Coming of the Roads

[WhiteRabbit]

Yesh, it's a new fanfiction and I'll only prelude it with one word: Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. =P Hope you enjoy this.

Chapter One: Downtown
"Like I can't believe we've got a real gig. I'm totally psyched, fer sure!" the blonde musician exclaimed, her voice as jaunty as so many songs she had previously strummed on her guitar that was resting against her lap like a faithful old pet. She glanced out the window of the funky colored bus with all of the enthusiasm of an elementary school child on a field trip to Disney World. Her countenance held nothing except excitement and a very slight bewilderment she wasn't used to.

The band had been on the road for what seemed like an eternity now and at the moment, the only thing the willowy hippie was able to observe was a never ending line of trees, shrubs, and other scenes of tranquil forestry. Not that Janice didn't prefer being bestowed by Mother Nature and all of--well, most of her intriguing beauty to loud industrialization but their province was supposed to be taking place in a city. What was it called again? Something with a K or a C, she recalled, slowly browsing her mind for the right name while keeping a secure grip on her instrument as the bus rolled over a few bumps in the street.

Zoot, who was sitting diagonally across from her, gave a slight jerk as they passed over the less smoother sections of the highway and was yanked out of a heavy sleep.

"Wha--?" he inquired drowsily. "Are we there already? We haven't played yet, have we? Man, I hoped they liked us--it's awfully quiet for a stadium..."

Janice stifled a giggle but before she could answer her spacey friend, a rare occurrence--Lips, who was mostly unpronounced, perhaps even more than the sax player himself, spoke up for her.

"Sadly no, man. But don't fret, we'll get there soon enough," he replied softly, his tone timid yet hopeful. "We'll all be mind blowing...if you'll mind the bad pun. The city folk won't get enough of us." The shaggy haired brass player gave Zoot a small but genuine smile that was almost immediately returned. Lips then turned towards Janice and quietly asked, "What's name of the town again?"

Janice pursed her lush lips, contemplating whether to make up a false title or merely shrug as a response. Luckily, Floyd chimed in and broke the awkward silence, affirming, "It's called Cold River, man. Sounds pretty groovy actually. The dude from the record company said that there'll be a lot of young adults and people who seem like they'll be fans. I guess nothing happens in that joint a lot; they could use some pique, you know?"

Janice smiled. "Like, that's fantastic. I bet they're rully gonna appreciate us coming. Dean, like, looks out for us," she added referring to the bespectacled agent from outside of the theatre. The one with the blue suits. The one who wasn't a frog. It wasn't that the band had entirely ditched the old theatre for good. They had still stopped by every week to contribute to the show, their boss Kermit, and the rest of their friends but as far as their financial success was heading in this era, they needed a new break and it would only improve from there. At least, that's what Floyd always claimed.

The bus swerved again and Animal released a guttural, euphoric shriek, enjoying the twisting ride immensely and delighted that the voyage was finally speeding up. "FAS-TER!" he demanded, tugging on his chains rapidly. "GO FAST! YEAH! YEAH!"

Janice sighed and shook her head a little, her yellow tresses swinging in amusement and exasperation. The more the road stretched out, the more those dense rows of trees started to thin and the sun glittered onto the boulevard, which further sparked her hope. The weather was bright and optimistic, the band had a great new arrangement of songs, and quite possibly the best part of it all was that they were going to get more fans, more recognition. The dwellers weren't going to be the same old bubblegum pop crowd, Janice could just sense it. She drummed her slender fingers on the top of her guitar contentedly while trying to find a less tedious way to pass the time. As a minute dissolved, she lifted her head and solicited, "Like, are we close?"

Dr. Teeth's raspy answer sounded from the front. "Check it, babe," he replied, motioning out the window with a protracted finger hastily. "I think ya'll beh mos' emphaticalleh ecstastic."

Janice gave an unassertive laugh, already too familiar with her leader's vernacular while Zoot and Lips exchanged a puzzled stare. She gazed out her window for what felt like the millionth time when she was reflected back by a slick white and green sign that read: Cold River-1 Mile. It was as though the average banner was a monument of victory that promised them success and prosperity after the terribly long ride and she rested her head back in a Zoot-like manner and exhaled in satisfaction, just barely managing to contain how thrilled she was.

She felt Floyd's fingers lace gently between her own as he nudged her. "Hey baby," he whispered, lifting up the case for his bass guitar with his unoccupied hand carefully. "Time to get off."

Animal was bounding up, down, and sideways in the minuscule aisle of the bus and somehow the keyboard player was able to fasten the drummer's leash on in the midst of his hysterics.

Zoot and Lips were the first ones to set foot off of the bus and Janice noted how their own hands were just barely an inch apart from each other. However, it was a one second thought and she was already descending the steps with Floyd, her heart pounding with an intense joy as she scanned over the rustic building in front of them, giving her boyfriend's hand a brief squeeze.

"Well, let's assume this is the right hotel." Floyd alleged. "Let's haul our stuff in and then scope around for the stadium place."

The rest of the band all murmured in agreement (sans Animal who gave another holler of ravishment, causing a group of flustered pigeons nearby to aviate in fright.) Janice blew a feather and a flaxen strand of hair out of her eyes, not at all vexed by the drummer's etiquette...or lack thereof. Unfortunately when the guitarist ricocheted her thin neck to survey the rest of the city, she was met with a very startling and deplorable site.

The sidewalks were littered with not only enough garbage to fill up a truck or two but also people. People of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages. They were lying on benches, nibbling at the most pitiful scraps of bread, sleeping, thinking, and constantly debating where to go; what to do. The only available direction at this stage was around a corner or left of a stop sign for them. There were elderly people, dangling on the last threads of health and surrounded by shopping carts filled to the brim with their mismatched necessities and once in a while, tin cans. There were also teenagers, not much younger than the musician herself, their shoes, shirts, and pants frayed so much that faint bruises, scars, and ethereal veins were peeking out of the holes.

The guitarist gaped around the street in shock while the rest of the band eventually discovered what she was staring at and joined her.

"Oh my gawd..." Lips announced in a hushed voice, his expression a collision of sadness and disbelief.

Floyd cleared his throat abruptly and placed an arm around the fair haired bohemian, trying to console her. "Come on, guys..." he pleaded, he reassured. "It's not cool to just stare at those dudes like that. I'm well aware that it's awful they have to go through this but we've got important stuff to get done, remember? Fliers to put up, songs to practice, a larger fan base to attract." He paused. "We need to leave this lot alone, we can't make matters worse by gawking."

Janice hung her head and then nodded stiffly, unable to erase the look of hurt and regret she had witnessed in one boy's bruised stare. It was as though he'd rather have the mass of the earth on every square inch of his back as opposed to not having a place in it, opposed to everything and everyone he had ever known and love disintegrating. It didn't matter what background, age or gender these people belonged to. All of them were saddled with the same loss, the same pain. It was far more evident in their eyes rather than in their clothes and limited belongings.

No matter what Floyd said, every heart of the band sank deeply at that moment. It was no better advancing onto another block, the same huddles of people were there too, trying to get by, searching and waiting for any sort of sanctuary or acceptance.

One young woman was forcefully shoved out of a grubby looking apartment building, the landlord tearing an ancient notice bitterly and letting the pieces flutter into the lady's disheveled hair and onto the ground like earth shattering snow flakes. The woman's eyes overflowed rapidly, the hot tears unable to repair the indifferent attitude of the landlord or melt the rumpled sleet on the gravel. She fell to her knees and tugged desperately at Lips's arm. "Please..." she sobbed. "I have nowhere else to go..."

The trumpet player felt his insides twist with sympathy and anguish for the woman but he couldn't bring himself to do anything except gently unlatch her grip and sputter, "I--I'm sorry..." The band was quick to pull him away and weave around the woman, never vanquishing the image of her dolor, no matter how determined they were. All six of them wanted to be of some assistance but what could they really do?

"Fliers...posters..." mumbled Floyd in a flat tone, not once looking back. "Let's go...uh...over h--no, that won't work..." He studied the street, trying to find the perfect inconspicuous place but he wasn't having much luck. No matter where he looked, all he could see was tattered buildings, torn people, and bleak karma all around.

In the distance, a dun colored building belched a thick, black cloud of smoke and the bass player immediately covered his nose and mouth, cringing. "Into the alley way..." he directed in a muffled voice, the others hurrying to follow him to the shadowy section of trash cans, broken windows, and cardboard boxes.

"Brilliant..." Lips muttered. "Not only do we have no idea where we are but the likelihood of us getting mugged has just ri--" Zoot cut him off, gingerly placing a hand on his bandmate's skinny arm to sedate him. He didn't have to speak. His face clearly indicated all the trumpet player needed to understand. Then, still not saying a word, Zoot motioned for Lips to begin posting up the concert ads with him.

Floyd and Janice were not too far away, sluggishly arranging fliers without discoursing. There was so much to say and yet no possible way to so it was best to just keep the quiet atmosphere, despite the frozen tension that plagued the whole band.

Dr. Teeth and Animal were next to a trash heap and while the drummer took more interest in gnawing on the paste, the band leader examined his radiating bling in humiliation. He peeled off his hat, discarding it all inside the flashy raiment, suddenly aware of how gaudy and supercilious it must have looked. He certainly didn't feel like a rich Adonis in this city, he felt more like a showoff and a poser who was parading around all of his luxuries while most of the inhabitants could hardly scrape up enough cash to get something to eat. The musician dropped the hat and the bling into the trash and then covered his face for a moment, heaving a sigh, almost a moan, of grief. He never thought he'd have to face something this heartbreaking again, his own youth had been rife with--

A sharp wail rose up from the dumpster and his throat locked with astonishment and fright. The other band members glanced over in surprise and the disembodied howl lilted into the air again.

"W-What in the--" Floyd stammered, backing into a wall apprehensively.

With no hesitation, Dr. Teeth set down the stack of fliers, straightened up, and lifted the hood of the trash again, a strangled sort of gasp emerging from him.

A baby girl lay in the depths of the garbage. A ripped, raggedy grey dress was her only source of clothes and a grimy newspaper enveloped her lower half for warmth. She wasn't exactly clean but she wasn't surrounded by flies yet either. It didn't seem like she had been there for very long but if the band leader had to estimate, the infant must have been dropped off a night or two ago. The keyboard player removed his vest in a brisk contrivance, reached in and carefully pulled the paper off before wrapping the child in the attire, trying to calm her down.

The little girl was beautiful. She had dark brown skin, a spherical face babies usually have with the cherub like qualities, pudgy arms, vast amber eyes, and black, frizzy hair that had been held back in a yellow barrette. She eventually stopped lamenting and listened intently to the band leader's low, soothing singing while she rested her head against his chest. He was so warm and soft, completely the opposite of her "cradle" and she refused to be let go.

Janice marveled at the baby with a vague smile before saying, "Like, we're going to keep her, right?"

"Yes, ya can mo' than wagah that we is..." Dr. Teeth answered, rocking the little girl gently.

"Aw, she's too cute..." Floyd declared, unable to disguise his own affectionate expression. Truth be told, the bass player was a little irritated at the band's duties being sidetracked but he was in no way going to allow the baby to be left here. "What's the little dudette's name going to be?"

Dr. Teeth scrutinized this for a moment until he beamed down at the little girl while she grabbed at his nose in an agile sort of way.

"Melanie..."

[AnimatedC9000]

... DANG.

This story is just... awesome. I can't believe that they're keeping a little baby. I can't believe that they found her in an alleyway. Heck, I can't believe that Lips had actual lines in this story.

PLEASE post more soon. O_O *bows on her knees before Ailie and her awesome story, then looks up* Pwease? =3

[WhiteRabbit]

*huggles Cait* Thankses. =3 *gives muffins*

[AnimatedC9000]

Hooray, muffins! *eats a few and shares the rest with the other reviewers*

... you review, you get a muffin.

[WhiteRabbit]

*pets Cait and offers Jareth-tight pantsness to her* What she said. =P

[The Count]

*Is in awe of the richness this story promises.

Cold River... Yeah, that fits this place all right. But the band will hopefully provide some rays of sunshine, lollipops, rainbows, everything that's wonderful... *Trails off in song mode.
Good to see the "entire" band. Yes, Lips is part of the band too.
Was warmed when the good doctor found Melanie. Methinks his backstory/memories would serve a crucial angle for how this goes forward from here.

*Waits for next chapter.

Also wonders if others will make a cameo in the story. :)

[RedPiggy]

This story is the awesomeness. :D

[WhiteRabbit]

^_^ *huggles* Thanks, you guys! I really appreciate the nice feedback! I thought it was kinda crappy (I be very critical of my writing =P) but your comments are very uplifting. <3 Would love more readers/reviews. They make my craptacular writing worth it. =333

[Ilikemuppets]

Whoa! I honestly have to say I am blown away! I think you are an excellent weighter and you know how to hold and keep readers attention. Don't worry, though, because I think it's normal for someone to be the judge of there own work and better to let others be the judge. But right from the start I was impressed entertained and moved by your story. It had me laughing out loud in many parts.

Thanks for sharing the story and for making my day, Ailie! :)

[WhiteRabbit]

Thankses, Will! =3

[BeakerSqueedom]

I love how detailed you are; always making my imagination soar. I mean, finding a sweet little baby in an alleyway? What horrors will our fave band members discover? Dirty diapers?

Naw, but the baby sounds so adorable. I bet Janice would be a great mother, don't you think? :D Oh my gosh, I really wanna know more about Melanie. She sounds like an angel! PLEASE update! PLEEEAAASSE! :D

I am so hooked <3.

[WhiteRabbit]

*snuggles Claudia* XD Aw, thank you, hon! I'm glad you like it so far! *gives bananas and Clopin* X333

[Kiki]

Good stuff, a real joy to read! Mawplz. =D

[The Shoe Fairy]

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis - Isn't that a respiratory disease caused by the inhalation of silica particles?

[WhiteRabbit]

*snugs Kiki*

...the Simpsons made me do it. O_O =P

[redBoobergurl]

More please? :)

[WhiteRabbit]

~Chapter Two: Rings on Their Fingers, Lead in Their Hearts~
The street wasn't the first place the band had actually experienced a devastating reality and with the future of their careers at stake and little Melanie in constant need of tending, it definitely wasn't going to be the last scenario either. Their hardships were just barely beginning. However, the six of them all tried to keep a positive demeanor in spite of the solemn vibes that seemed to tread after them like an authoritarian teacher swaggering down a high school corridor, bracing themselves to prey on the nearest freshman without a pass. As the musicians took a few steps forward, the tyrannical school administrator--or rather, the nagging doubt continuously leaped in front of them.

As they sauntered around a library, Floyd wasn't sure what looked more broken; the front door or the elder man perched at the bottom of the granite steps. The bass player couldn't help himself and he converged the hunched figure timidly. The older fellow was shivering like mad and possessed nothing but a worn out poncho, plaid slacks, and hard, brown shoes to comfort him into the evening. He had skin that was the same texture and color of sand paper, brittle fingers, a hooked nose, and weathered, charcoal eyes that looked like he had seen many things in his span of life, too many of them being the cruelty of mankind. They glazed over with confusion at the site of the heavily mustached stranger coming towards him.

"Er, hey..." Floyd greeted the senior in a kind drawl. "I hope you don't mind me and my..." His voice faltered for a moment while the man continued to observe him, those lurid eyes brimming with fatigue and awe, as though he had never conversed with anybody else before in all of his entire interval on the planet. Floyd thought he had never seen a more defeated looking person. He set down his bass guitar's case, the movement slow and light as though he was the one with Melanie in his arms instead of the good doctor.

Presently, he crouched down so he could be at eye level with the man, trying to maintain a steady and unimposing stance and prove that the two of them were equal. "Listen, man--Mr.," he hastily corrected himself. "You look like you could use some help. Maybe you could--I mean, can we give you a ride?"

"Floyd..." chirped Zoot but Lips flashed him a meaningful look, silently negotiating him to let their bandmate finish.

"You don't deserve to be in these conditions and we could get you to a shelter. Do you know of any around here? We'll drive faster than a--"

"Floyd..." Zoot started again.

"What, man?" he snapped, his serenity neglected.

"C-Como?" the elder man wheezed sending another puzzled stare in the band (and the baby's) direction. "Como?" he repeated.

"Let's ankle..." Floyd muttered, totally embarrassed, leading the others back on the route to the hotel. What he wouldn't have given to have a certain king prawn around at that juncture, he might have gotten somewhere. But as it stood, he still hadn't been able to help and he shook his head cynically.

Just then, his irritable facade transformed into one of warmth as he felt a tiny hand enclose around his left index finger tightly. Melanie was a few inches away from him, nestled against the band leader's shoulders, one little arm slung around his neck and the other reaching out to Floyd, almost like she could sense his frustration and wanted to reconcile, to cheer him up. But infants couldn't have been that alert of the world and the endless fiascoes surrounding it that early, could they?

Even so, Floyd gave an amiable laugh and shook the child's stout hand, blithe but cautious. He couldn't stay too upset, especially around a lovable little scamp like Melanie. He turned to Janice, orating, "Look out, babe. I think the kid's starting to dig me..." He followed up the fallible warning with a goodnatured smile while Janice tittered quietly.

"Like I'm glad the good doctor found Mellie back in the alley way..." she said. "She's like, the only ray of sunshine in this tough niche, fer sure." The pretty hippie tapped the band leader on one of his lanky arms, looking quite elated. "Like, Dr. Teeth, can I like, hold her? She's rully a little doll. Pleeeeease?" she asked, conjuring up one of her most yearning and saccharine expressions.

The keyboard player smiled and hailed, "Why, verileh, Janice. I'm sho' she'll like bein' with you mo' anyway. She needs a real momma." With that, he transferred Melanie into the guitarist's thin but secure arms. He knew she'd be careful. She might have been laid back but she was also intent and abating.

Animal, who was astonishingly docile during the brief journey back to the hotel, cocked his head and inspected the ebony skinned little girl, wonder and empathy glowing in his normally erratic pupils. "Mel-lie..." he grunted, pressing his round, scarlet nose up against her button one. "Hi Mel-lie..."

Janice motioned for the drummer to move back patiently. "Like, give her some space. Don't like, totally scare her, Animal..." she directed.

"NO SCARE!" Animal protested with a roar but Lips and Zoot were swift to hold him back and seal his mouth--or at least, they attempted to. While the drummer thrashed around, growling indignantly, Janice quickened her pace a bit and studied Melanie with a vague smile before she planted a light kiss on the baby's forehead.

Why would anybody even dream of tossing this adorable little preemie in the trash? Not only was Melanie helpless and impressionable, she was not past the first chapter of her life so far. Given the harsh environment she was placed in, Janice could only imagine what her own home must have been like. Nobody, certainly not a baby, deserved to be literally thrown out. Not in the prime of her childhood, not before the pages of her own life story could have a chance to turn. Janice felt her eyes slowly well up and she restrained herself from weeping by resting her cheek against Melanie's smooth, round one and continued cuddling her.

"She rully is a sweetie," Janice whispered, running her fingers through the baby's dusky ringlets. "How could somebody, like, be so heartless?" The rest of the band was silent. There could have been a great many number of reasons why the baby was abandoned. Her mother could have been too young and not emotionally mature enough to look after a child of her own. Her parents might have lost their own house and couldn't afford to feed Melanie and tend to her needs. It could have been anything but whatever the case was, whoever the mother and father really were, it did not justify the action of dumping the infant in the trash in any way. Janice was firm of this decision and mentally vowed to dedicate her remorse and love for Melanie. She always would until the Electric Mayhem (and most likely, the rest of the muppets) could arrange a proper home for her.

A few minutes later, the group cantered up to the hotel and were able to slip inside, avoiding the various crowds of the poverty stricken and weak, despite that they were still tempted to invite them in. It seemed utterly unjust that they got to stay in this rather high rise assemble while what seemed like a fifth of the city were trembling and starving, trying to drift off to sleep on the pavement and keep warm in the now dreary atmosphere. Janice stifled a melancholy sigh. Of course the sunlight had to vanished after they all made the horrific discovery of what the city was really like. If only she could somehow share Melanie and the joy she brought with the other inhabitants of Cold River. She was convinced the tiny doll would ease a smile out of the stoniest of hearts, the bleakest of souls.

But the truth would unveil itself to the fair haired bohemian and the rest of the band soon enough.

The all trudged up to the front desk, suitcases (and Melanie) in hand and the longing for some content bearings present on their faces. Instead, they were met with a middle aged woman with a shoulder length, brunette bob, square rimmed bifocals, and a fairly pointy nose that wrinkled with scorn as they approached her. Floyd's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. The female concierge wasn't too dissimilar to ol' Rachel Bitterman with the contemptuous glare she threw at the Electric Mayhem and Melanie.

"Yes?" the woman needled, adjusting her blue glasses and patting down her hair, though she didn't need to. Her hair was as stiff and dismissive as her attitude. "May I help you...people with something?" She looked as though she'd rather swallow snake venom than try to offer them assistance.

"Uh, right," Floyd began. "We sorta have a reservation in this joint."

"Oh, I'm quite certain I haven't seen...your kind or any semblance to it inside of here. Outside, that might be a different story..." she replied, examining her violet nails haughtily. "Name please?"

"We am, is, are and be they whom as are known as the Electric Mayhem," the bass player declared bracing himself for a piercing, fangirl shriek.

"Know what he's sayin'?" chimed in Dr. Teeth with a coy nod.

The woman gazed at them for a moment in disbelief and then her fuchsia lips curved into a malevolent smirk. "Never heard of them..." she yawned. "And I don't seem to recall seeing your name on the reservation list, much less the VIP one. I suppose your work's been tedious as of late. It's rather dated for the times; I presume you hear that often."

A kick in the jaw would've hurt less, thought Floyd, frowning at the woman and trying to keep it cool. "You wouldn't be too offended if I happened to ask you again, would you, ma'am?" he inquired flatly.

The woman's smirk broadened. "As a matter of fact, I would," she answered coolly. "I have a job to hold up, I'm not sure you know the meaning of that." She paused, letting the vicious remark sink in. "According to guidelines, The Ashworth has a strict four person per suite policy and since you all are evidently traveling together, I'm afraid you all wouldn't be able to stay--not even in third class. There is a high demand for our rooms at this time of the year and we can only provide to so many guests at once. Also, given the latest budget cuts, the rooms are stringently exclusive to people who have a valid business in the city, not drifters."

"See here--" Lips spoke up, irate.

"Excuse me, Shaggy. There is no indication of you or your "friends" signing up and I've already explained The Ashworth's policy quite clearly to you. Now how am I supposed to know whether you all are legitimately staying here or that you're one of those filthy street cliques who will surely rob this establishment blind? Judging by that fellow--" The woman quickly cut off as she lifted a crimson talon towards Dr. Teeth and convulsed ungraciously.

The others glanced over at the band leader in alarm. He wasn't easily provoked yet the woman oozed intolerance and harshness that even he couldn't just ignore. "Lis'en, ma'am...we, erm, we realleh do need a receptacle, the little one--"

"I don't need you using the little brat as an excuse. I can tell the pair of you and that horrid monkey over there--" She whipped a finger at Animal who bellowed at her in a petulant way. "--will call unnecessary turmoil and disturb the others staying here. I'm not stupid, you know. Your "fast jive" doesn't work on me."

The keyboard player fell silent for a few seconds.

"Don't you give the kid a bath either?" the horrible concierge interrogated. "She looks like she's been rolling in dirt."

Dr. Teeth gaped at her with incredulity. "Look, she ain't mah kid but--"

"That's what they all say--"

"--if ya coul' find it in yoself ta let her stay heah--"

"--covered with germs--"

"--she needs help--"

"--it isn't required in my job to look after a messy little urchin--"

"--she can't survive out theah! Give the kid some slack!" the musician yelled, hearing himself and wanting to hide his face from how insane he sounded. He lowered his voice hastily. "She's onleh a baby, ma'am...she's jus' bareleh hangin' on..." he pleaded.

"And how is this my concern, you freak?" the woman hissed before hoisting a thick manual up onto the desk. "Can you tell me where it says I should break the hotel's code and waste my time tending to somebody else's child? Can you tell me where it says that made up sob stories are worth the hospitality of The Ashworth? Heck, can you even read? !" she thrusted the book in his face a few times before slamming it back down. "I'll be more than delighted to call security if that's what you really want." She reached for her phone, hesiating to see if the good doctor was worried.

He merely stared back at her, his countenance unreadable.

"I'm calling..." she warned, practically sang until Dr. Teeth's long hands elevated and he roughly shoved the heavy book back across the hard, wooden surface to the woman, knocking the phone off of the desk in the process. It clattered onto the floor sharply, soon leaving one of the loudest silences Janice ever witnessed.

She didn't even have time to interject with a ill fitted comment.

"A million thanks fo' yo' mercenareh..." the keyboard player conveyed, his usually serene, low voice dripping with rancor as he waved a hand so the rest of the band would tag along after him. "But we can do way bettah than this rotten heap o'--" Dr. Teeth halted his words, glancing over at Melanie and leaving it at that. She could wait until she was a little older to get the gist of that vocabulary.

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

"Absolutely pathetic..." Zoot mumbled to Lips. "No wonder this town is so miserable with people like that snob running it."

"I'll say, Lips agreed, sighing before adhering fingers with the with the sax player.

He was positive they'd all have to sleep in the bus but they'd need to find a garage so they weren't flaunting their expense to the people on the boulevard.

That awful woman hadn't a clue, she hadn't cared, Janice thought, accidentally stumbling over a crushed can in the midst of her mental despair.

"Like, whoa!" the mellow blonde shrilled, struggling to keep her balance and a tight hold on Melanie at the same time. Just her luck that--

Dr. Teeth weaved around Lips and Zoot quickly, taking Melanie as fast as he could and handing her to Floyd before trying to catch Janice.

She yanked on his wrist, attempting to stay on her feet but both of them lapsed onto the pavement. "Like, great..." she said, shaking her flaxen hair and sighing. "I'm rully a spaz, aren't I?"

"Nah..." the keyboard player smiled weakly. "Blame meh fo' tryin' and failin' falliciousleh..." He hopped onto his boots and then extended a hand, helping Janice stand up as well.

The guitarist's mouth twisted into a little smile of her own and she whispered a brief thank you before breaking their loose grip, slightly flustered.

"Are y-you all right, babe?" Floyd stuttered, handing Melanie over to the band leader and brushing off the back of her shirt tenderly. He mentally slapped himself for not being faster to support his girlfriend. Not that he had any issue with Dr. Teeth keeping her out of harm's way, they were friends after all, but Floyd secretly felt he should have been the first person to aid her...her hero.

"Like, fer sure...that's the least of our problems, like now..." she murmured, fidgetting with her necklace and glancing over at the keyboard player, gratified that he was such a congenial friend. He was always looking out for her, almost like a big brother--minus the hair pulling.

But Janice also felt...something else, something very bizarre as she observed him reticently. Her palms weren't sweating, her heart wasn't pounding, and she certainly wasn't tongue tied.

But for a good fraction of a second, the pretty bohemian could have sworn butterflies had emerged and flapped a few times in the depths of her abdomen before soaring away.

No, she was Floyd's and Floyd was her's. Dr. Teeth was just a friend; a considerate friend who had her back too. Sweet gestures or not, she was assured there wasn't anymore attraction than that.

She must have imagined it, that was the only logical reason. Or perhaps she was still dizzy from the fall. Those silly little butterflies couldn't have been there.

...could they?

[The Count]

Mmmm... It shows you have a talent when you can write like this.
The bit with Zoot and Lips holding Animal down made me laugh a little.
Would say more... But the gravitas of the narration takes precedence.
Whoa Doc, this is heavy.
Mmm, a narrative of most heavy duty proportions.
What does the Earth's gravitational weight have to do with anything?

Please... Post more.

[RedPiggy]

Wow, Ailie. I agree with Ed, the Animal thing made me laugh. Kinda reminded me of the Officer ... however you spell his name on Muppet Babies, when they had to shut Animal up repeatedly. :P

Still, *shudders* that chick could give Bitterman pointers. This chapter was full of "ouch".

[AnimatedC9000]

That hotel lady should get time out for being mean to the band. No, wait... Dr. Teeth already took care of that. XPPP

Woah, this chapter is... wow. I'm speechless.

Please post more in the near future, girl. =)

[WhiteRabbit]

Thanks peoples. :halo: *pulls a random string and an avalanche of candy crashes down into the thread*

And there's more where that came from. ; P

[BeakerSqueedom]

Gosh, you're so talented.
Geeeehhh! I am so jealous of you.
I can't wait to read what's next! I sense so much sadness, yet you balance it out with a pinch of humor...and I just love it! Finally, a fic where it's not all Prog snogging. :3 HURRAH FOR MINOR CHARRIE! <3

[Beakerfan]

GAHHHH! I LOVE! This is wonderful! :)

[Ilikemuppets]

You really are so good helping the reader to see and to visualize what happening in the story and you have a way of someone feel the story and feel for the characters. it really is such an emotional roller coaster, but in a good way. You take our from sadness, to hope, to compassion to frustration. I mean, you just, wanna tell that lady off, lol. It makes me just want to roof for the Mayhem to get some justice for he little girl!

Keep it up. Can't wait for the next part! :) It's a very touching and moving story.

[WhiteRabbit]

Thank yous, guys! Yo nice comments always make me feel....uhhhh...cool. X3

[WhiteRabbit]

~Chapter Three: Streets Are Uneven~
What was it about the dark that always made time appear deficient? In the dark, it seemed as though you were entering a new generation each time a minute passed while you were still awake. One by one, your thoughts and concerns would continue to stack up on top of each other like a child playing with blocks. The hypothetical tower would augment higher and higher until the imaginary child would finally push the rickety building over, thus causing the blocks; your worries, to all plummet onto the ground, allowing you to drift off to sleep.

Well, that particular night, the deceptive kid in Floyd's mind seemed to be aiming for the Leaning Tower of Pisa and his head was brewing with numerous different thoughts; some trivial, some delirious, and a selected few inspiring.

Was that horrid woman from the hotel right? Was the Electric Mayhem's success only fit to be a thing of the past? Was there an actual studio in this city that would pick up their careers or was Dean pulling a fast one? Were they going to be able to find side jobs if the gig didn't work out in the end? Would they be able to care for Melanie if they didn't? Did anybody at the theatre still miss them? Were they going to be able to find their way back home if everything came sky rocketing down?

Floyd eased himself onto his side, gazing drowsily at Janice who lay in the hammock across from him. For a moment, his worries seemed lessen. Her long, blonde hair was a little tousled from rotating in her sleep and some of it cascaded along the pillow, lithe threads of gold. Her sable lashes rested against the top of her thin cheeks sequentially and her chest rose and descended in a slow, rhythmic motion. She wasn't exactly smiling or appearing very peaceful but it might have looked odd anyway, considering how many forlorn souls and wretched sites the hippie had reluctantly witnessed that day.

Their stay in Cold River had not even been twenty four hours old yet but it had already taken a toll on the band, especially with Janice's demeanor. Her crimson lips were positioned in a thin line and for some reason, Floyd got the vibe that if his girlfriend was having a dream, it certainly wasn't a great one. Nonetheless, even in her blank, almost crestfallen slumber, he still thought she looked beautiful. Maybe not as placid as Floyd could have hoped for but thankfully the guitarist wasn't tossing and turning, adhered within the depths of a nightmare.

As Floyd continued to keep vigil, he speechlessly vowed to bring the mellow, dulcet smile back to Janice's face, no matter what cost. After all, she was his main squeeze. He wasn't just entitled to make her happy but he felt more than obliged to. It wasn't a very difficult task but Floyd would make sure he was always going to be the one who would sacrifice his tedious pleasures and if it ever became that drastic, himself for the lovely flowerchild. Janice was his one and only; the Michelle to his John Phillips, the Cher to his Sonny, the sea to his ship, and the lyrics to his song.

He gave the girl a light peck on the forehead before he got to his feet, languidly wedged himself into a shirt, and reached for his bass guitar leaned up against the pole of his own hammock. He glanced around the bus, giving his eyes a little more time to adjust as he surveyed the obscured figures. He could hear Animal respire in steady grunts in the back of the bus and weaved around the small, sheet clad heaps of Zoot and Lips who were huddled close together as he attempted to prowl out. The bassist managed to slither between the doors as best as he could and left them a couple inches apart so he wouldn't have to pry his way back in when he returned. It wasn't that chilly of a night anyway. He knew his friends would survive.

Hoisting his bass guitar up and placing it underarm securely, Floyd made his way down the immense, ebony path of the city's garage. The only sound audible was the pitter patter of his bare feet lightly suctioning and unsuctioning themselves into the cool, smooth cement. He trusted his instinct to stay on the left to avoid stepping on any pieces of broken glass and crumbly tar and with a tiny exhale, Floyd reached the entrance. He transferred his instrument to his other arm and silently walked out.

Flickering street lights adorned every corner of the road, some illuminating the sleeping tenements of the homeless and the others casting their glow on dusky stores, offices, and churches. Person or structure, both were tattered and forbidden. Floyd knew better than to approach them, especially at this time of night and he went on his way. He was trying to look for an isolated park or junction nearby where he could unleash all of the nagging worries and doubt lingering at the back of his head like flies. He just needed to relax but the somber ambiance remained thicker than peanut butter and as manifest as the sky itself.

If all of these people were "lazy", somehow unchained from the typical, dull ways of living in society and if they were really free to roam wherever they wanted, why did Floyd get the feeling they were still trapped?

Why?

They were always going to be trapped, the musician concluded, because they were trapped under the labels humanity had bestowed upon them, trapped on the street as it was their only means of survival. How could they wander away when they could accidentally be thrown off course and discover themselves in a civilization where they didn't even have benches to sleep or the same roads they could follow? It was always going to be that same notion implanted in their minds that although they had the entire world right in front of them, they still had nowhere else to go. The hierarchies would forever convince them that they had no true benevolence or purpose in life but in that very same way, they were equal to their prosperous opposites who valued consumerism and money as thought they were their own children, having no inclination or desire for a genuine love.

"What a bizarre world we live in, man..." Floyd mused quietly. "A bizarre world..." He massaged his temples gingerly, aware that he was thinking too deeply at such a depraved hour but he couldn't fall asleep. Not with all the anti oppressive reveries fluctuating through his head now. His eyes swerved back to the street for a moment and his chin drooped, pessimism weighing it down like an invisible cargo.

He did want to help these people, he knew the rest of the Electric Mayhem did as well but the big, Sweetums sized query was...how? There was only six of them, not counting Melanie since she was just an infant, and hundreds of the inhabitants in need. They couldn't sell their bus or their instruments...no, definitely not. They were also far too wise to shoplift or hold up a bank or anything asinine like that. They just needed a brilliant plan, one that would reassure them that they had contributed something meaningful, something resourceful to the poor people in Cold River. But what? What could they possibly do?

Floyd conjured up a peculiar noise, somewhere between a groan and a yawn and his stare wandered over to the vast, aged clock that stood in front of the bank, erect like a toy soldier and beaming faintly in the early morning gloom. Five minutes past two was drawing closer and the musician still couldn't seem to wrack his brains for any kind of resolution.

It didn't even matter whether the fantastic idea was logical or not. All Floyd knew was he couldn't deprive himself of sleep much longer and had to come out with something--anything--fast, which was a real drag because he had never been a fast man to begin with. He was never busy or in a hurry to get somewhere, never in a mad rush to finish writing a ballad or plucking a simple little tune. Rushing was never his style and it probably would never be but if he wanted to lend these people a hand they absolutely needed, he'd have to get cracking.

Drained and strenuous, the musician soon lifted his bass carefully, checking yet another time to make that nobody else was around or alert, and he began strumming. As Floyd's fingers gradually unclenched and loosened up, all sorts of melodies began to unravel from the registers of his heart and his instrument, gracing the dreary atmosphere with their messages--some nonchalant, some solemn but all them spreading some insight into the air in one way or another.

"But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free..."

A few minutes later, Floyd heaved a gusty sigh before removing his bass from his lap and then moved it back to his underarm that was starting to prickle a bit from the breeze that was drifting into the park. He stood up and began to slink back down to the sidewalk until he noticed a primordial phone booth that seemed as though nobody had made used it for decades.

"It's probably outta service..." mumbled Floyd sluggishly and began to head back towards the garage. Before the musician knew it, he was going in the other direction, making a beeline for the phone booth. He was wide awake now. Something had finally happened. The gears had given a sharp whir in his head. It was like the light in the refrigerator switching on. He just had to make a call. One call.

Floyd rummaged through his pockets for some loose change hastily, dropped a quarter in the slot, and picked up the sticky, yellow receiver, deciding not to balance it on his shoulders. Eagerly, his fingers crawled over the numbers like spiders and hardly felt them as he dialed and waited for the other side to ring.

"H-hello?" a familiar voice burbled, still dense and bemused from a deep sleep.

"Kermit, my main frog..." rasped Floyd casually. "Oh man, we been truckin' all day, what's up with you, green thing?"

"Uh, you know...sleeping, nothing too out there..." came the boss's curt reply.

"Far out...listen, would you been jazzed about bringing the rest of the gang down to Cold River tomorrow night?"

"Jazzed? Hrmm...well, I suppose?" Kermit answered. "Reason being...?"

Floyd fiddled with the cord, contemplating how to respond. Lie? Eh...probably not.

"Floyd?" buzzed Kermit. "Are you still there?"

"Uh huh. To cut to the essentials, this city's the pits, most of the peeps are in the gutter, the orbit to reestablishing our fame's hardly launched...and the band's decided that we're gonna do whatever it takes to turn everything around."

He paused.

"But we can't pull it off alone..."

[RedPiggy]

Nice. The Muppets work so much better when they are a team.

[AnimatedC9000]

*cracks knuckles* Okay, time to give this story the review that it deserves. Here I go! *dives in*

~Chapter Three: Streets Are Uneven~
What was it about the dark that always made time appear deficient? In the dark, it seemed as though you were entering a new generation each time a minute passed while you were still awake. One by one, your thoughts and concerns would continue to stack up on top of each other like a child playing with blocks. The hypothetical tower would augment higher and higher until the imaginary child would finally push the rickety building over, thus causing the blocks; your worries, to all plummet onto the ground, allowing you to drift off to sleep.

Well, that particular night, the deceptive kid in Floyd's mind seemed to be aiming for the Leaning Tower of Pisa and his head was brewing with numerous different thoughts; some trivial, some delirious, and a selected few inspiring.

*crashes into the metaphor* ... dang, Ailie... that's pretty deep. I mean, wow. Floyd must be really worried about this whole thing. Nobody should be worried THAT much.

Was that horrid woman from the hotel right? Was the Electric Mayhem's success only fit to be a thing of the past? Was there an actual studio in this city that would pick up their careers or was Dean pulling a fast one? Were they going to be able to find side jobs if the gig didn't work out in the end? Would they be able to care for Melanie if they didn't? Did anybody at the theatre still miss them? Were they going to be able to find their way back home if everything came sky rocketing down?

No, NO! Don't believe that evil woman! She insulted you, pushed you around, hurt your friends, burned your crops, poisoned your water supply, and delivered a plaugue onto your house! You want to listen to her NOW?

Floyd eased himself onto his side, gazing drowsily at Janice who lay in the hammock across from him. For a moment, his worries seemed lessen. Her long, blonde hair was a little tousled from rotating in her sleep and some of it cascaded along the pillow, lithe threads of gold. Her sable lashes rested against the top of her thin cheeks sequentially and her chest rose and descended in a slow, rhythmic motion. She wasn't exactly smiling or appearing very peaceful but it might have looked odd anyway, considering how many forlorn souls and wretched sites the hippie had reluctantly witnessed that day.

Their stay in Cold River had not even been twenty four hours old yet but it had already taken a toll on the band, especially with Janice's demeanor. Her crimson lips were positioned in a thin line and for some reason, Floyd got the vibe that if his girlfriend was having a dream, it certainly wasn't a great one. Nonetheless, even in her blank, almost crestfallen slumber, he still thought she looked beautiful. Maybe not as placid as Floyd could have hoped for but thankfully the guitarist wasn't tossing and turning, adhered within the depths of a nightmare.

As Floyd continued to keep vigil, he speechlessly vowed to bring the mellow, dulcet smile back to Janice's face, no matter what cost. After all, she was his main squeeze. He wasn't just entitled to make her happy but he felt more than obliged to. It wasn't a very difficult task but Floyd would make sure he was always going to be the one who would sacrifice his tedious pleasures and if it ever became that drastic, himself for the lovely flowerchild. Janice was his one and only; the Michelle to his John Phillips, the Cher to his Sonny, the sea to his ship, and the lyrics to his song.

That has got to be some of the best writing of Floyd and Janice's relationship that I've seen in a while. It looked perfect. I think you have their love for each other down to a "T". *sighs* So sweet...

He gave the girl a light peck on the forehead before he got to his feet, languidly wedged himself into a shirt, and reached for his bass guitar leaned up against the pole of his own hammock. He glanced around the bus, giving his eyes a little more time to adjust as he surveyed the obscured figures. He could hear Animal respire in steady grunts in the back of the bus and weaved around the small, sheet clad heaps of Zoot and Lips who were huddled close together as he attempted to prowl out. The bassist managed to slither between the doors as best as he could and left them a couple inches apart so he wouldn't have to pry his way back in when he returned. It wasn't that chilly of a night anyway. He knew his friends would survive.

*sings* They will survive... for as long as they know how to-- yesh... XPPP Um... Back to the story, shall we?

Hoisting his bass guitar up and placing it underarm securely, Floyd made his way down the immense, ebony path of the city's garage. The only sound audible was the pitter patter of his bare feet lightly suctioning and unsuctioning themselves into the cool, smooth cement. He trusted his instinct to stay on the left to avoid stepping on any pieces of broken glass and crumbly tar and with a tiny exhale, Floyd reached the entrance. He transferred his instrument to his other arm and silently walked out.

Flickering street lights adorned every corner of the road, some illuminating the sleeping tenements of the homeless and the others casting their glow on dusky stores, offices, and churches. Person or structure, both were tattered and forbidden. Floyd knew better than to approach them, especially at this time of night and he went on his way. He was trying to look for an isolated park or junction nearby where he could unleash all of the nagging worries and doubt lingering at the back of his head like flies. He just needed to relax but the somber ambiance remained thicker than peanut butter and as manifest as the sky itself.

This part of the story is really great. Very descriptive in words. You earn points for that (which you can trade in for the dessert of your choice).

If all of these people were "lazy", somehow unchained from the typical, dull ways of living in society and if they were really free to roam wherever they wanted, why did Floyd get the feeling they were still trapped?

Why?

Why, why, WHY! ? OH GAWD, WHAT A WORLD!

They were always going to be trapped, the musician concluded, because they were trapped under the labels humanity had bestowed upon them, trapped on the street as it was their only means of survival. How could they wander away when they could accidentally be thrown off course and discover themselves in a civilization where they didn't even have benches to sleep or the same roads they could follow? It was always going to be that same notion implanted in their minds that although they had the entire world right in front of them, they still had nowhere else to go. The hierarchies would forever convince them that they had no true benevolence or purpose in life but in that very same way, they were equal to their prosperous opposites who valued consumerism and money as thought they were their own children, having no inclination or desire for a genuine love.

I hate the labels that society gives people. They're harsh, unkind, and often incorrect. If only someone could take the time to really help these people... then everyone would be truly happy.

"What a bizarre world we live in, man..." Floyd mused quietly. "A bizarre world..." He massaged his temples gingerly, aware that he was thinking too deeply at such a depraved hour but he couldn't fall asleep. Not with all the anti oppressive reveries fluctuating through his head now. His eyes swerved back to the street for a moment and his chin drooped, pessimism weighing it down like an invisible cargo.

... dang. Just reading that makes me depressed. ... I feel for you, Floyd, I feel for you...

He did want to help these people, he knew the rest of the Electric Mayhem did as well but the big, Sweetums sized query was...how? There was only six of them, not counting Melanie since she was just an infant, and hundreds of the inhabitants in need. They couldn't sell their bus or their instruments...no, definitely not. They were also far too wise to shoplift or hold up a bank or anything asinine like that. They just needed a brilliant plan, one that would reassure them that they had contributed something meaningful, something resourceful to the poor people in Cold River. But what? What could they possibly do?

Okay, this has gone on far enough. I know what I must do now...

Hang on, guys, I'm coming! *starts to run to the town of Cold River to help the Electric Mayhem*

... *runs back* I just remembered that I have no idea where this town is. So... I'll continue to review.

Floyd conjured up a peculiar noise, somewhere between a groan and a yawn and his stare wandered over to the vast, aged clock that stood in front of the bank, erect like a toy soldier and beaming faintly in the early morning gloom. Five minutes past two was drawing closer and the musician still couldn't seem to wrack his brains for any kind of resolution.

It didn't even matter whether the fantastic idea was logical or not. All Floyd knew was he couldn't deprive himself of sleep much longer and had to come out with something--anything--fast, which was a real drag because he had never been a fast man to begin with. He was never busy or in a hurry to get somewhere, never in a mad rush to finish writing a ballad or plucking a simple little tune. Rushing was never his style and it probably would never be but if he wanted to lend these people a hand they absolutely needed, he'd have to get cracking.

Come on, think, Floyd, think! What your solution is might change the course of the story for the better.

Drained and strenuous, the musician soon lifted his bass carefully, checking yet another time to make that nobody else was around or alert, and he began strumming. As Floyd's fingers gradually unclenched and loosened up, all sorts of melodies began to unravel from the registers of his heart and his instrument, gracing the dreary atmosphere with their messages--some nonchalant, some solemn but all them spreading some insight into the air in one way or another.

"But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free..."

*sighs* Ladies and gentlemen, THIS is the heart and soul of a musician. Ailie, you've got it down perfectly. You truly understand the mindset of musicians.

A few minutes later, Floyd heaved a gusty sigh before removing his bass from his lap and then moved it back to his underarm that was starting to prickle a bit from the breeze that was drifting into the park. He stood up and began to slink back down to the sidewalk until he noticed a primordial phone booth that seemed as though nobody had made used it for decades.

"It's probably outta service..." mumbled Floyd sluggishly and began to head back towards the garage. Before the musician knew it, he was going in the other direction, making a beeline for the phone booth. He was wide awake now. Something had finally happened. The gears had given a sharp whir in his head. It was like the light in the refrigerator switching on. He just had to make a call. One call.

And that one call changes everything. Go, Floyd, go!

Floyd rummaged through his pockets for some loose change hastily, dropped a quarter in the slot, and picked up the sticky, yellow receiver, deciding not to balance it on his shoulders. Eagerly, his fingers crawled over the numbers like spiders and hardly felt them as he dialed and waited for the other side to ring.

Come on, person, answer it!

"H-hello?" a familiar voice burbled, still dense and bemused from a deep sleep.

"Kermit, my main frog..." rasped Floyd casually. "Oh man, we been truckin' all day, what's up with you, green thing?"

"Uh, you know...sleeping, nothing too out there..." came the boss's curt reply.

Cool, Kermit's in this story too! Who's next on your list to be in this story? Digit (highly unlikely, but...)? Lew Zealand (again, also unlikely)? Lips (wait... he's already in the story... nevermind...)?

"Far out...listen, would you been jazzed about bringing the rest of the gang down to Cold River tomorrow night?"

"Jazzed? Hrmm...well, I suppose?" Kermit answered. "Reason being...?"

Floyd fiddled with the cord, contemplating how to respond. Lie? Eh...probably not.

"Floyd?" buzzed Kermit. "Are you still there?"

"Uh huh. To cut to the essentials, this city's the pits, most of the peeps are in the gutter, the orbit to reestablishing our fame's hardly launched...and the band's decided that we're gonna do whatever it takes to turn everything around."

He paused.

"But we can't pull it off alone..."

O_O

You know what that means, don't you?

... THEMUPPETSAREGETTINGBACKTOGETHERHALLELUJAH! ! !

This chapter is... awe-inspiring. Very well-written, Ailie. ... um... you think I can marry this story when your done writing it? O_O XPPPP

[WhiteRabbit]

Gracias, peeps. =33

[Ilikemuppets]

This story just keeps getting better and better and I think that so far this is the best part!

[redBoobergurl]

Wow! This is a great story, I love that Floyd called Kermit and I can't wait to see what happens when the Muppets come to help.

[WhiteRabbit]

*huggles Beth and Will* Thankses, guys!

Stay tuned. ;3

[theprawncracker]

Ailie... I really don't even know how to start. I just... WOW. I tip my hat to you, Ms. Bunny, this is an INCREDIBLE story--even though we're only three chapters in. I just have so many things that need commenting on. Most of them involving Floyd and the characterization therein, a fair amount of them involving your incredible word weaving and glowing descriptions, a lot of them involving Janice and Dr. Teeth and everything both of them said, did, or thought, one involving Animal cracking me up, another inovling Zoot and Lips, and just one more involving that little call to Kermit. PERFECT, that was, Ailie.

This story really just struck a chord with me and hit me like a ton of bricks (minus the skin leisions and bone breaking). I'm really, really loving it and I cannot WAIT to see what comes next!

Oh, and by the way... don'tforgettostopbyandreadmyfan-fic"TheMuppets'Mid-AgeCrisis"wheneveranyofyoupeoplegetaminute! :D

(Just returning the favor, Ailie... you pimped your story in mine, so I'm pimping mine in yours... We should start a story pimping buisness! ;) I don't want a cane though...)

[Boppity]

-blinks and returns from her lurking expeditions-
Waa! This is so good o.o The was you describe everything is just beautiful. The way you write EM is spot on. I wish I could say what praise I want to say better, here XP

I feel my heart breaking as I read this, I've only ever driven through parts of town like that, but I really wish I could help every time I see someone with nothing. I hope they can help them!

I can't wait for more!

-returns to lurk-

[The Count]

*Throws M&M cookie—thankses Spammy in return—at boppity. You get back here and update your own fabu fanfic! :attitude: J/K.
Post when you can, all of you... Me need me ficses finished. :insatiable:

[Boppity]

-salutes The Count-
Aye Aye! ^_^

[WhiteRabbit]

*huggles and candy for everybody for the awesome feedback* =33 <3

[WhiteRabbit]

~Chapter Four: The Mother of All Skid Rows~
"Cold River...I'm assuming this is the right town. It--it should be anyway..."

"I'll say it's cold, all right. Ugh, look at this place. It's cold, it's mucky...actually, I suppose the trash everywhere does have a rather artistic appeal when you squint at it..."

"Are you positive that last stop wasn't our's instead of this dump? Certainly you don't expect moi to walk in these conditions, do you?"

"Walk? You couldn't even paddle a boat through this mess. Aaah? Aaah? Wock--"

The bear's typical pursuit to ease a chuckle out of the others was abruptly cut off while they hiked past a nearby building that discharged a turbid, pepper-like fog that prompted them all to break into an elongated fit of coughing. Among the broad hacks was a tiny wheeze transpiring from an even more diminutive figure. Robin clasped a tiny, green fist to his mouth while his uncle numbly patted the little frog on the back and tried to coerce him and their group of friends across the road. Kermit scanned the vicinity, looking for somewhere that was a bit less polluted.

Unfortunately, as he led them around a narrow corner, he too met the sad revelation of how many city inhabitants had nowhere else to live and were basking in the filth. It was a peculiar feeling he experienced when he had made that same discovery Janice and the rest of the Electric Mayhem had only a day before. First, he was alarmed by the large multitude of men, women, children, and once in a while, their pets were living like...well, they definitely weren't living the American Dream as Sam might have said.

Then the customary apprehension soon arrived. What were they doing out there? There was absolutely no way they were all laggard or inebriated or entirely unmotivated to work or make a better life for themselves. He was sanguine that there was still some hope for humanity. Had there been a fire? A flood? Were those common in this part of the country? Desolate as these circumstances were, it still didn't make a lot of sense to Kermit. It was a decent sized metropolis, there must have been some sort of shelter or halfway house these people could have been escorted to. Didn't the mayor fathom what was going on? Did they even have a mayor in the midst of this lambasted city?

Kermit glanced up at the faint whimper of his nephew and slowly latched his webbed fingers onto his minuscule ones to sedate him. "It's going to be all right..." the amphibian whispered, trying to reassure both his friends and his own anxiety at the same time. As they ambled up the block, a local garage clocked in a minute or two later and Kermit gave a mute exhale, his optimism availing once more. The band members weren't too far ahead now. He could recall Floyd's directions rather easily but his mind still seemed to fizzle them in and out as other thoughts sprung up. He was bursting with prevalent questions, some of which relating to why on earth were they lingering in this grotesque environment to once again achieve their enharmonic fame and if this was a ploy of vengeance towards him for not allowing them a bigger raise.

"Hrrmph..." mumbled Piggy as she tried to briskly avert her heels from an overturned cup of ice cream that had probably been lying there since the night before. Not more than a second later, she was sashaying around banana peels, broken bottles, a couple of cigarette stubs, her visage chafe and her mouth curled into a repulsed grimace. A one legged obstacle race wouldn't have been as toilsome to make her way through and she blew some hovering gnats and a small gathering of dust particles out of her face irritably. "Ewww...shoo...go on, you crummy flies..." She waved one of her portly hands dismissively.

"What is this place? The mother of all skid rows...?" Scooter uttered from behind the capacious swine, trying to avoid the bugs that were darting around his head now and he too batted a hand at them, moaning quietly. "Yech..."

"Aaah, the only thing that's missing from here is Rich Moranis..." chirped Fozzie. "And maybe those kids from Oliver Twist..."

"I don't think it's so bad..." mused Gonzo, who had Camilla unscathed and tucked into his arms and he gave the feathered love of his life, the ketchup to his tapioca, a laconic nuzzle. "The smell's quite beguiling once you get used to it and they even have free food all over this place. Granted, you just have to brush a little of the mud and bugs off of it..."

Sure, they were surrounded by various flies but Kermit was less than tempted to help himself. The oily emenation that had flared in from that building several feet back was furthermore present in the new turf and it gyrated his stomach in reciprocation.

"Like, Kermit!" roused a familiar young woman, poking her blonde head out of the garage in an exigent manner. "Like, you guys...we're like, totally, over here..." She beckoned the group in, her smile a little incongruous as she lightly sniffed the air. "Ooh, like, you guys must have like, taken the long way to get here. Like, you should have gone back through the alley, it doesn't have much of a like, odor."

"And have moi risk getting my purse snatched? I do not think so..." Piggy huffed back at her before sprucing up her adamant, yellow ringlets. She was clearly vexed at the severe lack of splendor or cultivation that this side of the city had. Besides, not one single person had approached her for an autograph or a picture...or at least a hug. Given she'd have to shower profusely later on but she would have obliged for a fan. The nerve of these people.

Janice sighed and motioned for the rest of them to promenade over to the motley bus as she conducted, "Okie, like file in, everybody...come on, it's rully hygenic..."

"Yeah, there's a reason we have Lips and Zoot around..." jested Floyd following up the little jab with his familiar, raspy chortle.

That seemed to have grabbed the sax player's attention and he glowered at his bandmate.

"Only raggin', man..." he insisted, giving Zoot a cordial pat on the back. "You know we couldn't get by without you two..."

"And we couldn' fare without out othah auxiliaries too..." added the good doctor, who harked in the back of the bus with Melanie was perched on his lap, dissipating some juice.

"Dr. Teeth, I--you--you have a kid?" stammered Kermit in amazement.

"Well...not exactleh. I ain't her bona fide paren'..."

"Then what in the world is she doing here? You guys didn't--please tell me you didn't kidnap her just because she's a music prodigy or something..." Kermit muttered in a slight exasperation.

"Ya think we'd accommodate that menial?" The band leader asked, his smile faltering significantly.

Kermit paused for a moment, trying to enshrine the musician's bizarre dialect and then shook his head. "Of course not. That was the wrong thing to say...I'm sorry," he answered ruefully. "But, erm, what is she doing with you guys? Where did you find her?"

"She was, uh, burrowed in the trash, know what I'm sayin'?" Dr. Teeth replied quietly.

"Good one..." chided Piggy, studying him with annoyance. "Now where did you really find her?"

"In the trash..." he repeated, emphatic on the last word. He did not mean to spite her like Floyd might have but the hefty diva probably wouldn't have believed him if he hadn't become so firm in his tone.

Piggy's scowl gradually melted away and her disposition softened in a considerable manner. "You can't be serious..." she deliberated in a hushed voice.

"What was she doing in there?" Fozzie canvassed, trying not to come off as bemused...or amused because he definitely wasn't. "What happened to your gig with that other agent? Howard, wasn't it? Or James?"

"Dean..." corrected Floyd flatly. "And he fired us when I tried to contact him this morning..."

"He fired you?"

"Yep...said he couldn't be responsible for our own misfortune, our "so-called useless burdens"...we were supposed to find the recording studio last night, transcribe a list of songs, and send them to him via email but we, uh, never found the right place to do it all..." the bass player plowed on. "It's a completely different neighborhood that we've never infiltrated and this guy assumed we knew it like the back of our hands."

"HANDS!" Animal bellowed, trying to initiate some backup for his friend.

"Right...and we were too caught up with Melanie after we found her in that old dumpster in one of the alleyways. I think--we all think that keeping her alive is much more "first and foremost" than putting out a new CD..." Floyd said, making the air quotes around what their ex agent told them sound even more obnoxious and pompous than they had at nine in the morning.

"That's terrible..." Gonzo interjected solemnly and stroked the top of Camilla's head. He couldn't imagine giving up somebody he cared deeply about and ditching them in the dirt just for the sake of his own benefits. He'd rather have eaten the dirt himself. Hey, with a pinch of grapes and tar, it might have passed off for edible too but even then, he still wouldn't abandon someone he loved.

"Dat poor kid..." Rizzo tutted.

"Si...a baby's life ees morrre eemportant ten all de monies in de world, ho'kay..." Pepe agreed, allowing Melanie to grab lightly at one of his antennas.

"I think she's very cute, Uncle Kermit..." Robin whispered. "We really should help the band take care of her..."

"Oh, without a doubt, Robin...absolutely but...not just her, I see now what Floyd was telling me about last night." the frog declared. "We're going to help this whole town out...we'll meet with the mayor tomorrow and if he allows it, we'll use the stadium and put on one of our best shows yet to raise money..."

"Kermie...do vous really think one show is going to make enough for an entire city?" Piggy spoke up skeptically.

"Like, we'll put on a bunch of shows..." Janice said. "In like, the stadium, on the street, like, in the parks...musicals, rock concerts, dances...like, maybe even sporting events...and with like, every show we perform, all the dough will get raked in...you'll like, see..."

"But who's going to go to these shows?" Piggy asked. "A lot of this place looks like they can't even afford a decent pair of shoes..."

"We can like, make ads and post them in other, like counties...and maybe even make announcements on one of the like, local radio stations. We're like, the muppets, people will remember us fer sure."

"Janice, yo so sagacious--that is, I mean...intenseleh brillian'...what woul' we do without ya?" Dr. Teeth beamed at her, his eyes resplendent with appreciation, maybe even ardor for her.

The fair haired hippie turned away for a moment, her guise starting to swelter with pride and sentiment towards her bandmate. She managed to snap herself out of the daze after a few seconds and then faced him again, voicing her gratitude modestly.

Then the pretty bohemian linked her arm with Floyd's. Just to reassure herself that the feelings were merely mutual. She only liked the band leader as an older brother or something. She managed to convince herself that she was positive about them and that those butterflies were just from her own self esteem boosting higher than usual.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, after a half hour of scoping the rundown part of the city they were in, the gang had been able to find a second-rate motel to stay. There was no way there were all going to be able to find an empty area to doze on the bus and Piggy inflexibly ordered that she couldn't sleep in anything less than a queen sized bed so they soon patrolled into the ramshackle building.

A young woman stood outside, nursing a cherry Blow Pop and embellished in a light pink minidress, white, leather boots, and a denim jacket. Melanie was now in Floyd's arms and he was hasty to get her and Janice past the lady. Piggy clutched onto Kermit's arm as tight as she could and yanked him into the entrance wordlessly. The girl rolled her eyes and then halted Dr. Teeth right as he was about to join them.

"Looking for a date, handsome?" she purred, pulling him over by the collar. "I don't mind swindling either..."

"We wanna date! We wanna date!" chanted Rizzo and Pepe eagerly.

"Scram..." the woman hissed and when she turned back to further persuade the band leader, he had slipped out of her hold and disappeared into the motel quickly. Her heavily lined eyes widened in astonishment and then she shook her head indignantly. "Tease..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As one o'clock in the morning dissolved into one-fifteen, Lips stirred in the blue and white twin bed uncomfortably. He had witnessed more despair in this city than he had experienced in most of his life and the thought that perturbed the shaggy haired musician the most was while he had a bed, musty as it smelled, other people were out there on the sidewalk. He could barely imagine how terrible it must have been. What if they had rolled over and accidentally spiked themselves on a sharp rock or broken piece of glass? He shuddered and then sat up, gazing over at Zoot. The sax player was curled up into a corner of his own bed but he wasn't breathing in that steady way most people did when they were in an immersed sleep.

"Zoot?" he whispered, trying not to come off too extroverted.

"Hmmm...?" came the muffled reply. The plaid sheet submerged from his best friend's face and he cocked his head at Lips, his expression drowsy and analytical.

"I can't sleep..." the trumpet player admitted, feeling a little embarrassed. He knew it must have sounded really childish and pathetic but he valued Zoot's company. They understood each other so closely with their ardent silence.

"N-neither can I..." stuttered Zoot.

"I feel like a scumbag..." Lips mumbled. "Because I get to sleep inside, I get a hospitality, thanks to you guys accepting me into the band, and a third of this city doesn't, it isn't fair..."

"It's not your fault, Lips. I feel bad for them too but that doesn't mean I'm blaming myself for having a caring group of friends."

"But nobody seems to care about the people outside...I don't mean us but the rest of the city..."

"We're all going to fix that, Lips. Even if it kills us..."

"But what if we don't?"

The sax player gave him a feeble smile before he led him across the room and outside onto the aged deck. "What if I told you that we could turn this joint into the most beautiful city within a month after a lot of hard work? Would you have some faith then?"

"I suppose..." Lips answered, gazing out. "But let's be realistic for a moment, Zoot--"

"--I'd rather dream..." he interrupted his friend softly. "We still always have those, you don't have to blow them off just yet. They aren't sour notes, they'll keep us optimistic."

Lips smirked a little. "Nice metaphor..." he commented.

Zoot sighed before he sat on the dusky, wicker bench and motioned for Lips to sit beside him. Then, an integral rarity with the spacey musician, he began to sing.

"You know, the sun is in your eyes
And hurricanes and rains
Black and cloudy skies

You're running up and down that hill
You turn it on and off at will
There's nothing here to thrill or bring you down
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town...

Oh Lady Luck has led you here
And they're so twisted up
They'll twist you up, I fear

They're pious, hateful, and devout
You're turning tricks 'til you're turned out
The wind so cold it burns
You're burning out and blowing 'round
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town..."

Lips stared him and listened intently, his countenance now void of any pessimism.

"The fates are vicious and they're cruel
You learn too late you've used
Two wishes
Like a fool

And then you're someone you are not
And Junction City ain't the spot
Remember Mrs. Lot and when she turned around
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town..."

Zoot eventually desisted a few moments afterward and his eyes bored into Lips's. "...be hopeful, man. If you quit--"

"I'm not going to..." Lips chiseled in, his thin mouth flourishing into a genuine smile before he pulled the other musician into a taut hug. Still in the embrace, he rested his chin on Zoot's balding head and then scrutinized the deteriorated road once more.

But when Lips observed it, he could visualize himself and the rest of the muppets fixing it up, assisting the homeless inhabitants, repainting the buildings, filling in the potholes, and the potential beauty Cold River would soon have. Somehow, he just knew it was possible now.

[The Count]

Speech... Less... *Opens mouth to reply, can't think of anything, stupid hacking cough that comes and goes, closes mouth.

You keep the faith and have everyone relying on the hope they bring each other, it's very touching.
Liked the song and Zoot's determination to see the town repaired.
Found it funny what happened to Dr. Teeth outside the motel.
Just glad the rest of the gang's here... Post more when you can please.
*Offers cherry pie.

[redBoobergurl]

Wow...just wow...I'm speechless, this is just so well written. Everyone is in character and it's just amazing. Please keep it coming, I am really enjoying this!

[RedPiggy]

This continues to be an awesome story. It's nice to see you write the other Muppets just as well as the EM. Kudos!

[theprawncracker]

"I don't think it's so bad..." mused Gonzo, who had Camilla unscathed and tucked into his arms and he gave the feathered love of his life, the ketchup to his tapioca, a laconic nuzzle. "The smell's quite beguiling once you get used to it and they even have free food all over this place. Granted, you just have to brush a little of the mud and bugs off of it..."
THAT is great Gonzo characterization if I've ever read it. LOVE it, Ailie! Great stuff! The whole chapter was so heart-wrenching and wonderful... good to see the rest of the Muppets there. I know the EM will need the help. The story just keeps getting better, bunny-buns! Keep it up! :D

[AnimatedC9000]

Ailie, you sure know how to pull at people's heartstrings.

This chapter is... amazing. I don't know how else to describe it. I loved the song that Zoot sang and I'm glad that the other Muppets are there to help. *giggles* Also, that little bit with the woman and Dr. Teeth... and Pepe and Rizzo chanting... priceless. XPP

You're a terrific writer, Ailie. Please post more soon.

[BeakerSqueedom]

Cold River...I'm assuming this is the right town. It--it should be anyway..."

"I'll say it's cold, all right. Ugh, look at this place. It's cold, it's mucky...actually, I suppose the trash everywhere does have a rather artistic appeal when you squint at it..."

"Are you positive that last stop wasn't our's instead of this dump? Certainly you don't expect moi to walk in these conditions, do you?"

"Walk? You couldn't even paddle a boat through this mess. Aaah? Aaah? Wock--"

The bear's typical pursuit to ease a chuckle out of the others was abruptly cut off while they hiked past a nearby building that discharged a turbid, pepper-like fog that prompted them all to break into an elongated fit of coughing. Among the broad hacks was a tiny wheeze transpiring from an even more diminutive figure. Robin clasped a tiny, green fist to his mouth while his uncle numbly patted the little frog on the back and tried to coerce him and their group of friends across the road. Kermit scanned the vicinity, looking for somewhere that was a bit less polluted.

Man, this reminds me of my younger years. I lived in a place like this. Now I live in a big, lovely house...but somehow, the homeyness is still missed. I love how you described the gloom of the environment through their scoffs and remarks.


Unfortunately, as he led them around a narrow corner, he too met the sad revelation of how many city inhabitants had nowhere else to live and were basking in the filth. It was a peculiar feeling he experienced when he had made that same discovery Janice and the rest of the Electric Mayhem had only a day before. First, he was alarmed by the large multitude of men, women, children, and once in a while, their pets were living like...well, they definitely weren't living the American Dream as Sam might have said.

LOL! XP Dude, for some reason, that last bit made me laugh.

Kermit glanced up at the faint whimper of his nephew and slowly latched his webbed fingers onto his minuscule ones to sedate him. "It's going to be all right..." the amphibian whispered, trying to reassure both his friends and his own anxiety at the same time. As they ambled up the block, a local garage clocked in a minute or two later and Kermit gave a mute exhale, his optimism availing once more. The band members weren't too far ahead now. He could recall Floyd's directions rather easily but his mind still seemed to fizzle them in and out as other thoughts sprung up. He was bursting with prevalent questions, some of which relating to why on earth were they lingering in this grotesque environment to once again achieve their enharmonic fame and if this was a ploy of vengeance towards him for not allowing them a bigger raise.

"Hrrmph..." mumbled Piggy as she tried to briskly avert her heels from an overturned cup of ice cream that had probably been lying there since the night before. Not more than a second later, she was sashaying around banana peels, broken bottles, a couple of cigarette stubs, her visage chafe and her mouth curled into a repulsed grimace. A one legged obstacle race wouldn't have been as toilsome to make her way through and she blew some hovering gnats and a small gathering of dust particles out of her face irritably. "Ewww...shoo...go on, you crummy flies..." She waved one of her portly hands dismissively.

"What is this place? The mother of all skid rows...?" Scooter uttered from behind the capacious swine, trying to avoid the bugs that were darting around his head now and he too batted a hand at them, moaning quietly. "Yech..."

Characterization is amazing, as usual. Ailie, have I told you lately...that I love you? -sings-

"Aaah, the only thing that's missing from here is Rich Moranis..." chirped Fozzie. "And maybe those kids from Oliver Twist..."

HAHAHAA! XD Or Nani, Cobra, Clopin, Foxy, and Brer Rabbit...Inside joke between us, people. We iz best friendz...:3

"I don't think it's so bad..." mused Gonzo, who had Camilla unscathed and tucked into his arms and he gave the feathered love of his life, the ketchup to his tapioca, a laconic nuzzle. "The smell's quite beguiling once you get used to it and they even have free food all over this place. Granted, you just have to brush a little of the mud and bugs off of it..."

I CAN HEAR THE CHARACTERS EMERGE FROM THE STORY! GAH! AILIE, YOU TICKLE THE IMAGINATION WITH LOVE, YOU HEAR?

"Dr. Teeth, I--you--you have a kid?" stammered Kermit in amazement.

"Well...not exactleh. I ain't her bona fide paren'..."

"Then what in the world is she doing here? You guys didn't--please tell me you didn't kidnap her just because she's a music prodigy or something..." Kermit muttered in a slight exasperation.

"Ya think we'd accommodate that menial?" The band leader asked, his smile faltering significantly.

Helltodahno....WHAT DID THE FROG SAY? *SNAPS FINGERS*
Ooo, he sho' gonna get it.

Kermit paused for a moment, trying to enshrine the musician's bizarre dialect and then shook his head. "Of course not. That was the wrong thing to say...I'm sorry," he answered ruefully.

Exactly, Frog....


Piggy's scowl gradually melted away and her disposition softened in a considerable manner. "You can't be serious..." she deliberated in a hushed voice.

I love how you capture Piggy's sweet side. Most fanfics, even movie shorts...never quite catch her beauty. They make her SO Paris Hilton these days. It's not fair! KUDOS FOR CAPTURING HER WARMTH AND TRUE PERSONALITY! <3

And....AGH! I CAN'T WAIT! POST MORE! :D
I'm in love with the baby already...
You're...so...f'ing amazing!

Oh, Ailie....you simply must marry me, no?
*SNUGGLES* EEEE! I LOVE IT! LOVE IT!

[The Count]

*Tosses sugarsac at Squeegy. Missin' ou muchly. Ailie, post moress?

[TogetherAgain]

...WOW.

...Yeah, that about sums it up. :p

Except that it doesn't, because it doesn't BEGIN to do a justice to this tale, or to my reaction to this tale.

WOW.

I mean, WOW.

First of all, your diction is INCREDIBLE! I mean, the DETAIL... You convey SO MUCH detail! It's incredible. You had me sucked right in from the very first sentence. Just incredible...

And your characterization! Oh my gosh, EVERYONE is SPOT ON! And that is SO hard to do. Kudos, my friend. Kudos.

And just the sheer DEPTH of the story... it's... it's incredible. It is MIND-BLOWING. It is... stunning. Just... WOW.

And it's so... intricate, too. Just... I am SO amazed.

Wow.

Did I say "Wow" yet?

Because... WOW.

...Alright, I'm hooked. <slaps fist on table> MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

[WhiteRabbit]

^_^ Thanks so much, Lisa! Coming from the Queen of fics herself, I'm wicked flattered that you like it so much. I always think my writing is mediocre and campy--myeh, too much criticism from teachers, I guess--but your post really boosted my literary confidence as have the others. =33333

Expect an update tomorrow! :halo:

[The Count]

Okay... So it's tomorrow today. New chapter please?

[redBoobergurl]

I second what Ed says - it's tomorrow now. More story please?

[WhiteRabbit]

~Chapter Five: The Beauty of Gray~
Morning, or something to that extent, was slowly materializing over the poor side of Cold River and dark clouds drifted into the already bleak sky, alloying with the black smog that was being pumped from that same old building every five minutes. The weather didn't look very promising but Kermit had decided that if the gang couldn't scope around to find the mayor's office now then they probably wouldn't have the motivation to go later on. Catching the rest of the lot in the squalid lobby of the motel, the frog mustered up a weak smile and greeted them, trying to be solicit while Piggy gabbled next to him about the less than eminent conditions the resort was in from the glacial water in the bathrooms to the dead ants that swam in it to the musty atmosphere of the hallway to the rattling arguments from their "primitive" neighbors and the creaks that had kept her up the whole night.

Kermit billowed a mute sigh. "We'll just have to make the best of--"

"Nobody's begging for you to stay, Miss Sausage Roll..." huffed Floyd, who normally wouldn't act so incompatible and might have just laughed off the diva's complaints. "You could be out there, eating crumbs for your breakfast or--or--sleeping next to the *filthy*, germ ridden pigeons."

"Sounds like a blast!" exclaimed Gonzo, hugging Camilla tightly. "Don't you agree, my sweet chickie?"

The hen didn't respond. She was still drifting in and out of sleep, having been woken up several times during the previous night from the constant bumps in the wall. It was possible that it could have just been Animal but at the moment it was happening, she wasn't completely reassured. So she lay huddled beside her darling...whatever...and kept a constant vigil for anything that would have prowled in and tackled them. It was around 3 or 4 in the morning when she had finally given up and the intimidation vanished.

"Miss...what?" the blonde pig growled at the bass player, her nerves sizzling like...well, bacon and her adipose hands trembling with the urge to rip his mustache off. "Pardon moi...would you be ever so unkind as to repeat that?" Piggy definitely didn't think Floyd was worth using vous on, given how terribly rude he could often be to her and she was bracing herself to karate chop him into the next century. Perhaps they could teach him some manners with some kind of high tech way of laceration. Lazer-ation, they probably called it. She suddenly fought the urge to giggle. That was a dreadful joke...and it wasn't even coming from Fozzie!

"You guys..." protested a tiny voice from somewhere below the pig's ample waist. Robin was lifting his head in determination and trying to get his uncle and his friends back into a peace of mind in some form or another. They couldn't waste time to argue about ridiculous things now. They agreed that they were going to meet with the mayor and if they were going to just keep eating up the juncture with silly fights then they weren't going to strive further towards their underlying goal; the one they were here for in the first place.

"Come on, everyone..." Kermit muttered, ushering them all to the entrance. Fortunately that woman from the night before wasn't there and they were able to leave without any further or frivolous interruptions.

"Like, Kermit...?" Janice divulged after the band and Melanie infiltrated the bus first.

"Yes, Janice?" the frog replied, addressing the flowerchild, trying to adopt a serene attitude that would somehow spread onto the others who were irritable like Piggy and Floyd.

"Erm...like, the bus isn't, like, rully starting...you know?" she reported back to him.

Kermit lowered his gaze for a moment, trying to think of something helpful to endeavor the situation with but he was running on low within the depths of his mind, perhaps even empty like the state of the psychedelic vehicle that stood before him. "Oh..." he answered flatly.

"Perfect..." mumbled Scooter. "Now what are we going to do? City Hall could be miles away for all we know..."

"I guess we'll just have to walk..." Fozzie orated.

"Walk? !" spat Piggy indignantly. "Absolutely not! You cannot force moi to walk, especially in these new pumps! I simply refuse to!"

"Why did you wear those shoes anyway?" Lips snorted, his head poking out of a bus window in the front.

"Well, excuse moi for taking pride in how I look! Unlike you...you--whatever your name is!" the diva blurted out with a agitated toss of her yellow locks.

"Don't talk to Lips like that..." Zoot ordered in a soft, stern derision as he joined the bristly trumpet player.

"Way to go, man! You tell her off!" Floyd called, giving an exuberant chuckle.

The rouged hog flared up once more. "I'll talk to him any way I--"

"PIGGY!" Kermit asserted. "Zoot! Everybody...just stop it, all right? STOP IT!"

The group began to chirp all at once, some of them claiming they had nothing to with the quarrel and some of them just babbling for the sake of babbling. It was a muppet thing.

"HEY!" spieled the band leader tersely before setting Melanie on one of the seats, his own head protruding from the bus as well. "SHUDDUP!"

Silence seemed to immediately disperse over the troupe after that.

Kermit gave a stiff nod in exasperation. "Thank you, Dr. Teeth..." he muttered, his webbed hands kneading each side of his head. "Listen, everybody...you're making this very hard to get anywhere with all of these--these conflicts. I'd really appreciate it if we could just get on with our lives and look for City Hall without a spat. Walking isn't going to kill us. Look around at the other people here, folks. They walk all day and night. We're going to be fine. Just fine."

"Yeah, peachy..." grumbled Piggy, bending forward to loosen the straps on her two inch, glittering purple heels. "Janice, dear...would vous switching shoes with moi? I have very, very clean toes, I assure you. Those darling little sandals look cozy and vous certainly don't expect moi to suffer walking in--"

"C'mon, baby..." Floyd spoke up, taking the pretty bohemian by the arm gently. "I don't want'cha to get pig feet..."

"Pig feet? !" wailed the diva. "That does it! Hiiiiiiii--" But before her hand could successfully slice across Floyd, Pepe had begun to stroll in front of her and had been bestowed with the full effect of her chop.

"AYE! De dolor!" the king prawn spluttered, collapsing onto the pavement.

"Oops..." spouted Piggy dismissively before sidestepping Pepe and quickening her pace a little so she could join Kermit and Robin in the front.

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

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kismat, but we don't allow children to be in the waiting room," the secretary disclosed as she surveyed Melanie with little emotion in her beryl eyes while she ran a freckled hand through her scarlet ringlets. The mayor's receptionist was a very pretty woman...at least, on the outside.

"But we need her here, ma'am..." insisted Fozzie. "She's an orphan from the west side of Cold River; she's one of the many people who need help there."

"Oh...so she's an example or something?" the secretary inquired, twisting a red curl around one of her slender fingers. "Tragic...just take a seat in the back and I'll see what I can pencil you in for. Mr. Bridges has been up to his neck in crucial engagments, I'm afraid. Not that I expect you out of towners to know about that..."

What's up with all these stiff necks? Zoot thought, keeping his stare fastened to the crisp, beige carpet below. The room was extremely ritzy looking with a large fountain arranged directly in the middle, oil paintings that were designed to look like they were from many generations before and would surely last a few dozen into the future, silky royal blue curtains adoring each window, and a heavily polished, double staircase. He contemplated how much cash was put into creating such an elaborate building and bit his lip.

"Pencil us in? But we have to meet with him now." Piggy hissed. "It's important!"

"Important..." the young woman echoed with a cocky half smile. "Yes, I'm sure it's very important coming from a bunch of...outcasts and farm animals..."

"AN-I-MAL!" blared the drummer, extracting from his chains as best as he could until they finally rendered. "WO-MAN! WO-MAN!"

The secretary gave a disgruntled shriek and bolted from her chair as fast as she could while Animal clamored after her with glee.

"Hey, don't let Animal have all da fun!" Rizzo hollered and elbowed Pepe. "Let's get her!" Then the two of them joined the ravenous musician while they commenced in chasing the receptionist around the room.

"Heh...my bad..." Floyd mumbled with a smirk.

"Gianna..." announced a gray haired man in a sharp brown suit, appearing in the doorway. "I want you to cancel all of my appointments with the Chamber of Commerce next week. Wallingford requested my presence at a golf--" He was cut off by the sound of Animal's roused grunts and the redhead's piercing screams. The elder man's jaw unhinged and his mustache scrunched up with annoyance. "Miss Gianna! What in the right heck is going on here? !"

"Oh, you must be the mayor-dude!" Floyd tried to shout over them. "Hey, man...we were wondering if you could help us resolve an issue on the east side!"

"The west side..." Lips corrected him quietly.

"Uh, the west side, sorry about that!" the bass player added hastily.

"The west side? The west side? ! Everybody always wants to talk about the west side! Is it my fault there's a recession and the cruddy jobs are all over there?" the mayor shouted back as Animal, Rizzo, and Pepe nearly drove Gianna into one of his cherished portraits. "I don't think so! The west side doesn't need help! They're all wasteful--nothing but deadbeats and they enjoy living in the slums! Don't you even think of asking me to donate money either! I've already forked out enough towards this stupid--NOT MY FOUNTAIN!"

The three muppets and the woman crashed into the water a second after the mayor screeched and the granite statue of him toppled onto the floor with a thundering crash, the head crumbling into three jagged pieces.

Animal glanced down at the broken head in surprise and then up at the others with a meek smile. "Uh oh..." he rasped, trying to construct some innocence in his wild growl.

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

Mud drenched the group of muppets while they were tossed out onto the street and the sound of thunder barraged over the area. Normally it would have been something overlooked but the keyboard player couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity. They had all been rejected a lot of times before but that had been in the entertainment business, trying to find a gig or a producer and this...this was much different. They were trying to find a home for Melanie, a home for all of those people in the west end. Did nobody else care? Did nobody else in the city understand that what was going on was oppression?

Dr. Teeth held the little girl close, trying to shield her from the torrent of rain. He knew what it was like to be in this position but he didn't want to reminisce about the past, the one that had occurred several years before the Electric Mayhem formed, before he had actually been blessed with the gift of friends right now. As the musician witnessed a cluster of teenagers dart to the alleyways for harbor from the dreary weather, the retentions had begun to flood his mind again.

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

There the band leader was, bedecked in the tattered white jersey and the fraying jeans, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, scrambling from the cops for trying to get a drink out of the wrong fountain. There were many other adolescents like him; they might have been siblings or merely friends but all of them were vagabonds in the little Southern village.

The boy had been almost emaciated with disheveled hair, large dark eyes, and numerous bruises and scars from getting into many affrays with the police and other forms of "the man." It wasn't the happiest of times but for some reason, the simplicity was easier to survive in compared to the industrialization and greed that seemed to have transpired with the future.

It was a time when rock and roll had been discovered but the British Invasion hadn't completely surfaced yet. Jazz and Motown had still heightened above rap and Chuck Berry, Elvis, and Eddie Cochran were considered the most majestic rockers of the age. Their sweet music would blare out of passing cars, stores, and jukeboxes and grace the atmosphere with their fierce crooning of love, having fun, and rebellion.

The war had been a thing of the last generation but pacifists hadn't emerged yet.

Neither had discrimination been entirely fought against. It was still there as plain as the day and anchored to the town, despite many attempts to vanquish it.

One of the policemen yanked the boy over by the scruff of his neck and the bat rose as it so often had, teaching the young man what they believed was "a lesson but good." Spare the rod, use the bat was their motto. Their deep voices echoed with prejudiced slurs of hatred and disdain towards the future musician and when they were finished mentally and physically abrading the boy, when they thought he was convinced that he was nothing but a no good, disgusting little tramp, they released him.

As they drove away, leaving those horrible thoughts and beatings to sink into the boy, he watched them with a blank expression before his mouth split into a meager smile. They could hit him and insult him all they wanted, they could claim that he was a nobody and a disgrace but they couldn't take away his optimism and his love for the music he wanted to participate in. He'd get off these streets someday, he'd learn how to read and write, and then he'd make it big in his life. Much bigger than a bunch of lousy cops.

"I'm gonna beh someone..." he vowed, tending to one of his injured hands. "Y'all will see..."

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

"And yo gonna beh someone too," he whispered to Melanie, enshrouding the baby so she wouldn't shiver.

She gazed up at him and began to whimper, doubt creeping into her brown pupils.

Janice was not too far behind her bandmate and she gently slipped out of Floyd's hold to sedate the child as well. "Like, he's right...don't cry, Melanie..." she confided her, stroking her dark hair. Swallowing quietly, the fair haired hippie began to sing in hopes that she could be able to coax feelings of security and warmth out of the baby.

"Be brave, little one
Make a wish for, like, each sad little tear
Hold your head up though no one is near
Someone's waiting for you...

Don't cry, little one
There'll be a smile where, like, a frown used to be
You'll be part of the love that you see
Someone's waiting for you..."

The keyboard player soon joined in with Janice and they both were crooning softly to Melanie now.

"Always keep a little prayer in your pocket
and you're sure to see the light
Soon there'll be joy and happiness
and your little world will be bright

Have faith, little one
'Til your hopes and your wishes come true
You must try to be brave little one
Someone's waiting...to...love...you..."

[The Count]

It had everything you would want...

Laughs.
Animal chasing the mayor's secretary into the fountain.

Tears.
Dr. Teeth's flashback and him and Janice singing to calm Melanie.

Action.
Piggy and Floyd in a classic scuffle ending in a rousing 'Hee-Yah!'

You'll love this story. And if not, then, have you rully read it?
Read... And you too can add your name to the erm fans clamoring for...

More please! ! !

[RedPiggy]

I think I used that song in a pokefic once....

Anyway, liked the Teeth flashback!

[TogetherAgain]

Agreed, I like the Dr. Teeth flashback... and the song... but I ESPECIALLY like the Muppet chaos you've got here.

And I LOVE the contrast you painted with the mayor's office. You've given us such a vivid image of the situation on the streets... and here's the mayor, worried sick about his precious fountain, cancelling a entire week of meetings with the chamber of commerce for GOLF... BAD mayor, BAD! (But very well written.)

This is INTENSE stuff. I really am amazed. Keep it up! MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

[theprawncracker]

Beautiful, Ailie, absolutely beautiful. I LOVE the way you've written ALL of the Muppets. Piggy is stellar, Pepe and Rizzo are AWESOME, Floyd is... PERFECT, and so is everyone else, honestly. There's not one fault here, and that is something to be extremely proud of Bunnzy.

And the PLOT! It's SO good! You are a genuine wordsmith, Ms. Ailie, and sentence you churn out has me drooling for more. It's smart, it's FUN, and it's... everything it should be. Summer '09 is shaping up to be another AWESOME summer of fan-fic--and you're a HUGE part of that, Ailie!

MORE PLEASE! ! ! !

[Kiki]

This is mad, Ailie! I love all of the characters' roles, and the story itself of coarse is awesome! :excited: Keep up the great work! O_<

[redBoobergurl]

Great Muppity mayhem with all the other serious stuff going on too, good balance makes for a great story! And I agree with the others, that was a great song choice, I used to love that song when I was little! :)

And not to muffin - but you are right Prawnie, this year is looking like 2005 as far as fan fics go and I LOVE IT!

[AnimatedC9000]

I have a question: Why does the mayor remind me of the vice-principal from A Goofy Movie? XPPP

Another fantastic chapter, Ailie. I absolutely loved Dr. Teeth's flashback and how he cares so much for Melanie. And the song at the end... so sweet... And the chaos at the beginning half... so funny. XPPP I loved Piggy forgetting Lips's name and Zoot sticking up for him. Also liked when Animal, Pepe, and Rizzo chased the secretary around. XPPP

I can't wait for more, Ailie!

[WhiteRabbit]

Thankses, guys. =3 Sorry I haven't been updating this--been busy (bwargh). Will try to tomorrows.

[The Count]

Mmm Monsters are so hungry... We want an update right now! Please?

[BeakerSqueedom]

Oh gosh, I felt a wave of euphoria when Piggy smacked Pepe.
I bet you enjoyed typing that, too.

I love how you manage to demonstrate the group's relationship. Actually, I love everything about this. And, you know, I wanna hug Melaine, especially because of what song this marvelous fic's based on.

AND DARN YOU AILIE....YOU ARE SO BLOODY TALENTED! <3

-Sobbing- Be brave, little one...
That song gets me every time, like, I can't stop wailing. The moment someone dares to play that song in front of me, I - I - I - OMG SUGARSAC! -Throws herself in the air and makes a grab for it- EDEDEDED!

O_o -licks sugarsac-

O_O -gives Ailie half of it-

I gives you a cookeh if you post the next one. =P

[WhiteRabbit]

*snugs Claudia* Thankses. ;333

I's so sorry for not updating this but I've been completely museless. X_X*headdesk*

[The Count]

*Leaves Oreos for Ailie. Maybe draw inspiration from some of what went on in the dorms? If not, then erm... Yeah. *Feels like we need a musical number to bridge the gap of realness and Muppet hope, something like You Can't Take No For An Answer. :sympathy:

[theprawncracker]

Jou could read my fan-ficcy for some inspiration...

I just saying... :halo:

[WhiteRabbit]

I's sorry for not updating this sooner. Here we is. :halo:

~Chapter Six: It's the Day For Breaking Rules~
"Where'd you get the cash, boy?"

"I'll betcha anything he stole it! I wouldn't put it past him!" The second cop's burly arm shot out from his side like a wiry bullet and he grabbed the future musician by the scruff of his neck. Brittle, yellow nails seemed to bury themselves below his forest green skin and thus, the boy began to writhe in malaise. He could hold up for a few thrashes across the back but this sensation was even more disquieting.

"Hold still!" bellowed the other cop, fumbling for his handcuffs while keeping one of the most adroit vigils on the boy. His Southern drawl was far more prominent due to his vexed state and thick with disdain towards the teenager. "You listen to me, you dirty little son of a gun, you hand over those dimes now and perhaps I won't be inclined to black out your other eye! C'mon now, let's have 'em up front..."

"But I-I earned 'em--" the boy stammered, trying to wriggle out of the colossal grip of the policeman.

"Did you now?" the pale man spat, prying the boy's elongated fingers off the dimes as though he was trying to crack open an oyster. "Do you think honestly think--?"

"At the Krazeh Kornah...I play in theah--"

"Play? You mean, an instrument?" the cop scoffed, giving his partner a horrid smirk. Neither of them would take a thirteen year old, especially a minority, seriously. "You're not even old enough to be in there period, much less perform! You're a filthy liar!" He seized the small, glittering sum of currency out of the boy's pallid hands before his bat came plummeting down onto his trembling wrists a couple times. The young musician bit into his tongue as hard as he could to keep from bawling, his braces reflecting acutely in the late afternoon's presence.

The navy clad duo could do nothing besides chortle at his expense.

"They wasn' even fo' meh..." the boy tried to explain, nursing one of his mangled, dark wrists, suppressing any curses that might have been triggered by the throbbing pain.

"Oh no?" one of the cops inquired with a sneer. "Then who? Your sniveling cohorts--my mistake, your friends from the alleyway? Who do you think you are, leeching off the decent and unsuspecting members of this county?"

'Why, I'd say our little guttersnipe's a regular Robin Hood!" chided the second cop, knocking the boy onto the gravel in one firm, swift motion. "When you get a real job, heaven forbid your kind ever does break into the professional workforce, perhaps you will be able to obtain the dough. For now, it's rightfully our's. It's not like some teenager scamp needs it anyway; you'd probably blow it on comic books or baseball cards or whatever the Sam Hill the kids are into these days." With that, the cop took a test swing of his bat, narrowly missing the boy's skull and motioned for his colleague to follow him down the square, making a beeline for one of the praline shops.

The boy clutched onto a sign of a nearby bus stop and slowly hoisted himself back onto his feet, his gangly legs quivering a little until he felt a disembodied hand reach for his own. He glanced up at the girl that stood before him, who only seemed a year or two younger than him.

A lot of the other inhabitants from her class seemed faceless and indifferent to the likes of him, but she stood out like a sunflower in a field of blossom less stalks. She had a thin mass of black hair that hung against her bare, bronze shoulders like a sarong. Her eyes were framed by thick, lurid lashes that made it look like she couldn't open them and her lips were rather plush and scarlet. In fact, sans the dark hair, her features were strikingly reminiscent to that of a certain guitar player. She wasn't donned in the frayed clothes like he was, though. She wore a pale blue dress, flat white shoes, and a parasol was tucked under one of her slender arms in case the heat became too unbearable.

"Thanks..." the boy spoke up, flashing her a mouth full of metal that definitely was not constructed by a professional. The beam, silly as it might have appeared, was endearing, nonetheless.

"Ah, don't think too much of it..." the girl responded with a slight nod and her own tentative smile. "I'm Joëlle, what's your name?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's--"

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

"Dr. Teeth?" Kermit chirped, casting a concerned look in the band leader's direction.

The musician shook his head a little, roused out his tangled thoughts and trying to focus. "Uh, yeah?" he responded as the frog coerced the group across the now immaculate street and into the east side of the city.

"We were trying to er, come up with the first idea that we can use to raise money," the frog annotated while motioning for Robin to stand next to him. "Any input?"

"Huh? Well, I veritableh don'--"

"Moi suggested we sponsor a bake sale but the cliche amateurs wanted to strap crushed Pepsi cans on their feet and dance for the money..." Piggy huffed, folding her adipose arms as though she couldn't believe how quickly her idea had been shot down.

"I say we host a comedy act in the middle of the street..." Fozzie piped up, fishing for a rubber chicken in his hat and waggling it around. "Aaah? Fun-ny!"

Melanie clapped her pudgy, brown hands together and giggled but she was drowned out by the sound of the rest of the gang groaning exasperatedly in unison. The infant blinked before she reached out in an agile stretch and grabbed Fozzie's nose. She might have been too little to talk yet but it was a surefire gesture to let him know she still had faith in him.

Kermit pursed his mouth for a moment and then gazed down at the hard concrete below. Just as the ground was stiff and trampled on by many a crowd, so was his hope. They had gone to the mayor and he needn't be reminded of what an absolute disaster that had been. Arranging scenarios on their own usually proved to be a cinch to the muppets after they had experienced so much together but something, be it solid or hypothetical, a person or the atmosphere seemed to be holding them back. Tension? Pessimism?

His provoking apprehension was slowly halted when his nephew's tiny voice lifted among the others.

"Why don't we put on a circus?" Robin exhorted, trying to erect his posture as high as he could.

"A circus?" Piggy inquired, trying not to laugh. "Robin, dear, vous have to be a little more realistic. After all, we don't have the equipment or the proper uniforms and I don't think the city would be very interested in moi walking on a tight rope."

"Of course not, you'd break it..." Floyd chimed in.

The porcine diva glared venomously at the bass player, her gold ringlets standing on end and her cheeks were flushed. "Right. I'm going to pretend moi didn't hear that..." she hissed before trying to maintain a serene disposition. "Besides, who in the right heck would wanna see chickens doing acrobatics?"

"By gum--zesty flavored gum, mind you, I would!" Gonzo interjected, practically clucking in delight.

"Of course..." Piggy grunted with a toss of her head.

"Kermin, don't joo tink dis idea ees a beet corrrny?" Pepe began amidst the babble of the group.

"Suppose I could be a lion tamer as well as a clown...?" Fozzie queried the frog with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Vous can't be serious! We don't have any lions on hand!" Piggy snapped indignantly.

"No, but like, we've got Animal..." Janice replied, gesturing towards the drummer with a faint smile.

"LI-ON! LI-ON!"

Kermit managed to give his friends a weak smile and then an approving nod to show that he was up for the circus idea. It seemed a trifle lame and dangerous but what other options did they have at the moment?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"WHASSUP, EAS' SIDE?" the band leader stood in the middle of the vacant lot, cupping one of his elongated hands around a microphone and blaring towards the mediocre sized crowd huddled on the bleachers. He was embellished like the typical ring master, save for a skull mask that concealed his face from the rest of the less than psyched viewers. It gave the atmosphere a more sinister appeal. The muppets had spent the entire day building the tent and sprucing the lot up and by the time the show was ready to start, it was nearly midnight. So they had settled on having a somewhat haunted theme to accompany the acts.

Uncle Deadly would have been proud.

Even if Fozzie's head had gotten caught in Animal's mouth for an entire half hour.

And the trapeze net collapsed after Gonzo and Camilla landed in it.

And the horse Piggy had been riding bareback on ran off.

And Floyd's mustache was charred on the very tips from his fire eating act.

And Sweetums's sequined leotard ripped.

And Zoot had a broken leg after the muppet pyramid toppled over.

The musician plowed on. "I can see y'all is enjoyin' yoselves out theah, no?"

"NO!" hollered Statler and Waldorf from the utmost top of the stands.

Dr. Teeth attempted to muster up an enticing grin, trying to ignore the ancient duo. "A'ight, so this las' act o' the nigh'. Mah main bugle boy Lips is gonna make his loveleh assistan' Janice disappeah--"

"Too bad the same thing can't happen to us!"

"Been there, done that!"

"BOO!"

"BOO!"

"Boo yoself!" the band leader shot back, tempted to take his skull mask off and chuck it at the two geezers. "Like I said, evereh-one give an oval of applause ta Miss Jan--"

Like a blue rocket one might only witness in the merest of split seconds, Gonzo shot across the ring with a thundering barrage that practically made the vacant lot tremble as though it were trapped beneath an earthquake. Members of the audience began to screech, Melanie (who had been nestled in Floyd's lap) proceeded to cry, and gradually, the tent swayed and faltered, enveloping the performers and the crowd like a bristly, yellow blanket.

"I can't see a doggone thing!" Statler's crotchety voice sounded amongst the squabbling artists and bystanders as they tried to weave their way out of the tent.

"Neither can I!" replied Waldorf. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Rizzo was the last to bestow them with his own musing. "Oh, shaddup!"

[The Count]

*Applauds heartily. *Leaves Oreos for Ailie. Thankses for the chapter.

[theprawncracker]

*laughs* Oh, I love the chaos of the circus! Absolutely wonderful! And, may I say, Miss Ailie, what I really really love about this story is how real everything is. From Dr. Teeth's childhood trauma to the mere fact that Zoot broke his leg during the pyramid. Muppets never sustain harm after acts--but the fact that Zoot did is so real, making the story seem more real, which I know is what you're going for. Love it! Awesome, awesome chapter, Bun-Bun! :D

[RedPiggy]

woohoo!

Sorry I didn't get an email alert about this, or I would have responded earlier. I'll probably get it three hours from now. :P


This is still going strong. You always seem to find just the right moments to be sad, happy, and funny. Great job.

[WhiteRabbit]

Zank you, guys. Sorry for the wait (and the shortness). =3

[redBoobergurl]

It's all good, just post more! :)

[AnimatedC9000]

~Chapter Six: It's the Day For Breaking Rules~
"Where'd you get the cash, boy?"

"I'll betcha anything he stole it! I wouldn't put it past him!" The second cop's burly arm shot out from his side like a wiry bullet and he grabbed the future musician by the scruff of his neck. Brittle, yellow nails seemed to bury themselves below his forest green skin and thus, the boy began to writhe in malaise. He could hold up for a few thrashes across the back but this sensation was even more disquieting.

"Hold still!" bellowed the other cop, fumbling for his handcuffs while keeping one of the most adroit vigils on the boy. His Southern drawl was far more prominent due to his vexed state and thick with disdain towards the teenager. "You listen to me, you dirty little son of a gun, you hand over those dimes now and perhaps I won't be inclined to black out your other eye! C'mon now, let's have 'em up front..."

"But I-I earned 'em--" the boy stammered, trying to wriggle out of the colossal grip of the policeman.

"Did you now?" the pale man spat, prying the boy's elongated fingers off the dimes as though he was trying to crack open an oyster. "Do you think honestly think--?"

"At the Krazeh Kornah...I play in theah--"

"Play? You mean, an instrument?" the cop scoffed, giving his partner a horrid smirk. Neither of them would take a thirteen year old, especially a minority, seriously. "You're not even old enough to be in there period, much less perform! You're a filthy liar!" He seized the small, glittering sum of currency out of the boy's pallid hands before his bat came plummeting down onto his trembling wrists a couple times. The young musician bit into his tongue as hard as he could to keep from bawling, his braces reflecting acutely in the late afternoon's presence.

The navy clad duo could do nothing besides chortle at his expense.

"They wasn' even fo' meh..." the boy tried to explain, nursing one of his mangled, dark wrists, suppressing any curses that might have been triggered by the throbbing pain.

"Oh no?" one of the cops inquired with a sneer. "Then who? Your sniveling cohorts--my mistake, your friends from the alleyway? Who do you think you are, leeching off the decent and unsuspecting members of this county?"

'Why, I'd say our little guttersnipe's a regular Robin Hood!" chided the second cop, knocking the boy onto the gravel in one firm, swift motion. "When you get a real job, heaven forbid your kind ever does break into the professional workforce, perhaps you will be able to obtain the dough. For now, it's rightfully our's. It's not like some teenager scamp needs it anyway; you'd probably blow it on comic books or baseball cards or whatever the Sam Hill the kids are into these days." With that, the cop took a test swing of his bat, narrowly missing the boy's skull and motioned for his colleague to follow him down the square, making a beeline for one of the praline shops.

The boy clutched onto a sign of a nearby bus stop and slowly hoisted himself back onto his feet, his gangly legs quivering a little until he felt a disembodied hand reach for his own. He glanced up at the girl that stood before him, who only seemed a year or two younger than him.

A lot of the other inhabitants from her class seemed faceless and indifferent to the likes of him, but she stood out like a sunflower in a field of blossom less stalks. She had a thin mass of black hair that hung against her bare, bronze shoulders like a sarong. Her eyes were framed by thick, lurid lashes that made it look like she couldn't open them and her lips were rather plush and scarlet. In fact, sans the dark hair, her features were strikingly reminiscent to that of a certain guitar player. She wasn't donned in the frayed clothes like he was, though. She wore a pale blue dress, flat white shoes, and a parasol was tucked under one of her slender arms in case the heat became too unbearable.

"Thanks..." the boy spoke up, flashing her a mouth full of metal that definitely was not constructed by a professional. The beam, silly as it might have appeared, was endearing, nonetheless.

"Ah, don't think too much of it..." the girl responded with a slight nod and her own tentative smile. "I'm Joëlle, what's your name?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's--"

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

"Dr. Teeth?" Kermit chirped, casting a concerned look in the band leader's direction.

*gasps!* Awww, poor little Dr. Teeth! He didn't deserve those two cops treating him that way at all. Thank goodness for Joëlle, though. She seems like a nice girl. =)

The musician shook his head a little, roused out his tangled thoughts and trying to focus. "Uh, yeah?" he responded as the frog coerced the group across the now immaculate street and into the east side of the city.

"We were trying to er, come up with the first idea that we can use to raise money," the frog annotated while motioning for Robin to stand next to him. "Any input?"

"Huh? Well, I veritableh don'--"

"Moi suggested we sponsor a bake sale but the cliche amateurs wanted to strap crushed Pepsi cans on their feet and dance for the money..." Piggy huffed, folding her adipose arms as though she couldn't believe how quickly her idea had been shot down.

Let's think about your idea, Piggy. First of all, this is a snobby town (at least the east side). Second, where would you get the baked goods on such short notice? Third, LISTEN TO THEM, DARN IT!

"I say we host a comedy act in the middle of the street..." Fozzie piped up, fishing for a rubber chicken in his hat and waggling it around. "Aaah? Fun-ny!"

Melanie clapped her pudgy, brown hands together and giggled but she was drowned out by the sound of the rest of the gang groaning exasperatedly in unison. The infant blinked before she reached out in an agile stretch and grabbed Fozzie's nose. She might have been too little to talk yet but it was a surefire gesture to let him know she still had faith in him.

Awww, Melanie is so cute~! =333 *wants to huggle her*

Kermit pursed his mouth for a moment and then gazed down at the hard concrete below. Just as the ground was stiff and trampled on by many a crowd, so was his hope. They had gone to the mayor and he needn't be reminded of what an absolute disaster that had been. Arranging scenarios on their own usually proved to be a cinch to the muppets after they had experienced so much together but something, be it solid or hypothetical, a person or the atmosphere seemed to be holding them back. Tension? Pessimism?

Wow, the frog is deep, man. It's like... really deep. Even I can't descrive how deep it is.

His provoking apprehension was slowly halted when his nephew's tiny voice lifted among the others.

"Why don't we put on a circus?" Robin exhorted, trying to erect his posture as high as he could.

"A circus?" Piggy inquired, trying not to laugh. "Robin, dear, vous have to be a little more realistic. After all, we don't have the equipment or the proper uniforms and I don't think the city would be very interested in moi walking on a tight rope."

"Of course not, you'd break it..." Floyd chimed in.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That's Floyd's and Piggy's relationship for you. XPPPP

The porcine diva glared venomously at the bass player, her gold ringlets standing on end and her cheeks were flushed. "Right. I'm going to pretend moi didn't hear that..." she hissed before trying to maintain a serene disposition. "Besides, who in the right heck would wanna see chickens doing acrobatics?"

"By gum--zesty flavored gum, mind you, I would!" Gonzo interjected, practically clucking in delight.

"Of course..." Piggy grunted with a toss of her head.

"Kermin, don't joo tink dis idea ees a beet corrrny?" Pepe began amidst the babble of the group.

"Suppose I could be a lion tamer as well as a clown...?" Fozzie queried the frog with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Vous can't be serious! We don't have any lions on hand!" Piggy snapped indignantly.

"No, but like, we've got Animal..." Janice replied, gesturing towards the drummer with a faint smile.

"LI-ON! LI-ON!"

Kermit managed to give his friends a weak smile and then an approving nod to show that he was up for the circus idea. It seemed a trifle lame and dangerous but what other options did they have at the moment?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wow, Robin had a great idea! And look at all the support that he recieved in return! That little frog is so smart! ^_^ *huggles Robin*

"WHASSUP, EAS' SIDE?" the band leader stood in the middle of the vacant lot, cupping one of his elongated hands around a microphone and blaring towards the mediocre sized crowd huddled on the bleachers. He was embellished like the typical ring master, save for a skull mask that concealed his face from the rest of the less than psyched viewers. It gave the atmosphere a more sinister appeal. The muppets had spent the entire day building the tent and sprucing the lot up and by the time the show was ready to start, it was nearly midnight. So they had settled on having a somewhat haunted theme to accompany the acts.

Uncle Deadly would have been proud.

*wipes away the drool* I'm sorry, I was too busy picturing Dr. Teeth as Jack Skellington. *ahem* ... continue on.

Even if Fozzie's head had gotten caught in Animal's mouth for an entire half hour.

They warned him not to use the steak cologne, but the bear wouldn't listen.

And the trapeze net collapsed after Gonzo and Camilla landed in it.

Gonzo enjoyed it, anyway.

And the horse Piggy had been riding bareback on ran off.

Must've been suffocating underneath all the fat.

And Floyd's mustache was charred on the very tips from his fire eating act.

Congratulations, Floyd! You're the new David! XPPPP

And Sweetums's sequined leotard ripped.

... no comment.

And Zoot had a broken leg after the muppet pyramid toppled over.

... geez. That was bad. ... where was Lips when all this happened? I can picture his concern for his bo-- erm, I mean... cookie? O_O

The musician plowed on. "I can see y'all is enjoyin' yoselves out theah, no?"

"NO!" hollered Statler and Waldorf from the utmost top of the stands.

Dr. Teeth attempted to muster up an enticing grin, trying to ignore the ancient duo. "A'ight, so this las' act o' the nigh'. Mah main bugle boy Lips is gonna make his loveleh assistan' Janice disappeah--"

"Too bad the same thing can't happen to us!"

"Been there, done that!"

"BOO!"

"BOO!"

"Boo yoself!" the band leader shot back, tempted to take his skull mask off and chuck it at the two geezers. "Like I said, evereh-one give an oval of applause ta Miss Jan--"

Like a blue rocket one might only witness in the merest of split seconds, Gonzo shot across the ring with a thundering barrage that practically made the vacant lot tremble as though it were trapped beneath an earthquake. Members of the audience began to screech, Melanie (who had been nestled in Floyd's lap) proceeded to cry, and gradually, the tent swayed and faltered, enveloping the performers and the crowd like a bristly, yellow blanket.

"I can't see a doggone thing!" Statler's crotchety voice sounded amongst the squabbling artists and bystanders as they tried to weave their way out of the tent.

"Neither can I!" replied Waldorf. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Rizzo was the last to bestow them with his own musing. "Oh, shaddup!"

My thoughts exactly, Dr. Teeth and Rizzo. Shut up, you old coots. *throws a skull at them*

A terrific chapter as always, Ailie! You never cease to amaze us with your wonderful writing. I hope to see a new chapter up in the future! (And Lips, get your butt in there and tend to Zoot's wound. XPPPP)

[WhiteRabbit]

~Chapter Seven: Living Dead Girl~
"After that, the little monster begins screaming and two of the other freaks join in and start chasing me all around the office and soon, Mr. Bridges walks in--"

"I'll tell the story, Miss Gianna. So then, this insane looking beatnik starts yammering to me about how they want to save the west side of the city and in the typical, annoying protester fashion, they had the nerve to knock over my fountain! I mean, could they be more inconsiderate with their requests? My word, I thought the hippie reign was long since over. It is 2009, after all. These people need to get with the times. The west side is never going to be cleaned up because nobody from the right side is going to pitch in; it's a lost cause."

"Well, the fountain getting pushed over was an accident--"

"Who's telling the story, madam?"

It was not quite eleven-thirty and a stately trio dwelt in an isolated section of a local restaurant. The mayor and his rather buxom secretary were seated across from the same hotel concierge the Electric Mayhem had tried to persuade to let them stay with the abandoned child. She pursed her fuchsia lips indignantly as she listened before she elevated a chipped mug to them, taking a brief sip of the coffee. She grimaced before compulsively snapping her bony fingers, beckoning a flustered looking waitress over.

"You call this sludge boiling?" she hissed, thrusting the lukewarm beverage into the young woman's hands, some of it cascading over the side and onto her uniform. "Take it back and get me a fresh, hotter one...if that's not too much to handle, dear." She emphasized the last word as though the freckled youth couldn't understand sarcasm. She knit her sandy eyebrows promptly and turned away without listening to the waitress's anxious squeak of, "Right away, ma'am." Such was the concierge's attitude reminiscent to bitter cup of java, she was dripping with hostility--particularly to the working class citizens and "hippie trash" the mayor had described earlier.

"You were saying, Mr. Bridges?" she cooed icily, patting down her shapely bob as though a hair had flipped out of place during her little moment of disdain. As it stood, the hair was fixed securely, silver glittering from the diamond studs of her ears as she hooked a few strands behind them. Similar to the scarlet curled secretary, she was rather easy on the eyes but that didn't compensate for the fact that she had the demeanor of an angered scorpion and a perpetual smirk that could send a tremor down one's spine if they didn't tread carefully near her.

Heck, all the concierge required was lightning blazing from her narrowed eyes and she'd perfectly represent true malice in a human form.

The mayor cleared his throat gruffly, shaking his grey head dismissively on whatever was left of his wrinkled neck and then took a bite of his bread. "That's the trouble with the west side," he grumbled in an assuming manner after he swallowed. "No work ethic, all they want to do is sponge off of the rest of the city for what they're worth and leave nothing, not even a thank you in return. I'm not going to be responsible if they're lazy and won't get off their tushes to scope out for jobs."

"But there aren't many jobs available at this jucture, sir." Gianna spoke breathily, examining herself in a jeweled compact, fluttering long lashes at her reflection.

"Don't contradict me, woman..." Mayor Bridges snapped abruptly, nearly causing a container of salt to topple over. "They're lazy, therefore, they're going to be poor--end of discussion."

"These...intriguing visitors..." the concierge inquired, drumming her nails against the rustic wooden table. "Did they have a child with them?"

"A child?" the mayor piped up. "Well, I suppose you could say that. It was a baby girl, African American, about six or seven months, I'd wager--but what they were doing with her in their vigil, I haven't the faintest. Probably going to sell the poor mite on the street for--"

"Or exploiting her for a sob story..." the concierge interjected, her pink smirk broadening with a crafty idea. "You were saying earlier that even the east side and city hall are going through this crisis right now, what with the lack of jobs and fewer amounts of money getting raked in. I was thinking...perhaps, we could borrow the little girl and get her background into the public. You know, articles, infomercials...maybe even rallies and when people attend them...we'll still be getting the dough, you see? Admissions and funds, of course."

"Are you saying we kidnap her?" Bridges queried, lacing his blunt fingers together intently.

"We won't need to..." the concierge grinned poisonously, leaning in further to whisper her plan to the insipid duo.

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

A willowy figure stood at the front of Zoot and Lips's room, her face, neck, and hands coated thickly with a disquieting grey and green makeup. Her once golden hair was spray painted a charcoal black with hints of brown within it and it was adhesed with a dense gel that made it stick out in various dry strands. It appeared as though she was growing dead seaweed out of her scalp. Her shielded eyes were lined with silver crevasses and shadows, aging them extremely. False, yellow fangs jutted out as she parted her bloodred lips, bestowing them with an innocent smile. She wore only a dirt colored robe that hung losely against her slender frame and reached the floor and the bronze charm of a spider entwined one of her painted wrists.

Zoot suppressed an involuntary gasp and tried to back away slowly from the disguised guitarist, neglecting the fact that one of his legs was currently broken. "Whuh--you--?" he squeaked timidly, inching nearer to Lips who held Melanie in his pallid arms.

"Whoa..." Lips spoke up in awe, surveying the monstrified musician. "Digging the zombie getup, Janice..."

The Mayhem's only lady tittered softly and then pulled the faux fangs out of her mouth so she could enuciate properly. "Like, thanks, Lips. Like, it took so long to just get the facepaint on, fer sure. You like, just wouldn't believe..."

Melanie blinked, cocking her head a little at the guitarist's new attire.

"I can imagine..." Lips nodded shyly before angling his neck towards the calendar. "Well, it's good you guys are getting into the spirit of Halloween with all of these ideas, like the dead circus." He disregarded the fact that it had failed only after one performance.

The latest of which had been decorating one of the frazzled alleyways to look like an old fashioned murder scene. Kermit served as the narrator of the quick play in which a woman was ran over (Janice) by a couple on their drive through the city (peculiar enough, Gonzo and Piggy) while the dead girl would eventually rise and feed off of everybody in the rest of the one act, donned as regular city folk. Needless to say, this hadn't been Robin's idea this time around.

"Like, I wish you guys could come too but like, I know Zoot's already injured and it, like might scare Melanie too much..." the musician plowed on.

Zoot smiled meekly. "So do we," he answered vaguely. "But it's all right, you guys will knock 'em dead...no pun intended."

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

"Oh, Fred..." Piggy exclaimed dramatically, clutching her pudgy hands to her heart. "You hit some absentminded woman...the poor dear never stood a chance." She tsk-tsked a bit, to borrow an old adage, "hamming" it up.

Gonzo's head protruded out of the mangy convertible, trying to feign woe and alarm. "Oh!" he cried, placing the back of his beryl hand to his forehead. A few inept minutes dissolve and he lowered his blue wrist, shrugging. "Oh well..." The convertible swiveled out gradually, weaving around the diminutive audience.

"And so the legend has it that she ascends from her cement and tire plowed grave every night..." Kermit lilted, trying to sound eerie but coming off a bit more tedious. It was the fifth time he had told the story today and so far, they had only earned about a few quarters.

"This is boring..." a rather obnoxious young man announced, started to erect himself off the folding chair and back to his feet. "You can so tell this thing's a fake..."

"Wait!" Floyd rasped, grabbing the fatigue youth by his arm immediately. "Don'cha wanna see somebody get their brains swallowed?"

"Mine already has been..." the boy responded in a typical Statler and Waldorf manner. He shook his wiry blonde bangs out of his face and began to stride off.

"Come on, Kermit..." Scooter whispered apprehensively. "The audience is getting restless, we need some backup entertainment..."

"I know, I know..." he murmured, tapping the tip of his mouth for an idea. "Dr. Teeth, can you go out there and--and sing Thriller or something?"

The keyboardist glanced up at him in astonishment. Again? It might have worked since he was dressed like the zombified king of pop but he doubted these kids would have enjoyed it. He loathed arguing but five times just wasn't the charm. Not anymore.

"This is stupid..." another girl whined to her equally lackluster friend. "Besides, that doesn't look like a dead body...it looks more like a dead fish..."

Janice kept her head adhered to the rough ground, trying to ignore the sting of the girl's comment. Of course she was supposed to look gruesome but in an impressive way, not a dull one.

"Can I have everybody's attention?" Kermit attempted once more, raising his tone slightly. "The show's not over yet."

"Oh, it's over..." the young woman's friend replied, pushing the jar of money over. "I want a refund."

"I want that half hour of my life back," another person put in. "That dead girl is a bad actress too!"

"And ugly as sin!" a third retorted from the back.

"She's the worst!"

"She makes garbage look enticing!"

It was only fitting that as soon as the audience made their way out, it had to rain. Thunder barraged, adipose drops hissed, and many muppets were heading back towards the motel, clamoring and babbling about what rotten luck they had in this snobby heap of a city.

Janice stood behind, the rain plummeting on her coated face and willing the grey-ish green paint to smear down it uselessly. She silently cursed not having her guitar handy and elevated her slender neck, lifting her chin towards the dismal sky. There was nothing left to do now but pour her heart out. Not through tears but through that unraveling melody, much like her boyfriend would.

"I never believed that there was a rainbow
With a pot of gold at the end
I'm much too smart for fairy tales like that
Yet here I am again..."

She glanced back at her cluster of hopeless friends, trudging back towards their disheveled motel, their crumpled tomorrow. Black uncoiled and melted off, revealing her yellow strands. How were they ever going to pull through?

"I thought this time, this time we're gonna make it
Why I thought so I really don't know
Maybe something in his eyes just told me so
Something in his eyes...

Tell me lies
And I'll come runnin'
I must have lost my mind
I could close me eyes
And tell you just exactly what's comin'
Life's gonna turn just a little unkind

Seems like everyone's sailin'
Way out on the sea
And I'm stuck here on the shore
Sun's always shinin'
But it's never for me
Why should I try anymore?

Tell me lies
Tell me lies
And I'll just keep right on comin'
This time I've got to believe in the dream
This time I've got to believe in his dream... "

But who was he? Was it Floyd? Maybe Kermit? What was the dream? Before the bohemian could sedate her frazzled mind, a hand clamped onto her shoulder lightly. Janice swallowed and then craned her neck, now face to face with the good doctor.

"I--like, how long have you like, been there?" she asked, blowing a doused piece of hair out of her eyes.

He didn't answer but merely graced her with a sympathetic smile. "Sorreh. Fo' what it's worth, you was great out theah..." he alleged, not indicating whether he meant the play or a minute or two prior to him sneaking up on her.

"Like, rully?"

"Realleh...and don' let what those girls said bring ya down..." he added quietly. "Yo realleh pretteh, Janice..."

It was her turn to smile, faintly amused. "Like, not radiant?" she spoke, slightly imitating Miss Piggy and tossing her wet hair over a shoulder.

"No, radian' too..." he affirmed sweetly. "Even like this..." He lifted his sleeve to the side of her face and gently wiped off her makeup.

Janice turned away for a moment, trying to shield a touched beam. She wasn't quite certain whether he was just trying to be nice or if he actually meant it. "Like, you're joshing..." she claimed serenely.

"Ain't joshin'...ain't jackin' o' jillin' eithah..."

Janice laughed. She'd heard superior jokes from Fozzie but even so, she felt endeared to Dr. Teeth all the same. He'd always been like an older brother, perhaps even a father to her. But this sensation wasn't similar to one she'd experience towards those figures in her life. "Like, I don't know if we can help this place, though..." she stated, her beam faltering. "It seems like, well...they don't want our help..."

"They does..." the musician crooned, taking Janice's chin in his elongated fingers. "Don' let a few bad apples spoil this all 'cause it ain't fo' nothang, know wheah I'm at? Yo doin' the bes' ya can; we all is. Head up, baby." With that, he released his light hold on the guitar player and motioned for her to follow him back to the motel.

The dour situation had only emerged from the worst and was now slowly propelling itself. Janice just knew it.

[RedPiggy]

The concierge should carefully inspect that coffee when she returns. She obviously doesn't know the rule: never tick off the waitstaff. I can think of several extra-special "ingredients" I'd add in just for her. :D

[The Count]

*Goes over Janice's disguise. Mmm, mmm, yes... Spooktacular. A+ miss Janice. And very nicely handled ending to the chapter between her and Dr. Teeth. Also, though she might get a sip of something brown and nasty, I like how you wrote the consierge. The mayor and his secretary remind me of similar characters from a series called Black Scorpion. Thanks for the update Ailie.

*Leaves Oreos for the author... Or is there something else you'd like better?

[theprawncracker]

Awesome, awesome stuff, Ailie! As always! Your diction will NEVER cease to amaze me. I'm just blown away by your word weaving. It's so cool. I really, REALLY wanted to smack thoe dumb kids... and hug poor Janice. I can not WAIT to see where this is going, bunny! Keep it up! :D

[Gelfling Girl]

Very awesome. Once again you write another excellent fanfic.

[WhiteRabbit]

Gracias, peepz. ;3

[RedPiggy]

nag nag naggity nag nag

Awaits update ....

[WhiteRabbit]

Me willz update this sometime next week. Just been hounded by school/other crud. X_X

[WhiteRabbit]

~Chapter Eight: Amour Confiscation~
"Have a seat, Mr. ...Felix, was it?"

"Uh, it's Floyd, man..."

"Floyd? Huh, must have slipped my mind. Ah, you know how it is, being the head of a town and what have you. Or do you? Well, for a little enlightenment, it's a tremendously difficult job--wipes out the smaller details with the many strains of keeping this swell city in order." Mr Bridges gave the tiniest of sniffs and smoothed out a nonexistent crease in his heinous, yellow tie.

"Oh, I can imagine the pressure..." Floyd mumbled, his facade rather balky.

Before this little acquaintance took place, the bass player had been traipsing down the usual wide boulevard with the rest of the muppets, scoping out for any sort of hole in the wall niche that would hire them. Their finance had been steadily declining since they first arrived in Cold River and if they desired to keep a roof over their heads, dingy as the motel was, it was crucial they got jobs in some form or another.

At this stage in the game, they weren't anticipating any remarkable opportunities to appear out of nowhere but they certainly weren't expecting the distinctly proud and iron haired mayor, who originally kicked them out of his office in a huff, to stop them on the street. Although he had adopted a more cooperative, perhaps even friendly demeanor, the Bridges fellow only wanted to converse with the bass player one on one. The rest of the muppets waited down in the ritzy lobby. No questions were asked, nor proper answers received but given how much abyss had broken loose within the past few weeks, it wasn't worth badgering the old crab or arguing.

"Floyd..." Bridges resumed, tapping the surface of his desk with a navy fountain pen, his silver brows compressed in a presumptuous line. "Is there a last name that goes with that?"

"Pepper."

"Pepper..." he echoed, hardly disguising a grimace. Couldn't the hippies just have an average name like everybody else, like Bill, Fred, or Jane? Of course not. They had to covet ones like Floyd Pepper or Burgundy or China just so they could stand out. He sniffed again. The nerve of those tree huggers.

"I see," Bridges affirmed blandly. "Such a peculiar title, if you don't mind me saying--"

"Uh, I--"

"I urge you not to cut me off..." the mayor stated cooly before the musician could finish. "Mr. Pepper...whatever, your name is, I have witnessed you and your friends' actions over the course of these last couple of days. I understand you've been working day in and day out on the west side's streets?"

"That's be--"

"You've also been trying to aid the folks homeless and/or stricken with poverty, have you not?"

"Well, yeah but--"

The mayor grunted. "While I can admit that your heart is in the right place, your sensibility isn't. As you might have noticed over your stay, the majority of Cold River's citizens prefer to be left alone. As you nonconformists might say, they like to endure a peaceful solitude instead of these...erm, zany collaborations your group represents. What with the singing, dancing, screaming, and blue, chicken loving nutjobs. That behavior just doesn't bode well in this place, I'm afraid." Bridges halted to let that news sink in a bit.

"As such, City Hall's been plagued with various complaints about your group making daily commotions in public..."

"We haven't been buggin' anyone..." Floyd divulged quietly, trying to keep his voice level. "If anything, we're trying to help out this joint. You gotta know how bad it is...the west side's the pits. It needs the help."

Bridge's pinched face darkened. He wasn't going to let a rock musician, of all people, contradict him. "This is, despite what you and the other neanderthals think, a well to do and respectable city and I won't tolerate these reckless attempts to "improve" it. If I get anymore reports of you or you silly group provoking the inhabitants, I'll personally see to it that you all are prosecuted and then you, Mr. Pepper, will walk amongst the real grime that pollutes this city. Perhaps we could even reserve a cozy little spot on Skid Row if you don't take this seriously. We never had any issues in Cold River until you and those--those muppets came along..." He flinched as though the mere word muppets was a foul expletive.

Floyd didn't know how to respond. The mayor's admonition seemed to pummel his very frame like a boulder and while he was one of the most laid back bohemians around, his expression was completely manifest with anxiety. Emitting a mute, nervous sigh, his shaggy 'stache rustling a bit, he scanned his muddled brain for some sort of nonchalant disclosure. As it stood, Bridges had left Floyd speechless like many other things within Cold River's even colder society. He would definitely suffer the consequences had he supplied the mayor with one of his cheeky comebacks. He took a brief glance down at his slender wrists, imagining them encased in a pair of rusty, old cuffs and he blinked, clearing the hunk of ice out of his throat and recollecting himself.

"I just want to, you know, ap-apologize..." the musician commenced raspily, sounding a tad more monotone than legitimately sorry. It wasn't easy to coax himself back into reality when the gang's number one purpose for being here would get them arrested. Maybe...

...maybe they should have just gone home. What was the point anymore?

Bridges graced him with a serene smile, pretending as though he hadn't threatened to fling him in jail prior to his flat affirmation of remorse.

"I'm quite reassured we comprehend each other now," Mayor Useless spoke, further beckoning a puzzled scowl onto the bass player's countenance. The man was such a usual shell of a politician. The hippie was somewhat astonished he didn't choke on all of those prolonged sentences wafting from his meager, dry mouth. "You may have noticed I condone a fierce discipline right next to perspiration." He directed his lack of a neck towards a shelf on the wall, ablaze with several badges and awards.

"That's right...New Orleans Chief of Police..." Bridges announced proudly. "I patrolled Jackson Square all the way down to Bourbon Street from 1964 to 1971...not exactly the grandest string of years but certainly a time to keep justice in the right sequence."

New Orleans... pondered Floyd mutely. I wonder if Dr. Teeth--

"Oh, gimme a break, man! What's your idea of justice?" he suddenly blurted out, unable to contain his frustration.

Bridges glared. "Excuse me?" he hissed. Rancor oozed within his tone.

"I--I wasn't--"

"Darn right you weren't thinking. That insipid cluster of friends you surround yourself with must have seriously taken a toll on your mind..." the elder man declared pompously. "Someday you might achieve what I have, Mr. Pepper, lest you never get your head out of the clouds and face the real music."

The real music? A chord somewhere beneath him struck and Floyd lapsed into a small fit of guffaws. "That'll be the day..." he replied sarcastically, hastily getting to his feet and slinging his bass around his shoulder.

"Excuse me," the mayor piped up again, looking rather sour. "I'd like to talk to you about that child in your custody...I haven't finished yet."

"We take the best care of her, groovier than you could fathom." Floyd put it bluntly. "You might not be done, but I am, now that I know your definition of what's fair and what ain't."

"I do my job, Mr. Pepper!" Bridges shouted, bolting up from his desk. He wasn't going to allow some muppet to imply him as an incompetent fool. "I'm not the villain in this!"

"We'll see..." the bass player mumbled, letting himself out with a small exhale of gratification.

Once he was gone, Mr. Bridges sunk back into his scarlet, leather chair, his nose crinkled, his watery pupils sullen.

The vivacious secretary strode in, silky red curls bouncing, her ivory smile gleaming naively. "Is everything situated for the west side tonight?" she purred, smoothing out her dark, tapered dress.

The mayor snorted. "Don't just stand there, woman! Get me a coffee. Strong...black...no sugar, no milk. In fact...make that a couple..."

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

"Like, get your head out of the clouds? Like, is he rully serious? If anybody needs, a sanity check, it's him, fer sure." the willowy blonde guitarist divulged, trying loosen her hair from the rigid, French braid that hung down her back. Piggy had insisted it would look glamorous but it was a bit too tight. Nonetheless, Janice had been touched at how nice she had been to fix her up a little. Piggy seldom acknowledged the hippie before this trip but now she had become more like an older sister that Janice never had before. Between her, Piggy, and Melanie, there were no other women around and the girls needed to stick together.

"I know, honey...forget about that square. He doesn't know what he's talkin' about half the time, never mind trying to scare us..." Floyd answered, his fingers grazing the strings of his bass guitar lightly. Forget a good luck charm or an angel, Janice was his true sanctuary and he reached over with his other palm and laid it on her shoulder.

Dusk had approached and their room in the motel was gradually darkening, a haze of navy and purple setting in through the cracked window. The power had gone out yet again and the ceiling dripped sequentially from the storm the previous night but despite the imperfections of the atmosphere, Floyd couldn't have been more complacent, alone with his girl.

A frantic knock materialized, breaking the tranquil moment and Piggy shrilled from the other side of the door, "Janice, Floyd...vous have to come with moi and Mellie right away..." The diva was cradling Melanie in her adipose arms when they left the room, her rare maternal instincts visible to all while she cooed, nuzzled, and "kissy-kissyed" the infant.

The sight, albeit a bit shocking, was actually quite sweet.

"Like, what's going on, Miss Piggy?" Janice inquired. "Is, like, something wrong?"

"No, sweetie. Floyd, go get the rest of the band and then follow moi and Kermie. We have a surprise for vous...and don't forget your instruments."

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

A lone building stood towards the end of the dismal grove, not too dissimilar to the one that would promptly belch smoke into the air every five minutes. But the ashen bricks seemed as though they had been freshly polished, the smashed windows replaced with sleek new ones, and multicolored lights glowed out, bestowing the night with glittering flashes. A rustic sign bore the legend Starlight and Staccato.

"We've been fixing it up for the past three days..." Kermit announced jauntily, letting the band enter the new lounge. It was packed with not only muppets but the city folk too.

Their search for a way to raise money was over and so was their job hunt. It all seemed too fantastic to be valid.

"Like, wow!" Janice gasped. "I can't, like...believe..."

"You went to all this trouble?" Zoot piped up.

"You should have let us help--" Lips whispered.

"NEW GIG! NEW GIG!" yelled Animal.

"I--we owe it ta you, frog..." the band leader rasped, beaming. "How can we evah--?"

"We can get up there and play, man!" Floyd chirped, sprinting onto the stage like he hadn't seen one in decades. The rest of the band followed suit and soon an old fashioned funk had erupted within the reception.
"When I'm drivin' in my car
And that man comes on the radio
He's tellin' me more and more
About some useless information
Supposed to fire my imagination
I can't get no, oh no no no
Hey hey hey, that's what I say

I can't get no satisfaction
I can't get no satisfaction
'cause I try and I try and I try and I try..." the bass player lilted, strumming nonchalantly, amidst the gleeful hollers and raves from the city folk. The night could only get better, he was sure of it.

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

"What a darling child..." an elder woman crooned, sitting on a red stool beside Piggy who held Melanie carefully, trying not to wake her up. Even among the blaring rock and roll, the baby had still managed to drift off to sleep within a few minutes. The sides of the stranger's dark eyes crinkled as she smiled and glittered behind her thick, violet bifocals.

Piggy bestowed the woman with a polite smile. "Aw, isn't she, though?" she answered vaguely. "She's such a good girl, she hasn't made a peep once."

"I have a niece just like her, such a doll..." the lady murmured before extending her bony arms slowly. "May I?"

"Well..." the voluptuous pig hesitated, quickly deciding whether or not the older dame was safe. She scrutinized her outfit; a white blouse, a sensible, paisley skirt, plain, dark flats, and a strand of shimmering gems on her neck. She seemed to be the grandmotherly type, she concluded just before she transferred Melanie's tiny body over to her.

"So adorable, an absolute angel..." the hunched, old woman giggled, brushing an onyx curl off the infant's forehead gently.

"All right, all right, everybody...chill, dudes and dudettes..." Floyd spoke up. "How about we let the lady have her solo?" He ushered his girlfriend to the front of the stage, motioning for Scooter to direct the spotlight on her. The audience's jabbers numbed down to a quiet murmur before they fell absolutely silent as the pretty hippie's lush, scarlet lips parted.

"Like, I've had my share of life's ups and downs
But fate's been kind, the downs have been few
I guess you could say that I've been lucky
Well, I guess you could say that it's all because of you..."

Janice saccharine vocalization rang throughout the lounge, the tender lyrics blowing away everyone present, especially her bandmates. She glanced back at the other momentarily, unsure of whether to rest her stare on the bass player or the keyboardist. Her smile faltered slightly, but didn't entirely leave her face until she noticed the bent and somewhat haggard figures watching her through the vast window intensely.

Even the despondent people on the street had migrated over to hear her sing. A peculiar sensation swept over the fair haired bohemian, a cross between utmost pity because they didn't feel obliged to come inside and touched that they had acknowledged her nonetheless.

But all the while, she was still secretly upset with her own life among her friends. Those torn emotions her duo of bandmates had given her did not seem to want to deteriorate. Her tone eventually lifted in highness.

"If anyone should ever write my life story
For whatever reason there might be
Ooo, you'll be there between each line of pain and glory
'Cause you're the best thing that ever happened to me
Ah, you're the best thing that ever happened to me..."

Floyd grinned encouragingly at her, his gesture sweet but not exactly catching on.

That did it. Janice mutely set her guitar down onto the stage and climbed off, heading for the door before she could finish the song. She headed off to an alley, biting on her low lip and holding her noggin in bewilderment.

"Janice!" the bass player called, about to hop off the wooden surface as well and scramble after her.

"Hey man, don' fret. I'll get her..." Dr. Teeth assured him sedately, weaving past the frazzled audience and then through the exit. It wasn't a long juncture before he found the pretty hippie, sitting in a mortified heap against the squalid brick wall and her slender fingers shielding her face from the poignant, outside world. She looked totally miserable and a brutal stab of contrition lingered within him. He crouched beside her, whispering gently, "Janice...baby, what happened out theah?"

The guitar player lowered her hands, a narrow tear falling from the dense lashes of her right eye. It deliberately slid down her cheek and landed onto the concrete without a sound. "Like...I...I don't know..." she stammered. "I just...I like...don't know what to like, think anymore...I don't know who I rully am. I'm, like a mess...that's all..."

"No, honeh, you ain't a mess..." the band leader started.

"Like, I am...like, maybe the karma here has finally, like gotten to me but--I feel, like so useless..." Janice whimpered softly. "Like, there's still all of those poor people out, like on the road...and I can't figure out, like...I mean, between Floyd and--" She paused, trying to breath a little while she took Dr. Teeth's long, dark green fingers as he assisted her back onto her feet. She waited a couple seconds before releasing her grip on his tepid hand.

"Janice, we all feel bad fo them..." the musician said quietly. "But don' blame yoself ovah it. I was down that road too as a kid. Thangs do pick up, ya'll see...ya migh' not believe it but they will, an' hey, look at the gig we has now."

"Like, you were on the streets?" Janice whispered, a tiny bit reassured but still incredibly dumbfounded.

"Mhm...but look wheah I is now. Not bad for a kid from the streets, huh? I wouldn' have it no othah way..." he affirmed, the sides of his mouth curving up a bit. "An' don' beh down on yoself eithah. Yo the bes' girl I know...yo talented...funneh...realleh pretteh, know what I'm sayin'?"

"Like, Dr. Teeth...don'--I mean...I..."

More tears sprung to Janice's eyes and she took her bandmate's hand once more, her heart doing repetitive backflips with her stomach. She leaned in, almost magnetically, until his dark, resplendent eyes bore into her's. She wasn't certain whether she was acting on impulse or by her true emotions, but it seemed foolish to reel herself away now. She just couldn't withdraw...it didn't feel right...

Before she knew it, although presently residing in a grey, dingy alley, Janice was transported into a world of illuminating color as their lips touched.

It seemed like centuries before they finally broke off from one another and a familiar voice very nearby spat, "Oh, there you guys are! Forgive me for bargin' in on you two like this..."

The band leader gave an involuntary gasp.

Floyd stood at the anterior of the alleyway, his eyes narrowed coolly and his skinny hands clenched so tight, his bass guitar would have snapped had he been holding it. He didn't exactly look like he was seething but Janice could just feel the animus vibes he was giving off. Her heart immediately stopped and sunk, resting somewhere in her lower abdomen.

"Sorry if I interrupted anything...please, don't let me get in the way. Keep kissin', I don't care..."

"Floyd, like--"

But before she could finish, the bass player gyrated on his heel and stormed out of the alley.

Amidst the drama outdoors, Kermit was rather frantic inside the lounge. He paced from table to table to the stage and then back to the center. What was going on here? Where was half of the band? "Piggy..." he squeaked, apprehension evident in his tone. "Where's Melanie?"

"Oh, she's with that nice old lady I met near the--" The pig's pointed, stout finger instantly fell flat.

The red stool was empty and the elder woman and Melanie were nowhere to be seen.

[RedPiggy]

Well, great, now I've been guilted into updating my fic, LOL..

Wow! That mayor is a moron. And go let Animal sniff out that kidnapper!

[Gelfling Girl]

Only one word can describe all these thoughts running through my head at the speed of a cheetah: wow. All this action and tension, not to mention the music. Once again you've impressed your audience and left them wanting more. :D:sing::flirt:

[The Count]

Ailie? You done good with this chapter. Intrigue at the kidnapping... Drama between the bandmates... Humor at the expense of that mayor, whoever he is... Please, accept our applause.

Oh yeah... Post more! ! !

[AnimatedC9000]

Ailie... your amazing. You can provoke so many emotions in one chapter... and you do it so well.

First off, I'd like to say that Floyd's talk with Mayor McDorkface went rather well. Got some opinions expressed, and I'm glad that Floyd had a chance to get that all off his chest.

Secondly, I had NO idea that Kermit and the gang would fix up such a nice joint for the band to play at. That was really sweet of them, and it would be something that they would do.

Next... probably the most well-written discussion between two bandmates ever. I'm glad that Dr. Teeth made Janice feel better. Still, there is the matter of that kiss... ... boy, was Floyd mad.

And to end the chapter on a cliffhanger, making us wanting more? Genius, Ailie, pure genius. I'm interested to see where this all is going.

You are a terrific writer, my friend, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Everything is so well-played out; I can actually see all of this happening in my head. Great job. =)

[redBoobergurl]

Nice to see another chapter Allie! Great stuff going on here too! I hope to see more soon now that you've left us hanging!

[Gelfling Girl]

You made us laugh with Don't You Forget About Me, left us completely amazed with Long Way to the Top, and now we have another true work of art written by you. :D

[WhiteRabbit]

Thank yous. :333 *tosses oreos to all*

[Gelfling Girl]

*Starts doing Cookie Monster impression* :insatiable::insatiable::insatiable:

[theprawncracker]

Oh, like, wow, man! This is, like, still just so far out, o-key? Rully groovy and such, fer sure. Like, Janice is fantastic, Floyd is sensational, Dr. Teeth is psychedelic, Animal is, like, rully loud, and Zoot and Lips, like, aren't. Fer sure.

But, ooooh, like where's Melanie? Mmm, that rully can't be good.

Like, you've just gotta give us more, fer sure.

[Gelfling Girl]

"Pepper..." he echoed, hardly disguising a grimace. Couldn't the hippies just have an average name like everybody else, like Bill, Fred, or Jane? Of course not. They had to covet ones like Floyd Pepper or Burgundy or China just so they could stand out. He sniffed again. The nerve of those tree huggers.
This scene in particular made me laugh so much. I was playing a 20Q game where it would ask you questions about a person, and it would guess the person's first name. It guessed that my name was "Moonjay", and that has become my nickname. (I tried it with my friend's name and it guessed "Peanut Butter", but that didn't quite stick. Wocka Wocka)

[The Count]

Must have... More story... Post it please! ! !
*Pokes that girl, you know the one, the girl who rooms with whatshisname... :D and :cool: and :scary: An the loveliest lifeguard female pig of always.

[WhiteRabbit]

Hey guys, I'm gonna try to update this next week. Have had a severe lack of muse and it's almost the end of first quarter so...yesh... X_X

[WhiteRabbit]

~Chapter Nine: Broken~
'Cause we are broken
What must we do to restore
Our innocence
And oh, the promise we adored
Give us life again cause we just wanna be whole...

Murky scenery met Floyd as he crossed onto an alienated grove, one he and the gang had seldom drifted near and he briskly sidestepped a relinquished cardboard box, no longer perturbed whether anybody resided within it or not.Among the quantity of trash, frail leaves, brown and defunct scattered over the squalid concrete and the bass player was only too obliged to to kick them out of his way. It didn't make much of a difference, they seemed to adhere to his feet and he glowered, trying to scrape them off onto the rough gravel. Shoes still testily scuffing against the path, he heaved a greatly vexed exhale and continued trekking into the bleak night.

Apart from being thoroughly overwhelmed, Floyd was also beside himself with rancor, an inflame that had been generally disclosed to him until now. He had been, in old fashioned terms, done wrong by his main squeeze, his unorthodox amour and in addition to that, betrayed by one of his best friends. The frigid ambiance suited his mood.

His cherish bass guitar was slung over a rigid shoulder, thumping against the pinnacle of his back with every other step he took. At any other case, Floyd would have noticed the subtle rhythm as he plowed forward but he was simply to distraught. The only music that might have currently soothed him was a barrage of angry grunge and that wasn't even his style. He grimaced fervently to himself, no longer abiding any music. It was nothing more but torpid drivel if he wasn't haphazardly inclined to share it with others.

The musician was so vehement, he'd even go as far as to advocate silence. Nothing mattered. A lull, music, the band, solitude, Janice--

Floyd plunked down on a bench less sullied than his heart, his neck yielding as well as his propriety. "Oh Janice..." he divulged morosely, glancing down at the dusty pavement uselessly and then back up at the street. Maybe he should have kept walking, there was no point of staying in Cold River. He always sang about heartbreak, but he'd never been truly acquainted with it until this moment. At the same time, he couldn't just bring himself to get up and ditch them all. He couldn't move period. He merely sat there, stiff and desolate, his mind unraveling into an endless heap of limp yarn. His heart was crushed, his reverie shattered. Much like restoring this forlorn city, it seemed implausible that he'd ever been happy again.

Tears pricked his shade clad eyes but Floyd didn't dare let them fall. He shook his head frequently, trying to coax all and any emotion out by observing a dingy brick wall next to him. A battered sign hung from the front of the building: Future Site of Public Law Chambers.

Or perhaps Bridges was establishing a new arcade for the city hall employees and he had used that faux title to ward the curious and destitute away. There was a quiet but audible creaking knelling from inside of the isolated assemble. At a first listen, the bass player supposed it was probably a couple of rats but a few seconds later, it sounded far more blatantly.

Footsteps.

There couldn't have been construction workers in there at this irreverent hour. The musician eventually got his feet, hoisting his guitar on his back once more and started ambling to the entrance. His free hand rubbed off the meager fog from the front door and he peered in. It was pitch black as he expected but he could still easily make out the frequent steps. Were there mugged in there? Not that he really cared now whether the inane mayor was getting raided but he was slightly apprehensive of his friends' safety. They weren't too far back from where he was. Tentatively, Floyd reached out and tried to deflect the chipped knob.

Locked. No surprise there.

"Floyd!"

The bass player promptly jumped, adapting to tell whoever it was to take a hike when he noticed it was a rather frantic looking Zoot with Lips hustling a few inches behind him. It had to be something lurid; he rarely ever saw his absentminded bandmate so overwrought. He shifted away from the divergent building, half directing his attention towards the otherwise incredibly shy pair, half wishing he was still alone. Janice had already finessed Floyd, there was only so much chagrin a dude could take in one night.

"Yeah?" he conveyed the sax player monotonously. "What? What gives?" His distinct lack of concern caused Zoot's narrow jaw to abate, the reflection in his sunglasses callous.

"Somebody kidnapped Melody," he managed to whisper.

"Melanie..." Lips interjected softly.

"Ah..." Floyd replied stiffly, keeping his eyes on the street below.

"Ah?" Zoot trilled indignantly. "Don't you care, man?"

"Well, ye--"

"You've got to come back with us, Floyd." Lips insisted, resting a thin, yellow hand on Zoot's shoulder to compose him. "We've been looking all over the place for her. We can't lose you too."

There was an unbelievably piercing silence before Floyd finally spoke up. "I don't know..." the guitarist mumbled. "I don't think I...the lot needs my help anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lips flared in a quiet tone. "You're just going to ditch us?"

"You can't..." Zoot contended, practically whining. "You wouldn't, man..."

"Hey!" Floyd snapped, coming close to yelling than he ever had before. He swore his head was going to erupt. He gradually leaned forward, his face boring into the sax player's stubbornly. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Zoot! I'm my own person, all right? I'll decide when I'm gonna--"

"You really don't have time to decide..." Lips hissed. "Mel's already gone and in a rough town like this, she could be dead by tomorrow."

"I wasn't the one watching her, Lips! It's the swine's fault!" Floyd continued. "You know, I wish you wouldn't interrupt me either, man! Maybe it would have been better if you stayed mute."

"I thought you were better than this, man. I guess we're wasting our time, then..." Lips answered briskly, taking Zoot's hand for any sort of repose. It felt clammy in his own, once in a while trembling in their tepid grip. Was this it? Had Floyd sincerely given up on everything? Did he just not give half a da--

"Fine, you think you know me, Lips? You don't! You don't know SQUAT, pal!" Floyd alleged, his words rank with bitter. "I'm useless, all right? You guys don't need me anymore."

"You're only saying that because you're too afraid of who we might be up against..." Zoot stated hoarsely. "You're not a pacifist, you're--you're a coward."

That did it.

"SHUT UP, ZOOT!" the bass player shouted ruthlessly, his direction rousing a few of the impoverished out of their sleep and cause them to migrate further from the hippie trio. The night was too thin and poignant for such frivolous arguments. He was sick of Cold River, he was fed up with his so-called friends, and he just wanted to whisk back to the psychedelic bus and tailgate out of this miserable abode. There was nothing left for him here.

Inside there was only tribulation, only hardship, and if not on the exterior, only death. The death of hope, of love...

The tiny din of footsteps emerged a third time.

"What's that?" Lips piped up, trying to take a glimpse inside the abandoned building while keeping his scrawny fingers attached to Zoot's. He pressed the side of his head against the base wooden door, straining to hear. There was something, somebody rattling down the hall. The rattling became more clearer and an infant's wail arose.

"That's Melanie!" the shaggy haired musician announced, jiggling the doorknob. "I know it's her! She's inside!"

"You can't go in there, man..." Floyd said flatly. "It could be a trap, anyway or a trick of the hearing."

Lips didn't answer. He slowly released his grip on Zoot's hand and then bent down, feeling far more gallant than he usually did and hoisted up one of the dun colored bricks that had fallen astray. He gave the dense block a few test swings, biting his lip impulsively.

"Lips, don't..." Zoot exhorted nervously. "Please don't..."

CRASH! Rigid shards from the building's window flew every which way, narrowly missing the three bohemians.

"You're blitzed man!" Floyd exclaimed with dismay. "She's not in there! You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"I know what I'm doing!" Lips replied, carefully shifting inside the dreary domicile, scurrying up to the door to let them in as well. The front room was even less immaculate than the street which didn't necessarily shock the bass player. Disheveled arrays of spider webs clung to each dusky corner, more garbage cluttered the floor, and a musty scent permeated the whole niche, like a rustic suitcase that hadn't been opened for a while. The despondent silence promised no virtue lingered within these walls.

"We should go..." Zoot expatiated to nobody in particular.

"Back here..." Lips whispered, not bothering to answer him, motioning towards the sludge coated corridor. "I'll bet you anything they're down this way..." A roach cantered a few centimeters in front of the sax player and he nearly passed out. For all of their accounts and their sanity, Lips better have been right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How could you lose her? !"

"MEL-LIE!"

"Don't you know we can't trust anybody in this city?"

"I can't believe it..."

The porcine diva shrunk abashedly against the side of the motel, willing herself not to burst into tears. "I'm sorry, everybody...Kermie..." she emitted softly, covering her face with her adipose, violet gloved fingers. She'd never felt more crestfallen, more dismantled in her life before and an apology could only go so far.

"Look, Piggeh...maybeh you shoul' jus'...go home..." Dr. Teeth muttered sluggishly. The night, which had started out jauntier than most had been, couldn't have gotten any worse. He'd become so paternal over the month and Melanie had been like his own flesh and blood; he really couldn't face never being with her again.

And then there was the turmoil with Floyd and Janice--

"--nobody's leaving." Kermit disclosed firmly. "Nobody's going home until we find her. We've come this far, gang. We've done a lot to help the little girl. Why should we desert everything now?"

"Like, we shouldn't." Janice answered, fidgeting with her blonde strands apprehensively. "Like, the frog's right, rully. We'll like, just have to--"

"Excuse me." The manager of the motel, an elder fellow with thick, tan glasses and a sullen countenance was standing impetuously in the middle of the front door. In one hand, he clutched a navy suitcase and with his free wrist, he indicated the time. "I'm sorry, but it's far past midnight and this old place will closed by this morning. Unfortunately, some bigwig, car dealer joint bought this out and City Hall gave a notice for me to evacuate last night. I'm afraid you and your friends will have to as well."

"Erm, why didn't you tell us?" Kermit inquired, swallowing uncomfortably.

The older man gave a sheepish, somewhat exhausted smile. "You all seemed like a such a nice gang. I just couldn't bring myself to..." he responded sadly and then glanced over at Dr. Teeth. "Here's to overcoming the man, huh?" The manager tipped his dusty hat, locked the door, and strolled off into the depraved night.

So this is what rock bottom truly felt like. Kermit's throat tightened, his arm linking hopelessly with Robin's.

Now they had no Melanie...and no home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hail a stupid cab, you idiot!" a sharp, feminine voice rang from one of the primal offices. "I'm trying to shut this brat up!" The hotel concierge who strikingly resembled Rachel Bitterman held Melanie at bay, occasionally rocking her once in a while. It was to no avail. The infant kept bawling.

"QUIET!" the slick woman ordered. "Do you hear me? ! Or I'll make sure you'll never be able to talk again! I'll sew your lips together, just like one of those silly muppets!"

"It's her..." Lips gasped before barraging into the room, Zoot trailing behind him, jittering. Floyd had been staying in the front, to pose as a lookout. "Let her go, lady!"

"Well..." the vile woman purred, clasping Melanie close to her slender chest. "'Shaggy', we meet again. I see you've brought a friend too..."

"Hand. her. over." Lips demanded, trying not to acknowledge her crude ploys to irritate him. "You seriously don't scare me, you smug cow."

"Come again, you filthy, little f--!"

"Ms. Brigette." A vast bear of a man entered the squalid office, motioning toward one of the back turfs. "The cab feller's here. Gianna had to bribe 'im..."

"Excellent..." With that, the malicious concierge swept towards the door, aggressively knocking Zoot out of the way. "Take of these two washouts, won't you?" The man nodded and advantaged towards the pair of timid musicians with a frigid smirk.

All seemed to go black at that juncture. What felt like hours or possibly centuries dissolved before Floyd came to investigate. He gave a small yelp, surveying his brutally tussled band mates. They were still alive and huddled close together, the almost inaudible knell of Zoot's weeping echoing.

"Don't hurt him, don't hurt him anymore..." the vague musician quivered, although the thug had longsince vanished. "Lips..."

The trumpet player stirred, an introverted moan escaping from him. "You know, Zoot..." he affirmed. "What doesn't kill you--"

"--Lips..."

"It only makes you a bigger sucker...'cause you've missed out on the fun..." he smiled frailly, indicating Floyd. "We almost got Mel...almost..." With that, he gingerly elevated his stricken frame and held the sax player close, crooning in a subdued way.

"You think that luck
Has left you there
But maybe there's nothing
up in the sky but air

And there's no mystical design
No cosmic lover preassigned
There's nothing you can find
that cannot be found
'Cause with all the changes
you've been through
It seems the stranger's always you
Alone again in some new
Wicked little town... "

Zoot trembled, as though on command, and did not stray from Lips. Floyd listened and observed the two, knowing there was no dodging reality. Lips was wiser than he speculated. He hadn't given him enough of a chance. There was depth below his dotty exterior, as well as love--it was all too manifest as he embraced his band mate. They were tattered, they were frayed, but they were never broken.

"So when you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town
Oh, it's a wicked, little town
Goodbye, wicked little town..."

[Gelfling Girl]

Words can't describe the magnificence of this new chapter.

[The Count]

*Pulls up in the Studebaker, driven by a little chauffeur Muppet demon. Get in yous guys! *To driver: Follow that cab! Pursues after evil hotel consierge with Mayhem bandmates riding along.

*Super glomps Ailieeeeeeeee!
*Leaves biggest cherry pie for her greatness.
Post more please?

[RedPiggy]

WOW.

You really know how to make the environment fit the mood of the characters. It was weird to see Floyd go off on everyone, but, I guess, even the most laid-back of characters can crack at some point.

And I'm happy to see Zoot and Lips stand up against that crazy you-know-what.

[redBoobergurl]

Some pretty intense stuff going on here! Keep it coming! :)

[WhiteRabbit]

Thank yoush, guys. Sorry for the wait. :3

[AnimatedC9000]

Ailie... when you said that this chapter would pull at my heartstrings, you weren't kidding.

This chapter is... amazing, I'm not gonna lie. From the emotional turmoil to the ending when Lips sang to Zoot... it's all so beautiful.

Excuse me for a moment. *grabs a tissue box and wipes eyes dry*

First of all, the way that you write for the Electric Mayhem is wonderful. You really know how to place them in real world situations and make them speak a message to the readers. I applaud you for your excellent writing.

As for the chapter itself, I liked how you opened up to tell Floyd's reactions to the events from the previous chapter. It shows that even the "coolest" of Muppets can get a little--or a lot--pessemistic at times. Sure, that made him come off as sort of a jerk to Lips and Zoot, but it certainly adds depth to the character.

Which brings me to my next point. I'll just come right up and say that I absolutely ADORE how you're potraying Zoot and Lips' relationship. It's all so touching, and it really speaks to everyone, especially me. I hope that they heal up physically.

I want to punch that lady in the face, I hate her so much. Not only did she kidnap Melanie, but she had the NERVE to send a thug to harm two of my favorite Muppets! You spidery brat, I'LL KEEL YOU! I'LL KEEL YOU! >_>

Ahem. Now that THAT'S out of my system...

*bows down to Ailie's amazing writing skills* I can never come closer to writing the Muppets as you have thus far. Your writing is amazing in every way. Please post more in the near future?

[WhiteRabbit]

Thankses, Cait. I really appreciate it. =333 *licks* Biffles!

I has too many typos in it, I know. *wishes she could edit it* X_x

[WhiteRabbit]

Sorry I keep putting off the update to this, guys, but it's a bit of a November crunch right now, leaving me with very little time to write. I'll try to post by the end of the weekend but if not, then next week. *leaves rock 'n roll and candy in the meantime*

[WhiteRabbit]

~Chapter Ten: Felt and Flesh~
Our memories
They can be inviting
But some are altogether
Mighty frightening...

At no modus would the bus start. The bass player toiled with the key for a few somewhat humiliating minutes, jerking it left and right in a tentative, yet rigid fashion. At first, the psychedelic jalopy had given off a mere hint of viability but much like overripe bananas and bubblegum pop, it hadn't lasted long. The engine had revved up for a few marvelous but painfully brief seconds and then it began to sputter. The knell was reminiscent to that of a lawn mower crossed with an asthma attack. Shortly, there wasn't anything left but a dark pall of smoke and the biting reticence from all around.

Depositing the key in his scarlet jacket, Floyd released a few minuscule mumbles and curses before he turned back to the rest of the group.

"Well?" Piggy had been edgy enough to inquire.

"No use, gang..." the musician announced although he felt it wasn't requisite. "No wield...we'll just have to go by foot. It won't be that bad. We've done it a heap of times before, haven't we?"

"Are you for real? It's totally freezing out there!" protested Piggy, adjusting her lilac hued gloves. "We'd only last for a half hour out there. Honestly..."

A single glance at the bass player's mien would have shown far more than just how peeved he was. He was beyond the standard amount of aggravation one so unflappable could give off. The previous night's events had taken so laden of a toll on him that even a minor jab like that made him want to scream. Instead, he seized a lapsing breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, which rustled his scraggly orange mustache a bit. He gave his head, buzzing with thoughts both perturbing and confusing, a deliberate shake.

"We'll be fine, your royal swineness," Floyd numbly insisted, conducting the cast as though he were blind to the now descending snowflakes.

They were light falling; flurries as they often were during this time of the season. However, as they landed soundlessly on the windows of the bus, they rapidly formed together. They may have started out meager but as they attached to one another, they soon developed into an ivory blanket that covered the prismatic shades quite significantly.

Another anthill disguised as a mountain, Floyd concluded mutely, grimly in his head. They would just have to travel faster than they normally would if they wanted to avoid catching frostbite.

"Well, you won't see moi going out there," Piggy huffed, sidling towards the back of the bus. "I prefer having the ice on my fingers instead of being turned into a snow woman." She wiggled her sparkling rings for emphasis.

"You mean a snow pig..." Fozzie put in timidly, trying to conceal a little chuckle.

"Watch it," the porcine diva grumbled.

"Okay, then." Floyd shrugged. "But you'll be on your own, bacon broad. The rest of us will rough it."

"I-I'm sure vous will..."

"Must be a bummer, sitting in here all by yourself and feeling like a coward..."

"A très bummer," Kermit added slyly, inserting a trace of French for the mirth of it.

"All right! All right!" the pig snapped, albeit with a note of remorse in her voice. "I'm coming along too. One side, Animal!"

"WHA--?"

The muppets had divided into halves, one collision browsing the east range of the city and the other troop searching the west. Nobody had managed to find little Melanie in the course of three hours and when they met up to investigate the hotel towards the end, the same one that the ruthless concierge oversaw, they were graced with another baffling discovery.

"Relocating in Durham..." Kermit announced flatly, reading off the sign hanging from the boarded up Ashworth. "I suppose we should be surprised but--" He faltered, his green head promptly declining. "Hrrm. Durham...who knows where that could be? For all we know, probably a couple of miles away...

"Or...or maybe a million..." Gonzo orated softly, holding Camilla close in the pinnacle of his heavy coat. His azure, hooked nose brushed up against his chicky's trembling beak, giving her a small Eskimo kiss. The poor hen was on her way to becoming a frozen nugget and he caressed her snowy feathers in a quick motion to keep her tepid.

"Do you think that lady from the hotel took Melanie because she might have been secretly lonely? You know, deep down?" the weirdo asked, struggling to comprehend this bleak scenario. He was no stranger to isolation, nor one to sadness but he couldn't make sense out of any of it.

"I, ah, I don't think so..." Kermit replied stiffly.

"No, Gonzo..." Piggy also spoke up. "She--she couldn't possibly love her...not like we have all this time." For a moment, she held off but soon the hefty starlet gave a tiny but audible sniff.

"Oh Kermie..." she wept quietly. "Kermie..."

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

"Come and go with me, it's more fun to share,
We'll both be completely at home in midair..."
Gonzo lilted while a team of the strangest and now awkward three of the Electric Mayhem's members backed him up. Floyd and Janice tweaked at their guitars while the keyboardist resonated from between them. The guitarists were still not on speaking terms with each other or the band's leader but at least they were contented with the music, desolate as the situation was.

Dr. Teeth scrutinized the somber couple, his heart into interceding them once more instead of playing. But how could he do it?

"We're flyin', not walkin', on featherless wings..." Floyd alleged.

"Like, we can hold onto love like invisible strings, rully..." Janice proceeded, gazing incredulously into Floyd's eyes for what felt like the first time in decades.

"There's not a word yet for old friends who've just met.
Part heaven, part space, or have I found my place?" Gonzo continued, as a small cluster of the city's inhabitants began to form around them.The band leader took this scope to move forward, gently cutting off the twang of the instruments so he take both of the other musician's opposite hands and lace them together. He smiled amicably, an explanation not required or emitted but the three of them finished the song off, nonetheless.

"You can just visit, but I plan to stay.
I'm going to go back there someday.
I'm going to go back there someday..."

"Carry on, love is coming.
Love is coming to us all... " another voice piped up, the singing rattly but fairly comforting. An older fellow with shoulder length silver hair, probably around his early sixties stepped out of the circle, approaching the bizarre gang. He had a sharp lined face similar to the mayor's but unlike that square, it possessed a rare ardor that the muppets weren't used to seeing around this metropolis and welcomed right away. "Give me your hat, brother..." he conveyed to the good doctor. Once the flashy topper was in his grasp, the man discarded a fair amount of cash in it and handed it back to him, leaving the out of towners rather stunned.

"God help the outcasts..." the older man chortled, heading on his way.

"The dude gave us twenty bucks..." Floyd gasped to Janice, Dr. Teeth, and Gonzo, peering inside the floppy hat. "Think we stumbled into some kinda secret haven?"

Instead of responding, Janice directed the bass player's attention away from the rumpled currency and up towards her gloomy facade. "Like, I never meant to hurt you, hon..." she whispered, looking just as genuine and as radiant inside and out, even with her currently downcast perspective.

The pretty bohemian needn't have said anymore. The instant her fuchsia lips unhinged, Floyd had sealed them shut again with his own.

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

"Hold still, Lips..." Zoot cautioned, elevating the needle up to his dear friend's frayed arm. Although the introverted duo had survived the brawl from the horrible night before and they had received a vast amount of aid from the rest of their friends, the pair still had suffered harsher abrasions than they had been able to uncover. All along the tops of their pallid arms, spines, and legs were some particularly nasty looking cuts. They were, quite literally, ripped at the seams in some areas and the ideal and only solution that appeared to be was to sew themselves back up.

Not wanting to disquiet their bandmates and other friends, they had taken it upon themselves to sneak into an old, abandoned church and follow through with the procedure. At first, the sax player was a trifle uneasy to go into the ancient cathedral.

("They won't kick me out because I'm Jewish, will they?" he asked at the entrance vaguely.

"There isn't anybody here, Zoot..." Lips affirmed, cocking his head at the sax player impetuously.

"I'm-I'm talking about the spirits, man. They could be in here, you never know. I know my old man would throw a fit--")

Somehow Lips had managed to entice the other musician to go in with him and now he was splayed across one of the benches while Zoot knelt by his side, weaving the onyx thread along his tattered forearm. The needle had entered and was swerving in and out along his disheveled yellow skin, sealing up any entrails that might have been poking out. The tip pierced and glided, not aggrieving him too much until Zoot started on a new nick.

"Man, if I knew spitting out more than two sentences would cause all heck to break loose, I'd rather be mute forever..." Lips fessed up, trying to make a farce to break the ice.

Zoot didn't laugh and instead concentrated more rigidly on a tough scrape around Lips's left wrist. "Everybody deserves to say what's on their mind..." he murmured in his familiar deadpan way.

"Of course. But I was just--every time I seem to..." He trailed off. "I guess I'm being stupid again..." Lips sighed, debating what subject to bring up next.

"You're never stupid, Lips. Not to me." The sax player's tone had softened considerably and he glanced over the top of his dark shades at the paler musician.

Lips shook his head, attempting to hide a derisive laugh. "You know what I'm going to fix on you first?" he chirped. "Once you're through sewing up me?"

"What's that."

"Your smile...you could use one after all this."

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

It was almost nine o'clock and after singing and swinging to nearly two dozen songs with Gonzo and Camilla, Floyd, Janice, and Dr. Teeth were incredibly fatigued. The sky was a dusky and penetrating black, stars freckling its thick canvas and luminously shimmering down on the crooked ville below. The hat was filled almost to the top and although they were still on the anchor for some help and had been on the frantic lookout for Melanie all day, the ethereal gems had shown some aberrant new promise tonight.

"Uncle Kermit..." a tired articulation sounded from next to the bus. "I'm kind of...what I mean is..."

"Are you hungry, Robin?"

The tiny frog gave a concise nod, his nervousness manifest. even in the dim light.

The band leader hadn't missed Robin's squeaky convulsion and he fished his protracting fingers into the hat, handing some of the remuneration to Kermit.

"Oh no...no, Dr. Teeth..." the frog tried to rally.

"Go 'head, green buddeh. The po kid's probableh ravenous...theah's a dinah a couple blockz away."

"I couldn't take it from you--"

"Kerm..." the keyboard player interjected, smiling patiently although his dark eyes were rife with poignancy. Seeing him bond with Robin had made him so envious.

Melanie was his daughter. He wouldn't evade it now, nor ever.

"Theah's worse thangs you could take from meh, chief..." he insisted tacitly. "Fah worse..." With that, the band leader traipsed off into the opaque night so he could be alone for a while.

He trudged along the white sheathed road silently, not knowing where to go but knowing he had to get away from the others or else he'd totally break down. He had eventually stopped but it wasn't until he reached a street called--what was it? Something terrace?

What was it? Topaz?

Kind of unfitting for a place snagged in the beginning of what was probably going to be a long and lamentably early winter.

And it was there...he saw not Melanie.

Yet there was somebody else he hadn't ran into in an elongated period.

If Josephine Baker had been a muppet, this sprightly woman could have certainly passed for her twin. She had skin that was a deep russet and short, black hair that embraced her head like a cap, some of which curved pixie-esque around her ears and forehead. Her lashes were incredibly thick like Janice's but he could still see her amber irises below them. Vast hoops dangled from her ears and twisted along with her. Either she was significantly insane or just very daring, but she wore nothing but weathered sandals and a frail, strapless dress that coiled and spiraled in a lively way as she danced.

She too was performing for a living. She was cavorting for cash. She rollicked and spun, her limbs whirring impishly. She was like a perpetual whirlwind.

That is, until he called out to her.

"Joëlle?"

The quirky nymph ceased, craning her dovelike neck to study the raspy stranger. "Johnny?" she solicited, using the archaic nickname. "Shoot, baby! What are you doing here?"

"Wheah ta start?" the good doctor rendered softly. "Wheah ta start..."

[The Count]

Yaey! Is update! Is perfectly cold for today, 1st of December. Wants to huggle der Ailie. Mmm, you borrowing some things from Notre Dame, me likes where this is going. Rully like Joëlle. Please post more when possible.

*Leaves cherry pie for the author.

[WhiteRabbit]

Thankses Ed! :halo: *shares le pie*

[RedPiggy]

I just love the word "jalopy". The EM bus sounds like my car, LOL.
The Zoot/Lips scene was very touching. Creepy in a 4th-wall kinda way, but still touching. :)
This was a very neat update. I wish it'd have involved them at Cancun or something, as I'm freezing, but it's good to see a new chapter.

[APRena]

*headdesks in lack of words for the awesomeness* I am completely..... enthralled by all of this. It's so painful and sweet yet entirely Muppety at the same time. *applauds*

I'm really glad I read this all at once so I didn't have to suffer the agony of waiting over a span of forever for the new chapters. But NOW I DO! Raaaaaaaaahrgh!

[The Count]

Hey... Posted a chappy of mine. It's your turn now. *Tags Ailie/Cait, leaves muffins.

[AnimatedC9000]

"Okay, then." Floyd shrugged. "But you'll be on your own, bacon broad. The rest of us will rough it."

"I-I'm sure vous will..."

"Must be a bummer, sitting in here all by yourself and feeling like a coward..."

"A très bummer," Kermit added slyly, inserting a trace of French for the mirth of it.

"All right! All right!" the pig snapped, albeit with a note of remorse in her voice. "I'm coming along too. One side, Animal!"

"WHA--?"


*claps* Very good job, Floyd! You have sucessfully moved her royal highness-- excuse me, royal SWINEness off of her tush and gotten through to her. For that you... uh...

"The dude gave us twenty bucks..." Floyd gasped to Janice, Dr. Teeth, and Gonzo, peering inside the floppy hat. "Think we stumbled into some kinda secret haven?"

Instead of responding, Janice directed the bass player's attention away from the rumpled currency and up towards her gloomy facade. "Like, I never meant to hurt you, hon..." she whispered, looking just as genuine and as radiant inside and out, even with her currently downcast perspective.

The pretty bohemian needn't have said anymore. The instant her fuchsia lips unhinged, Floyd had sealed them shut again with his own.

... you get 20 bucks and Janice back. ... works for me! *puts away the 100 dollars that she had planned on giving them*

"Hold still, Lips..." Zoot cautioned, elevating the needle up to his dear friend's frayed arm. Although the introverted duo had survived the brawl from the horrible night before and they had received a vast amount of aid from the rest of their friends, the pair still had suffered harsher abrasions than they had been able to uncover. All along the tops of their pallid arms, spines, and legs were some particularly nasty looking cuts. They were, quite literally, ripped at the seams in some areas and the ideal and only solution that appeared to be was to sew themselves back up.

Not wanting to disquiet their bandmates and other friends, they had taken it upon themselves to sneak into an old, abandoned church and follow through with the procedure. At first, the sax player was a trifle uneasy to go into the ancient cathedral.

("They won't kick me out because I'm Jewish, will they?" he asked at the entrance vaguely.

"There isn't anybody here, Zoot..." Lips affirmed, cocking his head at the sax player impetuously.

"I'm-I'm talking about the spirits, man. They could be in here, you never know. I know my old man would throw a fit--")

Somehow Lips had managed to entice the other musician to go in with him and now he was splayed across one of the benches while Zoot knelt by his side, weaving the onyx thread along his tattered forearm. The needle had entered and was swerving in and out along his disheveled yellow skin, sealing up any entrails that might have been poking out. The tip pierced and glided, not aggrieving him too much until Zoot started on a new nick.

"Man, if I knew spitting out more than two sentences would cause all heck to break loose, I'd rather be mute forever..." Lips fessed up, trying to make a farce to break the ice.

Zoot didn't laugh and instead concentrated more rigidly on a tough scrape around Lips's left wrist. "Everybody deserves to say what's on their mind..." he murmured in his familiar deadpan way.

"Of course. But I was just--every time I seem to..." He trailed off. "I guess I'm being stupid again..." Lips sighed, debating what subject to bring up next.

"You're never stupid, Lips. Not to me." The sax player's tone had softened considerably and he glanced over the top of his dark shades at the paler musician.

Lips shook his head, attempting to hide a derisive laugh. "You know what I'm going to fix on you first?" he chirped. "Once you're through sewing up me?"

"What's that."

"Your smile...you could use one after all this."


I don't care if anyone disagrees with me. THAT is one of the cutest moments ever. By the cutest pairing ever, no less. *huggles the duo* =333

If Josephine Baker had been a muppet, this sprightly woman could have certainly passed for her twin. She had skin that was a deep russet and short, black hair that embraced her head like a cap, some of which curved pixie-esque around her ears and forehead. Her lashes were incredibly thick like Janice's but he could still see her amber irises below them. Vast hoops dangled from her ears and twisted along with her. Either she was significantly insane or just very daring, but she wore nothing but weathered sandals and a frail, strapless dress that coiled and spiraled in a lively way as she danced.

She too was performing for a living. She was cavorting for cash. She rollicked and spun, her limbs whirring impishly. She was like a perpetual whirlwind.

That is, until he called out to her.

"Joëlle?"

The quirky nymph ceased, craning her dovelike neck to study the raspy stranger. "Johnny?" she solicited, using the archaic nickname. "Shoot, baby! What are you doing here?"

"Wheah ta start?" the good doctor rendered softly. "Wheah ta start..."

Dang, I'm liking Joëlle. She seems like my kind of friend. I expect great things from her. Great things...

And now for the actual review:

*explodes from the awsomeness of the chapter*

... thank you for your time. XPPPP

[The Count]

*Putting the pieces of Caitlyn into a jigsaw puzzle frame. I hope I'm not missing one. *Messages Cotterpin to get help.

Post more both of you. Pwease? Me needs fanfic awesomeness!

[Winslow Leach]

Ailie, this is a really, really wonderful fic. I remember when you started it, and I recently caught up with everything.

I love how you don't sugar-coat; this is a gritty, serious fic, and you're not afraid to show the bleak despair the band is in.

The EM are fantastic, as always; you give them dimensions rarely (if ever) seen before.

You're such a brilliant writer! =)

*huggles*

[RedPiggy]

Yes, it's amazing.

And welcome back. :)

[WhiteRabbit]

Thankses, peeps. :3 I'll have the new chapter up this week.

[BeakerSqueedom]

I really like how deep you are as a writer. The emotions that swirled around the chapter made me a mushy mess. It's such a sentimental piece of work, to not love it is impossible.

[The Count]

And to deprive us of updates is downright not cool man. More please? Please? Please? Me gotta have my fics! :insatiable: :eek: :scary:

[WhiteRabbit]

~Chapter Eleven: If This World Were Mine~
It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die
'Cause I don't know what's out there beyond the sky
It's been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will

Disparate lights were blazing in every direction, various shouts from the blue-coats submerging with those coming from the usually chaste and curious bystanders. Fights weren't necessarily unheard of in the club; once in a while a tipsy heap of men would haul off at each other after an hour or two over something trivial or there would be some drama that would ignite from the couple at table seven. Never had there been such turbulence like this before; wooden chairs flung carelessly into the windows, glass from the panes and broken bottles dispersed all over the floor like a base, shattered ocean. Lord help the women who were wearing sandals or stilettos.

The keyboard player, having somehow made it to be fifteen years old now, hastened to the backroom. He was fortunate enough to incur boots from the tips he got every night and he could feel as well as hear the shattered remains of the window crunch beneath them as he ran. The sirens outside were definitely loud but they were nowhere near emphatic as the shots had been. As he continued to run, the future band leader tried to elicit exactly how this all happened in his disarrayed head.

There were five of them when they burst in, men with distant faces and hands as dry and luminous as chalk. Their eyes were obscured by opaque glasses, their alloy of blonde and brown hair slick, and their apparel very prevalent and formal. They could have easily passed off for lawyers, bankers, or even school superintendents had they not been armed. They had arrived without notification, without warning and it was all too manifest that they weren't leaving until they saw fit to "renovate" the mixed soiree.

'THIS WAS OUR PLACE BEFORE YOURS, YOU FILTH!" the leader conveyed, giving way to a long stream of expletives and slurs. "UP AGAINST THE WALL! NOW!"

The pistols imparted and he saw, with an abundance of fear and astonishment, the trombone player beside him--his name began with an L, Lytton or Lyle or something--decline onto the stage with a scream. His scraggly arms were folded over the lower part of his chest, shielding the wound from all.

"NO! Mothah o' gawd NO--!" the fledgling Dr. Teeth bent down to help him while the multitude surrounding them began to shriek and dispatch for the door. The intruders were swifter, though and they admonished the crowd not to go anywhere unless they wanted their brains blown out.

"Get outta here, brother! They're gonna get us all! Head for the front!" the other musician ordered hoarsely, using his right hand to wave and beckon the keyboard player to dash off. Lytton's eyes congealed, his dark lips rigid from the excruciating pain before he finally gave one last unyielding breath.

I can't leave Jo in this...they'll kill her too... the keyboard player thought, his mien livid, cringing from the knell of the shot still ringing vigorously throughout his mind. He bolted into the dressing room, his unparalleled crush backed into the closet apprehensively, the curtain shrouding her semi dressed frame.

Her tawny eyes were glistened over. No tears had fallen yet but the slight twitch of her supple, lower lip indicated they weren't too far behind.

"We're dead..." Joëlle affirmed, giving a repelled sort of laugh as she drew the curtain tighter around her chest. "When they find us--when they see we ain't whi--we ain't what they are, we're done. We're dead. That's all there is, baby." Her N'Awlins accent was far more prominent than his own, especially when she was frightened.

"Shhhh...don' fret now--"

"I will fret! How can y'all not? !" she snapped frantically. "And this ain't the way I wanted to g--"

"We ain't goin'. They won' look in heah--"

"Mhm. How d'you--?"

"Shhh!"

"Shhh, back at'choo..." the pretty chanteuse murmured to him sullenly. A few, mute minutes had diminished before she harbored at his chest for warmth. In spite of the pandemonium, her aversion at their fate, and her less than ladylike attitude, she coveted a fervor unlike any other for the so-called street urchin. He was so much more positive than her, more mellow. She didn't need to put on any airs or quarrel to impress him. He was her friend for her and not for a higher regard from the conventionalism she was too often surrounded by.

He was never one to start turmoil but he didn't take any crud from the rest of society either. She was the same, more or less, minus the fact that she couldn't let rough situations go as well as he did. She might have came from a wealthier and more respected heritage but he was a pillar of strength and genuineness that he didn't need useless accolades. She might have envied the musician first and foremost if she didn't already love him.

"Maybe they ain't gonna find us..." Joëlle concluded softly, half of her dusky face still hidden in his shoulder.

"They won', honeh." the musician insisted, giving her a meek smile. "Ya know, when we is old 'nuff, we're gonna show 'em all. We're gonna be bettah and rahk mo than they could evah hope ta. We're gonna beh loved all 'round the planet, jus' wait an' see. It won' mattah that we're differen' colahs like now--someday, it's all gonna change..."

"I believe ya, Johnny..." Joëlle disclosed ardently, lacing her slender copper fingers within his dark green ones. "I'll always be at ya side too, even if they catch up with us and blow it all away. I'm yours even if it don't happen."

"It will, Jo. I jus' know it will."

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

The diner down the crooked block was a lot warmer than Robin had expected it to be and the balmy atmosphere contributed to the prickle on either side of his little, sage-hued face. The repetitive sting from the wind outdoors had begun to dwindle, his icy finger tips gradually heating up as he kneaded them together. A scarlet fire soothingly crackled in the background, the only source of noise sans the muffled conversations from some late night guests.

A thin, lanky sort of young man with orange tresses and dense, sable-rimmed specs ushered the pair of frogs to a booth with a hasty welcome. Robin bestowed the college-age occupant with a timid smile, the host's appearance and babbling reminding him vaguely of Scooter. In fact, if Scooter had been a human or vice versa, the host a muppet, they could have passed off for siblings. He definitely seemed new to the job as well. Whether he had an uncle who owned the establishment as a referral was a mystery, though.

"Ah...um, Liz'll be here in a moment. I hope you...uh, relish your experience here." the host chirped anxiously, setting down a jar of said condiment.

Well, the poor kid tried anyway.

He fidgeted with his thick, round glasses for a couple seconds, his face reminiscent to a strawberry before he went cavorting off, before he could hear their quiet but unconvincing chuckles. Robin plunked into the malleable, red seat beside the elder frog and took a lengthy study of the joint.

So it wasn't quite the high measure of The Four Seasons in New York, but it wasn't a tacky, jumbled bar room either. Each table embellished a flickering white candle that gave off a vanilla aroma and made the place seem more hospitable in spite of its cheapness. Navy blue curtains hung placidly around the frosty windows and framed a rather pretty picture, regardless of the harsh weather.

A debilitated grandfather clock stood a few feet off from the center of the room, conveying the guests with the fact that it was almost midnight. Kermit was a mite stunned that it was still open but they were probably yearning for customers and delayed their closing for a bit. The business must have been laggard as of late and it shouldn't have been surprising as it was.

"Uncle Kermit?" the tiny amphibian inquired once he was finished scrutinizing.

"Robin?" he replied.

"We are gonna find Melanie soon, right? And help the town like we were here for in the first place?"

"Of course, Robin. You don't have to worry about--" It seemed amiss to lie to a child but telling him the truth, that he didn't quite know anymore, wasn't an option. He was old enough for disappointments but too young for devastation. He'd been exposed to so much already, it didn't seem fair for him. "--a thing. We're not leaving Cold River until we do. I promise."

"That's what you've been saying."

"I know, but I mean it. We don't just give up on our hope or our hard work. If I always did, wouldn't I just be back in the swamp right now?"

"I guess you're right." Robin admitted frailly, fiddling a bit with his spoon.

Liz was another youngster, her skin ashen, her eyes ringed with faint violet circles from a distinct lack of repose, and one of her hands heavily bandaged. She had a kind demeanor, nevertheless and she nodded at the two. "Can I get you fellas something to drink?" she piped up.

"Ah, we'll--" Kermit began but his voice faltered as he noticed her injury. "Wha--I'm sorry but what happened to your hand?"

"Oh, nothing..." the waitress dismissed his question serenely. "Just a difficult customer, nothing serious."

"Sheesh...if--if you say so." Her answer left much to be desired but he decided not to press her. "Well, we're just gonna have a couple waters first and--"

"Kermit?"

The frog craned his skinny, green neck around so he could discern the familiar voice. It belonged to a dark haired woman sitting a couple booths away from them. She was wearing taut jeans, a sleek, brown jacket, and her hair cascaded over the hood like a raven waterfall. She was rather pretty, around her early forties, with eyes that matched her hair and that were encompassed by small laugh lines. Had her brown strands been clasped back in a ponytail, he would have recognized her straight off.

Realization eventually flooded him and he gave a startled but jaunty cry. "Jenny!"

The former waitress hurried over to the green duo and beamed, totally astonished but cheerful all the same. "I can't believe it--awww, is this your nephew--?" She tried to compose herself, ceasing the rambling. "This is so bizarre but it's great to see you again. What are you doing here?"

Kermit emitted an indolent chuckle, motioning for her to sit down across from them. "It's a long story. It might take a while."

Jenny's smile broadened. "Go ahead..." she insisted the frog, situating herself. "I've got time to spare. I'm all ears."

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

"--so that's why they call ya Dr. Teeth now, right?"

"Uh huh. That's it, honeh."

The band leader's shielded eyes elaborated as he peered at the renounced alley. It wasn't too dissimilar from the one he had found Melanie in, except for the fact that it was a bit more immaculate. There were a heap of posters, presumably nicked from telephone poles and outside of stadiums, of artists from their time. He gawked as the faded images of Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Wonder, Grace Slick, Janis Joplin, Sam Cooke, and the Supremes harmonized in place, the pictures forever rooted in their heyday.

"So this is wheah you hang out when you ain't dancin'?" Dr. Teeth examined quietly. Joëlle had apparently taken an immense interest in the slag under her bare feet and she didn't respond to him at first.

"No." she divulged briskly, tugging the entrance, a plaid, frayed sheath suspended over the rickety clothes-line, shut so they could be alone. "It's where I live..."

His smile abated. "Oh! It's ah--it's--"

Joëlle's adipose lips contorted into a little smirk and she crossed her rhythmic arms tepidly. "It's a hellhole, but it's the best I can get 'round here..." she finished for him in a lukewarm tone. "Now--"

He cut her off, a rare doubt evident on his face. "--whut d'ya do if it rains? I mean, lookit all that snow, can you realleh, ya know, sleep in--?"

"Chill out, baby. I'm fine, I'm dang peachy." Joëlle assured the good doctor with a short snicker. "So I don't have fans or a mansion or dreams anymore--very big deal as long as I have this joint. Has fame really softened you that much?"

The musician's expression eclipsed and he directed his attention back towards the Hendrix poster. "Fo'get it...mah reparation fo' carin'..." he derided in a hushed manner.

"I didn't mean it like that," Joëlle spoke again, somewhat allayed. Had everything alternated so much between them over the past few decades apart? It was incredibly surreal how much had evolved and how their roles had reversed, so to speak--he the celeb and she one of the city dregs. Although it was hard to determine who time had been better to, what with her bitter words and the forlorn rasp of his once velvety tenor. "I missed ya..." she added, a touch awkwardly.

"I'm sho you did..."

"I did." Joëlle reiterated shortly. "Look, I should be the one who's ticked. At least I tried looking for you all this time. You forgot about me."

"I didn' fo'get--I got snagged by the cops the day after we hid from the old bar ownahs, remembah? They thought I kidnapped you, nevah mind saved yo life--"

"...they did?" The dancer's pert nose crinkled significantly, her amber pupils overwrought at this new information.

"Uh huh. Yo parents thought I--well, I won't get inta it. I didn' get no say, no testification...no nothang. I got hauled up ta juveh fo a yeah and then flung 'round in a bunch o' fostah homes aftah that. I NEVAH fo'got 'bout you, I jus' wasn' allowed to contact o' write o' anythang. What's mo is I didn' learn how ta write 'til a yeah aftah the inciden'..." he admitted miserably. "I thought ya didn' wanna see me anyway."

"Th-they told me ya got busted for something else, like shopliftin' or whatever and fled the state..." Joëlle stammered before draping her russet colored arms around the keyboard player. "I'm so stupid, I'm really sorry..."

"It's a'ight but what I wanna know is, how did you get up heah?" the band leader needled, holding her close.

"I didn't--I mean, my excuse is kinda pathetic..." she began timidly. "I was never good enough for my parents, to be frank. They did all that they could to mold me into their perfect, little windup doll and fit in with the upper class but it just wasn't me. I didn't want to settle down and just become some gabby, nosy housewife, y'know? I wanted to be with ya, free on the road and not giving a rat's behind about what anyone else thought. I was never motivated to do anything that seemed to please them and dancin'--well, it was my sanctuary. I could be myself among the street performers, I wasn't constantly being studied and berated. So when I was sixteen, I just up and ran off, know where I'm at?"

The good doctor nodded, tentatively motioning for her to go on.

"I don't care how ritzy it was, it was a horrible lifestyle. I never felt--I never felt loved by them 'cause I never fit in. Not in public, not at home, not when I was at that private Catholic school they sent me to--"

"Oh, but you musta had friends theah, righ'? You musta missed some o' it--?"

"Sure...I prolly miss Sister Margaret's yardstick the more I think 'bout it..." Joëlle mused derisively. "J--Teeth, when I never saw ya again--"

"Look, baby, those days is dead, okay? I'm righ' heah fo you but I needa find--"

"--Melanie, I know. It's wonderful how you care so much for her, far more than I can say for my own folks. I'll help ya." the dancer concluded sweetly.

"Jo, what don'cha come with meh anyway? They'd love ta have somebodeh like you in the show," the keyboard player proposed, his beam returning.

"We'll see."

"C'mon, babe--"

"...all right. Yes, then. I'd love to join y'all." She impelled nearer to him and her mouth swept onto his for a few lithe seconds, the left strap of her raggedy dress abating a mite. She couldn't have felt any warmer despite this. "Listen, it's late and from what ya've told me, ya've been workin' for weeks now. Why don'cha stay with me until the weather fares, okay?"

"I know but I gotta find that po' kid. If I don'--I can make it," the musician persisted. "I still got enahgeh."

"Well, tonight it can be put to another use." Joëlle stated in a vehement whisper, her tone ridden with mischief but also completely smitten. She was mutely admiring how the moon gleamed in his onyx eyes.

It was like a pandemic throughout Cold River, albeit a coveted one. Frog or pig, man, or woman, black or white, chicken or whatever, love would abide through their last barrage in the city.

[The Count]

Yay! ! ! Not only was this a great update... But... Jenny! I've always liked her and Kermit together. Rully enjoyed what was posted here as past met the present for Teeth and Joëlle. More please?
*Leaves luscious cherry pie.

[RedPiggy]

Ah, so I know I know where Miss J came from. :D

Very nice. Poor Teeth ... I'm glad he ended up with fame and glory. :D

[The Count]

Fame and Glory? Sure... *Hands off a copy of the movie starring Irene Cara and a US flag. :crazy:

[Kiki]

This is awesome, so well writen. Hurhur, Jenny and Kermit, such a good idea. <3 This is gorgeous. :)

[AnimatedC9000]

Wow, Ailie. Just... wow. O_O

Okay, to start the chapter off, we have... oh gawd... I feel sorry for Dr. Teeth and Joëlle. They don't deserve to be put through stuff like that.

Poor little Robin... He's trying really hard to keep the faith up, even when things seem to dwindle. At least his Uncle Kermit believes in him. =33

Jenny! O_O I had NO idea that she'd be in this! What a surprising twist!

Aww, what a sweet moment between the good doctor and his girl. I love it. X333

Overall... this is a pretty deep chapter. O_O Please, ma'am, may I have some more?

[WhiteRabbit]

Thankses, guys! Sorry the wait was so long. :halo:

[Winslow Leach]

Whew! This chapter left me speechless, Ailie!

Really nice use of the Sam Cooke song to set things up.

Believe me, the wait was well worth it! What a great way to start my day...I so can't wait for the next chapter!

Do I have to say it again?

You are a brilliant and fantastically talented writer.

*hugs*

[BeakerSqueedom]

Ailie, gah, I love how realistic this story is. I love how you developed Joelle as a character, and, heck, you heard me comment over and over again about how talented you are. Please, update, for me? =3

My heart's just a-meltin', honey! <3 I love how you mentioned that in those times racism was prominent, and you made it clear that discrimination should be stopped (even though that is still a problem today). Well, you didn't say that directly, but you implied it with such grace . . . that we are all the same despite color, race, and beingness. <3

[WhiteRabbit]

*snugs Squeaky* Thanks a lot, babe! :halo:

*will try to update this week* XPP

[The Count]

Hi... Thought you might need a :). Just wanted to say that this one of the better fics that have been posted in a looooong while and we all miss it turribly. If you can, please post the next chappy when possible. But we understand if it might be a while before then. Thanks for the great story and hugs from us silly creatures.

[WhiteRabbit]

A/N: Buh? I haven't updated this in almost two months? =O Bad Ailie. ._.

~Chapter Twelve: Won't Back Down~
So when the hurting starts
And when the nightmares begin
Remember you can fill up the sky
You don't have to give in
You don't have to give in

There are so many old and vexing adages that a person hears over and over again in the span of their lifetime. 'Better the devil you know than the angel you don't,' happens to be one of them and to some, particularly optimists like the fair-haired guitarist herself, it may very well be one of the most overused and irritating phrases in the entity of the world. Certainly there had been a plethora of forlorn and hopeless situations in Cold River, enough that had swept by so often that she had come to expect them by now. At the same time, her, the band's, and the rest of the muppet's excursion wasn't finished just yet.

Melanie, the dear and exemplary child, was still out there.

They may have all decried a form of the contingent "devil" in some way or another while they were staying in the half blighted ville. They may have witnessed more discomfort, more rue, and more devastation in the left side of the city than they had taken a mere glimpse at in their own home. Their sweet progeny might have been lost and the mayor might have been undoubtedly the most unpleasant human being they had ever come across, perhaps almost on par with old Doc Hopper given his deceptive and synthetic actions.

Beyond the depressing circumstances, the grief, and the disquieting slanders, in spite of every dilemma that was hurtled in their direction, there was also a small, but constant shaft of virtue for the muppets. So they had met the so-called devil or rather, their plights more times than they were able to record on their fingers (or paws). They had seen how arbitrary it was that the enemies would get exactly what they wanted and the good guys like them would contend as hard as they could, only to go unrewarded or worse still, unacknowledged. The terminal wasn't closing in yet.

It wasn't as if they hadn't scrambled into the 'unknown angel' yet either. They had...and they were still scouting out the whole city for her. Virtually, visibly, she wasn't there with the gang but every minute of the night, every second of the rummage, they could feel her presence. She was alive, but still lamentably eluded from their warm embraces and their fidelity.

"WO-MAN! WO-MAN!"

Somewhere in the cusp of Janice's stomach came an abrupt jolt. She was back on the frigid sidewalk, her sunny tresses tangling from the salient wind and obscuring her vision of the avenue coming up. At one side of her, Floyd was tussling with the drummer's leash, trying to keep him from scampering off into the crowd. To keep the frazzled musician focused on one thing at a time was hardly a cinch, up there with trying to use barbed wire as a shoelace or teach an artichoke had to skydive.

Although Gonzo might have begged to differ.

"Animal! Hey--hey! Cool it!" the bass player snapped, the leash winding around his ankles as the fuzzy psychopath darted back and forth. He was no better than a dog yearning to lunge after the scattered flock of pigeons and gawd help a local dame if she was daft enough to amble past him. This seemed to be the case here as Floyd spotted a head full of long and buoyant red curls a couple of feet ahead of them. The unidentified woman's navy blue high-heels raucously clacked against the pavement, practically beckoning the drummer to chase her. There was something somewhat prosaic about the young lady.

"Like, isn't that, like, the mayor's secretary?" Janice implied softly, gesturing towards the striding redhead.

"It does kinda look like her, doesn't it?" Floyd disclosed, squinting a little. Ballistic, Animal gave a venerated growl and continued weeding at the thick chains. He definitely wasn't going to let this one out of his sight as he let his bulbous nose wallop into the street. He gave a couple of loud and fairly ravenous sniffs. It was her, all right, but...what on earth was she doing in this squalid section of the town?

"SEC-RE-TAH-REE!" the drummer affirmed, galloping after the woman. The lady in question had absolutely picked up on who the trio was now and gave a lark, irritated yelp, breaking into a sprint down the base road. The comely shoes must have loomed as a hindrance to her running for the three of them soon caught up with her. A pacifier, awe of other awes, flew from Gianna's beryl jacket as she toppled onto the curb. Floyd made no hesitation to release his grip on Animal at that point.

"Oh wow, like, isn't this a surprise?" Janice mused blithely, picking the rubber mediator off the ground and dusting it on the hem of her tank top.

"I'll say it is. What are you doing here, ma'am?" Floyd queried in just as harmless as a tone. Animal paid no attention to them, clawing hopefully at the scarlet haired lady's ankles and pressing a comically blatant and slobbery kiss on her cheek.

"MMMWAH!"

"Get this disgusting creature off of me!" Gianna demanded, emitting a revolted scoff at his childish advances.

"Like, we will," Janice promised. "Just, like, as soon as you tell us everything. Fer sure."

"Right! Of course! I don't know anything, you--!"

"Don't you?" Floyd remarked, gently extracting the pacifier from Janice's grip and waving it in front of the secretary. "Then tell me, what's a grown and bourgeois babe like yourself doin' with something like this?"

The pretty squaw fell mute for a couple seconds, her tongue seemingly adhered to the roof of her mouth. Her typically marble skin was ashen with worry. Bridges was going to absolutely murder her for this.

"Everything?"

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

There was something about the dawn that had brought the frog himself a new glimmer of hope, a reverie of aspiration as the sun filtered in through the slender, ivory curtains. It was the first sunny morning he had experience in a long time, especially since the beginning of their sojourn. It might have been the lulling pleasantry of his subconscious but something about the simplicity of the sunshine had rejuvenated his spirits. It was a new morning, a new inception after all those storms and he was ready to face it.

Lethargically, his green mitts elevated up to his great eyes, abrading the last hints of sleep from them. Kermit had never realized how fortunate enough he was to have woken up in a warm chaise, to have been lured out of his dreams by the knell of Piggy's repetitive snores and he reached over, giving the diva's ringlets a light caress.

Robin had been dozing between them, a tiny bulk underneath the beige sheets. Evidently he was up too and over the brim of the fleece, he gave his uncle a meager smile. What a far cry it had been from spending the nights in the tumultuous and chilly road. The nice side was that Jenny and Ronnie's temporary apartment had been like a sanctuary for them. The bad side was that they were heading back to New York in a couple days and they had only been down to tarry with a distant aunt of his for a while. Nevertheless, Kermit and the others had been more than elated to see them again.

He returned his nephew's little grin. "Good morning, Robin," he whispered from across the pallet.

"Morning, Uncle Kermit," he echoed softly. "It was sure nice of Jenny and Ronnie to let all of us stay with them."

All, sans the band leader who had never reverted from his foray into the oldest slum.

Kermit nodded, slowly shifting onto his hip and hoisting himself off of the mattress as gingerly as he could. It was neither the hour, nor the ideal place to get Miss Piggy riled up and he was careful he didn't stir too jerkily. His webbed feet gave a startled but positive twitch as soon as they hit the lukewarm floor. It was almost inconceivable how one could take sleeping in a house so for granted before he had ventured into Cold River with the rest of his friends.

"What time is it?"

"Only about six," Kermit replied in a hasty and hushed tone. "Go ahead, go back to sleep. I'm just going to check up on the others." With that, he wedged his way out and padded down the little corridor that led him to the kitchen.

Ronnie Crawford, ensconced on the middle chair hadn't changed much since Kermit had last seen him. His glasses were still present as well as his wiry, brown hair. He still had the same eager demeanor and the same blithe squeak. Although, when relaxed, his face was a voice of a couple wrinkles due to the passage of time, he was still that cheerful young man who had brought Manhattan Melodies to success.

However, there was something about the Crawford, not physically, that had been altered. He had fallen, inevitably and unambiguously, in love with the brown eyed girl who had worked at Pete's Luncheonette. Like the titular frog and pig, the musical had brought them closer than either of them had ever experienced before and it was still going unyielding since that fantastic night.

Oblivious to Kermit standing in the entrance, Jenny sidled over from the stove and handed the glasses clad man a plate, pressing her lips to his for a couple seconds. How extremely sweet it was, in bona fide sight, to witness them together too. Here they were, eloped and inseparable--love really was a splendorous thing.

Somewhat awkwardly, Kermit cleared his throat as soon as their mouths unlatched and the pair glanced over at him, trying to conceal their bewilderment.

"Kermit, I--" Ronnie began, flustered and reddening.

He laughed. "Sorry for barging in on you like this," he piped up. "I just wanted to thank you guys again, for, well...letting all of us stay."

"Aw, it's the very least we do," the sprightly producer kindly insisted. "After everything, after helping us--"

"You're one of a kind, Kermit," Jenny spoke, beaming at her sage colored friend. "Same with the rest of your friends. I hope you're hungry. It's gonna be a long hike to find Mel today."

Kermit hadn't heard her. Something on the flickering television had engrossed him, drew him in, so to speak, but it was neither for a sitcom or a new, ridiculous marketing strategy. It was Mayor Bridges...and he was holding pretty, little Melanie in his rickety arms, waving to his so-called adoring public outside of city hall. He could just barely make out the contrasting heads of Lips and Zoot who were trying to put a halt to the entire ordeal but were held back by two brawny officers.

There will be an adoption rally this afternoon... the ivory legend bore under his smug facade. At once, the frog's jaw unhinged.

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

At the very cusp in the left side of the city, where one couldn't pass a building without shattered windows, a bench that wasn't disarrayed with thick and obdurate graffiti, or a stop sign that wasn't punctured by bullet holes or incised by a switchblade was where the good doctor languished beside his girl. The alleyway was one of the last areas to have been belted by the glittering sunshine and it illuminated the colored pair like a spotlight.

Joëlle was in a rather bizarre shape at this juncture. She was half enveloped by an unkempt sheath and her divested bust was impelled against the concrete, her head and slender legs strewn onto the keyboard player as though he were a pillow. The sun lashed against her dusky mien and her scalp first, the heat sultry, coaxing. Her catlike eyes were now unbarred.

The dancer ceded Dr. Teeth with a kiss on the nose, crawling off his adipose frame and quietly rendering towards the back of the alley to get dressed. Suffice to say, the woman wasn't equipped with the most fancy apparel and her new slip was just as frayed as the one from the night before. The only difference was that this weathered one was violet instead of white. Popping a mint in, Joëlle glanced around at her limited belongings, half conjecturing why she had ever ran away and became a pack-rat.

She ran her thin fingers through the imminent pixie cut and smoothed it down with the water leftover from the storm the night before. The drops hung from the canister of dead lilacs she had stolen last summer. She pulled a nicked tube of lipstick out of the flower vessel and slowly applied it. Slipping the many bangles onto each wrist, she concluded she needed her hat and the tambourine and then she'd be ready.

"Wheah you goin'?"

Joëlle gave a tiny yelp and immediately noticed that the musician had woken up too. "I always start dancin' early--ya dunno who ya might miss," she divulged briskly.

The band leader was reticent for a moment before he stood up to join her. "Oh shoot!" he suddenly declared.

"What?"

"We don' have time fo no dancin' now," he urged. "I nevah told the othahs when I was goin' that I'd come back. They might think I'm missin' now too."

Joëlle gave an imperceptible smirk. "We'll go back, then. D'ya know the way, baby?"

"Uh..."

"Mhm, that's what I figured."

"It ain't funneh. We realleh gotta get back."

"And I have to get out theah," Joëlle conveyed sullenly.

The keyboard player frowned. "Why?"

"It's--" She stopped for a moment, strangely petrified and unable to speak. A new man, a stranger, had made his loud ingress into the alleyway, endowed in clothes flashier than the band leader's had been, his countenance immediately deriding the muppet duo. He grabbed the female N'Awlins native by the wrist.

"The investments, honey..." he hissed. "Where they at?"

"I-I said they was comin', Reg."

"Stupid harlot, you always say that!"

"But they is! I just ain't had the time to--"

"Liar! Where--they--at? !" The man struck Joëlle, letting her collapse onto the squalid ground as he attained a small but loaded pistol from the interior of his coat. Horrifying retentions, retentions of blood, of avidity, and of hatred flashed through the good doctor's muddled head and he hustled towards the ill favoring procurer. Both men clamored and sprawled onto the street when the gun went off. A tearing scream resonated.

Joëlle shrieked and immediately covered her petrified guise, too afraid to find out who had been barraged. It wasn't until she felt the long fingers perch onto her shoulder like a dark-green spider and she was dispersed into his arms. Only a foot ahead of them lay what was once her dreaded honcho. He was dead, prior to hitting the ground.

"As if we need that gettin' in the way of findin' Mel. Sixteen yeahs on the streets teaches you a lot," the keyboard player whispered, holding her close. "Theah ain't no place like hahme. So d'ya wanna cahme back with meh now?"

Mutely, Joëlle nodded before she fainted dead away.

[Winslow Leach]

Ailie...whew!

I am humbled. How brilliant is this fic? So brilliant it won an MC award...and it isn't even finished!

I seriously don't think I could write another fic; I mean that. This is an impossible act to follow! =P

I bow to your greatness!

*hugs*

[BeakerSqueedom]

I rate this fic five stars, man. <3 It's awesome. Poor Joelle. ;_;

[AnimatedC9000]

*jaw drops*

Lips and Zoot getting held back by cops, Joelle getting slapped, Animal tackling the secretary, Mayor McDumbbutt practically TAUNTING the others...

This chapter is flippin' INTENSE, Ailie. It left me speechless. Good to see an update, though.

Words cannot even describe how awesome this chapter is. Heck, not just the chapter, this whole STORY. It didn't win an award for nothing! You put your wholoe heart and soul into all of this, and it shows.

*leaves cookies here for you* Keep up the good work! Hope to be amazed by the next installment! =33

[The Count]

Hey Ailie... That wash awesomeness personified. From the bit with Animal chasing after Jiana to Kermit surprising the Crawfords before being surprised himself with the mayor's actions to the scuffle at the end where Teeth saved Joëlle from her former employer. Please, post more soon?

[Kiki]

Awww...! Poor Joelle! .___. But I'm utterly lovin' this. Great to see the update! :excited:

[RedPiggy]

Yes, that was all kinds of awesomeness. For a second I flirted with the idea you'd really kill off Teeth. :D