Muppet fic: Once in a Lifetime

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If Fleet is turning over stones for stories, he certainly could do worse than talking to a Fraggle who grew up under (well, inside) a rock.

If you'd like to see the video Scooter watched, here it is. You may have already seen it; it went viral a month or so ago.

 

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Once in a Lifetime
Part 10: Where Does That Highway Lead To?
by Kim McFarland

*****

Janken left the Muppet Theater. Most everyone was standing around outside, about to board the bus to go home. Scooter was staying late to do all the stuff that he felt he needed to do before tomorrow; he'd take his own bike home later. Janken wished he would just let go and relax a little, but it wasn't for him to tell Scooter how to do his job.

*

Janken rode his bike a few miles to the karaoke bar. After locking the bicycle to the rack, he walked in. Someone else was sitting at the "little people" side of the bar. Jeans, vest, ragmop hairdo—"Hi, Fleet," Janken said as he took another stool. "I thought you didn't come here on karaoke nights."

"Yeah, well, I like talking with you," Fleet said. "There's worse ways to spend an evening."

"Sure," Janken said. "Travis? The usual."

Fleet said, "Irish coffee for me."

The bartender glanced back in acknowledgment. "Sure thing."

He mixed up a drink that looked to Fleet like a V-8 over ice with some vegetable sticks stuck in for no good reason and set it in front of Janken. Fleet took something out of his vest pocket and put it on the bar napkin. "Try that in it."

Janken stared, perplexed, at the radish. "What's that for?"

Fleet said, "I thought Fraggles like radishes."

"Well, yes, we do," Janken said.

No 'oh, crud' moment when he called him a Fraggle, Fleet noted. Oh, well. Janken picked up the vegetable and ate it whole as if it were an olive. "Thanks. So, what do you do for a living?"

"I freelance, mostly," Fleet answered. "How about you?"

Travis set a glass in front of fleet. The drink looked to Janken like some kind of float, with coffee below and a thick layer of cream on top. Janken said, "I work cameras."

"Yeah, on The Muppet Show, I remember now. What's that like?"

Janken paused, then said, "It's kind of hard to describe. Mainly I have to make sure that the cameras are pointed at the right spots so they catch everything, and that the show is lit properly. It used to be tough, but after I got a feel for it I stopped thinking about it and just do it."

"Kinda like typing or driving, eh?"

Janken shrugged. "Actually, I can't do either."

"You don't drive?"

"Nope."

"How do you get around?"

"I have a bike and a bus pass." He sipped his drink. "What kind of things do you write?"

Fleet replied, "I didn't say I wrote."

Janken reminded him, "You did yesterday, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, little things. Nothing you'd find in a bookstore. Not that there are any of those around anymore."

"You freelance? You write things, and then get someone to buy them?" Janken persisted.

"Something like that." Which was not really the case, but who honestly wanted to know his job arrangements?

"Tell me about some of the stuff you've written," Janken requested.

"Oh, sheesh. People don't usually ask things like that. Usually they'd rather talk about themselves."

"I already know about myself," Janken replied with a smile.

"Okay. Well, I write things for magazines and papers. Nothing too in-depth, just who's doing what, for people who haven't already heard on TV or Facebook. Sometimes a medical article."

Janken could hear the evasions. Fleet obviously wanted to keep it vague. He wasn't exactly being dishonest, but he wasn't being honest either. Janken would take Scooter's warning to heart and stick to safe subjects.

Fleet continued, "Who really cares? Bottom line, I find there's something that I ought to write about, I do some research, and I write what I find out. It pays the rent."

"Don't you like what you write?" Janken asked.

Fleet said to the bartender, "Another round, him and me. It's on me." He answered Janken, "I guess. If it's not worth reading, nobody's gonna read it, right?"

"True."

"I guess this doesn't make a lot of sense to a Fraggle, though. Not many magazines in caves."

"Nope. Our publishing industry is when someone thinks something is important enough to write down. If people have to take turns reading it, then it's a best seller. So, you've done research on Fraggles. Are you writing an article on us?"

"No, no," Fleet said. "I'm just curious. I don't meet cave-dwelling monsters every day."

Janken grinned. "Monsters? Well, fair enough. If you've looked me up you've found out that the TMI helped me get on my feet when I first got lost out here, and their mission is to help Monsters. I'm lucky they called me one of them."

"You like being called a monster? Weird." Fleet shook his head and drank some of his coffee.

"Not so weird. I know a lot of Monsters. They're pretty much the same as anybody else."

"Huh." Fleet couldn't think of anything else to say about that.

"So, you know I was born under a rock. How about you, where are you from?"

"Right in town."

"Oh. Ever been anywhere else?"

"Oh, sure. I've traveled now and again for a story. London, France, Mock Sweden."

"Wait, wait," Janken said. "Mock Sweden?"

"Yeah, sure. Nobody speaks English there. Good thing the language isn't hard to learn. Den snåbba brüna räven høppade över den låta hünden."

"Wow, Janken said, impressed. "I can't imagine learning a whole other language. I've only ever known Fragglish."

"And English."

"Some thing, actually."

Fleet gave him a strange look. "What?"

"This is Fragglish. Or Fragglish is English. Kinda makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"Sounds like baloney to me."

Janken grinned. "Or magic."

Frowning, Fleet said, "Magic? What're you talking about?"

Janken said, "Sure. Magic is real. It's all around us. It's in anything we know is real but can't explain how. The cycle of the seasons. Unbelievable coincidences. The way Fraggle songs light the caves."

Fleet gave Janken a look behind his glasses. The Fraggle was definitely loosening up. He said, "I need some more so this'll make sense." He waved to get the bartender's attention and motioned for another round.

*

They chatted for a while. Fleet asked questions, drawing Janken out. Perhaps the Muppet was having him on; if not, he was nuts. Everything was magic? Yeah, right. But he kept Janken talking, because at the rate they were drinking Janken would soon be ready to let something slip.

Fleet got them both another round. Janken said, "I wanna do a song. Every karaoke night I sing at least once."

"Go for it," Fleet told him.

"How about you?"

"I didn't come here to sing."

"So? Why not give it a try? It's a lot of fun."

Fleet was about to refuse, but then he caught Janken's earnest expression. He just about had the Fraggle on the hook; he didn't want to lose him now. And he'd certainly done stupider things in the name of a story. "All right, all right! Jeez. Let's see the song list."

Janken got the copy that was further down the bar and opened it up to the Billy Joel songs. He scanned down the list, then picked one that he hadn't yet tried and wrote down the title and code. Fleet took a little longer. He had no idea if he could make it through one of these things. He was a little drunk now—he had to be, to even consider this—but he knew how far he could go and still stay lucid. If he fouled the song up he'd appear to be worse off than he was, which would put the Fraggle off his guard. He saw a title that he remembered liking, and said, "That one."

"Okay." Janken wrote down Fleet's name and the title and code. He handed both slips to Travis, who gave them to the server-slash-emcee, who hadn't had much to do due to a lull. He immediately opened one and said, "Here's our resident Billy Joel nut with Keeping the Faith."

Janken hopped down off his stool, went to the stagelike area defined by a lack of tables, and stood on the chair that the emcee put in front of the microphone for him. He was excited and eager, but he seemed more confident than the usual perpetrators. They laughed like they were covering up their nervousness, or preparing to do something hilarious or embarrassing. Janken just got up there and sang like it was no big deal. And, Fleet thought, he really did have a good voice. He could sing for real, and he looked like he was having a great time doing it. Yet he was stuck backstage on The Muppet Show while talentless acts flailed about in front of the cameras. What was up with that? There had to be some dirt there.

When the song was done Janken came back to the bar, grinning widely. Fleet started to say something, but then the emcee said into the microphone, "And here’s Fleet with The Entertainer."

Oops! Fleet had forgotten for a moment that Janken had somehow talked him into this. Crud! Well, it wasn't like he'd look like an idiot in front of anyone who mattered. He went up to the stage. There was a screen below the microphone that he hadn't noticed before; the lyrics played there. Oh, good. He wouldn't be completely lost.
"I am the entertainer and I know just where I stand:
Another serenader in another long-haired band.
Today I am your champion, I may have won your hearts,
But I know the game, you'll forget my name,
And I won't be here in another year
If I don't stay on the charts."

Janken watched as Fleet stumbled through the first few lines of the song. He knew the tune and could read the lyrics, but he wasn't keeping time with the music. Relax, Janken thought. It doesn't have to be that hard. Take it from me. You'll be fine.


Fleet felt like a fool. This was stupid. But he wasn't going to back down now. He'd hold on to the end, and if his performance was terrible, it'd be no more than payback for everyone else who had been yowling into the microphone all evening.


Janken listened. After a rough start, Fleet seemed to be finding his feet, putting some expression into the song. This was what Janken had been hoping for. As a Fraggle, he knew that songs had meaning; they weren't just pretty sounds. The song a person chose reflected their taste, the things on their minds. He could hear that in the way Fleet was singing now, ith a hint of bitterness.
"I am the entertainer, I've come to do my show.
You've heard my latest record, it's been on the radio.
It took me years to write it, they were the best years of my life!
It was a beautiful song but it ran too long—
If you're gonna have a hit you gotta make it fit—
So they cut it down to three-oh-five.
"I am the entertainer, the idol of my age.
I make all kinds of money when I go on the stage.
You see me in the papers, I've been in the magazines,
But if I go cold, I won't get sold.
I'll get put in the back in the discount rack
Like another can of beans!"

After the final verse, which was a repeat of the first, it was over and he could go back to his stool. To his surprise there was actually some polite applause. Don't patronize me, he thought.

Janken said, "Not bad. Want another coffee? On me this time."

Fleet shook his head. "No more for me. Any more and I won't be sober enough by closing time to drive home."

Janken was surprised. "What? How could you get drunk on coffee?"

"Irish coffee. With whiskey in." He looked up at Janken. "Hey, why aren't you drunk?"

"On Bloody Virgin Marys?" Janken replied.

Fleet stared at him for a long moment. Then he began to laugh. "Aw, jeez. I never had a chance. You win. Now I gotta sit here and listen to a few more hours of people screeching crummy pop songs until I can drive."

This had taken a very strange turn, Janken thought. Why did Fleet drink that stuff if it did this to him? He said, "Want to go outside for some air?"

"Yeah. I'd rather just go home."

"Where do you live?"

"Blue Creek Apartments."

"Where's that?

"Corner of Katz Street and Munson. Why?"

"That's not too far, I'll take you home if you want to go," Janken offered.

"You said you can't drive, didn't you?" Fleet said, suddenly suspicious.

Janken took out his bus pass. "There's more than one way to get around town."

*

Several minutes later they were at a bus shelter. Janken was studying a map that showed the local bus routes and Fleet was wondering what he was getting into. This queer Muppet who drank kiddie drinks was taking him home. This could get weird. He said, "Look, it's not like this's the first time. I can deal with it."

Janken replied, "It's all right. After all, I'm partially responsible for the fix you're in."

Fleet shook his head. Goofy guy.

Janken said, "It'll be easy to get there and back. Just have to transfer once. Do you have a piece of paper?"

"Sure." Fleet took a small notepad and a pen out of a vest pocket and handed it to Janken. A moment later he realized he'd handed Janken his notes, everything he'd taken down about possible articles, including what he suspected about Janken! But the Fraggle seemed not to notice. He just flipped to a blank page and, glancing back and forth between the map and the paper, jotted down a few lines. Then he handed it and the pen back.

Fleet put them quickly back into his pocket.

*

The two of them got on a bus, rode a few miles, then got off. Soon another bus came, and they got on that one. After a few more miles they got off right in front of the Blue Creek Apartments.

The ride had been a quiet one. Fleet didn't trust himself to speak right now. Janken sensed his discomfort and left him alone with his thoughts. When they were at the front door Fleet said, "Look, I'm not going to invite you into my place. I mean, I don't—I'm not like that."

Janken said gently, "Fleet, being gay doesn't mean you're on the make for everyone of the same sex any more than being straight means you're after everyone of the opposite."

Embarrassed, Fleet said, "Aw, crud…I didn't mean it that way." But, he knew, he had. "Don't mind me, I'm drunk."

"Yeah. Look, I'm sure you can make it the rest of the way by yourself. I wrote down directions and bus numbers so you can go back for your car tomorrow. Now I'd better get back; I have somewhere to go too."

They parted, and Fleet went up to his unit on the second floor. After he locked the door he sat down and asked himself just what the heck had happened.

*

Later that evening Scooter, sitting on his bed in the boarding house, heard a tap on his door. He said, "Come in."

Janken entered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be this late. I had a funny adventure."

"What happened?"

Janken took off his jacket and put it in a chair. "Fleet was there again. I think he was trying to get me drunk. It backfired."

"How'd that happen?"

Janken chuckled. "He didn't know I wasn't boozing, and I didn't know what Irish coffee is. Anyway, I took him home on the bus, which is why I'm late."

Scooter laughed. "I wish I'd seen that."

"Poor guy was really embarrassed." But Janken grinned.

"I bet. Um, Jan, I saw that video you bookmarked. The TED talk," Scooter said in a more serious tone.

It took Janken a moment to remember what video that would have been. He said, "Um."

"I kinda want to ask you why you wanted to show me that, but I guess I know."

Janken took Scooter's hand—the one with the ring—and clasped it between his own. "I meant to show it to you myself rather than spring it on you like that. I'm not…I just thought it was smart stuff. 'Hard is hard.' Not that I want you to leap out of the closet or anything," he explained.

Scooter smiled. "It's okay, Jan. It tied me in a knot for a little while. Couldn't get much done after I watched that. But, you know, after I thought about it I realized something."

"What?"

Scooter looked down at his hand in Janken's, the gold of their matching rings shining against their skin. "That grenade—I've already pulled the pin."

*****

All characters except Janken and Travis are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. The Entertainer is copyright © Billy Joel. All copyrighted materials are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken Fraggle is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
 

charlietheowl

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Jan got Fleet to sing! I bet that was a night that everyone else in the bar would remember for awhile, lol. And hopefully Jan's kindness to Fleet about making sure he got home safely will help Fleet perhaps reconsider his stance on a story, or other things. He seemed dissatisfied with his career in their conversation. Thanks for sharing!
 

The Count

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Hey Kim... Thanks for posting another chapter for this fic, I appreciate the work you've put into it.

That speech about magic... Yeah, it's real. Every time a rainy period stops and it clears up, I open my doorlike windows, and after a little while it starts raining fast again. It's like an atmospheric magnet. :laugh:

Hope you have a merry Christmas.
 

Slackbot

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It's questionable what effect Janken's good deed will have. Fleet is used to manipulation; he might believe this is some effort to mess with his head. He just doesn't trust people, and he can't believe that Janken really is "as sweet as freakin' pie." Plus, while he's been hanging around a certain background Muppet he hasn't been working on other stories, and if he doesn't write something he won't be able to pay the rent.

It doesn't seem like he takes a lot of joy in his job, does he? Let's face it, there's not a lot to be proud of in the muckraking business. He probably sneers at his readers for believing the trash he writes. Originally I was going to have Fleet sing Pressure, but I realized that The Entertainer suited him much better, as it's a cynical song about showbiz. I couldn't include the whole song, even though some more lyrics would have driven home the point a bit better, because the second and third verses are a bit pithy. But, hmm, here's one I could have included...

I am the entertainer, I bring to you my songs.
I'd like to spend a day or two but I can't stay that long.
I got to meet expenses, I got to stay in line,
Got to get those fees to the agencies
And I'd love to stay but there's bills to pay
So I just don't have the time.​

Out of curiosity, I wonder if anyone recognized Fleet's address?

Janken hasn't said too much about magic. He certainly wouldn't talk about caves that reconfigure themselves according to the needs and growth of their inhabitants and passages that connect with spots thousands of miles distant. He may be a bumpkin, but even he knows that Silly Creatures consider that crazy talk.
 

The Count

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Just wondering if an update is coming soon before we end the year with a bang.
:crazy: Did someone say "bang"?
*Explodes. :zany:
 

Slackbot

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Sorry, but it'll be a while before I post the next chapter. I've been on vacation since Christmas, and I've been using that time for intensive chillin'-out. Playing video games, watching The Simpsons on DVD starting from season 1, and making another puppet. I've been writing scenes in my mind, but it'll be a little while before they make it to the keyboard.

Oh, and I've been proofing the galley copy of the book that I illustrated! Hopefully it'll be available for sale next month.
 

The Count

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Okay. I've got a few scenes in my mind that I haven't committed to writing yet for a potential last addition to my Calendar series, so I understand.
:batty: Or do you just oversit?
Sorry, old joke. Have a great time celebrating the New Year with your Fraggle and silly creature families. :smile:
 

Slackbot

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It's been over a month since the last chapter? What the heck have I been doing? Well, here's a big chunky chapter for ya.

*****

Once in a Lifetime
Part 11: Sometimes I Can't Believe This is All Happening
by Kim McFarland​

*****

The next day Kermit posted the list of acts for the upcoming show. He and Scooter had spent a lot of time on that list, figuring out which acts were ready to go and would make for a good, balanced show, whatever that was. Most of the acts that had been sufficiently developed were included. Most, but not all.

The Great Gonzo was surprised and disappointed that none of the acts he had proposed were included. He'd submitted an even baker's dozen, and not a single one made the cut? He had not been able to rehearse them, but then he didn't often rehearse his stunts much, as he might end up injuring himself before the show. A simple proof-of-concept was good enough most of the time. They knew that he would come through, and when he failed he failed entertainingly.

Oh well. This wasn't his first time sitting out a show. He hadn't been expecting it, considering how hard they'd been working to come up with a full show's worth of material in a few days, but stuff happens, he told himself.

Kermit saw the look on Gonzo's face. He'd known that he'd be disappointed. He said, "Hey, Gonzo."

Gonzo looked up. "Yeah?"

"We'll put you in the show. We just haven't figured out where."

Gonzo smiled. "Sure, Kermit. Wherever you need me."

Gonzo went off. Mentally Kermit sighed. It wasn't a big deal. Not everyone could star in every show, and Gonzo was always good for filling out a chorus or background ensemble. They'd greenlight one of his acts for the next show or the one after that, Gonzo would break a bone or three , and all would be right with the world again.

*

Several limousines and a bus parked in the lot behind the Muppet Theater. The various children, adults, and equipment were all brought around to the front. When everybody was ready—the filming staff had their cameras and boom mikes, the kids were in place, and Miss Piggy had checked her hair and makeup just to be sure—Miss Piggy said sweetly to the director, "Moi is ready whenever vous are."

The director nodded to one of the staff, who stepped in front of the camera, snapped a clapper, and dodged back again. Miss Piggy, her voice raised slightly so that the boom microphone that was also recording ambient street noise for that touch of gritty realism would pick her up clearly, said, "Here we are at the Muppet Theater, where my career truly began. So many have come here, but few have seen the side we're about to see." She opened the door and beckoned the children in, and went in after them, leaving the staff to wrangle their sound and video equipment.

*

The stage had become a nursery. The painted backdrops looked like 1970s-style pastel walls with pink-curtained windows. Several cribs were placed downstage, and upstage were a pair of playpens. They were occupied by an assortment of toys and sleeping babies.

Bobby Benson's Baby Band was preparing for a technical rehearsal when Miss Piggy walked down one of the aisles, trailing a half-dozen small girls and a camera crew. Scooter, who had been about to call for a music playback, stared. They had a show to put together, and the last thing they needed was this gaggle getting underfoot! Unsure of what to say, but knowing he had to say something, he went to the edge of the stage. "Ah, Miss Piggy?"

She replied in a singsong voice that could be heard by everyone around, "Don't worry, Scooter. They are merely filming on location, and will not bother anyone. I discussed it all with Kermit yesterday." She turned back to the crew and said, "Scooter is our stage manager. When we're setting up the show, he is the boss. So we will not get in his way, or interfere with the show in any way. Capice?" The babies and some of the toys were sitting up, wondering about the unexpected delay.

Scooter was mildly embarrassed, but glad all the same to see Piggy begin by reading them the riot act, even if she was exaggerating his authority. He said, "They won't be filming the rehearsals, will they?"

"What?" She had not thought about that. "No. But may the girls watch? They so want to see how a real show is put together." She smiled winningly. "They know how to behave around a stage. They won't be any trouble."

"Sure, that's fine. Between rehearsals they can have a look backstage, if you want."

"Thank you! That would be wonderful." She told the girls, "Let's have a seat. You too," she added to the staff, "and I'll tell you when you may turn your equipment back on again."

The girls were all quietly impressed. Miss Piggy was clearly in charge here! Yet she did it without raising her voice or making threats. She simply acted as if she was the boss, and people jumped when she said frog.

Scooter, meanwhile, ducked backstage. He couldn't have said no to Miss Piggy, not if he wanted to avoid making his medical insurance deductible. He had no doubt that she had discussed this in some form with Kermit. Still, he went to alert his boss to the situation, just in case there were any details Piggy might have forgotten to mention.

Janken, at his console on the other side of the stage, had seen and heard only part of the exchange, and was puzzled when Scooter left just as they were about to run through the song. He tapped the intercom and said, "Bobby, is something wrong?"

"I don't think so. Where'd Scooter go?"

"I don't know. Want me to start the playback?"

"Yeah, we're all ready."

"Okay." He switched the intercom off, then turned the lights down to simulate naptime. The babies all flopped down and closed their eyes. He started the music track, which began with the theme played on a toy piano. One of the babies lifted his head, blinking sleepily as if awakening from a nap, and began singing what sounded at first like baby babble.
"And the bass keeps wunnin', wunnin',​
And wunnin', wunnin',"​

The other babies yawned, awakened, and one by one picked up the chant. Soon the first baby stood up in his crib and, leaning over the safety rail, began lisping,
"In this context there's no diswespect,​
So when I bust my wyme, you dance like heck.​
We got five minutes for us to disconnect​
From all intellect and let the wythm effect​
To lose this inhibition​
Follow your intuition,​
Fwee your inner soul​
And bweak away from twadition."​

Another baby stood and pulled a pacifier out of her mouth to sing.
"'Cause when we be out​
Girl it's gonna be that​
You wouldn't believe how​
We wow out."​

A third chimed in,
"Turn it 'til it's turned up,​
Turn it till it's turned out,​
Actin' up from north, west,​
East, south.​
"Everybody!"​

All the babies cried out, "Yeah!"
"Everybody!"​
"Yeah!"​
"Let's get into it!"​
"Yeah!"​
"Get goofy!"​
"C'mon!"​
"Get it started!"​
"C'mon!"​
"Get it started!"​
"C'mon!"​
"Get it started!"​

All of the babies were standing by now. Some had bottles, some were holding blankets or stuffed animals. The smallest had a knit cap covering his bald head. All were wearing onesies. They began bouncing in their cribs and singing,
"Let's get it started, ha!​
Let's get it started in here!​
Let's get it started, ha!​
Let's get it started in here!"​

*

The girls watched, amazed, as the Baby Band rapped in high-pitched, lisping voices. Each member of the band had a solo, and with each verse and chorus the scene grew rowdier, with the toys in the "nursery" coming to life and dancing along too, and penguins jumping around behind the cribs because, well, ballistic penguins were rarely out of place in a Muppet act. The effect was ridiculously cute and funny. By the end of the song the babies looked like they were getting sleepy, and it ended with them collapsing, one by one, in their cribs and playpens. Only the first baby to sing continued the song as he snuggled back down in his crib, mumbling as if he was half-asleep, "Wunnin', wunnin', and wunnin', wunnin'…"

When the music cut off Scooter and Bobby walked out on stage. Scooter said to both the performers and their manager, "That was perfect! Do it just like that on the show, okay?"

The babies nodded, giggled, and sucked their thumbs in agreement. Tessie, the cockatoo, turned in her seat and asked Miss Piggy, "Are they really babies?"

"Yes, they are."

"But how did they learn all that?"

"They wanted to, and nobody told them they were too young." She smiled. "And they have a whole lot of talent."

Kate, the spaniel, said, "Maybe they're really small people who just look like babies."

"Would you like to visit the diaper-changing room?" Miss Piggy inquired.

"Ew! No thanks," Kate said. The other girls wore matching squeamish expressions.

Bobby and a few very large monsters were escorting the performers offstage. The youngest ones were being carried, and the senior performers were toddling by their sides. Scooter called from the stage, "Miss Piggy, you can all come backstage now."

"Thank you, Scooter." She turned to the crew, who were seated a few rows back, and said, "Let's roll."

Miss Piggy led them to the exit door at the side of the stage, then through a door in the side. That brought them to the backstage area. The girls looked all around. Compared to the TV studios they were used to it was dark and dusty, and props and things were all over the place. Janken, who Scooter had apprised of the situation, said, "Hi, girls. Welcome to backstage left."

Miss Piggy told the girls, "Janken here is our camera operator. Although he is rarely in the show, he's very important because he makes sure the cameras see what they should see. Without a good cameraman The Muppet Show would look like a home movie."

"Can I see what you do?" Molly, the kitten, asked. The others glanced at her, surprised. She was so quiet, it was startling when she spoke without first being spoken to.

"Sure," Janken answered. "Come around so you can get a good view." The girls clustered around his chair, and he told them, "We have a bunch of cameras. Some are on the underside of the balcony, some are in the wings or near the footlights or elsewhere. I could see out of all of them, but that'd be way too much to handle at a time. So I have to figure out which cameras to use. In this case, I mostly used two from the balconies that can see the whole stage-'" He pressed a few buttons, and two monitors showed the stage, one from the left side and one from the right. "-and one in the center to zoom in and follow the action around." He pressed another button, and an inset appeared showing one of the babies, singing silently as he bounced in his crib, the camera following every move. "And I used a footlight camera to get the 'mosh pit' close up, because that'll look good on TV." He pressed another switch, and one of the screen changed to a view of the stuffed animals and toys jumping around. Janken glanced at Miss Piggy and said, Um, I guess that's pretty much it."

Most of the girls were acting politely interested. Duffy, the lamb, looked fascinated. "How do you remember which buttons do what?"

He glanced at the console, which was covered with buttons and sliders and screens and things. "It does look complicated, doesn't it? It's just one of those things that you learn, and the more you do it the less you have to think about it. But in the beginning I put sticky notes on the important bits. Sometimes they'd get stuck on me instead. I'd look like I was growing yellow scales."

The girls grinned, some more dutifully than others. Miss Piggy said, "Now, come with me, girls. Let's go to the other side of the stage." She beckoned to them, and instead of crossing the stage, where they were setting up for another rehearsal, they went back and into a passage behind it. Unlike the rest of the backstage area, this was clear of clutter. People might have to get through fast and couldn't afford any hindrances. They ended up on the other side of the stage, behind the wings and below the balcony outside the dressing rooms.

Scooter, at the desk, glanced back—Piggy had things under control—then looked out at the stage. They had taken everything down from the previous rehearsal, and weren't quite ready for the next. He picked up a phone and dialed a dressing room extension. "Lew? You said you wanted to get some training in? The stage's free at the moment."

Miss Piggy paused a minute to give the girls—and the camera crew—a chance to look around. Things were much calmer now than an episode of The Muppet Show would lead people to expect. Although, she thought to herself, Kermit and Scooter would have something very different to say about that. But she had promised Kermit that she would keep all this out of their way. She said, "Now, let's visit my very favorite part of the theater, next to the stage and my dressing room."

She led them down a hallway on the side, then opened a door. Inside were racks and racks of clothing, shelves of shoes, plus wigs and wraps and everything else. She said, "The wardrobe department!"

The girls entered, eyes wide, looking around at the wild profusion of clothing and costumes, and the cameras scanned around, pausing on some of the more interesting items. Miss Piggy took a red sequined dress off the rack, one that she knew she was a knockout in, and held it up to her front. "Everything we wear for the show is right here."

"Hello?" The voice came from behind the racks.

"Oh! Come here, would you?" Miss Piggy chirped.

A few moments later a pink-skinned, gray-haired woman wearing round, tinted glasses and a pincushion on her wrist bustled out of the depths of the room. Surprised, she said, "Oh, what's this?" in an odd accent.

"Girls, meet Hilda, our head of Wardrobe. She makes the clothes we wear on the show."

"And repairs them when they get torn up, although how that happens I'll never know," Hilda added with good humor.

Tessie, who looked genuinely excited for the first time that day, said, "You have everyone's costumes here?"

Hilda replied, "Yes, everything you see on the stage! Why, this section here is all for Miss Piggy." She gestured to the line of racks running clear to the back wall. "Here are the newest costumes. "Down there are older costumes that she can't wear anymore because…" She suddenly stopped, and a glance at Miss Piggy's expression made her finish, "because they are out of fashion. Who wears bell bottoms these days?"

Good save, said the look in Piggy's eyes, and Hilda let out a small breath of relief. The kids didn't appear to have noticed. Piggy said, "Why don't you show them some of the smaller costumes? I know we have things in their sizes."

"Oh, certainly! Come with me, girls. And, uh," She glanced back at the camera and sound crew, "bring your friends."

*

Lew Zealand was throwing fish into the air above the audience, sending each spinning with a smart snap of the wrist. Some were pros he'd worked with for years; they sailed out over the seats, then arced back and smacked neatly into his hands. But others just didn't seem to have the knack yet. They curved off to the sides and slid down the walls, some plopped into the seats, and one even hit the ceiling. Gonzo, who had nothing else to do, said, "I'll pitch those back."

"Thanks," Lew said.

Gonzo hopped down the side of the stage, where he could jump without falling into the orchestra pit, and followed the sounds of flopping fish to the trainees. He picked the first one up—close to the tail, the way Lew did—and threw it toward the stage. It nearly made it—Lew had almost caught it—when it spun, reversed, and came back to Gonzo. Lew put his fists on his hips and said, annoyed, "You'll come back to him and not to me?"

Gonzo told the fish, "Sorry, but my thing's chickens. Nothing personal." He tossed the fish again, and this time it made it safely to Lew. Lew said to the fish, "It's okay, everyone gets confused around here. We'll work on it."

*

Miss Piggy took the girls and recording crew all around the Muppet Theater, introducing them to someone from each aspect of the show, right down to Sweetums, who was invaluable when it came time to move big chunks of scenery around, and Beauregard, who kept the place clean and reasonably structurally sound. She wanted to impress on these girls that it was not just about the stars. A show was a huge, collaborative effort. Considering how many of the people were startled that she introduced them, she thought that maybe she was occasionally just a teeny little bit guilty of overlooking them too.

The girls enjoyed themselves. Hilda let those who were interested "borrow" costumes for the day. Miss Piggy gave Tessie and Julie custom makeup jobs in her dressing room, bringing out their good looks without making them into imitation adults. Molly went back to Janken, who let her experiment with the control panel between rehearsals. Duffy trailed Scooter around, watching and willing to be helpful but otherwise staying out of his way, and Scooter gave her little tasks, which she cheerfully did. Kate watched the stage from the wings; Miss Piggy thought she was imagining what it would be in front of a live audience. And Pepper, the lizard, was interested in everything, from the flyspace to the prop room. Piggy could tell that she was restraining herself from pestering everyone with questions.

After the day's rehearsing and other business was done, all the Muppets present gathered in the audience seats. Kermit sat facing them on the edge of the orchestra pit. Piggy and the girls sat off to the side. Though the camera crew had had enough and packed it in, the girls were still having a great time. The director, who had given up being anything more than a chaperone, stayed quiet and out of the way and wished for aspirin.

Kermit let everyone babble for a while, then called out, "Okay, settle down guys, there are a few things we have to do today!"

The chatter died down quickly. Gonzo, not noticing, continued, "—and I said, 'Of course, I always carry a styptic pencil.'" Then, realizing everyone was looking at him, said, "Well, I do."

Kermit said, "Guys, we have almost all the acts we need. Now we have to hammer out a backstage story. Today, so we can film it tomorrow. And it should be something we can put on the side screen so the audience can see it."

Bunsen spoke up. "Suppose Muppet Labs invents an invisibility formula."

Fozzie asked, "Do you really have one of those?"

Beaker, next to Bunsen, shook his head and squeaked. Bunsen said, "Not yet. But if such a substance somehow splattered on the wall, then the wall would become invisible, letting the audience see through into the backstage."

Impressed, Beauregard said, "That'd be lots easier than knocking a hole in the wall."

Kermit nodded. "You mean as a framing device? I like that."

"Yes. To begin with, I would describe the formula to you, but only our voices would be heard, perhaps through a faulty intercom. Somehow it gets knocked out of my hands and onto the wall. The projector starts, showing the wall turning invisible and us behind it."

Floyd spoke up. "Can we see them? Is it like we know they're watching us?"

Kermit said, "It'd probably be better if we didn't."

Bunsen said, "It can be a one-way invisibility formula then. And unbeknownst to us the polarity is reversed, so as far as we know it didn't work at all because from our point of view the wall is still opaque."

Doctor Teeth said, "As eloquently elucidated as the preamble to our annual national ten-forty."

Kermit said, "As long as we can get that to make sense to the audience, let's do that. Now, how about the story they'll see through the hole?"

Rowlf raised a finger. "Budget problems. To help pay for the show, we take up babysitting?"

The other Muppets looked at each other, unsure about that idea. Janice said, "For the babies? But, like, they've been on the show before, so people know they're rilly performers."

Rowlf said, "Yeah, that's true. But—hey, Miss Piggy, how about a crossover? Kermit, can we do that? I've been watching the girls Piggy brought in, and I bet they could do a few backstage skits as the kids we're babysitting."

Kermit was startled. "Make them part of the show? I'm not sure we can do that."

Miss Piggy spoke. "Actually, Kermie, I have been over the contract with my legal staff, and there is nothing to prevent them from being seen on another show. And I can't imagine the network having any problem with it. In fact, I'm certain they would jump at the opportunity for free cross-promotion." She smiled at the director. She held her gaze long enough to give her a chance to speak, and when she did not object immediately said to the girls sitting around her, "Well, what do you think? Would you like to be in the show?"

The girls approved the motion unanimously and excitedly.

*****

All characters except Janken, Duffy, Tessie, Molly, Kate, Julie, and Pepper are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. Let's Get It Started is by the Black Eyed Peas. All copyrighted materials are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken Fraggle is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
 

The Count

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Now that right there is a good chunky chapter, with a side of awesome sauce.

So much to like, where to start...
*Appreciates that the girls are finding some interests in all different areas of the show's production.
*Chuckles at the fish who returned to Gonzo instead of Lew and both replies.
:concern: "Sorry, but my thing's chickens. Nothing personal."
:fishy: "It's okay, everyone gets confused around here. We'll work on it."

Hilda! Knew it was her just when she popped out from behind the racks of costumes.
Because of Hilda's appearance, I half expected Bernie to be there for the makeup session, but I understand the sentiment Kermit thought earlier regarding the fact Gonzo didn't have an approved act in the show yet... There's such a wealth of actors, you can't really fit them all individually in just one show (or fanfic) sometimes.

Tunnel/passage/hallway connecting both halves of the backstage behind the stage, check.

Bobby's band was perfectly spot-on, dunno the song, but I'm applauding their effort.
"And penguins jumping around behind the cribs because, well, ballistic penguins were rarely out of place in a Muppet act."
Ah, the old Hensonian axiom. :smile:

*Laughs again when it's Gonzo instead of Janice with the non-sequitor after Kermit calls for order.
Cross-promotion, the tool of free advertising for the second party. :big_grin:
Will we need the invisibility spraying duckies or tubes of vanishing cream for splattering on the wall? :fanatic:
Baby-sitting? *Hopes they don't get the wrong idea and sit on the babies/girls themselves.

Thank you for updating, this has made my weekend. :jim:
 
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