Part Thirteen (II)
“Oh, great. They’re opening,” Rhonda muttered, dismayed as the revolving doors began turning, the crowd on the front steps filing inside. She tapped the aardvark on the elbow. “Crowd shots! Crowd shots! Maybe if Sunshine shows up we can get him to voiceover later…” Her older cameraman hefted his equipment and began filming the Frog Scouts, various Muppets and other people, and what seemed to be an endless daycare group of children as they all climbed up the broad steps and flowed into the Museum. Rhonda scrambled to one side as an eight-foot-tall yellow bird nearly stepped on her. “Hey! Watch it!” she yelled.
The bird paused, blinking curiously down at the rat. “Oh! Hello! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you way down there! –Careful, Snuffy, there’s a mouse on the stairs!”
Rhonda simply shook her head as the bird continued on with the preschoolers, followed by a loping, trunk-swinging, brown furry pachyderm. “Don’t worry, Bird! I see her! Haw haw haw.”
“Mouse, my Zumba-toned butt,” Rhonda growled, looking around in high-pitched anxiety. “Where the heck is he?”
At that moment, a cab scraped the curbside, and the Newsman burst out of the back seat, sprinting up the main entrance stairs toward Rhonda. “Sorry,” he said immediately. His hair was still damp, and his felt looked freshly scrubbed, and there was even more of an air of tension around him than he usually projected. Gina paid the cabbie and then took the stairs two at a time to join them. “Are they…are they open?” Newsie asked, looking at all the people pouring in.
“Give Captain Obvious here a cigar,” Rhonda snapped. “Where the heck have you been?” She then noticed Gina looking still more breathless and newly-cleaned than Newsie, and threw up her paws in frustration. “Never mind! I see where you’ve been! You shoulda taken the subway, it’s faster at this hour!” She poked the aardvark again. “Follow ‘em in, get some shots of everyone going up, then go with ‘em to the exhibit gallery on Three, okay? Just follow the crowd, and keep shooting.” Nodding, the aardvark moved slowly through the door with the rest of the visitors, balancing the camera awkwardly as the door revolved with him. Rhonda turned to the sloth, just now climbing the steps. “And look who else can’t move any faster! Come on, Tommy, you’re with us. Did you bring your question notes, Mr Professional?”
Newsie flushed angrily. “I –I know how to ask questions without notes, thank you!”
“News ta me,” Rhonda sighed. “Let’s get in there. Remember your press pass, at least?” Newsie tapped the laminated badge hanging in front of his tie, and Rhonda was marginally pleased to note he’d worn the bone-embroidered red tie she’d bought him yesterday, even if he had to pair it with his standard brown-plaid coat… At least his pants were a subdued red-brown which complemented the cranberry tie.
“I didn’t forget,” Newsie said. He checked his watch, brushing the new woven bracelet which he’d asked Gina to make for him. “We should get up to the gallery. The Museum director is going to formally open the exhibit hall in eight minutes.”
“Again, what would I do without you, Mr News Flash?” Rhonda said sourly.
“Cut him some slack, Rhonda,” Gina growled as they all hastened toward the front doors.
“Did you get that thing with your ma worked out?” Rhonda asked, dropping all sarcasm, giving her reporter a concerned glance.
Newsie shook his head, focused on hurrying in, and Gina responded softly, “We’ve been given a delay of sentence. Don’t know what happens next.”
Rhonda sighed. “I’m sorry. Look – just try to focus on this thing first, okay?”
Newsie shot her a glare. Didn’t he always act professionally, no matter how outrageous the circumstances? He couldn’t relax, even when he felt Gina touching his shoulder. “I love you,” she murmured to him.
“I love you,” he whispered in reply, and indicated the bracelet, deep green and blue threads interwoven and knotted with strands of his own and his beloved’s hair. “Thank you for this.”
“I don’t know if it’ll do any good,” Gina sighed. “I can’t feel whether it’s working or not anymore.” Despite her own doubts, she’d speedily crafted the bracelet a few minutes ago during the cab ride. She was touched that her Newsman now fully believed in its efficacy, even if she herself wasn’t sure it would protect him from his mother.
“It has to,” Newsie said, giving her a hopeful look.
“Hey, Newsman!”
They stopped, turning; Scott came walking up the steps, appearing somewhat unsure of his reception. “Hey…I hope you don’t still think I…”
Embarrassed, Newsie shook his head quickly. “Uh, no. No. I’m sorry for…for what I said. Er, and shoving you.”
“Don’t film this, you idiot,” Rhonda growled quietly at the clueless sloth.
Scott closed the distance between them, holding out a long hand. “So…we’re all good again?”
Relieved that the techie wasn’t holding his ridiculous behavior against him, Newsie gratefully shook hands. He fumbled in his pockets. “Er…we brought an extra pass…if…if you’d like to…”
“The exhibit sounds awesome,” Scott agreed, grinning. “Thanks!”
Newsie came up short, and looked at Gina, bewildered. Smiling, she held up his wallet, and pulled out two Museum tickets, handing one to Scott. Blushing again, Newsie nodded thanks at Gina, tucking his wallet safely into a coat pocket. Scott accepted the ticket, and clapped Newsie hard on the back, making the shorter Muppet choke. “Cool. Glad you two are all bolt-and-nut again. Go do your news thing, dude. I’ll hang out and look at the creepy critters,” Scott said, still grinning. Before Newsie could grasp the analogy, Gina gave him a gentle push toward the doors again.
“Hurry! Go be you. I love you.” She smiled at him, and Newsie, reassured, tossed her a smile in return before hustling with Rhonda through the nearest door.
A cluster of folks from the Muppet Theatre waited in front of one of the two busy ticket booths just past the information center with its impressively large globe. Newsie usually paused to admire the giant globe, which reminded him of the one in the lobby of the first newspaper he’d ever worked for, the Daily News, before he switched to broadcast journalism; he didn’t get the chance today. “Hey, man, where’s our free tickets?” Floyd called out as Newsie and Rhonda neared them.
Newsie’s gaze swept along the crowd of Muppets, relieved to see several people there who’d recovered at least enough from the flu to be present for the big event this morning. Dr Teeth and Zoot hung onto one another weakly, still seeming a little green around the hair but otherwise their usual selves.
“Floyd,” Kermit muttered, giving the bassist a disapproving frown before stepping up to the ticket booth. “Uh, I’ll cover the Scouts. That’s two, three, four…could you guys stop hopping for a second so I can count right?...seven, eight…geez…uh, fifteen children’s passes for the special exhibit, please.”
“Sixteen,” Robin whispered, indicating the snail, who looked as though he’d rather not be included in the group.
“Right, sixteen, sorry,” Kermit corrected. Piggy nudged him. “Oh, and two adults.”
“Yes sir…would that be for the Frog Vivarium, then?” the Museum clerk asked.
“Frog Vivarium? Er, no – the new Muppet exhibit opening today,” Kermit explained. As the clerk counted out the tickets for the group, the other Muppet Theatre performers looked hopefully, expectantly, or indignantly at the Newsman.
Newsie slumped, realizing there was no way the Museum would let him comp in that many people…and that he really didn’t have time to argue. Seeing the problem, Gina stepped in. “Go! I’ll handle this.” She smiled again as Newsie threw a kiss at her and broke into a run, flashing his press badge at the guard before heading upstairs, Rhonda leaping only a step behind. The sloth ambled along in their wake, though he stopped in front of the guard for almost a minute, slowly trying to locate his own press pass. Gina sighed, seeing the familiar flame of auburn hair bounce out of sight around the balcony to the left. Please let this go smoothly for him…he doesn’t need any MORE stress today, she thought, and pulled as much cash from her purse as she had, then went for her bank card. Good thing payday was yesterday…
The crowd had piled up in front of the cordoned-off special exhibits gallery just past the Hall of Amphibians and Reptiles in the southeast corner of the third floor. Rhonda’s anxiety lessened slightly at seeing the dependable aardvark filming; she nodded at Newsie, and he briskly smoothed down his hair and sports coat and stepped in front of the camera. “For KRAK Big Apple News, I’m the Newsman, here at the grand opening of the new Muppet Natural History exhibit…” he began immediately, digital footage rolling, and Rhonda blew out a breath. She ragged him a lot, but the Newsman really did know his job, and maybe the shoot today would be far better than what they’d had to deal with all week. She stood to one side, out of frame, watching in satisfaction.
“Hey! No touching!” a prissy voice exclaimed; Rhonda looked up as a solid man in a tight suit worked his way through the crowd and held up his hands. “Yes, yes, quiet down, I know we’re all very excited but the noise doesn’t get you in any faster, now does it?” He waited, his small nose in the air, until the assembled visitors, Muppets and humans and animals alike, all quieted expectantly. “See? It really does work. Now. The Museum is proud to present…oh blah, blah, blah, you know what this is, why do I bother? Go on in, then!” With a flourish which seemed more resigned than enthused, the Museum director unhooked the velvet ropes and tossed them aside, and the crowd surged into the gallery.
The Frog Scouts, by unspoken but clearly mutual agreement, swarmed around the massive posed skeleton of the Muppetasaurus Tex immediately, oohing and croaking, numerous pairs of bulbous eyes open wide as they stared up at the impressive giant among Muppasaurs. Melvin the snail sniffed audibly. “Big deaaal,” he complained. “The Velociiiimuppets could oouutruun that thiiing aaany daaay.”
“Look! Look! Prehistoric mice!” one of the rodent Frog Scouts squeaked, pointing at a realistic-looking display of a large, hollowed-out giant Muppafern crawling with posed, stuffed examples of Muppetodontus Rodentii.
“Wow, birds!” the tall yellow bird said, peering at a mounted, turkeylike Velocimuppet.
“They sure don’t look as friendly as you, Bird!” observed the brown pachyderm.
“Gee, I wonder what they’re fighting about?” the bird mused. “Maybe one of them wasn’t letting the other one play with her doll?”
The huge brown mammothesque creature blinked and swung his head back and forth. “I don’t see any dolls…maybe it was a food fight?”
“Maybe,” the bird agreed, poking his beak down at the mounted plants, rocks, and tiny lizards posed terrified in between the two fossil monsters captured mid-snarl at one another. Puzzled, the yellow bird looked back at his friend. “But then where’s the food? I don’t see any birdseed!”
“Many of these rare examples of prehistoric Muppet creatures have never been seen by the public before,” the Newsman said, roving freely once the sloth had caught up and pinned a battery-powered mic to his tie. Rhonda paced the camerasloth, occasionally pointing out the rapturous children or note-taking grad student types around the room for the aardvark to focus on or for Newsie to approach. Seeing Kermit standing with Piggy, examining a stuffed Paleolithic creature, the Newsman stepped closer to them. “Even celebrities can’t resist the appeal of such a scientifically significant event! Tell me, Mr and Mrs the Frog: what do you think so far?”
Piggy straightened up, instantly focused on the camera instead of Newsie, smiling charmingly, but Kermit nodded at him. “Hello, Newsman. Well, so far, I’d say…it’s…it’s interesting. Very, uh, interesting.” The frog looked back at the display he’d been viewing, an adorably tiny rabbit with pink fur, frazzled ears, large hind feet, and the biggest eyes he’d ever seen. It looked, Kermit reflected, like Bean Bunny’s even cuter ancestor. He checked the plaque at the foot of the glass case: Muppalepus Snarlodontus, it said.
“What about you, Miss Piggy? What most intrigues you about this historic collection?” Newsie asked.
Piggy struggled to say something enthusiastic. “Well of course, moi is not an expert in this subject, ha ha, however…I think the big thing over there is the largest monster I’ve ever seen!” She nodded back at the M. Tex, and Newsie agreed with a nod.
“This exhibition of prehistoric Muppets doesn’t focus merely on old bones and strange, weird creatures,” he continued for the camera, walking to the glass case enclosing the wrinkled, dried-up mummy. “Also on display for the first time anywhere, here is the famous Muppeti Quidquid, a member of the race believed to be the possible precursor of all Whatnots!” He lingered only a moment on the drawn-tight, seemingly disapproving grey features of the mummy, too unnerved by its resemblance to his mother. “And over here, I see some young children enjoying the exhibit! Excuse me, little girl…”
Gina was too pleased at watching her Newsie interact with the group of preschoolers to notice when an unwelcome, mop-headed tabloid reporter snuck past the guard at the entrance to the gallery, vaguely waving a laminated cereal box-top he’d glued his photo onto in lieu of the press pass his bosses were too cheap to pay for. Fleet Scribbler gazed around a moment, sizing up the likelihood of juicy stories in the room. He saw Gina and that tall blond guy both here, though they weren’t anywhere near each other at present; then he saw the way Gina was fondly gazing at the nerdy yellow reporter yapping at some kid. Drat…so they’ve made up. Wish I’d been there to photograph the blowup at the theatre. He was still smarting at having missed the very public scene he’d heard about between the two, as well as having arrived at the Muppet Theatre too late last night to get clear shots of any of the green fur flu victims. He had, however, written a particularly biting piece about the unsanitary conditions at that theatre having contributed to the fast spread of the bacteria. Then he saw Miss Piggy chatting with some small green froglets near the biggest Muppasaur ever. SHE’S here! How? Why? His heart beating a fast tango, Scribbler eased around the edge of the room, trying to get a clear view of the pig without her seeing him in return.
The Amazing Mumford noticed someone in a better hat than his, poufy white but with strands of greenish fur decorating it. “Pardon me,” he said, easing up beside the bemused Muppet. “Where did you get that fabulous hat? Can you pull rabbits out of that?”
“Oh, nubber doonen der booncy-booncy,” the Chef said modestly, gesturing negatively with one hand. He held up a struggling turkey in his other meaty grip. “Doons der torkey-borkey!”
“Get me outta here,” the turkey begged the magician. “You can pull me outta yer hat all you want, buddy! Please!”
Dr Van Neuter bounced through, beaming, greeting everyone benevolently. “Hel-lo! Welcome! Oh, isn’t this wonderful, Mulch? All these people turned out! See? I told you we should’ve put out a table with cocktail weenies and punch!” Mulch grunted noncommittally, eyeing the public with wary suspicion. Van Neuter spotted a huge brown creature gently swaying from side to side as it listened to one of the Museum employees explaining to a cluster of children the vegetable diet of a pair of M. Bovinosaurii with broad-spreading horns and heavy jaws. “Ohmygosh! Ohmygosh! Mulch! Do you see that? Incredible!” The scientist swung around to glare a moment at his assistant. “And you said studying Cryptomuppetology was a waste of time! What do you call that, then? A living, breathing specimen of the previously-only-rumored Muppet Furry Mammoth!”
“Rungah owfh muhnunnuh,” Mulch opined, less than impressed.
Van Neuter was on the verge of snapping back when he noticed someone else. He perked even more, charging past the mummy to grab the hand of a startled Bunsen Honeydew. “Dr Honeydew! What an unexpected pleasure! I had no idea you were interested in Muppet paleontology!”
“Oh! Hello again, Dr Van Neuter! Beaker, remember, we met at that festival in Los Angeles a few years back?” Bunsen turned to Beaker as Van Neuter kept happily pumping his arm. Beaker meeped a greeting, looking curiously at Mulch. Mulch glowered back, the whole overblown feel of the event making him moody. “Well, it certainly is an impressive collection, Dr Van Neuter –“
“Oh, please! We’re colleagues! Phil,” the vet beamed, forgetting to relinquish Bunsen’s hand.
“Oh, of course! Well, Phil, actually, wonderful though this is, Beaker and I are here to conduct the final phase of an experiment in parapsychological antiterrorism,” Honeydew explained, gesturing to the enormous gun Beaker held.
“How did you get that past security?” Van Neuter wondered.
Bunsen began snickering. “Oh, we told them it was a…sstt, sstt, sst…a pressure washer, and that we were here to assist you in cleaning off more Muppasaur specimens!” They all looked back toward the entrance, where a guard was watching hawkishly; Sam the Eagle whispered something in the guard’s ear, and they both glared at the scientists.
“Oh, it’s all right, they’re with me!” Van Neuter called amiably. He frowned at Bunsen, puzzled. “Antiterrorism? Do you think…” His voice hushed. “Do you think we’re targeted by one of those extremist groups – like that awful Muppet Show Purity Group, or…or…” He gulped, “The Tea Party Antieducational Committee?”
Honeydew looked startled. “Goodness me! I should hope not!”
“Mee!” Beaker agreed, worried.
“Our mission today,” Bunsen explained, “is to fend off or even destroy a truly dangerous Muppet ghost which has been haunting the Newsman there! Our data indicates there is a good possibility the offending spectre will show up today!”
Beaker meeped a comment, but then wavered a little. He put a hand on Mulch’s shoulder to steady himself, and the blue hunchback looked askance at him; Beaker quickly jerked away, intimidated by the hulking Muppet. “You two aren’t coming down with the flu, are you?” Van Neuter asked eagerly. “Because if you are, I would love to get some bacteria samples for my lab!”
“Meep!”
“No, no. We’ve both been inoculated. You can’t be too careful,” Honeydew said, smiling. “No…I apologize for my assistant’s weakness. We were up all night completely rebuilding this model after our previous one was, er, damaged by someone who didn’t share our enthusiasm for paranormal studies…”
Beaker shot a glare at Bunsen. What did he mean, we were up all night? Beaker had done all the work while Bunsen snored on his cot!
“Oh my goodness!” Van Neuter gasped, looking away, and hurriedly patted Bunsen’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Bunnie – we’ll catch up later! I simply must take care of something first!” Bunsen and Beaker stared in surprise as the tall scientist bounded over to the Great Gonzo, Camilla, and a few more chickens who’d tagged along out of curiosity, all examining the Velocimuppet skeletons engaged in a frozen fight with the M. Tex. “Look, Mulch! Birds! Birds! Oh, oh, where did I put that DNA solution…” Excitedly Van Neuter rummaged in his voluminous lab coat.
“Awwfuggah moom frungah,” Mulch snorted.
“How could I have left it in another coat? I only have the one, after somebody let the goat eat the dry-cleaning!” Van Neuter hissed, triumphantly pulling out a large syringe. “Ah-ha!”
Beaker gave Bunsen a knowing look, then started silently laughing, his head bobbing up and down. “Meep munnie?” he repeated.
Honeydew blushed. “There…there was an open bar in L.A… I…er, may have gone out after you fell asleep…” Suddenly he clutched Beaker’s arm. “Beaker! Fire it up!”
Newsie had relaxed somewhat, constantly stealing glances at Gina, who strolled along out of camera range as he moved from display to display to ad-lib about the impressiveness of this Muppasaur or that ancient, untranslated text. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. Rhonda nodded and pointed and signaled to both cameramuppets, getting as many excited crowd reaction shots and well-angled views of both the Newsman and the people he interviewed as she could, riding on a natural high of controlled tension. Now this was what she liked about the job: directing the action, and the Newsman by now was responsive to her gestures, instinctively switching topics and subjects in front of the camera fairly smoothly. We might make a star anchor outta Goldie yet, she thought, pleased. Then she considered putting an earpiece on him to feed him news stories while he was on-air, and grimaced. Not a chance. He’d flub it all. Well…field reporter is where the best action is, anyway. After all, a few more sleekly-done reports like this, and maybe they’d be assigned something more challenging and high-profile, like environmental protests or the juicily outraged mob sure to gather at the courthouse for the upcoming Suggs trial. She wished they could’ve filmed last night at the Muppet Theatre; Newsie really needed to get a little more chaos coverage under his belt…assuming he wore belts…
“A-LOYsius! You disobedient boy!”
Newsie swung around, startled; before he could respond, an enormous brown furry elephant with no ears lumbered up to Mrs Crimp. “Uh, actually, it’s pronounced Al-o-ish-us,” the pachyderm told her, looking embarrassed. “But, awww, all my friends call me Snuffy!”
Everyone stared at the large Muppet. Silence fell around the entire room, punctuated only briefly by a woman’s alto voice raised in indignation: “—So, like, you know, maybe Jell-o, but I would never wrestle in pudding!”
Mrs Crimp snorted at the earless mammoth, and he shuffled back, abashed. She pointed a sharp finger at the Newsman. “Look at you! You’ve dragged the name of Crimp through enough filth now, Aloysius! I see you brought her along, and you’re not even ashamed of it! Why, you practically reek of –of – dirtiness!”
“I showered!” Newsie protested. Gina immediately joined him, and they held onto one another defiantly. “Mother, leave! No one invited you!”
“Don’t see why not,” Floyd murmured. “All these dead things, she fits right in!”
“I was thinking she’s got more in common with dose things,” Rizzo muttered back, indicating the sharp-beaked, viciously-toothed Velocimuppets.
“No way, dude. That’s an insult to the toothy things,” Scott told him.
“I have had more than enough of your shameful, disobedient –“
“He doesn’t have to obey you any more!” Gina shouted. “He’s a grown Muppet, and you’re a pushy old—“
Simultaneously, Newsie yelled, “I won’t let you bully me any more, Mother! You—you lied to me! Gina never cheated on me!”
Scribbler, hidden behind the mummy case, scribbled hastily on a notepad. Maybe he could get a decent scandal for the Scandal today after all…
Mrs Crimp scrunched her entire grey face, eyes blazing fiercely behind tiny spectacles. “I can’t believe you, Aloysius! You call me a liar, when every day you’re pretending to be moral and upstanding, and all the time you’re living in disgusting sin with that immoral—“
“Meeeep!” Beaker shrieked, loosing the vastly widened spectrum and vastly increased power of the Muppet Labs Disint-o-ghoster 4000 at the revenant advancing on the Newsman. The startled ghost vanished, reappearing a few feet away; the dancing plasma beam instead bathed one of the M. Bovinocorpus completely…and it lowed, shifting off its platform, looking around confused at all the other creatures in its suddenly unfamiliar surroundings.
“Oh dear! That’s not supposed to happen!” Bunsen said, startled.
A number of things which weren’t supposed to happen did in quick succession after that, all of them bad.
“Not the freaks again! My son surrounds himself with social rejects!” Mrs Crimp sneered, dodging again as Beaker tried a second shot, his arms almost completely wrapped around the fat barrel of the anti-Muppaspectre gun, barely keeping it aimed roughly in the ghost’s direction. The beams spattered over the Muppetasaurus Tex, then the two groupings of Velocimuppets, when Mrs Crimp popped out of the path of the sweeping rays.
Kermit grabbed Piggy’s shoulder and ducked with her. “Bunsen! What the hey!”
“Oh, oh! Careful, Beakie! I think we may have amped up the frequency of the Tobin waves just a teensy bit too much!” Honeydew called, ducking himself when the ray shot right over him.
“Attacking a defenseless old lady! How dare you!” Mrs Crimp howled, dodging yet again; Beaker staggered, the gun heating up so dangerously he was having difficulty even gripping it.
“Defenseless!” Gina said, astounded.
Scribbler dove away from the glass case safely enclosing the mummy as a wild shot cracked the surface of it. “Hey! Press! Noncombatant!” he yelped.
“You!” Gina cried, spotting the hack.
The mummy case creaked and crunched and shattered into a thousand bits. The grey, shriveled thing within stood up, throwing off its fur wraps, tattered cerements of linen waving from its upstretched arms as it bellowed its anger to the ceiling, the echo thrumming all through this gallery and the ones beyond. “Frungah mogla Mookie-mookie! Ungawaaahhhh!” it shouted.
Some of the preschoolers began to cry. Their teachers tried to comfort them, huddled in a corner away from the still-shooting plasma beams while Beaker, squealing in terror, was yanked this way and that by the growing force of the Disint-o-ghoster, its reverse-Paramuppet power core overheating.
“Now this is out of hand!” Mumford exclaimed, producing his wand. “A lá—“
“Froonguh amagugguh poohawah!” the abruptly-undead shaman Mookie-mookie shouted at the same time, shoving the two carved googly-eyeballs into its hollow eyesockets. A wave of force shunted out of the jade eyeball, slamming into Mumford; he screamed, propelled backwards, out of the exhibit hall and into the nearest elevator. Its doors slammed shut and it promptly dropped to the basement and locked itself there. As everyone stared, unable to react to it all at once, the shaman waved his hands in elaborate gestures, chanting, “Mooga-shaka! Mooga-shaka! Mooga-mooga-mooga-shaka!”
As if entranced, Animal and MahnaMahna began shuffling toward the undead shaman, taking up the chant in rough voices: “Mooga-shaka…mooga-shaka…”
Gonzo whispered to Camilla, “This way, sweetie – while no one’s looking at us chickens!” She bawked a quiet assent, but before they had crawled very far, Camilla and then each of the other three in turn squawked in pain one by one. Gonzo looked at them all, bewildered. “What? What is it?”
“Birds! Oh, how fortunate!” Van Neuter cried, waving his now-empty syringe, completely oblivious to the growing chaos in the gallery; Mulch, on the other hand, began backing slowly away from the central display, staring up at the stirring M. Tex. Even if his boss was too focused on his pet experiment to act wisely, Mulch knew this was bad things. This was very bad things…
“Are you getting all this?” Rhonda asked Tommy and the aardvark. They nodded, awed, staring up at the moving Muppasaurs instead of the Newsman. Rhonda whipped out her cell and hit speed-dial. “Hey! Hey Murray? I need a truck out at the Museum right away! There’s a big story happening right now! –No, no, I mean you need to send it like yesterday! Before there’s nobody left to report it—eeek!” She dodged as Beaker tumbled past, shrieking in panic, frantically and vainly trying to extricate himself from the buckled-down safety grip of the Disint-o-ghoster as it dragged him across the room like a rodeo rider entangled in the reins of a bronco, still firing randomly at everything.
“Get out of here, Newsie! This isn’t safe!” Gina yelled, trying to push her brave journalist toward the exit, but he planted his shoes firmly.
“A good reporter stays with the story!” he shouted back over the eerie, shrieking calls of the Velocimuppets; they seemed to be seeking one another, starting to band together. His research for this report came back to him, and he shuddered, and shoved Gina in return. “You get out! If those things are alive – Just get out, please! I’ll –I’ll be right behind you!”
And then the enormous Muppetasaurus Tex reared up – no one had realized it preferred hunting on its hind legs – roared so loud everyone in the room who could clapped their hands over their ears, and in one swift, frightening move, it lunged forward, curled its neck down, and swallowed a screaming Fleet Scribbler whole.
Then all heck broke loose.
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