Fic: Muppets from Earth

Slackbot

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Yeah, here we go again! I hope you enjoy the first installment of...

Muppets from Earth
Part 1: The Sandwich Whisperer
By Kim McFarland

*****

It was not a dark and stormy night. For the past few weeks the weather had been very fair, which was convenient for late-night Jacuzzi parties.

It was, in fact, late morning in the time zone in which the Muppets' boarding house was situated. The place was always lively, but now there was an added element of anticipation, as the renovations to the theater were almost complete. Soon the Muppets would be able to put on their shows again. Everyone had been making plans, preparing new acts, and generally driving each other crazy. It was a glorious time.

Very few Gonzo groupies still hung around because there had been no further communication with his alien brethren after they left Earth. The "R U THERE" messages had disappeared as mysteriously as they had appeared, leading some to speculate that they had never been real.

Kermit was reading just such an article over a late breakfast and shaking his head. The Muppets had engineered an elaborate hoax, so the writer claimed, in order to drum up publicity for their soon-to-be-reopened theater. "If we had the money to pull off something like that, would we be fixing up an old vaudeville house?" he said to himself.

"Sure we would," replied Fozzie.

Kermit looked up. Fozzie said, "Where else would we do the show? The theater's like home."

Kermit nodded thoughtfully. Fozzie was right. Even though the repairs required to bring it up to code were intimidatingly expensive, nobody had even considered moving the show elsewhere.

Kermit's train of thought was derailed by a muffled explosion from the kitchen. Flour and edible shrapnel sprayed through the door into the dining room. Rats shouted in excitement and immediately began gathering up the windfall. One slipped on a piece of banana peel and skidded, whooping, across the room.

"And this home is like a theater," Kermit told Fozzie.

"Hey, that's a good one! Can I use it?" asked the bear.

"Sure, go ahead," Kermit said as Fozzie scribbled on a paper napkin. He thought that it was a good thing they had rats; the perpetually-hungry creatures cleaned up a lot of the Swedish Chef's messes. Well, the larger bits, anyway. All attempts to interest them in sweeping or mopping up had failed dismally.

Gonzo, dressed in blue jeans and a button-down shirt with a dice pattern, came down the stairway. He glanced down at the floury floor, speckled with tiny footprints and skid marks, then continued into the kitchen as if this was nothing unusual. Which, to tell the truth, it wasn't.

Soon he came back out with a sandwich. Kermit folded the paper to hide the hoax article. Gonzo was aware of the controversy, but there was no need to bring any more attention to it than it deserved, which, in Kermit's opinion, was none. He asked, "Got any plans for the new show?"

Gonzo took a seat at the table. "Not yet. You know me, I'll come up with something cool. My mind's just been on other things lately."

"Yeah," Kermit said, nodding. After meeting his alien family, Gonzo had rebounded from his depression, and the first thing he had done was get back together with his girlfriend Camilla. Kermit would be willing to bet that that had done him more good than any amount of therapy could have.

Gonzo leaned his head in one hand and said thoughtfully, "It's been a while since I tried a motorcycle stunt."

Kermit replied, "It's been a while since anybody would insure your motorcycle stunts."

"Art should be dangerous," Gonzo said calmly. He thought a bit more, but nothing original came to mind. Usually he had more ideas than he knew what to do with, which was a good thing, because Kermit vetoed most of them. "Huh, I must really be out of practice. I've got stuntman's block."

"Isn't that usually a brick wall?"

Gonzo grinned at Kermit. Fozzie turned his napkin over and wrote. Someone said, "Hey, how ya doing?"

All three looked around. Gonzo had heard that voice before, but he couldn't place where. Was it one of the rats? He peered under the table.

"I'm up here. On your plate."

Gonzo looked at his sandwich. The conglomeration of wheat bread, baloney, peach slices, and chili powder said, "Sorry I haven't been in touch, but we can only send to the satellite every so often, when things are clear enough."

Unnerved, Fozzie said, "Uh, Gonzo, why is your sandwich talking?"

"This is how my people contacted me before. Remember, when they told me to meet them at Cape Doom that night," Gonzo said. "Kermit, Fozzie, this is..." He looked at the sandwich, "Er, I didn't catch your name."

"Call me Brian," the sandwich replied.

"Brian?" Gonzo repeated, surprised.

"Hey, we can't all have cool names."

"Sorry. This is Brian," Gonzo continued. "Brian, these are Kermit the Frog and Fozzie Bear, two of my best friends."

"Hi, pleased to meet'cha."

"Wow," Fozzie said. "You really come from outer space?"

"Sure do. Of course, we originally came from a planet, but that was a long time ago."

Gonzo asked, "What was our home world like?"

"Oh, it was a rough neighborhood. It was full of huge monsters—you'd call 'em dragons—that liked to snack on us when they weren't stepping on us."

"Whoa," Gonzo said.

"Yeah. We evolved brains and thumbs as fast as we could, invented space travel, and got out of there."

"I'll bet. What planet was it?"

After a pause the sandwich said, "We don't know. That was so long ago we lost track."

Aghast, Gonzo asked, "How can you lose track of a whole planet?"

"When you're in space it's like losing track of one grain of sand in a beach. Besides, this was millions and millions of zotons ago. Who knows if we'd even recognize it if we found it again? Just like in the old song."

"What old song?"

"You know, the one you used to call us back."

Gonzo glanced around, and noticed that the conversation had acquired an audience beside Kermit and Fozzie. People of various species were watching from the stairway, and even the rats had stopped in mid-plunder. One had snuck under the table to see if Gonzo was controlling the sandwich from below. Self-consciously Gonzo said, "Er, I don't know what you mean."

"You know, 'This looks familiar, vaguely familiar...I'm going to go back there someday.' It's an old ballad about trying to find our home world. When we first visited this planet—when we lost you, Gonzo—we were setting a satellite in orbit so we could keep an eye on things without scaring the natives. Since then that satellite has been picking up bits and pieces of broadcasts and saving whatever looked interesting. We got the data back whenever we were in the neighborhood. Last time we got close enough, we heard one of our own songs! That was when we knew that you were still alive, so we came back to get you."

"Whoa," Gonzo breathed. He never remembered learning that song; he'd somehow always known it. It must have been part of the childhood he didn't remember.

"Listen, I've got to get off the line so we can get the rest of the data from the satellite. We'll be lined up again tomorrow, so how about we continue this then?"

"Okay. Oh, one thing—You haven't been leaving messages anywhere, like, say, using fridge magnets, have you?"

"Nope. Why?"

"Oh, nothing." Gonzo had suspected that the request for 'a party with lots of hot space womens, okay' spelled out fifteen inches above the floor had not been a long-distance message.

"Okay. Talk to you later."

The sandwich stopped speaking. Gonzo waited for a moment, then said, "You still there?" When it did not respond, he picked it up and began to eat it.

Fozzie said, "You're eating that?"

"Sure. It's my lunch."

"But it was just talking to you!"

Gonzo explained, "Not really. Brian was just talking through it. Like a walkie-talkie, but edible."

"O-kay," Fozzie said.

Several hens had been among the spectators. Now, seeing that the show was over, one came up to Gonzo and clucked at him. Concerned, he said, "She is?" The chicken nodded and clucked some more. "Okay," he said, and left the table.

The kitchen looked like the inside of a blender. Brightly colored, fruity-smelling masses were scattered around, and loops of bread dough festooned the walls and ceiling. The Swedish Chef was still working on his pöpøvër recipe. It looked as though he had been using gunpowder instead of baking soda in the pastry. But he was working from inspiration, creating and taking risks. Gonzo respected that.

"Gör din näsa skådåd?" the Chef inquired.

"No thanks, I'm good," Gonzo answered.

The Chef shrugged and went back to chopping up a grapefruit. Gonzo found a clean bowl and added a packet of dry oatmeal and some milk. He put that in the microwave for a minute, then stirred it up. He carried it out of the kitchen, picked up his sandwich—disappointing several rats, who had been warily approaching it, alert for signs of life—and went up the stairs.

*

He went up to the balcony where the chickens roosted. All but one had gone downstairs to eat. Gonzo set the oatmeal in front of Camilla and said, "You not feeling well, baby?"

She nodded and clucked listlessly at him, then pecked hungrily at the oatmeal. Her eyes looked tired and her wattles were pale. He sat in the next nest over and gently stroked her rumpled feathers. While she had her breakfast he ate his sandwich one-handedly. When she was done she clucked her thanks. He asked, "Now, what's wrong?"

She replied. He said, "You've laid lots of eggs."

She shook her head and squawked emphatically. Then she stood. There, in the nest below her, was a very large egg. Carefully Gonzo picked it up. It was heavy in his hands; he would guess it was twice the size of the eggs she normally laid. "Wow, no wonder you don't feel so good. Are you sure you laid this?" At her indignant squawk he quickly said, "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. That must have been rough. I'll bet it's a double-yolker."

She tilted her head and clucked inquisitively. She had heard of such things, but none of the eggs she and her fellow chickens had provided for the others' breakfasts over the years had had two yolks.

He said, "Sure, I can candle it. Give me a minute." Carefully he placed the egg back in her nest, and she sat back down on it.

Gonzo went to his room and found a medium-sized box. It had a small circular hole in the top, and inside was a flashlight. He flicked it on to make sure the batteries were still good. He took this setup—which he had not used for years now; it had been a long time since any of the hens had needed an egg candled—to the balcony. Once there, he set the flashlight on its end and turned it on so it shone upward. Then he put the box over it so the light was only visible through the hole. He set the egg gently on top of the hole, making it seem to glow like a light bulb.

They both peered at the egg. Gonzo searched for the shadows of two yolks, but they weren't as distinct as he expected. Thinking that one must be behind the other, he turned the egg. The mass in the center was one single yolk, much larger than it should have been. It took up more than half of the space within the shell. And there was a dark spot on one side.

Camilla and Gonzo both stared in surprise. Then she clucked urgently and stood up. Carefully he picked the egg up in both hands and put it back in her nest. Camilla settled down on it again and fluffed her feathers. Gonzo sat beside her again and put his arm around her, not daring to speak.

*****

All characters are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. This story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
 

Lil0Vampy

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O.O Oh mai. Is that...? Did Camilla...? Is Gonzo gonna be a...?

<3 Fabu as always.
 

Slackbot

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Good question. Can whatevers and chickens breed? As long as Gonzo's species remains unknown, who knows? Maybe Camilla's kept up her acquaintance with the Christmas turkey.
 

Gelfling Girl

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...Wow...O.O Just wow...Can't wait to see the next part. (By the way, I can't remember if I replied to that thread, but I loved "Being Blue")
 

Dearth

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"Gonzo had suspected that the request for 'a party with lots of hot space womens, okay' spelled out fifteen inches above the floor had not been a long-distance message."

LOL, loved that part.

Dearth
 

Slackbot

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Yo yo yo! You get five points if you can guess which part of this story actually happened to me.

*****

Muppets from Earth
Part 2: A Bunch of Bull
By Kim McFarland

*****

Gonzo and Camilla has both just received a shock. The egg Camilla had laid—which was so big that Gonzo had at first thought it was a double-yolker—looked like a live one. They had seen a small, distinct shadow on one side of the yolk. Sometimes hens laid eggs with small spots that never amounted to anything, Gonzo knew. He looked down at Camilla, who was in the nest next to him. It was not a complex issue for her. She had laid what she believed to be a viable egg, so she brooded it.

Life wasn't complicated for chickens, Gonzo thought as he stroked her feathers. He would never say that out loud, as it would sound like a slur, but it was true. This simplicity was one of their virtues, in his opinion. Women were baffling, but hens were easy to understand. You knew where you stood with a chicken.

The other chickens eventually returned to the balcony that served as their coop. Seeing Gonzo and Camilla sitting together quietly, his arm around her, one of the hens clucked inquisitively to Camilla. She replied quietly, but with unmistakable pride in her voice. Then the other hen burst into an excited gabble. It had been years since any of them had hatched an egg due to the dearth of roosters in the area. One started to make a sly remark to Gonzo, but a sharp squawk from Camilla cut her off. She stood up, and the other hens peered at the egg, remarking on its size.

Look at her, Gonzo thought. Camilla was so happy. Smug, even. She was going to be disappointed when this egg didn't hatch. It couldn't, he knew. If it were possible for them to have children it would have happened long ago. There was no point in telling her that now, though. In a few days he would candle it again, and they would see the evidence. For now, let her be happy.

"You feeling better, Camilla?" he said softly.

"Uh-huh," she answered. She still looked tired, but her spirits were much higher.

**

Later that day Rizzo the Rat went into the room he shared with Gonzo. Gonzo glanced over from the lower hammock. Rizzo said, "What's up? You're not moping again, are ya?"

"Nah. I'm just thinking."

"It never hurts to try something new." Gonzo smiled; he knew the rat was only teasing. "Anyway, ya wanna get your tail downstairs? We got a bull session, remember?"

"Okay." Gonzo rolled out of the hammock and landed on his feet.

The two went down the stairs. Everyone had gathered in and around the living room. The sofa and all the chairs were covered with Muppets of every kind. People sat on the stairs as if they were bleachers. When the improvised seating ran out, they sat on the floor. Everyone was chattering indiscriminately with everyone else. The back of the sofa was occupied by a line of hens. Camilla was not among them, Gonzo noted. One of them called to him and scooted over to make room. He climbed up the back of the couch and said, "Thanks, girls."

Kermit sat on a chair in one corner, where he could see almost everyone else. Although he had called this meeting to discuss the upcoming show, he had no written agenda and had brought nothing to write on. Tonight's session was for brainstorming. He judged that everyone was here who was going to be, and said, "All right, all right, settle down."

After several successively-louder tries the chatter died down, except for one voice, which continued above the others: "And then, like, my father saw that picture I posed for… oh."

After Janice trailed off Kermit said, "In a few weeks we'll be back in the theater. All the structural damage has been repaired and the building's been reinforced, so it ought to last at least another ten years, even with the kind of punishment we dish out."

Rizzo spoke up. "You figuring Crazy Harry, Gonzo, and Animal in that estimate?"

"Of course," the frog replied.

Bunsen said from the hallway, "I have perfected a formula that will increase the structural strength of any substance a thousandfold. If painted on the walls, it will be as effective as inch-thick steel plating."

Simultaneously intrigued and worried, Kermit said, "You have? Say, where's Beaker?"

"He's downstairs," Bunsen replied. "He spilled some of it on himself. He'll be out and about again once I perfect the solvent."

Kermit pictured a stiff-as-a-board Beaker leaning against the wall of the basement lab. Well, it wouldn't be the worst he had suffered in the name of science. "Uh, okay. Right now let's talk about acts. What can we do that we haven't done before?"

Sam the Eagle spoke up immediately. "Despite my best efforts, we have continually failed to bring to the masses the cultural enlightenment that I know we are capable of. Some of us, at least," he added, glowering around the room. "What better way to begin this next chapter of our history than with an introduction to the best that the American culture has to offer?"

"Because we can't afford to give out burgers and fries," Floyd replied, to general laughter.

"Must you long-haired freaks ridicule all that is pure and good in this nation?" Sam demanded.

"Show us some and we'll do our best." More laughter.

Kermit said, "Sam, we'll see if we can work something in."

"We could begin the show with the Pledge of Allegiance," the eagle declared.

Everyone else groaned. Kermit, after a pause, said, "Yeah... we could." Under what circumstances that might happen he could not imagine, but it wasn't impossible, technically speaking.

Miss Piggy said, "Really, Kermie, we should be more concerned with the core of the show. What people come to our show to see. The stars."

Grateful that someone beside him had brought the discussion back on topic, Kermit said, "I have been giving some thought to guest stars-"

"Oh, them too," Piggy said curtly. "Moi was considering performing Mein Herr."

"Yeah, that'd slide right past the censors," Clifford remarked.

Kermit knew the song, and it was a bit racy for their show, but perhaps she already had something in mind for that. And, who knows, it just might work. She had good instincts when it came to her own acts. "Not bad, Piggy. Let's see where that idea goes."

The doorbell rang. A ragged cheer went up from the assemblage. Animal made a rush for the door, knocking over various Muppets on his way, then was jerked off his feet when he reached the end of his chain. Kermit opened the door. A nervous-looking delivery person was standing well back. Even if he had not seen her earlier, Kermit would have known she had been here before. People quickly learned to be cautious because they never knew what would answer the door. He paid for the pizzas from the collection they had taken up earlier—which was nearly all one dollar bills—and he and Fozzie carried the boxes to the dining room and set them, open, on the table. People grabbed slices and went back into the living room to continue the discussion.

Gonzo claimed a piece of pizza and a few chili peppers, but instead of returning to the living room he went back upstairs.

He went to the balcony. All the other hens were in the meeting, leaving Camilla by herself. She looked better now. She tilted her head and clucked a question. He said, "Nah, it's okay. I don't have anything to say anyhow." He separated the crust from his pizza and offered it to her. She clucked thanks and began nipping at the delicacy. As long as they had chickens, they would never have leftover pizza crusts, he reflected as he watched her.

When she had finished Gonzo said, "Want some more?" She shook her head and made a soft, contented sound, then leaned against him and closed her eyes. He put his arms around her and thought, She looks so happy. I wish I knew what to hope for.

*****

All characters are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. This story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
 

Slackbot

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Whew. Nobody made any guesses, so I don't have to make any confessions about the job I held for two years in college.

If anyone's puzzled about candling chicken eggs , here's a good reference: http://shilala.homestead.com/candling.html

And now...

*****

Muppets from Earth
Part 3: Lunch Break
*****

Gonzo assembled the egg candler on the chickens' balcony while Camilla and the other hens watched eagerly. It had been a week since Camilla had laid her egg, which, surprisingly, was a singleton. Usually hens laid eggs in clutches of eight to a dozen. Considering the size of the egg she had laid and how hard it had been on her, it was a good thing there had been no more.

He had been putting this off. Camilla had been so excited when the first candling showed a spot in the middle of her egg. Gonzo had had his doubts, however. He did not believe that he and Camilla could produce a child, but he would not argue the point with her. He couldn't bring himself to spoil her happiness. He knew that chickens routinely raised chicks, but he hadn't realized how much joy they took in that. She was going to be so disappointed, he thought. He hoped he would be able to comfort her.

Camilla watched from a chair that had been pulled up by the candler so she would have a good view. He placed a box with a hole in the top over a lit flashlight, then carefully lifted the egg out of its nest with both hands. He set it on top of the hole so the light could illuminate it.

From the side, the interior of the egg showed faint, indistinct shadows. The audience of hens peered at it from their boxes, making soft grumbling noises because they could not see anything clearly. It was morning, with the sun slanting into the balcony, and there was no way to darken the balcony and allow them to see more detail. Gonzo, looking at it from above, paused, eyes wide. Then he cupped his hands around the egg as if to gather the light.

Camilla fluttered her wings and craned her neck forward, clucking a worried interrogative. Gonzo looked up at her with a stunned expression. He tilted his hands so she could see the egg clearly. The dark spot was larger now, and was surrounded by what looked like a spiderweb. She gazed at it for a time, making soft sounds under her breath. Then she fluttered back to her nest and, standing up, clucked urgently.

Unable to speak, Gonzo lifted the egg off the box and placed it back under her. She settled comfortably down on it and rubbed the side of her beak affectionately against his nose. Neither paid attention to the excited murmuring of the other hens.

*

Several hours later Gonzo went downstairs again. It was the middle of the lunch rush, which meant that the kitchen looked like a combat zone, especially when people skirmished over the last of the lunchmeat. Gonzo made his usual 'hunter's sandwich,' which was filled with whatever he could hunt up, with peppers on the side. Strangely enough, there was not as much competition for the peppers.

Kermit the Frog happened to be in the kitchen at the time, and saw Gonzo make his lunch silently, not meeting anyone's eyes. Uh-oh. He'd seen this before. When Gonzo started to go into the dining room Kermit said, "Gonzo."

Gonzo looked up, startled. "Huh?"

Kermit nodded at the other door. "Want to eat outside with me?"

"Okay."

They carried their lunches outside, into the back yard. They passed by the Jacuzzi, which was occupied by an assortment of pigs, penguins, and whatever Clifford was. A boom box thumped out bass lines that likely registered on nearby seismographs. The sound was attenuated enough at the far end of the back yard to allow for normal conversation.

They sat on a bench. Kermit had made himself a salad, and had brought a small plate with a dollop of honey for dessert. He didn't want the honey so much as the insects it attracted. Some people got squeamish about that; Gonzo didn't seem to notice.

There was nobody else nearby, and the music would cover their conversation, should anyone wander over. Kermit asked, "How's Camilla?"

"She's fine," Gonzo replied in a bland voice.

"I wondered why I hadn't seen her lately. At least, I don't think I have." Kermit could not tell the chickens apart. Few people could.

Gonzo shrugged. "She's okay."

"It's just that, well, you seem… preoccupied lately. You haven't even come up with any new ways to risk maiming yourself on stage. That's not like you."

"We're fine," Gonzo said firmly.

"Okay," Kermit said. He began eating his salad quietly.

Gonzo picked up his sandwich, then stopped. After a few moments he said, "There is something..."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kermit asked.

"Yeah, I guess so." He put the sandwich down again. "Camilla laid an egg last week. A live one. I candled it. We're going to have a baby."

Kermit stopped eating and looked at Gonzo in surprise. Gonzo said, "Yeah. I don't know what to think. I mean, I never thought it was possible. She's a chicken, and I'm not even a bird." He shook his head. "If it was gonna happen, it should've happened years ago."

Kermit managed to say, "Sounds like one of those one-in-a-million things."

"A million, nah. Probably thousands, but who counts?" He forced a laugh.

Trying not to think too much about that, Kermit asked, "How does Camilla feel about it?"

"She's fine. She's happy. Really happy. 'Happy as a hen on a nest' isn't a saying, but it ought to be. All the others hens are jealous and trying not to show it. When she wants to take a break, they all want to egg-sit for her." He looked away. "I didn't know she wanted chicks. She never said…"

"How about you?"

Gonzo sighed. "I don't know. I mean, I really don't know what to think about it. What do I know about kids? I can't even remember most of my own childhood. What kind of father will I be?" His voice caught.

Kermit put an arm around Gonzo's shoulders and waited for him to pull himself together. After a bit he continued, "I just don't know what to do. But… I know I don't want that egg not to hatch."

Kermit nodded. "Yeah," he said softly.

Gonzo looked back at Kermit. "Please, don't spread this around. People are gonna find out soon enough, but I need to think about things first. And I don't want anyone to pester Camilla."

"Sure thing," Kermit said softly. "Anytime you need someone to talk to."

"Thanks." He hugged Kermit briefly.

Kermit finished his salad. Gonzo said nothing else, content just to sit with his friend. He watched without flinching as Kermit ate the bugs that had been attracted by the honey. Then Kermit said, "I gotta go back in and get with Piggy on an act she's planning. You coming in?"

"Nah, I'll stay out here a little longer."

"Okay. See you." Kermit picked up his plates and headed back for the house. Gonzo realized that he had forgotten to eat his own lunch. He was about to pick the sandwich up when it spoke. "Hey, it's me."

"Oh. Hi, Brian," Gonzo said, only mildly surprised.

"Listen, I overheard what you were talking about. I didn't realize it was private until it was too late. Sorry. Anyway, congratulations. Don't worry, you'll be fine once you get the hang of it."

"Thanks. But I don't know anything about raising kids. I don't even know what babies of our kind eat!"

The sandwich assured him, "Don't worry about it. It'll be a chicken. Camilla ought to know how to raise it."

"How do you know that?" Gonzo exclaimed.

"Trust me on this."

"What? What do you know about it?"

"It's not that important."

"Tell me anyway."

Brian hesitated uncomfortably. "I'd really rather not go into this..."

"Just tell me!"

"Well… it's like this. Genetic code is very intricate, and every planet uses different chemicals. Even when aliens look the same--two arms, two legs, head on top--they all use different kinds of DNA, if they have DNA at all."

Gonzo didn't like where this was heading. "So what?"

The sandwich sighed. "Gonzo, You can't cross people from different planets. It never works. The chemistry's all wrong."

"So, you think that egg has nothing to do with me?"

"Look, I didn't say that. But… well, you know."

"Whatever." Gonzo picked up the plate, holding the sandwich down with one thumb and headed back to the house. Brian tried to speak again; Gonzo pressed harder to hold it closed. When he reached the kitchen he dumped his lunch, peppers and all, into the trash can.

*****

All characters are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. This story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
 

Lil0Vampy

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:0 Is Brian telling the truth? Has a scandal taken place? OwO
 

Slackbot

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Well, think of it this way: is Brian likely to know what he's talking about, and would he have any reason to mess with Gonzo's head? On the other hand, why only one egg, and a mega-sized one at that?
 
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