"
So many cartons...so many cows...thought Frass sleepily. A line of cows stumbled by. They blurred out of focus. Some of them were in double vision.
"Hey cow...I see you now..."
Yeah cow, thought Frass sleepily. I see you now. I see lots of cows. Lots...of...cows...
"The cow gives milk...cartons and cartons of milk."
"Cartons and...cartons of...milk." Frass repeated in a half mumble. Sleepy warmth and boredom enveloped his body. He felt like he was wrapped in a thick but comfortable blanket.
"Most of the milk we drink...comes from cows."
Frass's eyelids drooped. They felt like they weighed 20 pounds each. His bones were deteriorating into jelly. He had to sleep. Cows appeared ahead of him...cows everywhere...cows...cows...cows...
"Hey cow...I see you now...hmmm...mmmm......"
Finally, Frass's arms and legs went slack. He just couldn't take it anymore. Heavy sleep overtook him as he stumbled backwards a few steps. He collapsed heavily to the pavement just outside the door. Frass was already in REM state by the time he hit the sidewalk.
The film faded to black. Inside Rowlf's mind, he let the orchestra vanish. Carnegie Hall vanished. He saw the TV knob clearly again and blinked. Rowlf chanced a glance behind him. There, just outside the door, Frass was sprawled out on the sidewalk in a gelatinous, stinking, snoring heap.
Rowlf rewound the tape and put it in its case. After shutting everything off, Rowlf locked up and left Frass there on the sidewalk. A dog with a hotter temper might have bitten Frass. A part of Rowlf did want to bite him, but immediately figured Frass would taste even worse than the dog food he made. Besides, this method was more effective.
"That oughta do it for a couple hours...if not more. I knew that clip'd be good for something someday." Even though he had a lot of time to spare, Rowlf hurried to find the others.
A grainy, slow dream lumbered through Frass's head like a powerful, relentless sedative. Hundreds of cows plodded on as cartons of milk slid along conveyor belts. Frass saw cows. He saw them now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first thing Kermit saw was Max's immediate expression of relief.
"I found you!" Max smiled. "I've finally found you!"
"Not for long, you haven't!" declared Kermit angrily. "We're gonna find 'The Best Neighbor' soon! My friends are looking right now and as soon as we find out who it is, we'll stop you! We'll stop you and Frass!" he yelled.
"I wanna stop him, too." Max said quietly. "I don't blame you one bit for being angry." Max watched Kermit's folded, scowling face.
"Do you have any idea what..." Kermit yelled, then stopped. Max just sat there and let him yell. Max's only response was silence etched on a face full of remorse. The smile was gone.
"Do..." Kermit tried to yell again.
"I know," Max said. "go ahead and yell. I'm used to it. Besides, I'll actually listen to what you have to say."
Kermit frowned, then tried to keep the frown. Finally, he just gave a dented soda can on the ground a look of concern.
"I'm sorry, all right?" Max didn't know what else to say. "I'm sorry. I want to help you out."
Kermit looked up at Max.
"You know what Frass is going to do, right?"
"I know exactly what he's going to do," Max stood. "that's why I need your help."
"I don't--" Kermit started. "I...don't want you to take this the wrong way or anything, but how do I know I can trust you now?"
"I don't work for Doc Hopper anymore. I quit for good after the last time I saw you in the ghost town."
Kermit shook his head. "I don't mean that, I mean..."
"I warned you about the frog killer Doc hired." Max reminded him.
"I know, but Max, listen, is Frass any better than Doc Hopper was? Sure, you're not in the frog legs business anymore, but do you know what you're doing?"
Max winced. "I know..."
"Why do you keep falling into the wrong crowd, Max?" asked Kermit. "Why do you keep working for these horrible people?"
Max sighed and rubbed an eyebrow with his finger. "It didn't used to be this bad. I was just a factory worker. After I quit working for Doc, I got this job. It was just like any other dog food factory for a while. Same ingredients and all that. It wasn't bad working there at first. I was just another regular Joe on the assembly line, y'know? Then when Frass bought it about two years ago, he started cutting corners with the health department, then staff wages, then the construction, then everything else, really. That's when he took the regular meat that was supposed to be in the dog food and replaced it with..."
"I saw." Kermit replied evenly. "Roaches."
"Well," Max continued. "what could I do? Frass heard I used to work for Doc and I guess they're old rivals or something. Each one tried to be the bigger businessman years ago. Frass kept me on board to try to 'get the dirt on Doc'. I didn't know much, but he knew I used to drive Doc around. That's why I'm here and..."
"But why didn't you quit?" asked Kermit.
"Not many jobs around that town," replied Max. "I was also--" Max put his fingers up to mimic quotation marks "--'promised' a raise from Frass. Well, that didn't happen and over the past year I've had to move twice and sell a lot of my stuff just to pay the rent."
Kermit sighed and suddenly had a brief mental image of Max outside a little apartment, piercing a hole in a washtub.
"I'm sick of Frass. I want to quit, but I can't find another job. I want to be able to eat again without thinking about roaches. The most fruit I get in my diet is if I buy Tropical Flavored Rolaids."
Kermit gulped.
"If I knew I'd find another job someplace else, yeah, I'd go in an instant! I just need to help save Mister Rogers' stuff first! He--I watched him years ago and..." Max sighed. "he was always something to look forward to at the end of the day. He came on in the afternoon. I even thought about writing him a letter once, just to say 'hi' and 'thanks', but now he's dead," Max sighed again. "I just want his stuff to be safe so other people can enjoy it. I just know that if I try anything, Frass'll destroy the warehouse anyway and I'll be on the streets and out of a job."
Kermit thought. He took in Max's dilemma, his own dilemma and came up with a solution, perhaps, for both.
"Max," Kermit looked him straight in the eye. "if I can find you another job, do you promise to help me and my friends out and never work for another person like Hopper or Frass again?"
Max gratefully extended his hand and smiled. "Kermit, you got a deal."
They shook.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More soon...very soon.
Convincing John
Oh, and the last guy who got on the bus in the last chapter was Mr. Between (the betweeniest guy you ever seen).
Chapter 20
Jingle jingle went the keys in Rowlf's paw.
Only Rowlf and Bob knew about the place. Maybe Kermit did too, but he never mentioned it. Rowlf had been awake for some time and since Hooper's wasn't open yet, he needed a place to do his morning musing. He wanted to play piano, but he didn't want to wake up Bob.
Instead, Rowlf quietly left Bob's apartment and descended the little stairway. Except for Bob, only Rowlf had a key to the old place...maybe except for Kermit.
Jingle jingle...
They were a pair of identical, simple keys, worn and plain, but Rowlf looked forward to using them. Twenty minutes was all he needed before the others would be awake. It had been so long for him...
He had to see the place again.
Not far from where the Happiness Hotel Bus was parked sat a large, yet nondescript storage building. Rowlf smiled. It hadn't changed. Many things did here, but this place never did.
Click click went the key in the lock.
The door opened and Rowlf turned on the light.
Lining the walls from floor to ceiling were thousands upon thousands of shelved videotapes. Each one was hand labeled and arranged by year. Every memorable moment that had ever happened on this street was recorded, carefully labeled and archived. It was an archiver's paradise...if they specialized in researching educational animation, songs about cooperation or wanted to write a thesis on the behavior of googly-eyed monsters.
Rowlf passed section after section he was unfamiliar with. He knew where he needed to go. He knew it was here. He knew it was.
Some of the tape's labels had familiar handwriting on it. A few were even by his own paws. Some things had been transferred to newer tapes as the old ones began to deteriorate.
Rowlf took special care to inform Bob about this project every few months. He wanted to keep updated. This place was his home too. He didn't want the memories and the history to die.
So much was here...some well remembered, some seen once then shelved, some completely forgotten by nearly everyone, some infamously remembered.
Rowlf chuckled as he read the spine of one tape: THE TELLY MONSTER--DEBUT. That was one he hadn't seen in a while. In fact no had seen it in a while...a long while.
There was one tape even Rowlf wasn't sure about. He read the spine: TEST SHOW--GORDON:--? No one knew who that guy was. No one would ever know, probably. It would always be a mystery.
No matter. Rowlf had found the tape he was looking for.
Good old Joe.
Many people were comfortable asking Rowlf for advice. But when Rowlf himself needed advice or just a pick-up, he often turned to Jeff or Joe. He loved those guys...
He missed those guys...
But he had the tapes and the music carefully preserved. That was what mattered.
Carefully, Rowlf pulled the master copy of the song he needed from the shelf. He had faith in what Kermit was trying to do for Mister Rogers...but he just needed reassuring.
Near the entrance of the room was a TV/VCR/DVD combo on a cart. Rowlf plugged it in and soon an image appeared on the screen. Gonzo called it a swarm of hyperactive raisins battling furiously in a vat of sour cream. Most folks called it "snow" or "static".
Rowlf put in the tape, not bothering to set the clock on the VCR. It flashed 12:00 as the TV image changed to black. Rowlf sat on the floor and gazed at the screen like he did when he was a puppy.
Light, soothing music started, accompanied by a kitten slowly climbing a set of stairs. He didn't mind the cat in the film. Normally he hated cats...but this one was all right.
"Trying...and trying again..." sang the voice.
It was a voice like no other. It was warm and reassuring. The words were sung confidently, gently and calm. It could only be Joe. No one else had that unique sound. If coming in from the snow and finding fresh butter cookies from the oven had a sound to associate with them, it would be the sound of Joe singing.
"Just keep on try--iiiinnnnng..." Joe's voice echoed pleasantly in the vast warehouse of tapes.
Rowlf needed this little moment. Here they were on a quest with, he had to admit, a questionable outcome. As much as he admired Kermit and believed in finding 'The Best Neighbor', he had his doubts.
Joe erased those doubts from Rowlf's mind with ease.
"So much try-iiiinnnnng...."
The little boy in the film finally caught the football and jumped with joy at his accomplishment. Rowlf smiled for him.
They would keep trying...they would find 'The Best Neighbor'. They just had to keep on trying, like Joe said.
"Thanks, Joe." said Rowlf quietly.
The tape ended and Rowlf carefully rewound it. As he put the tape away in its case, the "tv snow" returned onscreen. Rowlf hummed contentedly as he put the tape away. Rowlf turned around, full of confidence and security only a place like this could provide.
All at once, the light from the open doorway was extinguished by a large shape. Rowlf's confidence extinguished along with it. He froze as something massive and stinking of rotten sausages and gingivitis blocked the exit.
"Well, hello there, little doggie." sneered Edd Frass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kermit was out on an early morning walk. He needed some time to think. He had asked a lot of kids about the drawing. Unfortunately, none of them claimed the picture was theirs. Often, their parents were with them to verify it.
Despite his own unsuccessful attempts, Kermit liked talking with the kids. It was fun. You never really knew what they would say or do. They were all just beginning to know about the world and saw everything with fresh eyes.
He forgot how much he missed the kids now that he was at the theater. He came back now and then, but it was just too busy with the show each week.
Every once in a while, when the theater was in full chaos backstage, Kermit had a daydream. People wondered sometimes how Kermit could handle the stress caused by "a group of crazies". It was simple. While the others ran into various theatrical problems, quarreled with each other, blew things up and tried to perform under the constant boos from Statler and Waldorf, Kermit had a momentary daydream. It varied, but it usually involved himself sitting on top of a brick wall explaining what a square was or drawing a letter in the air with his finger. It was so simple, yet so fulfilling.
Scooter caught him once or twice doodling basic shapes on the theater schedule. That was nothing. Everybody doodles at work. However, the time Scooter saw Kermit idly writing an "M" in the air backstage took a little bit more creative explaining. Lucky for Kermit the "M" didn't actually appear there. It couldn't. That only worked on this street and nowhere else.
He loved the theater. He loved performing. But when things just got too much, Kermit wished he could leave the theater for a while. A vacation to him was here, giving a talk about the number 4 or explaining why things are the "same" and "different". It was the same type of therapy to him as a beach at sunset would be to a regular person.
Kermit walked on, past the tire swing, past the brownstone, past Oscar's can and Big Bird's nest. He turned the corner and the street he was on now was considerably darker. He had heard about this part of the street being built, but he was never here while everything was open and running.
It was all from a brief, but now forgotten time. There was a hotel, some kind of a dance studio...Kermit tried to remember what else. He glanced up at the buildings in front of him. They were all boarded up and deserted. Not even the street lights were lit yet.
Someone sat on the stairs. Kermit stopped. He didn't know who--
He did know who that was...
"Kermit?"
...
"Max."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....
"I've seen you before..." Frass stepped forward. "thanks to the internet and that...Too-Tube...or whatever it's called, I've seen you on there."
Oh no...thought Rowlf.
"Yeah," Frass nodded slowly. "I was lookin' for videos on Bugaboo's main rival company, Purina."
Rowlf stepped back as Frass took another step forward.
"And you know, I saw some of their commercials...and guess who I saw in those commercials?"
"Uhhh..."
"That's right, pooch. You. Now you may not know this, but the Bugaboo Dog Chow Company does not take kindly to rival brands. At our company, we may not use the freshest ingredients. We may not have health standards that are--hmph--'up to code'. We may not sanitize the equipment in the factory. But there is one thing our company is truly dedicated to--" Frass's tiny eyes gleamed maliciously as he slowly wrung his oily hands. He took another step forward. "--eliminating our competition, bit by bit. Purina may be a big company, but I can make sure you never make another commercial for them."
Rowlf took another step back. His shoulder was nearly touching the TV.
"I also found out that you work for that frog who's trying to wreck my plans to build a new factory. Thanks to that 'Too-Tube', I saw you playing the piano on there. Let me tell you something, mutt. You've played your last song, that's for sure. When that frog tries to find out where you went, I'll call the news and tell them you had an 'accident' and went to 'doggie heaven'." Frass reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out something that looked like a dead snake. It was a ratty, well-worn leash tied into a noose. Loose dog hair poked from the knot Frass had tied in it. "I've used this before with other little doggies who shill for other companies. I don't intend on stopping now."
"Wait! before I..." Rowlf looked at the noose and gulped. "--go, don't I get a...last request?" Rowlf pleaded.
Frass's beady eyes narrowed.
"What kinda request? Better not be any funny business, pooch."
"No, no! I just..." Rowlf thought fast and came up with a plan. An idea came to him as he noticed one of the tapes on the shelf. Aha! "C-can I watch my favorite little film from the collection first? It won't take long, I promise! It's just a little film about milk."
Frass took a heavy, silent breath.
"Fine. But just to make sure you don't try anything, I'm gonna sit here and watch it with you!"
Perfect! thought Rowlf. His voice, however, said: "O-okay, okay, it's right over here..."
Frass watched Rowlf's every move as he put the tape in the VCR. The film's countdown started. Rowlf sat down and appeared to watch the screen, but was merely staring at the TV knob. His ears tuned out the TV, replacing the sound with a symphony tuning up in his imagination.
I hope this works. thought Rowlf.
Frass, meanwhile, watched the screen. The film started out with a cat drinking milk out of a dish. Footage of kids drinking milk followed. All the while, light guitar music played and someone hummed in the background.
"Milk," a flat voice said. "Did you ever wonder...where it came from?"
The guitar played on as another kid poured a glass of milk.
"Do you ever wonder...where it comes from before the carton?" the voice asked.
Grainy footage of a dairy farm appeared as a cow walked by and mooed. The narrator continued in its monotone, almost robotic voice. Nearly every sentence it spoke paused awkwardly in the middle and was followed by a second awkward pause filled only by the guitar.
"Milk is made in the body of the cow. Most of the milk we drink is made by cows."
A second voice sang along with the melody, in complete contrast with the emotionless voice.
"Hey cow...I see you now..." it sang.
A cow mooed, but not a regular moo. It mooed halfheartedly, as if it were bored. It was more of a "Muhhh..." than a "moo".
"Up before the sunriiiise...birds by your siiiiide....watching the clouds pass byyyyy....." sang the second voice in an Art Garfunkel-type manner.
More cows appeared on film. Normally cows don't look enthusiastic, but these cows looked especially listless and tired. It was almost as if they could hear the lilting, lullaby-like music.
"Making the miiiiiillllk...." the singer crooned.
"Most...of the milk we drink...comes from cows..." the narrator's halting delivery interjected.
Rowlf stared directly at the TV knob, staring at its tiny ridges, watching how the way the light reflected off its edge. He let his eyes blur and his mind wander. In his imagination, he was playing at Carnegie Hall. Beethoven's 5th Symphony began in a full orchestra. The string section carried the strong melody as the kettledrums rumbled in the background. Rowlf imagined himself playing the piece and let his eyes go out of focus just a little. He pretended the TV knob was a glint of light from the brass section. Buh-buh-buh-bummm.....buh-buh-buh-bummmmm....played the symphony in his mind. He had to stay fully awake and concentrate. No bovine-related thoughts or tinkling guitar notes could enter the concert hall in his imagination. His paws flew over the keys, his eyes watched the notes as he played. He couldn't make a mistake.
"The cow makes milk for her baby...the calf," droned the narrator. "but she makes much more milk than her calf can drink."
Another long pause was filled by guitar and more grainy footage of stumbling cows.
Frass continued to watch. Barely a minute had passed and Frass felt like he had been standing there for an hour. It was one of the most boring things he had ever seen. Why would anyone select this to watch as a last request?
"So twice a day...on farms all over America...in the morning...and in the evening...is milking time."
In Rowlf's mind, a fluffy-haired conductor waved his baton wildly and gestured with his arms to each section in turn. The cymbals flashed, ready to collide: Crash! Crash! Moooo.
Moo?
Rowlf looked up and saw something out of place near the percussion section. One of the cymbal players was replaced by a farmer and a lethargic cow. The farmer milked the cow, oblivious to the orchestra around him. Rowlf watched the cow try to graze off the harp as the farmer squirted the milk into an old bucket. Rowlf's mouth threatened to yawn as an acoustic guitar's mellow notes wove their way into Carnegie Hall...
NO! Rowlf fought the vision and intruding sound. He had to concentrate! He had to focus! The cow and farmer metamorphosed back into the cymbal player. The milk bucket transformed back into the music stand. 'No cow, I DON'T see you now!' thought Rowlf determinently. The brass section drowned out the guitar with a powerful 'E-flat'.
As the footage showed a dairy farm, there was a yawn. Frass was getting both bored and tired with the film. It was like a fragmented C-SPAN lecture with elevator music. He let out a silent yawn, showing rows of tartar-stained, yellow ochre teeth.
"Hey cow, I see you now..."
The film had a strange effect on Frass. A sudden wave of drowsiness came over him. Cartons of milk slid by in a comforting, hypnotic way. The singer hummed on. Frass's eyes gradually went out of focus as his fatty head began to nod.
"Did you ever think how so many cartons...coming into so many stores...means...so many cows?"
So many cartons...so many cows...thought Frass sleepily. A line of cows stumbled by. They blurred out of focus. Some of them were in double vision.
"Hey cow...I see you now..."
Yeah cow, thought Frass sleepily. I see you now. I see lots of cows. Lots...of...cows...
"The cow gives milk...cartons and cartons of milk."
"Cartons and...cartons of...milk." Frass repeated in a half mumble. Sleepy warmth and boredom enveloped his body. He felt like he was wrapped in a thick but comfortable blanket.
"Most of the milk we drink...comes from cows."
Frass's eyelids drooped. They felt like they weighed 20 pounds each. His bones were deteriorating into jelly. He had to sleep. Cows appeared ahead of him...cows everywhere...cows...cows...cows...
"Hey cow...I see you now...hmmm...mmmm......"
Finally, Frass's arms and legs went slack. He just couldn't take it anymore. Heavy sleep overtook him as he stumbled backwards a few steps. He collapsed heavily to the pavement just outside the door. Frass was already in REM state by the time he hit the sidewalk.
The film faded to black. Inside Rowlf's mind, he let the orchestra vanish. Carnegie Hall vanished. He saw the TV knob clearly again and blinked. Rowlf chanced a glance behind him. There, just outside the door, Frass was sprawled out on the sidewalk in a gelatinous, stinking, snoring heap.
Rowlf rewound the tape and put it in its case. After shutting everything off, Rowlf locked up and left Frass there on the sidewalk. A dog with a hotter temper might have bitten Frass. A part of Rowlf did want to bite him, but immediately figured Frass would taste even worse than the dog food he made. Besides, this method was more effective.
"That oughta do it for a couple hours...if not more. I knew that clip'd be good for something someday." Even though he had a lot of time to spare, Rowlf hurried to find the others.
A grainy, slow dream lumbered through Frass's head like a powerful, relentless sedative. Hundreds of cows plodded on as cartons of milk slid along conveyor belts. Frass saw cows. He saw them now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first thing Kermit saw was Max's immediate expression of relief.
"I found you!" Max smiled. "I've finally found you!"
"Not for long, you haven't!" declared Kermit angrily. "We're gonna find 'The Best Neighbor' soon! My friends are looking right now and as soon as we find out who it is, we'll stop you! We'll stop you and Frass!" he yelled.
"I wanna stop him, too." Max said quietly. "I don't blame you one bit for being angry." Max watched Kermit's folded, scowling face.
"Do you have any idea what..." Kermit yelled, then stopped. Max just sat there and let him yell. Max's only response was silence etched on a face full of remorse. The smile was gone.
"Do..." Kermit tried to yell again.
"I know," Max said. "go ahead and yell. I'm used to it. Besides, I'll actually listen to what you have to say."
Kermit frowned, then tried to keep the frown. Finally, he just gave a dented soda can on the ground a look of concern.
"I'm sorry, all right?" Max didn't know what else to say. "I'm sorry. I want to help you out."
Kermit looked up at Max.
"You know what Frass is going to do, right?"
"I know exactly what he's going to do," Max stood. "that's why I need your help."
"I don't--" Kermit started. "I...don't want you to take this the wrong way or anything, but how do I know I can trust you now?"
"I don't work for Doc Hopper anymore. I quit for good after the last time I saw you in the ghost town."
Kermit shook his head. "I don't mean that, I mean..."
"I warned you about the frog killer Doc hired." Max reminded him.
"I know, but Max, listen, is Frass any better than Doc Hopper was? Sure, you're not in the frog legs business anymore, but do you know what you're doing?"
Max winced. "I know..."
"Why do you keep falling into the wrong crowd, Max?" asked Kermit. "Why do you keep working for these horrible people?"
Max sighed and rubbed an eyebrow with his finger. "It didn't used to be this bad. I was just a factory worker. After I quit working for Doc, I got this job. It was just like any other dog food factory for a while. Same ingredients and all that. It wasn't bad working there at first. I was just another regular Joe on the assembly line, y'know? Then when Frass bought it about two years ago, he started cutting corners with the health department, then staff wages, then the construction, then everything else, really. That's when he took the regular meat that was supposed to be in the dog food and replaced it with..."
"I saw." Kermit replied evenly. "Roaches."
"Well," Max continued. "what could I do? Frass heard I used to work for Doc and I guess they're old rivals or something. Each one tried to be the bigger businessman years ago. Frass kept me on board to try to 'get the dirt on Doc'. I didn't know much, but he knew I used to drive Doc around. That's why I'm here and..."
"But why didn't you quit?" asked Kermit.
"Not many jobs around that town," replied Max. "I was also--" Max put his fingers up to mimic quotation marks "--'promised' a raise from Frass. Well, that didn't happen and over the past year I've had to move twice and sell a lot of my stuff just to pay the rent."
Kermit sighed and suddenly had a brief mental image of Max outside a little apartment, piercing a hole in a washtub.
"I'm sick of Frass. I want to quit, but I can't find another job. I want to be able to eat again without thinking about roaches. The most fruit I get in my diet is if I buy Tropical Flavored Rolaids."
Kermit gulped.
"If I knew I'd find another job someplace else, yeah, I'd go in an instant! I just need to help save Mister Rogers' stuff first! He--I watched him years ago and..." Max sighed. "he was always something to look forward to at the end of the day. He came on in the afternoon. I even thought about writing him a letter once, just to say 'hi' and 'thanks', but now he's dead," Max sighed again. "I just want his stuff to be safe so other people can enjoy it. I just know that if I try anything, Frass'll destroy the warehouse anyway and I'll be on the streets and out of a job."
Kermit thought. He took in Max's dilemma, his own dilemma and came up with a solution, perhaps, for both.
"Max," Kermit looked him straight in the eye. "if I can find you another job, do you promise to help me and my friends out and never work for another person like Hopper or Frass again?"
Max gratefully extended his hand and smiled. "Kermit, you got a deal."
They shook.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More soon...very soon.
Convincing John
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Thoughts...
Mr. Between was on the bus? Where?
Jackee Harry, yeah, that's who I was thinking of/meant.
The archive hall... Is that meant to be the carriagehouse's bottom section, what used to be the doors with the 8 and No Parking stickers that Hiroshi rented from Oscar? If it is, now that Gina's vet office isn't there, that is an absolutely perfect spot to retain Sesame's taped history after these last 40 years.
Rowlf sitting down to watch a clip... Awww.
Hey cow, I'm looking at yooooou! No wonder Grover always had cows on the mind.
Methinks I see a Best Neighbor, but I won't say anything now as I've come to enjoy this.
Wonder what's happening back at our hometown during all of this.
*Traces M in the air.
Please post when you can.
Mr. Between was on the bus? Where?
Jackee Harry, yeah, that's who I was thinking of/meant.
The archive hall... Is that meant to be the carriagehouse's bottom section, what used to be the doors with the 8 and No Parking stickers that Hiroshi rented from Oscar? If it is, now that Gina's vet office isn't there, that is an absolutely perfect spot to retain Sesame's taped history after these last 40 years.
Rowlf sitting down to watch a clip... Awww.
Hey cow, I'm looking at yooooou! No wonder Grover always had cows on the mind.
Methinks I see a Best Neighbor, but I won't say anything now as I've come to enjoy this.
Wonder what's happening back at our hometown during all of this.
*Traces M in the air.
Please post when you can.
redBoobergurl
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Wow, lots going on here! Scary stuff with Rowlf and Frass, but I like how he put him to sleep with Hey Cow, too funny! And Max, you know deep down he's a good guy, at least we have to hope so!
Great stuff, more please!
Great stuff, more please!
Alpha Centauri
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Just got finished reading what you've written so far and I love it! Parts of this story had me LOL! Love the Moving right along song! Looking forward to the next update!
Convincing John
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Mr. Between just got on the bus right when Max was fading off to sleep:
Sleep finally overtook him as the bus stopped to pick up a grinning man in a loud suit and derby hat who eagerly sat between as many people as he could.
As for the archive hall (or whatever you want to call it), I didn't think about it being behind the doors in the arbor, though it does sound logical. In my mind's eye, Rowlf just walked past the laundromat, turned right and somewhere nearby was the building. Maybe a block away, not far. Those arbor doors could lead to the back entranceway of the archived tapes (maybe through a hallway?)
Ah yes, the search for the Best Neighbor continues. It won't be long until we return to Hensonville...or at least see what's going on.
More will be posted soonish.
Convincing John