Fic: Muppets from Earth

[The Count]

Don't worry. Now that I'm subscribed to the story, I'll keep updated.

One of the things I thought when Camilla laid her egg was... Does Big Bird know he's got a baby brother/sister?
Yeah, the joke from the Leslie Ughams TMS Dressing Room intro.

Also, the segment where Gonzo proposed to his chicky was very sweet and melty.
Thanks for posting, I await whatever's next.

 

[Slackbot]

*laughs* I never made that connection. The egg wasn't quite that big, although Camilla now knows what a kiwi bird goes through.

Glad you liked the proposal scene. Heh, originally I planned to use the song idea--"Married" from Cabaret, a very sweet song-- but when I sat down to write this scene it seemed too stagey. I imagine he'll sing it to her sometime between segments. But not very soon after the next segment...

 

[Slackbot]

Please don't slap me with a fish for this...

*****

Muppets from Earth​

Part 7: Inhumanity​

*****

It was a bright and sunny morning. Birds were chirping in the trees, making beautiful music that, if translated, would be revealed as declarations of territoriality and attempts to get a date.

Some of the Muppets were already awake and eating breakfast. Miss Piggy was about to leave for her job at a television station. Her job title, however, had been a matter of some debate since she had run out of Dr. Honeydew's mind control spray. She insisted that she was a vital part of the news staff; however, she hadn't been seen in front of the camera in some time. Pepe the King Prawn had asked her about that once, and his persistence had gotten him into hot water.

Kermit was also at the table, wearing his robe. He was going to look over the theater that day. The renovation was just about finished, and he wanted to make sure everything was shipshape before they moved in again. Fozzie, Scooter, and Rowlf would be with him. Kermit had considered bringing Rizzo along—the rat had a nose for little things that others might miss—but it was unlikely that they would see him before the crack of noon. Pepe might end up being his substitute, if they could not find a way to avoid that.

Gonzo came down the stairs amid a quorum of chickens. He was wearing his checkerboard suit, which made Kermit's eyes water if he stared at it at close range. They bustled into the kitchen, which had been ominously quiet so far.

The kitchen was not particularly messy. The Swedish Chef was cooking an omelet. Gonzo handed over the hens' daily contribution of eggs, then looked around. The Chef usually laid out a smørgasbörd, which meant that anything deemed appropriate for that meal would be set out on the various counters, tables, and any other available horizontal surfaces in the kitchen. Gonzo collected some bacon and fruit salad—well, mostly fruit—and, seeing no bread around, asked, "Is there any toast?"

"Der brœd is reëzïng," answered the Chef.

Gonzo glanced around again. The Chef pointed at the ceiling. Gonzo looked up and said "Oh."

At the table, Gonzo poured some coffee while the chickens mixed granola with their bowl of fruit salad. Perched on the arms of one chair, they ate from the same bowl, except for Camilla, who sat on the arm of Gonzo's chair and ate from her own. Kermit said, "We're going to inspect the theater today. Want to help out?"

"Sorry, Kermit, but, um, I've already got plans," Gonzo said.

"Is that why you're all dressed up?" asked Fozzie.

Gonzo answered, "Yeah," and glanced at Camilla.

Pepe piped up, "You can never start too early, hah hah hah!"

At the leer in his voice the chickens all exchanged glances, then burst into cackling laughter. Pepe said, "What? I was not making a joke, okay."

Fozzie said, "I don't get it either."

Kermit noted that Gonzo was hiding a grin. He didn't think much about it; Gonzo was the only one at the table who could understand a joke told by a chicken.

Gonzo and Camilla finished their breakfasts quickly. They took their dishes back to the kitchen, then returned. Gonzo put his arm around her and said, "Kermit, guys—Camilla and I are going to get married. We're gonna go get a marriage license today."

Miss Piggy gaped in shock. Scooter said, "You are? Congratulations!"

Fozzie said, "Yeah!"

Gonzo smiled. "Thanks. And I might as well come clean; we're expecting a chick. That's why I've been acting a little funny these past few weeks. It's a lot to get used to. But it pushed me in a direction I wanted to go anyway. So, well—now you know. Wish us luck!"

Kermit said, "Good luck!"

"Thanks. See you later!" Still grinning, he and Camilla swept out the door to head for the bus stop.

"Dios mio! Who would have thought that he was such the ladies' man?" Pepe exclaimed.

"Chicken's man," Rowlf corrected him. The chickens squawked at him. "Oops. Sorry, ladies."

Miss Piggy, finally finding her voice, exclaimed, "Buzzard Beak is getting married? And starting a family?"

"Yeah. Isn't it neat?" Scooter said.

"Neat?" she said. She pinned Kermit with a laserlike gaze. In an exaggeratedly sweet voice she said, "What do you think about it, Kermie?"

"I'm happy for them, of course. They've been together for so long, after all."

"We've been a couple for two years longer."

Kermit recognized the danger in her tone. "Uh, er, we've known each other-"

"Well, I'm glad that some men around here know the meaning of the word 'commitment'," she said, haughtily brushing her hair back, then sauntered away from the table. Her dramatic exit was spoiled when she came back for her plate. She was not one to leave a meal unfinished.

Leaning his head in one hand, Fozzie said, "Wow. I don't believe it. What kind of wedding do you think they'll have? What kind of kids do you think they'll have?"

"Somehow, a church wedding doesn't seem their style," Rowlf commented.

"I've heard of show biz people getting married on set. They could get married in the theater. It's got almost the same layout as a church." Scooter remarked.

"They would fall into the orchestra pit before they reached the stage, okay."

"Not if we put a trampoline in front of it," Fozzie said.

Rowlf said, "Bounce over the pit? I don't know, that sounds a little low-key for Gonzo."

Kermit spoke up. "It's up to them what they're going to do. Let them plan their own wedding."

The others stopped. Kermit sounded peevish, and the others could not blame him. If they had been on the receiving end of Piggy's ire they wouldn't be feeling so cheerful either.

**

Kermit's mood improved when they entered the theater. The place looked both familiar and different now. The layout was the same, but many of the surfaces were new. The stage had been completely torn out and replaced; some of the old boards had been rotten. Walls that had taken significant damage over the years had been rebuilt. The wiring and electrical fixtures had been completely replaced. When Kermit flipped on the switch, the lights were so much brighter, both onstage and backstage.

"Wow," Fozzie said, looking around.

"Yeah," Kermit said. "It's something, isn't it?"

"Gonna have it repainted to look like it used to?" Rowlf asked.

"Yeah, in the house at least," Kermit replied.

Fozzie walked onto the new stage. The wood felt slick under his feet. He said, "I'll miss the squeaky and soft boards. How'll I know where I am on the stage without 'em?"

Scooter pointed at the edge of the stage. "See the little colored lights just in front of some of the footlights? Those help people keep their bearings, even during dance numbers."

Rowlf sat on the edge of the stage and looked into the orchestra pit. It was just the same—just barely big enough for them, and Rowlf was glad that the upright piano would still be there to shield him from Animal. Looking around, he saw that most of the house interior was unchanged—curtains where they had always been, walls and balcony the same. Nothing would alter the acoustics, he noted approvingly.

Kermit looked out at the seats. They looked new, although only the cushions, which had become a little ratty over the years, had been replaced. So far, he thought, he liked what he saw. He said, "Let's go check out the lobby."

*

The group returned late that afternoon in high spirits. The other Muppets immediately mobbed them for news. The theater was nearly fit for them. A few more things needed work, and then the cosmetic work could begin. A unanimous, heartfelt cheer went up from everyone within earshot, and the news quickly spread to those who had not heard it first-hand.

The celebratory mood was still going strong when Gonzo and Camilla returned early that evening. Those who saw them come in the door cheered them. Rowlf, who had been alert for his cue, went to the upright piano and began playing a ragtime version of Mendelssohn's Wedding March on the piano. Miss Piggy sailed up to them and said, "Let moi offer my sincerest congratulations. You must be so looking forward to being married!"

[FONT=&quot]Kermit, however, saw their expressions. They looked angry—but not with each other. He asked, "What happened?"[/FONT]
​

Gonzo said in a low voice, "They turned us down."

Kermit was shocked. "They what? How can they do that?"

Gonzo said, loudly enough that the others nearby could hear, "They wouldn't give us a marriage license. Because Camilla isn't a person."

"Not a person? What kind of shtick is that?" Dr. Teeth asked.

"They said Camilla's only an animal, and people don't marry their pets!"

The other hens squawked in outrage. Camilla added her comments, and the chickens began gabbling angrily among themselves.

Gonzo's face, where it wasn't covered with fur, was flushed, and his hands were clenched into tight, three-fingered fists. Kermit had never seen him so angry, not even when Trevor the Gross had stolen one of his acts. He said, "Did they say why they don't think Camilla's an animal?"

"They can't understand her, so they think she's just making noise instead of talking. She doesn't have hands, so she can't write. To them she's nothing more than a trained chicken!"

"So you're not legally human if nobody can understand you? The Swedish Chef and Beaker better watch out, then," Clifford remarked.

Rowlf said, "People have treated us as strange creatures, and even as luggage, but nobody's ever told us we're less than human. I don't like where this is heading. For me, it might involve a leash."

Miss Piggy considered. At first she had been jealous of Gonzo and Camilla. How dare that little twerp beat her to the altar! But reflection had showed her what an unworthy thought that was. They deserved all the happiness the world had to offer, especially if it served as an example for Kermit. But this was an insult to all of them! Oh, nobody would ever dare to call her less than human—but she knew that Kermit had once been hunted for his legs.

Scooter was saying, "If the test is whether she can talk, why not get an interpreter? They use interpreters all the time in courtrooms."

Kermit said, "How many people speak chicken who aren't chickens themselves?"

"I do," Gonzo said. "But they wouldn't take the word of her trainer."

Scooter said, "There's gotta be some way to prove she can talk, though. If she can talk, and she's as smart as a human, then they have to admit she's a person, don't they?"

"I hope you're right," Kermit said.

Miss Piggy said, "Moi just happens to have been keeping some attorneys on retainer. And," she smirked, "Weren't we were just talking about how to get into the media?"

Quickly Gonzo exclaimed, "No!"

"What?"

"This is our private lives! I don't want this in the papers!" He could take it himself, but Camilla would get the worse of it, and he couldn't stand the thought of their child, whatever it turned out to be, beginning its life under such scrutiny.

Camilla startled him with an angry squawk. Only an animal! she exclaimed. Livestock!

"Camilla, they didn't know what they were talking about!"

And you will let them get away with it? You won't stand up to them? she demanded. The other hens made low growling sounds. They had no use for a rooster who would not fight for his flock. Technically he was not a rooster and they were not his flock, but at the moment those were only minor details.

Gonzo glanced around—they had an attentive audience—and then switched into chicken to continue the discussion. This time the other chickens did not laugh at Gonzo's accent when he clucked to Camilla. The conversation started out as an argument, then the tone of their voices softened.

Gonzo switched back to English and said to their audience, "On second thought, Camilla isn't 'just an animal' and doesn't deserve to be treated as one. We've got to stand up for ourselves."

"Right on!" Clifford shouted.

"That's tellin' 'em," Rizzo said.

The other Muppets exploded into a rhubarb of emphatic agreement. Amid the noise Miss Piggy heard Gonzo say her name, and felt a furry hand touch her arm. She looked back. A serious expression on his face, Gonzo said softly, "Miss Piggy... thanks."

"Vous are welcome," she replied. "After all, all for one, and one for all."

"I just... I just hope they don't bring our baby into this." His voice was barely audible over the hubbub.

She stared at him for a moment. Then she nodded and, throat tight, turned away.

*****

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.

 

[The Count]

Hmm... Very powerful schtuff.

Love the lines:
"Gonzo came down amongst a quorum of chickens."
You just don't hear the word "quorum" enough nowadays. Unless it's a bunch of boardroom stiffs.
"The Muppets exploded into a rhubarb of emotions."
All this time I thought rhubarbs were that thing you made pies out of. Must've been quite fruity to explode into such a thing.
If they need an interpreter and won't accept Gonzo as the burocrat believes him to be Camilla's trainer... Why not call in a favor from Big Bird? After all, he does speak chicken fluently.
At any rate, thanks for posting. More please!

 

[Slackbot]

By "A quorum of chickens" I was referring to there being enough of the chickens to constitute a flock, but not all of 'em. One of 'em was egg-sitting.

"exploded into a rhubarb of emphatic agreement" is a pretty weird phrase, now that I look at it. "Rhubarb," or "walla," is a showbiz term describing indistinct background crowd noises. In other words, everone started talking at once. And possibly throwing pies. These are Muppets, after all.

(By the way, I live in the Deep South - Atlanta, Georgia - and I've never tasted rhubarb. Go figure.)

Big Bird as an interpreter? That never occurred to me. I don't know if BB lives nearby or not; I can't decide which coast the Muppet Theater is on. (I keep wanting to put it in the West Coast, even though New York is a much more likely place.) However, there is at least one other possible interpreter in the house, but someone could claim that they, being associated with Gonzo, cannot be viewed as objective. But some clever soul might come up with other ways for Camilla to communicate, provided nobody is in a hurry. Can you imagine Camilla clucking in Morse code?

 

[Gelfling Girl]

*Gelfie enters, looking like she just ran a few miles* I finally finished reading all those chapters I missed while on vacation, and they are epic! You're such a great writer. Can't wait for the next chapter.

 

[Muppetfan44]

Interesting story! I was skeptical at first but I'm definitely interested to see where this goes. Great Job!

Keep up the good work and post more soon!

 

[Slackbot]

Gelfling Girl, thanks! Epic, huh? Does this mean I'm going to have to writen an interminable poem in Gaelic about it?

Muppetfan44, thanks, I think. Heh. Larry Niven, one of my three all-time favorite authors and the biggest influence on my writing style, said that "It is a sin to waste the reader's time." I try not to sin too much.

Are there any decent synonyms for "cluck"? I'm getting so tired of writing hen dialogue as "she clucked," with the occasional squawk when emotions run high, and I don't like writing chicken noises phonetically. I save that business for the Swedish Chef.

 

[Slackbot]

Muppets from Earth
Part 8: Musical Interlude
​

*****

The Muppets had finally reclaimed their theater. All of the construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction was complete at long last, and the house and lobby—and any other areas that would be seen by the public—had been painted. The backstage, however, was still rough. Kermit had decided to leave the decoration of that space up to the cast and crew. Not as a cost-saving measure, but because he knew they'd have fun with it.

Miss Piggy was nowhere to be seen, but the star had been hung on her dressing room door—and it was the biggest, glitteriest one she could procure—and the light was on, so everyone assumed that she was, in the words of Floyd Pepper, setting up her sty away from home.

Gonzo was working up a cannonball act. That wasn't particularly clever, but he had faith that before the theater opened in two weeks inspiration would strike him, and he'd find a hook to turn a mere stunt into a work of performance art. And even if he didn't, what the heck, people still liked to see someone risk life and limb.

"That's it for now, girls," he said to the chickens who were assisting him. He really only needed one chicken to light the fuse, but it never hurt an act to add a liberal dose of eye candy. He felt funny about planning the act without Camilla, though. She was still at home, sitting on their egg. If it was a normal chicken egg it would have hatched by now, but candling it had shown that the chick still had more growing to do before it filled the shell.

One of the chickens clucked to him. "Oh, nothing much," he answered.

She asked him a question. He said, "It'll be fine. Something will hit me before the show opens, I'm sure."

She clucked some more. He paused, then said, "Okay, if you think so. How about in my room?" She nodded agreement, and they went to Gonzo's dressing room. It was full of crates; he hadn't started excavating the props and costumes he would need just yet. He sat on one box, and she perched on another. He said, "Anyone can do straight stunts like shooting themselves out of a cannon. What I want is an eye-opener. The Muppet Show is all about showing people things they've never seen before."

She clucked a question. He answered, "That's just it. I haven't figured out what I can do to top my old acts. I wanna start off with a bang." With a rueful smile he admitted, "I'm out of practice in thinking up newer and weirder stunts. I've been doing mostly other stuff for so long. Playing a narrator, or semi-dramatic parts, which is great—you can't be an artist if you just the same shtick every time—but there's something so cool about defying death!"

She fluttered over to sit on his crate and clucked. He said, "Nah, I haven't killed myself yet, have I?" She clucked worriedly. "Oh, don't be like that. I'm fine." She replied at length. He said, "The whole flock?"

She nodded and scooted closer to him. He laughed softly and said, "Kinda late for that now."

She pecked him gently. He startled and looked at her. She pecked him again and smiled. All of the hens knew about Gonzo's little quirk.

"Stop it, Stephanie," he said in a low voice.

She clucked entreatingly and pecked him again. He got up and said firmly, "No."

Surprised, she clucked argumentatively. He said, "It matters to me. And if you're so sure it won't matter to Camilla, go talk to her yourself."

She stared at him in surprised. Then she gave a haughty toss of her head, hopped off the crate, and left his dressing room. He stared after her, nonplussed. Stephanie hadn't given him a second glance in years. Why now?

*

Rowlf wandered to the orchestra pit. The upright piano had been moved into place. He took a seat on the bench. Man, he had missed sitting here. He opened the lid, revealing the yellowed keys, and played a scale. He grinned; it was exactly as out-of-tune as ever. There was another piano backstage, a baby grand that they kept meticulously tuned for the good stuff, but there was something fun about playing on this rinky-dink box. He began playing the first piece of music that came to mind, the third movement of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 8 in C minor, Op. 13. His paws danced over the keys as if they had a will of their own; Rowlf closed his eyes and listened to the music echoing within the empty theater house.

He stopped, surprised, when after a minute he realized that the echo was out of sync with his playing. The music continued, up to the point where he left off. He began again, and then the delayed echo returned. This time he listened carefully. The style was more forceful than his own, the chords stronger and the playing in general less nuanced. He continued, adding more energy to match his rival. After half a minute the playing became even more stylized, with extra chords added to give the piece more oomph. Rowlf did not try to mimic that style; instead he added delicate, fluttery elaborations on top of the already-sprightly music, making it almost a parody of itself.

He reached the end of the piece all too soon, and waited. After a minute Dr. Teeth walked onto the stage. Rowlf said, "Hey!" and held up a paw.

Dr. Teeth answered, "Hey!" and swung a hand down to grasp Rowlf's hand. Though he was onstage and Rowlf was in the pit, he hardly had to lean forward to reach him. "It's been forever since I played anything like that. Talk about slidin' down memory lane."

"I didn't know you played Beethoven."

"I don't. I play the keyboard." They both laughed. "Nah, I've played all sorts o' tunes in my time. Did a little of everything before succumbing to the siren song of rock."

"Really. All this time I thought you never played anything else."

Dr. Teeth placed a hand on his chest. "I have hidden depths you never dreamt of, my good dog."

"Even if you play Beethoven like it was an Elton John song," Rowlf replied.

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Depends on who I'm flattering."

"Seriously, though—I used to play old Ludwig Von. At his best, he was a force of nature! And then you have tranquilizers like..." he raised his hands and played an invisible keyboard while singing a snatch of the piece they just played.

"Oh, yeah, I guess something that subtle is quite a challenge for rockers like you," Rowlf said.

"It's only a challenge to stay awake to the end."

They were both grinning, enjoying the banter and mock needling. Rowlf knew that Dr. Teeth wouldn't have played any of it in the first place if he found it completely uninteresting. He said, "I'll bet the Electric Mayhem couldn't play that piece all the way through."

"Not couldn't. Wouldn't. What kind of amigo would I be if I inflicted such a solid soporific on them?"

"True, true. Better just keep them in their comfort zone," Rowlf replied.

Dr. Teeth raised his eyelids. "Are you implying that we who are the Electric Mayhem could not rise to this so-called challenge?"

"I'm not implying that at all. I'm sayin' it right to your face."

"Oh, yeah? How would you like to put your money where your muzzle is?"

Rowlf waved dismissively. "I got better things to do with my cash than bet it. Make it more interesting if you really think they can do it."

Dr. Teeth rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. "If I can get the band to play that Pathétique piece in the show, then I get to choose the next piece you play," he said slyly.

"I'll buy that. And if you can't?"

"Then..." He paused dramatically. "I'll tell you my first name."

Rowlf shook his head and laughed. "No deal, Doc. Try again."

"My original first name. You think my mother named me 'Doctor'?"

"Hmm," Rowlf said, looking the other musician up and down.

"But," Dr. Teeth said, holding up one finger, "We'll embellish it a little. Carve some grooves onto that square platter. The Electric Mayhem doesn't play lullabyes."

"I still gotta be able to recognize it by the time you get through with it."

"Of course. So do we have a deal?"

"Deal!"

They slapped hands again. Then Rowlf stood and opened the bench. He rummaged around inside, then drew out some sheet music and held it up. "Here."

Dr. Teeth accepted it with a show of reluctance. "I never touch this stuff," he told Rowlf.

"Take it just in case you forget what you're supposed to be playing."

"Don't worry about that. Worry about how you're gonna pay up when you lose the bet." Dr Teeth grinned glitteringly, then made his exit.

Rowlf also grinned. He didn't know if the Mayhem could make it, but it would be fun seeing them try.

*

Scooter found Kermit the Frog backstage and said, "Boss, the paper came out. You ought to see it."

Kermit accepted the paper. "Thanks, Scooter." It was opened to the third page in the first section, and folded to place one headline before his eyes: Legally Human?

Kermit read the article through once, then said, "Round everyone up, would you?"

"Sure thing, chief," Scooters replied, and went to go fer everybody.

*

Within a surprisingly short period of time the backstage right area was filled with Muppets of all kinds. Kermit was about to begin when he noticed that one significant party was missing. "Scooter, where's Piggy?"

"She was in her dressing room. She said she'd come as soon as she could. I think she was on the phone."

"Sheesh." Well, she probably knew about this anyway.

"So what's up, green stuff?" Floyd asked.

Kermit held up the paper. "There's some news that affects us all. It's about the suit Piggy's lawyers have filed."

Gonzo clenched his hands together unconsciously. He felt a big hand pat his back. He glanced over and saw Fozzie beside him. The bear gave him a supportive smile.

"It says that the law firm of Porque & Beanes have filed a suit against the city for discrimination for denying Gonzo and Camilla a marriage license. The heart of the matter is whether Camilla, and others who can't speak human languages, have the same legal rights as humans. Anyone who can hold a conversation is automatically assumed to be legally human, although there are no legal precedents either for or against that. Up until now she's been treated as a human as far as tax purposes go, she has a social security number, and she is a member of the Screen Actors' Guild. Certainly, they say, the federal government is not in the habit of issuing social security numbers to dumb animals." He looked up from the article. "That's the meat of it. The plan is to force a definition of 'legally human'. And since we're at the center of it, it's likely we'll get it from all sides, and we'll be pestered by the media about it. We need to be ready."

"How?" Scooter asked.

Kermit answered, "By being very careful who we speak with and what we say on the subject. There are unscrupulous reporters who will take anything they find and twist it around, and tabloids that will print anything to get sales. Stay away from them!"

At that moment Miss Piggy's dressing room door opened. She walked out arm-in-arm with a small man with colorless, moplike hair and a round pair of sunglasses. He was stuffing a notepad into an inner pocket of his jacket. Miss Piggy's voice rang out in the sudden hush, "Now, come back in a few days and I'm sure I'll have more news for you!" She laughed as she shepherded him toward the back exit.

The man began, "Wait, I want to interview—"

She hustled him out the door. "We have to save something for later, don't we?" she sang out, then pulled the door closed. When she turned around she saw everyone staring at her. "What?"

"Piggy, I don't believe you! That was Fleet Scribbler!" Kermit exclaimed.

"Yes, dear, I know his name."

"He writes for The Daily Scandal! He doesn't care about whether what he writes is true or not, as long as it sells papers! He's done his best to smear us in the past! Have you even thought about what he will do with this story?" he shouted, his voice beginning to crack.

Miss Piggy said gently, "Kermit, dear... he is a journaliste. He wanted an inside exclusive, and he would have written it whether or not he actually knew what was happening. So I gave it to him. And he will stick to it." She smiled sweetly. "And if he doesn't, he understands that he forfeits any further interviews with me, along with all the bones in his hands."

"I can walk Animal over by the Scandal's office," Floyd volunteered.

Kermit still looked like he was about to detonate. Piggy continued as if she did not notice. "Now, Kermie, you have to admit that I know how to feed the tabloids a story."

"Do I ever!" he snapped, scowling as he thought about all the articles he had tried to ignore about his and Piggy's torrid love affair, or marriage, depending on which one you read.

"There, you see? Let moi handle him. I'll keep the little twerp on rails." She turned and swept up the stairs.

*****

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.

 

[The Count]

Ah... Needed a good bit of fic from one of my stories to get me started.

Hoo-boy, you sure hit all the angles with this one. Shameless chicken flirting, gambling on the score, intrusion of privacy, and threats of physical harm to members of the press. Man, the reviewers are going to have a field day with all of these pictures.
Again... Thanks.