Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this work of fiction.
A/N: Another crazy little fic involving muppets and residents of Port Charles. Utter madness...
Warning: The words stupid and idiot are used in this story. There is also brooding and crankiness.
Their worlds, when placed in exact juxtaposition to each other were vastly different and yet, there was one distinct similarity which was puzzling at best, highly disturbing when one was in a particularly melancholy mood. Such was the mood that Sonny Corinthos found himself in on this solitarily sunny day. Why today was immune to the spate of thunderstorms which had plagued the greater part of New York for the past three weeks was a mystery to him. Perhaps it was simply the street he was walking down which was impervious to the onslaught of rain, he thought dismally.
As he wandered along the sidewalk, oblivious to all that went on around him, he brooded. Had he been paying closer attention, he might have noticed the big yellow canary which crossed his path, towering over him by a good three feet. But he wasn't. If he had, he might have likewise been aware that the friendly fowl wished him a, 'Good day, Sir,' and frowned when he didn't reply.
Unperturbed by the unfamiliar man's seeming lack of good manners, the bird tipped his large beaked head and waved the heedless dark-haired man along, shaking his feathery head as the man passed. The stranger's mannerisms reminded him of Oscar, the neighborhood grouch, but he quietly scolded himself for thinking ill of a man he hadn't even properly met yet.
Strange, Big Bird thought to himself, I've never seen that man on Sesame Street before. Maybe he's one of those new…what had been the word of the day the other day…migrants? Yeah, that had to be it; he could be one of those 'mi-grants' from the Big Apple seeking a quieter, calmer life. Comforted by that thought, Big Bird Big Bird resolved to ask Gordon about the unfamiliar man, assured that if anyone would know, it would be his kindly neighbor. Whistling happily to himself, Big Bird skipped on down the sidewalk, silently repeating the current letter of the day in his head – T-t-T-t. Odd encounters aside,he had a show to rehearse for, and if he didn't hurry, he'd be late.
Sonny strode on, completely unaware of his surroundings, save for the fact that the sun was shining brightly and in direct contrast to his dark mood. If he'd been a guest on the very show of the street he was now walking down, there would have been a black cloud residing directly over his head, shadowing his every step, complete with rolling thunder and mock, golden lightning bolts.
Grumbling to himself about the sun shining too brightly that it was giving him a headache, Sonny tripped over an empty, crumpled can which littered the otherwise pristine sidewalk. "What the he…"
"Hey you!" A distinctly unfriendly, gravelly voice accosted Sonny's ears and, seething, he turned around to confront whoever had dared to interrupt his rant.
Turning toward the source of the unpleasant voice, Sonny plastered a slick, cunning smile on his face which revealed his dimple. "Are you talking to me?"
"Yeah," the green furry creature growled, "I'm talkin' to you." He jabbed a fur-covered digit in his direction, scowling at the suited man.
Sonny was slightly taken aback. His smile wavered a little as he regarded the green being that appeared to be residing in a battered, rusty garbage can which had clearly seen better days. The green fur was unkempt and matted and there was a distinct scent of mold permeating the air around the garbage can. If Sonny's eyes could be trusted, and he was beginning to doubt that they could be, he would swear, though not to any living soul lest he be thought crazy, that there was a filthy brown cloud hovering about the slim green figure. He thought he could hear the buzzing of flies and very distantly, the trumpet of an angry elephant echoing in the depths of the garbage can.
"You come traipsing up the sidewalk, makin' all that racket, disturbin' the peace, how's a decent guy supposed to get some well-deserved rest around here?" The spinach-colored varmint griped, gesticulating wildly, glaring daggers at Sonny.
The phrase, If looks could kill, came to the forefront of his mind and Sonny stepped back, creating some distance between himself and the angry green monster. Swallowing the retort that had been on the tip of his tongue, he licked his lips and gestured open-handed in what he hoped was a placating manner. Sheesh, get a grip man, he chastised himself, it's just a freakin' bum.
"Look," he wasn't about to apologize to this freaky green street-urchin. His voice took on a mollifying tone, yet there was a distinct edge to it which did not go unnoticed by Oscar. "I was walking down the sidewalk, minding my own business, when I accidentally tripped over this piece of trash." He kicked the offending can to illustrate his point.
Oscar gave the man a scathing look, raising his mousy brown eyebrows a fraction of an inch as he eyed the slick young man up and down. Snorting, he crossed his arms over his chest and countered, "You mean you were traipsing along my street and none too quietly I might add, when you set off my alarm," he nodded toward the can, "waking me up from my late afternoon nap."
Sonny blinked, looking from the angry garbage dweller to the can in question in quick succession. It would have been comical, had the circumstances been happening to somebody else, Sonny mused. "Alarm?" He asked incredulously.
"Now I have to leave the sanctity of my home and reset the alarm," Oscar grouched, "and, thanks to you, I also have a grumpy worm to sooth back to sleep. Slimey!" He called down into the garbage can much to Sonny's mounting horror. "Here, you can apologize to him yourself."
Sonny watched with trepidation as an orange and yellow striped worm sidled up to the green menace, rubbing against its tangled fur. The worm looked at him and yawned sleepily. Sonny's mouth dropped open in shock.
"Well, what are you waiting for," Oscar demanded, "flies to set up a home in your gaping mouth?"
"Huh? What?" Sonny shook his head to clear it. Surely he, Mob boss of Port Charles, had not just been ordered to apologize to a brightly colored worm for disturbing its nap by a fuzzy green freak of nature.
"Stupid, idiotic newbies," Oscar mumbled to himself, "apologize to Slimey for disturbing his nap or you will not like the consequences," he ground out loud enough for the human to hear.
Various humiliating scenarios involving dirty, greasy fur being stuffed into his mouth and being crammed into a cramped garbage can by the diminutive creature and being left there for an unspecified amount of time crossed his mind and Sonny panicked. He hated small spaces. Couldn't understand who would want to dwell in such a small home.
Gulping and conceding the matter, he turned to the worm and said in his most conciliatory tone, "I'm sorry, Slimey, for disturbing your nap." Looking pointedly at the green brute who'd forced him to apologize, he continued, "And…?"
"Oscar," the denizen of the trashcan supplied, eyebrows raised dramatically.
"Oscar," Sonny nodded, "sorry for disturbing your rest and setting off your alarm. You can rest assured that it won't happen again."
"Good," Oscar grunted, "see to it that it doesn't."
And with that, Oscar pulled the trashcan lid over his head and closed it with a clang.
Sonny shook his head; looking around him he caught sight of a couple across the street. They were sitting on their porch, amused looks on their faces. Grinning at the couple in an attempt to mask his embarrassment, he waved half-heartedly before turning away from the garbage cans and resuming his walk down the street at a decidedly brisker pace.