The Best Neighbor

Convincing John

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Right... In FTB Gordon's VW was yellow and slowly devoured by Cookie Monster. But I remember from when I still had good sight, on the show, after the movie, Susan fixed the car and it got repainted a shiny powder blue. Wasn't it? :confused:
Methinks you're right Count...um, uh oh...(Grover voice) "Ohhh, I am so embarrassed..."

Maybe we can pretend Gordon repainted this VW yellow just for the time being? (Sheepish grin)...I think this will be its only appearance anyway.

The changes to the street are nothing to be alarmed about. It's the way Sesame Street looks now. Hooper's looks different from when Kermit visited last, and he didn't know about the new laundromat.

Convincing John
 

Convincing John

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This chapter is brought to you by the letter "S" and the number "11"...(and a gratuitous Star Wars reference).

Chapter 11

It happened every morning around this time (on weekdays, anyway). Out of the blue, music began to play. It was a harmonica. The unseen player's instrument sashayed around the melody it knew so well. The music seemed to stroll as if wearing a pair of comfortable old shoes, which fitted this setting perfectly. A flute joined in. It picked up the melody and carried it with a more upbeat tempo. The music went from a stroll to a jog in a few seconds. This music fit the person well, who was coincidentally out for a jog.

The bald man paced himself as he rounded the corner and passed the old trash can. He stopped at the stoop and pulled a handkerchief out of his hoodie pocket. The music faded away as he noticed someone visiting his neighborhood.

"Hi, welcome to Sesame Street" he stopped.

Scooter was the only one there. The rest of the Muppets were just out of sight, exploring the street.

"Hello! My name is Scooter. I'm a friend of Kermit's."

"Oh yeah! Kermit! It's been a while since we've seen him," Gordon wiped the sweat off his forehead and began to pump his legs again. "I'm Gordon. I was just out for my morning jog."

"Oh okay, well I was wondering if you could help with--"

"Sorry, I can't right now. Once I finish my jog, I can okay? Just twice more around the block." Gordon held up two fingers and was off.

"But--" started Scooter. But Gordon was already past the laundromat and disappeared around the corner.

Scooter sighed. As he looked down, he noticed something at his feet. It was a rather large, bright blue object with curves like a worm or a snake. Curious, Scooter picked it up and examined it. It was a letter "S".

He almost dropped the letter when a voice came from somewhere above him. It sounded surprisingly like the announcer for Vet's Hospital and Pigs in Space back at the theater. The voice said:

"The letter of the day is 'S'."

As Scooter looked up to try to find the source for the voice, some other letters appeared in mid-air. They were all in a row, right next to the 'S' in his hand. He noticed the floating letters and stepped back in shock.

"'S' for 'Scooter'." the voice said.

Scooter glanced up again, then back at the floating letters, which were now fading. Experimentally, he poked one with his finger, but it was like touching mist caught in the light.

He looked at the 'S' in his hand, the place in front of him where the letters had been and glanced upwards again. Baffled, he looked straight ahead.

"What the hey?" he remarked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The letter 'S' made its second noticeable appearance for the day just a few minutes later. The freeway was full of semis, buses and cars. One car in particular held a portly, frowning man and his assistant. They were surrounded by traffic, unable to go more than 65mph.

"Do you know where this...Caraway, er, Sesame Seed Street is?" asked Frass. He was looking at a map of New York City. Frass's fat fingers traced street after street within New York City's labyrinthine layout.

"N-no..no, never been there." answered Max.

Frass flipped the map over and squinted at an inset map. "Broadway...Manhattan Island..."

A pick-up truck ahead of them carried some farm tools. It hit a bump and a rusty nail fell out.

"Here it is! Sesam--"

BLAM!

The left front tire popped and was rapidly deflating. Frass threw the map down and ordered Max to pull over. Max put the emergency flashers on as the traffic allowed the Maybach to crawl along the shoulder. As it came to a wobbly stop, Frass curled his fists so hard his pudgy knuckles cracked.

"If you don't do something about this, you're not getting any pay this month." Frass threatened.

Fortunately, Max knew how to change a tire, but as he got out of the car, he saw a tow truck coming from the opposite direction.

"Flag 'em down, Max!" barked Frass. "We can get 'em to do our tire, then we can get directions." he frowned at the road map again before tossing it aside.

Max watched the tow truck coming. He stood on the shoulder of the road and put his arms up as the traffic zoomed by. The truck was far, far away.

"Over heeerre!" Max yelled. "Heyyyy! Hellllp! Please helllllllp!"

The tow truck zoomed past them, then someone in the driver's seat must have noticed Max. The truck weaved through to the left lane and made a sharp U-turn in the median. It then dangerously roared into traffic without stopping. Max winced, expecting the truck to crash any second...but it didn't.

Max watched, amazed, as the truck now drove at full speed on the shoulder. The unseen driver slammed on the brakes and the truck's tires spewed gravel everywhere. As Max thought for sure the truck was going to rear end the Maybach, the truck came to a screeching, rusty halt a half inch away from the Maybach's back bumper.

Max coughed and waved the dust and exhaust away with his cap. As he did, he could see a huge, blue letter "S" sloppily painted on the truck's hood.

"Max!" barked Frass. "Tell 'em to...what is that?" Frass watched in the rear view mirror as something came out of the driver's seat.

It wasn't a person. Frass nor Max had any idea of what it was. The best way to describe it was a cross between a dilapidated dragon and a lump of shredded, dirty laundry. The only thing recognizable about it was part of it's clothing. It wore mechanic's overalls and an old beat up blue painter's cap.

For something so raggedy looking, the thing had a lot of energy. It crawled like a lopsided spider from the truck and shuffled quickly along the shoulder of the road. All the while, it paid no attention to how dangerously close it was to the rushing traffic.

Out of curiosity, Frass had let his window down. Puffs of gravel-dust sifted inside as each vehicle roared by. Without warning, the thing stuck its head through Frass's window. It gave Frass a look of surprise, then disappointment. The misshapen head then ducked out of sight. A high, strangled voice complained to someone out of view.

"This ain't the Batmobile!" it shouted.

A low, growly voice muffled by the wind responded.

"Yeah, but it ain't Batman in there! You were close, though!" the ugly head poked in and gawked at Frass with yellow, serpent-like eyes. They blinked and the head ducked out again. "Yeah! It's the Penguin all right! I'd know that ol' fatso anywhere! Hee hee hee!"

Frass's face turned purple as the raggedy thing approached Max. Frass could hear every word it said.

"Hiya, fella! Got a little problem with the Penguinmobile, eh? Well, you're in luck because I'm Scred from Scred's Awful--er, Awesome Auto Repair and Towing Services! Just sit back and relax and we'll get your car runnin' again in no-time!" The ragged thing gently herded Max to get back in the car. "Don't you worry. We're the best mechanics Todd Kapoodle has to offer!" Scred bragged.

As Max sat down and closed the door, he saw his boss behind him, breathing like a rhinoceros ready to charge.

"Heyyyy, Ploobis!" Scred bellowed to the truck. "C'mere and help me with this!"

Frass and Max watched as something huge and green squeezed its way out of the passenger seat. It wore the same cap and overalls as the driver, but looked altogether different. One could have said it was the same species as the first creature, only bloated and moss-colored.

The green creature waddled slowly up to the Maybach and stopped at Frass's window.

"Say, Scred? Scred!" he yelled. "C'mere!" Frass could smell cooked meat of an unidentified creature wafting on the green creature's breath.

Scred ran clumsily up to the huge, green mass. As he did, Frass grappled with a question he almost didn't want to ask. Had he been talking with two human mechanics, the question wouldn't have crossed his mind.

"Can you fix it?" Frass asked uncertainly.

"Can we fix it?" asked the green creature incredulously as he slapped a clawed paw on the car's open window. "Can we fix it?" he repeated. The green creature then paused and blinked his beady, close-set eyes in confusion. He turned to Scred and asked earnestly "Can we fix this?"

"Oh of course we can fix it," replied Scred confidently. Frass gave a little sigh of relief. The two creatures ambled to the hood of the Maybach.

"After all," Scred continued. "We've been in this business for a whole week! Hee hee hee!"

"WHAT?" Frass tried to jump out of his seat and hit his head on the ceiling. Max just froze.

Immediately, Scred and Ploobis popped the hood and inspected the interior.

"Well, no wonder the car won't run!" said Scred. "It's all fulla junk an' wires an' pipes an' stuff! Ploobis, help me get all this garbage outta here!" Frass heard something start to be forcefully pulled from the engine.

"STOP! STOP!" Frass yelled over the sound of squealing metal.

Scred scurried over to Frass's window. "Whatsa matter, Pingu?"

"The TIRE! FIX THE TIRE!" Frass growled through gnashed, tartar-stained teeth.

"The tire?" Scred looked down at the deflated tire. "OH! The tire! you want this tire to look like the other tires, right?"

"Yessss..." Frass hissed, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.

"Okay, no problem. PLOOBIS!" Ploobis waddled up to him.

"Yeah?"

"Chilly Willy here wants all the tires to look the same. So go get some nails and a hammer and we'll poke holes in the other three tires."

"Oh, okay!" Ploobis started to waddle to the truck.

"NO! STOP!" yelled Frass.

Scred poked his head in the car window. Frass fought the urge to choke him.

"Replace...the...flat...tire...with...a...spare...tire." he snarled slowly. Spit flecked from his mouth at every other word.

"OH!" nodded Scred, finally understanding. "Hey, Ploobis! We gotta replace the busted tire with a good one!"

Frass felt his chest tighten as Scred poked his head in the window yet again.

"Say uh, you got a spare tire?"

Frass suddenly remembered that he hadn't. He had bought the Maybach just for showing it off in the driveway if another business executive happened to drive by. He sold the spare tire to buy extra polish and part of the headlight customization. He didn't think he'd actually have to drive the car outside of the city limits.

"N...no..."

"Hey, that's no problem! I'm sure we got somethin' on the truck that'll work."

Scred shuffled off as Ploobis put the hood down and stood next to the car. He stared at the flat tire and scratched his head as though he'd never seen a flat tire before.

In a moment, Scred came back with a few tools and something heavy underneath his arm.

"We gotcha a tire!" he crowed. "But it don't look like the others."

"As long as it ain't flat and it'll fit, I don't care!" yelled Frass.

Scred shrugged. "Oohhh-kayyy," his tone of voice clearly said 'don't say I didn't warn you'. He went to the front of the car and gave instructions to Ploobis.

"Okay, when I say 'lift', go ahead an' 'lift'!" The Maybach gave a lurch as Ploobis yanked up part of the front end. Frass and Max were nearly tossed aside from the force.

"I wasn't ready yet!"

"But you said 'lift'!"

"I didn't mean that 'lift', I meant..."

The car heaved again.

"Wait! Oh crud, now we got another problem."

"What's that?"

"Now my toe is flat! OWWW! Lift! Lift!"

The car's front gave another bouncing heave.

"Okay, lemme get that old tire off...gimme those pliers. Yeah an' that...well, we don't need the blowtorch quite yet..."

The car gave another uneven lurch. It was now being held up by Ploobis while Scred crawled underneath.

Frass wanted to see what was going on, but he didn't dare get out of the car. He was too worried about what he might see if he did. Max felt the same way.

"Okay, we got one lug nut...I think..." The sound of a stubborn metal object squeezed, squealed, then gave a 'pop' that made the car wobble. "these are stubborn little guys..." A second metal piece groaned horribly as it was pulled like a rotten tooth from a giant's jaw. "that's two...whew! Boy! I wish I had better pliers for this."

Frass listened, petrified as the rest of the lug nuts were forcibly yanked from the wheel. The sound of a loose tire bumped underneath him. Frass watched it roll. It wobbled along the shoulder, through the traffic and into the median before flopping over.

Max and Frass felt the new tire being put in place, followed by more commentary from Scred.

"Okay, where's that hammer? Ah, here it is."

BAM! BAM! KLANG! KA-BINNNG! The car shook with each pound from underneath.

BAM! BANG! KA-CRRRK!

"Aw, mud moogies!" Scred swore. "So much for that lug nut." Scred carelessly tossed the lug nut directly into the speeding traffic behind him. It bounced off a minivan, then fell into a drain near the median.

After more pounding and a swear word or two, Scred was finished. He crawled out from underneath and Ploobis let the front of the car down--by simply letting go. The whole chassis bounced on the tires. Frass hoped the shocks held.

"There ya are, all set!" Scred bragged. "Your tire's ready to go!" Scred wiped his hands with a filthy rag and handed Frass an envelope. "Here's your bill! Hee hee hee!"

When Frass found his voice, he warned "You better not have broken anything!"

"Aw, nothin' important," Scred shrugged. "the best part is, we gave you a better type of tire for free!"

"Oh yeah?" Frass asked skeptically. "What kind of tire?"

"A racing one!" Scred said proudly. "Me an' Ploobis found it rollin' off the race track!"

"An official NASCAR tire?" Frass's eyes lit up. How they installed it, he didn't know, but he didn't care. Not only did they have a quality tire, but Frass already had plans for it. He began scheming to sell it on Ebay and claim it once belonged to Dale Earnhardt.

"No, it ain't a NASCAR tire." Scred shook his head as Ploobis lumbered by.

"Hey c'mon, Scred. It's time for our break."

"Hey, yeah! Say Ploobis! Tell Tennessee Tuxedo here where we got the tire."

Ploobis squinted as he tried to think.

"Aha!" he remembered, pointing a finger upwards. "We got it at that race...the Powderpuff Sorority Derby...somethin' like that. Anyway, pink looks good with the black, don'tcha think Scred?"

"Yeah!" Scred waved to Frass as the both of them ambled back to their tow truck. "Well, so long Mr. Cobblepot! Have a nice day!"

Before Frass could do anything, Scred and Ploobis were in their truck. It started, backed up with a jerk, then sped crazily into the speeding traffic. Within a few seconds, it was gone.

Max had not moved. He was sure he was going to get fired because of this. He was just waiting for his boss to say it...

"Max!"

Max's stomach sank painfully.

"Yes, sir?"

Frass held the unopened envelope in his fingers. He didn't want to see how much he owed. He only had one thing on his mind.

"Let's...get out of here." he said quietly and evenly.

Without pausing, Max started up the car. It still worked. He put it in 'drive', then nudged the accelerator. The Maybach inched forward on a tire which seemed functional.

Five miles an hour...ten...twenty...the tire held.

Cautiously, Max accelerated as they merged with the eastbound traffic. Soon, the Maybach was on its same course once again. This time, though, it had lost a lug nut, but gained a tire...a neon pink one with lavender flowers painted all over it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More soonish.

Convincing John
 

redBoobergurl

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He he, I loved the Sesame Street stuff! S is for Scooter! And Scooter is just like "um ok..." That was GREAT! And humorous stuff with Max and Frass and the car too. Keep it coming!
 

The Count

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Nicely tied together, what with the Sesame and tow truck bits. Rully interested to see how this progresses, please post more.
 

Convincing John

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More fun with the letter 'S'...

Chapter 12

"See anything, lil' buddy?" asked Sweetums.

Sweetums carried Robin around the block. As he did, he held Robin up to each window to see if anyone was awake. So far, each window was dark.

"It's still kinda early. Let's try the stoop again, Sweetums."

As they rounded the corner, they realized that they were the only ones there. Everyone else had left, even Scooter. One window on the first floor had just flickered on. The light from the apartment below came on almost a second later.

"Ernie's up!" Robin thought. "...or maybe Bert."

"I got an idea," said Sweetums. "why don't you check what's going on down there, an' I'll check this window."

Sweetums carefully lowered Robin on the windowsill so he could look inside.

Robin smiled. It was just as he expected the place to be. The curtains were slightly parted, revealing an apartment shared by two obviously different people. One dark green armchair sat next to the television. It was bought sometime during the 1970s, but still looked brand new. There wasn't a brass tack out of place and there was not a stain to be seen.

Someone had been sitting there, though. There was a slight indentation in the seat and a book had been left on the arm. Robin squinted to read the title: "Pigeons of Asbury Park". A bookmark peeked out of its pages. Its ribbon was dull gray with a bottle cap tied to the end.

Behind the chair was a bookcase. Each book inside was neatly placed as if by a librarian. Robin squinted to read the other titles: "Cooking With Oatmeal", "Influence on Oatmeal Production and Distribution by the Quakers", "Coo Coo! Your Pigeon and You", "Notable Pigeons in History", "Paper Clip Sculptures from Around the World", "Johan Vaaler; the Legend", "101 Regular Lentil Soup Recipes", "A Tale of Two Breakfasts", "History of the Crown Cork (Forward by William Painter)" and a few copies of "Journal of the Test Card Circle".

Some vinyl records sat next to a record player. John Phillip Sousa and Lawrence Welk dominated the collection. Two carefully preserved autographed pictures hung on the wall. Robin recognized the Frank Oz one right away. The other one confused him. It was an image of a young girl playing Tic-Tac Toe with a stuffed clown doll. The image was in a circle, surrounded by gray and white lines. A colorful, rectagular border surrounded it. Near the bottom of the image someone had written: "To Bert: My very best to you always, Carole Hersee."

A pair of saddle shoes (laces tucked in), were neatly placed by the chair. The beige, oval rug underneath them was spotless.

Robin looked at the other side of the room. It was a dump. It looked like Crazy Harry had set off a bomb in the toy chest. Crayons, some just stubs, littered the floor amongst open coloring books. A yellow one poked out of a single, worn, red sneaker in the middle of the floor full of toys. Bits of cookies and pulverized cookie crumbs were sprinkled everywhere. A bunch of letter "R"s spilled from a tipped-over cardboard box. Bulky headphones draped carelessly over a worn, yellow easy chair with an overturned toy fire truck and a basketball in its seat. A half eaten piece of pepperoni pizza slumped over the armrest.

Robin smiled. This was the way it was supposed to be.

The window was open a crack. He could smell something coming from the lit kitchen. Of course! It was oatmeal. No cinnamon, apples or sugar added. Just plain oatmeal.

The plain oatmeal smell was quickly overpowered by the smell coming from the upstairs apartment. The window was open and the curtains were parted about an inch. A large yellow eye could see a neatly kept kitchen. Two lights were on. One was the ceiling light. The other light came from the refrigerator, where most of a dark-complexioned woman was hidden by the door.

On the stove, a few eggs sizzled sunny-side-up. The woman fished out a package of frozen bacon and shut the freezer. Her pink bathrobe swayed slightly as she shuffled around the kitchen in pink, fluffy slippers. Her hands opened the bacon box and broke off a few pieces. In no time, the frost around the pieces were gone and the bacon was sizzling along with the eggs. Then she put three more items on the kitchen table for breakfast: a loaf of bread, a container of milk and a stick of butter.

Not three feet away from the window was a coffee pot. Fresh coffee brewed with 'plup-plup-ploop' sounds. Next to it was a can of fragrant, freshly ground Wilkins Coffee.

Sweetums smiled. What a great place! he thought. I'll start by saying hello to this nice lady!

The woman ran her fingers idly through her tousled, dark hair and yawned. She squinted sleepily at the coffee pot light and reached up to part the curtains. She pulled them open, then yawned again, only to pause halfway through. Her eyes popped wide open in surprise. A huge, hairy face with yellow eyes, a massive jaw and big teeth completely filled the window.

"MORNIN'!" Sweetums bellowed brightly.

Susan's eyes rolled up as she fainted with a thud.

Sweetums shrugged. "Guess she ain't a morning person. Hey! I know! I'll finish the breakfast and when she wakes up, it'll be all set! Yeah!"

Instead of using the door, Sweetums heaved himself up on the window well and squeezed clumsily through the kitchen window.

"You just take a nap, nice lady an' I'll cook yer breakfast! Umph!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Sweetums' kicking legs disappeared through the kitchen window, a piano teacher and a brown dog made their way down the narrow stairs from the second apartment building and past Hooper's Store.

"So that's the whole story," explained Rowlf. "if we don't find out who sent the picture..."

"I see," Bob finished. "So, you think someone around here drew it?"

"Could be...but we aren't going to say anything to the youngsters around here about what'll happen if we don't find 'The Best Neighbor'."

"Well, I'll certainly keep my eyes open. After I check my email, I'm going to teach a few music lessons. I'll ask the kids I see if they remember anything."

"Thanks Bob," said Rowlf as he shook Bob's hand. "you're a good friend. I'm going to ask Maria and Luis about it, then I'll meet up with the gang later."

"Sounds like a good plan," smiled Bob. Rowlf turned in the opposite direction, headed for the Fix-It Shop.

"Hey Rowlf?"

"Yeah, Bob?"

Bob smiled again. "Good to see you on the street again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Rowlf passed the laundromat and turned the corner, Bob headed for the arbor. He sat down at the old table beside the fire escape and set a laptop on top of it. It was a borrowed laptop from a friend. Bob was just getting used to using one (he was thinking of purchasing one himself). As Bob opened the laptop and traced his index finger around the touch pad, another visitor to the street was passing Hooper's Store. She approached him, her high heels tapping against the pavement.

"Bonjour jeune monsieur!"

Bob looked up from his laptop to see an eloquently dressed pig. As only Bob could do, he greeted her the same way he greeted anyone else who arrived here.

"Hi there! I'm Bob. Welcome to--"

"See-same Street, I know." finished Miss Piggy. She put her hands on her hips and glanced around the arbor. "Kermie told Moi all about it. You know..." she looked at the brickwork and the dark green paint on the fire escape. "this place could use a new color arrangement. Maybe some pink trim around these old buildings, some chiffon curtains in the windows...and this fire escape would look lovely draped in baby blue satin."

As Piggy said the word 'satin', the word appeared in front of her in large, hovering, bold, letters. Piggy stepped back in slight shock.

"Hubba wha?" she stammered.

A voice overhead said "'S' is for 'satin'."

Piggy looked up. "How'd that announcer guy get here?" she remarked.

Bob thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "I think I know who you are. You're a friend of Kermit's, aren't you?"

Piggy turned to him, her eyes slightly dreamy.

"Kermie is a very good friend of Moi."

"So what are you doing here today?"

"Yes, ahem. Well, Robier, Kermie, Moi, and..." she waved vaguely behind her. "those other guys...have come here to your street--"

The word 'street' appeared in front of Piggy, hovering and bold where the word 'satin' had been a moment ago.

"'S' is for 'street'." said the announcer.

"Go away," she irritably batted the letters away like flies. "what is this?"

"You said a word that begins with the Letter of the Day. It's 'S'." Bob explained.

"You mean if I say something that begins with 'S', a floaty word thing'll appear..." she flapped a hand vaguely in front of her where the word had been. "right there?"

"That's generally how it works around here." Bob shrugged.

"Weird." Piggy shook her head.

Bob glanced down at his laptop and noticed a massive amount of pop up pages. Each one announced that Miss Piggy was on Sesame Street. His eyebrows raised slightly.

"It looks like you're very popular around here already."

"Ah yes, Moi's adoring fans follow Moi everywhere! It is so difficult to get some privacy sometimes!"

Bob noticed his name in the pop-up screens, too. They were links to fansites. When Bob tried one, it led to a Forum. The thread title read "MISS PIGGY ON SS RIGHT NOW!"

A whole string of comments appeared below, all of which expressed great excitement.

"I just turned on SS and Bob is on! Yay! But what's better is that Miss Piggy is on there WITH HIM!"

"r u sure?"

"YES! She's on right now talking to Bob about something!"

"That's a joke. Someone delete this thread."

"No it ain't! I'm taping it right now and as I type, Piggy's got her snout against Bob's computer. They're out by Hooper's! She called him "Row-bear", whatever that means."

"Maybe she means 'Robier', like French for 'Robert'."

"Oh, I see. Thx."

"See? I TOLD you guys she was on SS! Now there's PROOF!"

"Piggy and SS...together at last!"

"Someone hurry up and email Danny at Tough Pigs about this! He loves Piggy!"

"He runs the Wiki, too! Someone send the Wiki a screenshot! Anyone taping this?"

"I'm taping it! I don't care if I'm late for work! Piggy on SS...WOW!"

One last post appeared below the others:

"After much debate between fans on this issue, Miss Piggy has finally visited Sesame Street. You can talk about her appearance here and let us know what you think."

Piggy read all the comments and whirled around, trying to echo the grace of Marilyn Monroe. She tossed her golden locks behind her head and puckered her lips to the camera.

"They love Moi, Robier!" Piggy walked through the arbor and past Susan and Gordon's window. She paused to let her public adore her. She walked as though she were on a fashion show runway. When she faced forward again, the stream of comments grew with even more force. Bob read some of them aloud.

"She's in front of Susan and Gordon's now."

"I can't believe she's on SS!"

"How did Disney allow this?"

"SWEETUMS! IT'S SWEETUMS!"

Bob looked up from his screen. "Sweetums?" he asked in confusion.

"Sweetums?" echoed Piggy.

The floating word 'Sweetums' appeared in front of her.

"'S' is for 'Sweetums'." said the unseen announcer.

Sweetums's face poked through one of the windows.

"Hi, Piggy!" Sweetums shouted happily. "These eggs'll be done in a jiffy!" He ducked back inside. Piggy wrinkled her snout and grimaced at the smell of burnt eggs and coffee grounds. She then noticed the floating letters in front of her spelling 'Sweetums'. She waved them away angrily and moved away from the window, out of earshot from the beeping smoke alarm. She collected her bravado and sashayed past the stoop.

"And now I'm going to sing a song for all my fans." She cleared her throat.

"When you come here, each day brings
A day where you just see the same old things
And nothing changes here, each day's a repeat!
That's why they call it"--(she gestured to the street sign)--"See-same Street!"

"Now Moi is here, and now I'm tellin' you
That 'See-same Street' here has something new!"
(Piggy spread out her arms and sang at the top of her voice)
"It has a star now, with talent so big!"

"Hey! It's Grover dressed up like a pig!" snarled a voice.

Piggy stopped and slowly turned around to face a mossy green thing peering at her from inside his trash can home.

"I beg your pardon?" she growled.

When he saw her face, Oscar was taken aback. "Woah! You really are a pig!" he grinned.

"Yeah I am, fuzzball. Ya wanna make something of it?"

"And a grouchy pig, too!" Oscar leaned forward as his smile widened. "This is great! Heh heh heh!"

"I also happen to be a star!" Piggy insisted. The word 'star' floated in front of her.

"'S' is for 'star'." said the unseen voice.

"Aw, knock it off." Piggy grumbled to the sky.

"Oh, so the letter of the day is 'S', huh?" asked Oscar. "Well, I got some things here in my trash can start with 'S'." He ducked down and descended a flight of circular, unseen stairs. A moment later, he popped back up again. Each object he brought out of his can made its name appear in front of them in floating letters.

"First of all, we got my pet worm, Slimey!" Slimey, wearing a tiny backpack, crawled down Oscar's hand, across the crate next to him and into a bus about the size of a loaf of bread. "He's going off to Worm School. Hey, 'school' is another 'S' word. Have a rotten day at school, Slimey! Now let's see, what else we got in here?"

Oscar pulled out a ratty cardboard box lid and handed it to Piggy. "Here Babe, make yourself useful!" Before Piggy knew what was happening, she was holding the lid for Oscar.

She froze as she stared at her gloved hands. There were stains on her gloves now! Her perfect gloves! What the stains were, or how they would come out, Piggy was too scared to ask. Her gloves!

Meanwhile, Oscar kept tossing things in the lid.

"Let's see, I got a stinky sneaker, a sauerkraut sundae, stiff socks, solidified Space Food Sticks from the seventies, a smashed six-string, and--"

"OINK!"

"Was that you?" Oscar asked Piggy. Then something nudged Oscar's elbow.

"Huh? Oh yeah! This is something else that starts with 'S'! My pet pig, Spot!" Oscar scratched Spot between the ears, making him grunt happily. "Hey, Spot? How about we sing that song? It's all about another thing right here on the street that starts with 'S'."

Spot gave a joyful squeal as unseen musicians played an off-key introduction. Spot oinked in the chorus as Oscar sang and pointed to Piggy when the 'S' word came up.

"There was an old farmer who had an old sow!"

"Sow!"

"Oink!"

"Sow!"

"Oink!"

"Hi-did-dle-dow!"

The lid of trash in Piggy's hands began to shake. Her gloved hands gripped the soft, water-damaged cardboard like talons until it turned to mush between her fingers. Her bright blue eyes widened with rage as the floating word 'sow' repeatedly appeared in front of her. Piggy let the lid go. It crashed to the sidewalk, sending the trash scattering to the curb.

In a blur of lavender, she swung her arm back, fist curled like a coiled snake.

"HIIIIIIIII-"

Spot gave a squeal of alarm and ducked down into the can. At the last second, Oscar saw what was coming and ducked down after him, slamming the lid.

"YYYAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Piggy's fist pounded the trash can. As she reeled back for another punch, she was surprised at what happened next. Besides the metallic bang her fist made against the (freshly dented) can, she heard an assortment of other noises coming from inside it.

The trash can wobbled as Piggy heard breaking glass, goats bleating, angry trumpeting from a half-dozen elephants, more pig squeals, bowling pins crashing and something like a grand piano being overturned. A gruff voice deep below cheered "That was terrific! All right!"

Piggy stepped forward, still enraged, but curious in spite of herself. She opened the lid a crack. A second or so later, a huge splash echoed from inside. Stagnant, moldy water burst from the trash can and soaked her from head to toe.

Piggy stepped back, now angrier than ever. She thought about hitting the can again, but finally decided against it. She tossed her sopping wet hair over her shoulder with as much dignity as she could muster and marched off with her snout in the air.

A moment later, Oscar popped up.

"Hey, where'd that grouchy pig go?" he complained. "She made my piano fall into my swimming pool with the good china!" He saw her walking away and yelled after her. "Hey, come back here and do that again! I love what you did with this dent!" Oscar chuckled to himself and lightly put a grubby finger to his jaw.

"Man," he said to himself. "a grouchy pig that loses her temper and knows how to redecorate!" he sighed in admiration and smiled his lopsided smile. "It's about time they had someone decent droppin' by this yucchy place! Heh heh heh!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More soon.

Convincing John
 

The Count

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Do you know 'smile' also starts with S? That's what I got after reading this update. And a large one. Funny that Piggy keeps saying the street's name the same way Chevy Chase did in FTB. Thanks for this and post more when possible.
*Leaves cookies. :insatiable:
 

redBoobergurl

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Too funny! I loved the connection to MC - all the posts in a thread about Miss Piggy on Sesame Street - hilarious! S is for super, which this story continues to be!
 

Convincing John

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Hey thanks Count!

I thought about that Chevy Chase bit, too. Did he pronounce it with a long "E" in the first syllable, too? I forget. I just remember him fluffing the pronunciation, then looking off camera, then going "Sesame Street. Sorry."

I thought Piggy would say "See same", because (from her point of view), you always "see" the "same" old stuff there: the brownstone, Oscar's can, etc. If it were up to Piggy, the street would be redecorated and repainted every other week!

And yes, there will be more chapters! (I'm having a ball with this story). I have a bunch more to write, but I also have a bunch of chapters already written that don't come until way later in the story. It's a weird way to write, but it works.

Until then, I guess um...(sings like Mister Rogers) "Let's think of something to do while we're waiting..."

I will say that if you (or anyone else reading this story) is curious, (and wants to do something to pass the time until the next chapter) the names "William Painter" "John Vaaler" and "Carole Hersee" and the brand names "Crown Cork" and "Journal of the Test Card Circle" (from Bert's stuff) are all 100% real people and things Bert would find facsinating. UK residents especially would recognize the picture (with the clown doll) that confused Robin. I had a lot of fun with Wikipedia when writing that scene.

Of course I had to include Bert's books we already knew about: "A Tale of Two Breakfasts" and "Cooking With Oatmeal". If I remember right, in "Doin the Pigeon" (where Bert shows the pigeon footage first), he says "I filmed these pigeons in Asbury Park", so I threw that name in there, too.

It's always fun to toss stuff in like that. Just like the Star Wars (A New Hope) reference in the last chapter. It's just fun.

Oh and thanks for the cookies!:insatiable:

Convincing John
 
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