Masks, Part 14:
Face-Off, Part 1
by Kim McFarland
*****
It was the afternoon of the TMI benefit show. The guest performers were gathered backstage with the theater staff and Cathy Monster, the event's coordinator. She peeked at the audience from the wings.
All sorts of people had come. There were a number of invited guests, those who might take their message to heart. This show was not about raising funds, as the TMI was very well off, thanks to the shrewd investments of its founder. It was about spreading their message.
Gonzo, who was feeling just a touch of nerves because he was going to be emceeing the show—an unfamiliar role; he was much more used to bringing culture to the world via wild stunts—looked out over her shoulder. She said, "Your friends came."
"Yep." It was easy to pick them out. Flashbulbs always seemed to go off in Miss Piggy's vicinity. Kermit was with her, and he could see Camilla, Fozzie, Scooter, Skeeter, and Janken in the audience. Then he noticed someone else, and said, "Oh, crud," under his breath.
"What's wrong?"
Gonzo pointed at a small man with a mop of pale hair. "I know him. He's a reporter for
The Daily Scandal. He writes nasty stuff. You don't want to know the kind of junk he wrote about me and Camilla after they refused to issue us a marriage license because they said she was 'only an animal'."
"I can guess," she said sympathetically.
"I hope he doesn't start in on the TMI."
"Gonzo, checkout line weeklies like that write anything to sell copies. Sometimes they sell papers by pulling on people's heartstrings."
"I don't know..."
"Are you always so worried about the tabloids? Whatever they print, it'll be forgotten as soon as the next issue comes out," Catherine said.
"I hope you're right."
**
While Miss Piggy allowed the photographers to have their way with her—with Kermit as her arm candy, of course—the others sat in the seats, chatting among themselves. Skeeter, speaking across Scooter, asked Janken, "Do you mind a personal question?"
"No, what?" Janken answered.
"You look kind of like a Fraggle..?"
Skeeter, looking at Janken, did not notice her brother's relief, but Janken did. Janken said, "Me, a Fraggle? What makes you think that?"
"A lot of little things. Mainly your eyes and how you never wear shoes. And you're a vegetarian."
Janken smiled. "Okay, you got me. Yeah, I'm a Fraggle. Where did you hear about us? Hardly anyone knows we exist."
"One of the things I study is different cultures. Nobody knows much about Fraggles, but what there is makes it sound like you're
very different. Is it a secret, what you are?"
Janken shook his head. "No. I'd rather not make noise about it, is all. And we're not as different as you'd think."
"Can I ask you some questions?"
"Shoot."
Scooter asked Janken, "Want to swap seats?"
"Sure." The two switched seats to put Janken next to Skeeter.
Skeeter said, "I thought Fraggles didn't like to leave their caves. You seem at home out here, though."
"My great-uncle Matt—he was the first Fraggle to explore the outside world—used to take me with him on little adventures when I was a kid. I guess he trained me not to be agoraphobic. Still, it was pretty rough when I came up to live out here by myself. If you're used to knowing just where you are by the caves and tunnels you're in, what kind of rock is around you and what's living on it, imagine what it's like to look around and see nothing but distance. How can you tell where you are? But somehow you do it, and I told myself that if a Silly Creature—that's what Matt calls surface dwellers because he doesn't understand them very well—could manage it, so could I."
"Why, though? I mean, why leave your home, go to 'Silly Creature' college, and become a
theater tech, for crying out loud?"
He grinned. "It does sound weird, doesn't it? Exploring is a family tradition, and I'm continuing that. The TMI helped me get acclimated to the world out here, and they placed me in a college so I could get up to speed. I guess I gravitated to theater arts because Fraggles like singing and dancing, and when I was younger I wanted to be a storyteller." In a sober tone he said, "As for why I decided to live out here rather than just poking my head out every so often, well, there are dangers where we live—cave-ins, poison plants, hungry creatures, and so on—but they aren't so bad when you know how to deal with them. You can sense instability in the rocks, recognize the signs of...well, you get the idea. Anyhow, we Fraggles have never known anything about the surface world before because it just wasn't real to us, I guess. But that's changed. We
need to understand how the world works because we're part of it now. A few years before I was born we were poisoned when the human living above our caves contaminated our water with chemical waste. He didn't mean to—he didn't know we lived there, and as soon as he found out he stopped it and had the water cleaned again. But we could all have
died, never knowing why." He paused, then smiled again. "I'd like to say that I was chosen for this heroic task because I'm the bravest and the brightest, but we're not that organized. I'm just the one who thought, okay, someone ought to do it, and it might be fun."
**
While Janken and Skeeter talked, Fleet Scribbler watched the audience from behind his dark glasses. He needed an article for tomorrow's paper, and it had to be something better than standard celebrity gossip. He had come here on a hunch, and, he thought as he looked around, perhaps that hunch was on the money. Miss Piggy was here—he hadn't foreseen that. She was always good for interesting press, especially lately. He could tell when somebody had something to hide, and spilled secrets sold papers.
It was easy to make his way over to her without being seen; he just stayed on the side opposite the photographers and autograph seekers. He took out a small digital camera, set the focus to closeup, and inched forward.
Scooter called, "Miss Piggy!"
She glanced over. "What?"
Both Fozzie and Scooter were looking at her. Scooter pointed urgently at something behind her.
She felt a touch at her fingertips, and looked around. She saw a mop of pale hair, a hand reaching for her glove as if about to pull it off, and a camera. Her arm jerked suddenly, and with a whoosh of expelled breath Fleet doubled over. She turned back, smiling smugly. It hadn't even taken a karate chop to put that twerp in his place. A stiff finger-jab to the solar plexus got the message across much more subtly.
**
Gonzo had seen the action from a distance, and was grinning. He knew exactly what had happened. Couldn't have happened to a more deserving guy.
Catherine said, "It's five minutes until we start. I must admit, I've done many of these shows, and I'm still a little nervous."
Penny Dreadful, now in a costume that made her look simultaneously frightening and alluring, said in a sultry voice, "Don't worry about it. We'll have them eating out of the palms of our hands."
"Thanks, Penny. I know you will." This was not the first time Penny Dreadful had been in a TMI benefit, and Catherine knew that whenever she was in costume she was in character. She looked around—the guest performers were all there—and said, "I want to thank you all for donating your time and talent. This will help greatly in getting our message out. The more people know about TMI, the more people will call on us when they see a need for us, and the more lives we can save by giving people a chance. Thank you."
This struck a chord with Gonzo. Suddenly he realized that it had been blind luck that the TMI had helped him, back when he had been homeless. He had been taken in for vagrancy—he had been sleeping on a park bench—and somehow Catherine had gotten him out, so he did not get a criminal record. Someone at the police station had to have known about TMI, and when they saw that he had no record had guessed that the TMI could help him out of the trap he was in. Without the aid of that unknown benefactor—someone who knew about the TMI, and had called on them instead of following the normal routine and booking him—he could not have gotten off the streets. Why had this never occurred to him before?
**
Skeeter and Janken were still talking when the theater lights dimmed, signaling people to take their seats. After a minute Gonzo, wearing his familiar purple tuxedo, wandered out in front of the stage curtains, swinging a wireless microphone in one hand and looking around casually. He stopped when he saw the audience, then said, "Oh, you're here," in a tone of mild surprise. "Glad you could come. Welcome to this show, which is sponsored by the TMI." He took a card out of his pocket and read in an exaggeratedly stilted tone, "TMI is an organization that helps economically disadvantaged Monsters out through educational and legal assistance, and otherwise helping them get on their feet." He looked up again. "Some of you already know that, and if so, good for you."
Penny Dreadful had walked out onstage behind Gonzo and watched him speak, her hands on her hips, tapping one foot. At the audience's reaction Gonzo looked up from the card, then glanced around. He startled when he saw Penny. She sauntered over to him, her costume looking as precarious as ever, and said, "Good grief, can't you make that more interesting? You sound like you're doing show and tell."
"Sorry, I'm a little out of my element. I wanted to trail a banner behind my motorcycle, but the ramp wouldn't fit in the aisles."
She shook her head. "Oy vey. I have to give you lessons on how to work a crowd? All right, give me that." She held out a hand. He gave her the card. She glanced at it briefly, then handed it back and, putting her hands on her hips and sweeping her long, multicolored hair back, said in a breathy, sultry voice, "TMI is an organization that helps economically disadvantaged Monsters-" she breathed deeply, making her costume look even more precarious than it already did, "through educational and legal assistance, and otherwise helping them get on their...feet," she finished in a vampish tone, then struck a pose.
"Are you okay?" Gonzo asked, concerned.
"What?" she snapped.
"The way you're breathing, it looks like you're having an asthma attack." He asked the audience, "Anyone have an inhaler?"
She rolled her eyes, then said to the audience, "You see what I have to work with here? And I thought it was bad with the cheap movies. Look, we'll work on the commercials backstage. In the meantime, here's Ten Inch Talons." She pushed Gonzo offstage, then stopped and quipped to the audience, "Wow, so this is what it feels like to announce something that doesn't suck. I could get used to this."
Backstage, Catherine grinned at them both. "That was great."
"I know my stuff around a straight man," Penny answered. She said to Gonzo, "You didn't get flustered at all. I'm a little surprised."
"Don't think I didn't notice you! But my
wife's in the audience."
"Ahh, gotcha," she said with a wink. "Don't think I'll pull my punches because of that, though."
**
The show continued in the same vein, with Gonzo and Penny introducing various acts, dropping small bits of information about the mission and methods of the TMI while introducing the acts. Each time Penny tried harder to vamp Gonzo, and each time Gonzo somehow managed to miss the message. In the end she dragged him offstage, telling him with a wicked smile that she would show him her video collection, starting with
Dedos: Fingers of Fate. From offstage came a shriek of horror.
After the last act Gonzo and Penny stepped onstage. Gonzo said, "Hope you liked the show. Wish I'd been out there watching it with you. Instead, I was stuck backstage with her." He nodded to Penny. "She can't play go fish worth a darn."
"Poker's more my game," she said sweetly.
He hadn't expected that ad-lib. He said, "This is gonna drive me to gin rummy. Anyhow, I have one more intro to make. Catherine Monster, who set this all up. Since I couldn't get the message about TMI across that well, she's gonna tell you about it."
Both Gonzo and Penny welcomed Cathy as she walked onstage from the side. She accepted the microphone from Gonzo and said, "Thank you all for coming. TMI, as Gonzo said at the beginning, is an organization devoted to helping out Monsters who have not had all the opportunities that they otherwise would have had otherwise. Our primary focus is on education and job placement, but we also help place foster children and adoptions, offer legal assistance, and help in any other way we can. There are a lot of people out there—Monsters and otherwise—who, owing to no more than an accident of birth or circumstance, have suffered poverty and deprivation, and so many who, if only given a chance, could be as productive in society as anyone else. The problem is solvable, one person at a time, if people will focus on making a difference in others' lives. Whether it's donating your time to work with TMI, or fostering or adopting children, or referring people who need help to the TMI, any one of you can make a difference. All you have to do is reach out and touch someone else's life."
She smiled at the audience. "Again, thank you for coming. Be well."
People began to get up to leave. The reporter that Gonzo had identified to Cathy as Fleet Scribbler said, "That all sounds nice, but do you really think you can clean the world up? Is it really worth it?"
The question did not bother Catherine; she had answered it a hundred times before. But before she could speak Gonzo asked her, "Um, can I take this?"
Surprised, she answered, "Sure," and handed him the microphone.
Gonzo walked to upstage to stand right in front of Fleet. The reporter had a pencil and pad out. Gonzo glanced around—most of the audience was staying, sensing that the show was not quite over. The Muppets were sitting back down as well. Gonzo looked back at Fleet, then said, "Yes, it makes a difference, especially to the people the TMI has helped. I know for sure. I was one of 'em.
"I was one of those foster kids who slipped through the cracks and ended up homeless. It's a trap. You can't get out of it because nobody will hire you for anything legal if you don't have a home, and you can't get a home if you don't have anything to pay for it with. I spent years living on the streets, getting enough money to eat by playing an old guitar for handouts. After living like that for too long you give up hoping for anything better than just staying alive. It's a rotten way to live.
"Eventually I got picked up for vagrancy, and instead of booking me they referred me to the TMI. Long story short, they gave me the help I needed to finish my education, get a job, and get back on my feet. So, no, TMI can't solve all the problems of the world. Nobody can. But every person out there who needs their help is a
real person, not a number or percentage or something. Isn't it worth it to help even one person get out of a miserable life like that?"
Fleet did not answer. He was writing rapidly. Gonzo looked around—he had the attention of the remaining audience—and said with a faint smile, "I guess I can say it now. I'm not only a spokesman for the TMI, I'm a client." He handed the microphone back to Cathy.
**
After the show, Penny asked Gonzo, "Was that all true?"
"Yeah."
Catherine told him softly, "You didn't have to do that, Gonzo."
"Actually... I kinda had to. Doing this show to help, but denying I'd been in their shoes once—I felt like a hypocrite, like I was pretending to be better than them. I've kept it a secret for so long, but when I saw Fleet Scribbler there, well, I decided I was sick of being scared of my own past, and I was gonna come clean. Maybe he'll write one of his crummy articles about it, but at least it'll be over with. I hope you don't mind me stealing your thunder."
"Of course not," she exclaimed. "Sometimes people do lose sight of the fact that it's real people we're trying to help. You put a human face on the matter. Well, legally human. Thank you." She hugged him.
He hugged back. "Thanks. If it makes a difference, I guess it's worth it."
He felt a tap at his shoulder, and turned. Penny Dreadful said, "That was brave," and kissed his cheek.
"Thanks," he replied.
"Let's keep in touch, all right?"
"Sure," he said. Looking around, he said sincerely, "Thanks, guys." He thought that he ought to be weepy now, but all he felt was relief. He had shed a burden he'd been carrying for the greater part of his life. Only now, he realized, was it truly behind him, and could never hurt him again.
*****
All characters except Janken, Catherine Monster, and Penny Dreadful are copyright © The Muppets Studio, LLC. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Penny Dreadful, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
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