Skeeter's Story

By: TheBlueManatee

Chapter one: We're Smiling but We're Close to Tears.

Author's Note: Ok, quick copyright stuff here. I own NOTHING here. The Muppets belong to The Jim Henson Company (well, I guess Disney now...) and Captain Crunch I do not own. Wish I did though... That would be cool.
Copyright: Chapter title "For the First Time" by The Script

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Thirty years ago I had my heart ripped out. Thirty years ago I lost almost everyone I cared about. Thirty years ago I was abandoned. This is a story. MY story.

I wake up, like I usually do, around 9:30 in the morning, and trudge down the hallway. I yawn and take out Captain Crunch cereal and pour myself a bowl. I haven't had breakfast in forever, so I decided to treat myself on this lovely Tuesday morning. The last of the crumbs fall out. "Hmm, we're running out of it." I say out loud, "But why do I need to say that out loud?"

I add it to the small shopping list on the fridge. It's just me and my dad living in a three room extra small appartment. Its composed of the kitchen, one bedroom, and a living room. It's really cozy. I'm 19 years old-I know in the beginning I said 30 years ago, but don't worry; things will start making sense, you just have to keep reading-so I sleep in the bedroom and Dad sleeps on the couch.

I look over to the counter, and see a mug. I walk over to it, and it's half filled with coffee, a special treat Dad gives me about once a month. Coffee is too expensive and it's only a once-a-month thing, (I understand that) but when I do have it, I want to jump for joy. I smile.

My dad's job is not a good one; an assistent for a crazy scientist and his other mental assistent who's more like a guinea pig for the scientist. He has so much more potential, but it puts a roof over our heads and food in our bellies, so I don't complain.

I sigh. It seems like just last week Mom died and my twin brother took the family van and ran away. We were only fourteen, fourteen! He couldn't even drive, let alone live by himself!

I do everything I can to help my father-like take cold showers, and sell flowers to raise about two dollars a week. I wonder, does my brother know that his sister and his dad DIDN'T die? That we still exist?

I finish my breakfast and put the bowl in the sink. I walk past the mirror and glance at myself. My bright orange hair always sticks up in the morning. It's really thick and curly, and my dad jokes, "Your hair makes yarn jealous!" Dad's about as funny as Fozie Bear, but I love him anyway.

There's only one thing I love more then my father, and that's the Muppets.

Well, halfly because I AM one.

My name is Skeeter. My twin brother's name is Scooter. He ran off and is now performing with Kermit and the gang. Whatever.

Oh, who am I kidding! It's always been my dream to perform with Kermit and the gang! I always used to act in front the mirror and practice corny jokes. My father works for Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and Beaker, but only when they're not in the theater. He's like an assistent since Beaker is more like the Guinea Pig. Sometimes, though he'll work alone in the lab, and I'm left home alone even later seven o'clock.

I know some of the Muppets from Nanny's house (long story; don't wanna get in to that). I know Kermit and Fozzie and Gonzo and Piggy and Animal and Rowlf, but I dout they remember me.

I guess I look a lot like my brother, after all we ARE twins. I have the same face shape, skin color and glasses. We both have orange hair, except my hair is thicker curls down to my shoulder.

I slump back to my room and get changed from a lime green cami and long orange sweat pants pj's to jean shorts and a tee shirt, what I always wear. I barely have any cloths since my dad doesn't get a huge salary.

I should probably change into jeans, since its the middle of fall. The only jean pants I have are either ripped to shreads or have a dozen patches. I sigh again and collapse on my bed and think about the last words Scooter said to me...

"Skeeter? Skeeter are you awake?"

"What do you want, Nerd?"

"Mom died..."

"I know! Thanks for the Muppets News Flash, Mr. Newsman! Now go to bed." I rolled over. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Skeeter, I-I'm running away tomorrow, to become rich and famous!"

"Suuuuure..."

"I was wondering if you, um, might wanna come."

Traveling the world, huh? Becoming rich and famous... Making millions of people happy... But we could be homeless and starving. No way, I'd rather stay here, safe and sound.

I responded to Scooter shaking me to try to wake me up, "Scooter, no, you're crazy. Go to bed please?"

"But..."

"Scooter!" I growl, "Shut up, leave me alone, and go to sleep you freakin' nerd! You're CRAZY!"

The next morning, I put my glasses on and look at the pillow next to me. There's a note. I unfolded it, and says,

"Dear Skeeter and Dad,

I want to prove to you I have a talent. I'm NOT crazy. I'm off to see the world!

Love, Scooter.

There it was. My heart ripped out of my chest in simply twenty five words. If only I knew those cruel words would be the last thing I said to my brother. If only I could go back and change them. I fight back tears- something I've become very good at.

I know he hates me because I would always call him a nerd, and joke about how he always needs to be organized. No matter how much I tease him, I still love him. Sisters will always adore and admire their older brothers. Even if he's only older by five minutes.

Dad comes home exactly at 7:30 with a paycheck and great big ear-to-ear grin on his face. I turn off The Muppet Show on TV and race over to him. I have a small heart wrenching flashback.

Dad looks exactly like Scooter right now. Scooter is a spitten' image of his father, but Dad's big eyes on his glasses full of exitement and possiblites he looks exactly like Scooter. I miss my brother so much, and I'm fighting back tears.

His friendly singing voice snaps me back to reality: "Guess who got a raaaAAAAAaise!"

"NO WAY!" I exclaim; so that wackjob Honeydew does have a heart. Dr. Honeydew only pays my dad two dollars an hour. That's below minium wage! But- occording to Dad- human wage laws don't apply to Muppets. I think it's completly rasist but hey, I'm not in charge of that.

"Guess how much!" Dad excliams.

"Two?" I guess, ready to strangle him.

"Nah-uh, five!"

"OH MY GOSH!" This is great! Now his pay is... hold on I'm doing the math... um, about six hundred dollars a week! Hey, to all you money bags out there, this is great for us because his old pay was 182 dollars a week. Thank God our landlord is a huge muppet fan and gives us as much time as we need to pay the rent.

Dad shouts a bit too excited and scares the crap out of me, "Noooow we can get a CAR!"

I scream and jump up and down (Which got a few personal remarks from our downstairs neighbors) We've been saving a couple dollars a month for a new car.

Yeah, it took us a while since Scooter took 200$ before he ran off. Anger burned in my heart, but I quickly put it out. Hating him is not going to bring him back. It'll just make matters worse.

We go to car dealership by getting a ride on a bus. I know what you're thinking, "Did Skeeter and her dad REALLY fork over some money for a bus ride?" Ha ha, no. We hitched a ride on the back of the bus. We made a sign that said "Go to 'Mad Man Mooney's' for all your car needs!" Humans think it's some kind of promotional stunt, and the bus driver doesn't even notice.

We hop off at the dealership and a man in a cowboy hat greets us with a huge six foot tall hairy Muppet with yellow eyes trailing after him. Sweetums is the closest thing I'll ever get to meeting a real muppet.

Cowboy-hat-man goes on and on and on about useless cars that are way over our budgit. He keeps saying (Which annoys me to no end), "What you see on the price tag is what you pay!" and I don't think 14,999$ is in our price range.

A fly buzzes around us and I shoo it away behind me. It flies over to Sweetums. I hear a THUMP! and turn around. Boy, here's a good one! A used car for 45.50$! "We'll take that one!" I exclaim and Dad shakes cowboy-hat-man's hand. Dad fills out the paperwork and hands him a check. Cowboy-hat-man growls as we walk to our new beauty, "NOT again Sweetums!"

"Bu, but boss...!" he replies.

"I don't wanna hear it... You're fired!"

We drive home in it and Dad and I are going crazy! This is the turning point, Mom would be proud. It's a really nice car, too. It's huge (Can hold up to fifteen!) and black and has lots of mileage. Once we get home to our building, we have dinner (Chicken in some cheap sause, but it tasted good so I'm not complaining.)

I get changed into pj's, sketch a bit of my brother and me, read a book I've read at least one hundred times, and at 11:00 I go to bed. All day everyday is the same. If I went with Scooter, my days would be different. The biggest regret I have is not going with him, or that I didn't even try to stop him. I didn't do anything, except be a horrible brat to him. If only he knew how much I am sorry and how much I miss him. If only he knew.

I'm on those few seconds of the brink of sleep when you're slipping into slumber but still barely have a touch with reality, when I hear my dad's calm voice with a slight sadness in it, "Skeeter? Skeeter are you awake? If you are, can you please come here?" I trudge to the living room, put my glasses on and see my dad cutting a map into a small square. I half giggle, "Dad, what are you doing?"

"Cutting a map." he replies, very sad. His attitude made me stop smiling and embarrased that I laughed. "Why?" I answer, raising my eyebrows and trying to be a comfort. I sit on the couch with him. He responds after a while, "Because you're going to see and..." he gulps, "Stay with your brother."

"Wh, what?" I whisper and barely move my mouth. See and... stay with Scooter? "Yes," he responds, almost as softly as I was, "Because..."

"Because you can't afford me anymore?" I cry out in horror.

"No! No no no, Skeeter, let me finish." he replies, and I quickly shut up. "Skee," he sighs, "It's been way to many years since we've talked to your brother."

"Thirty years..."

"Yeah. Thirty years too many. That's why I think you should go. Family sticks together, no matter what. Your brother ran away, and you have to find him. Show him how much we miss him and that we still love him."

I think about that. Could my brother've really ran away, because he didn't feel loved? My dad says, "And I've looked online, the Muppets have a boarding house for other Muppets. I feel that they can give you a better family then I can."

"Dad! You're doing a perfect job of being a family for me!"

"Skeeter, I'm away for thirteen and a half hours every day. I know you don't eat breakfast nor lunch." I blush, and he continues "You're alone all day. That's not being a family."

"Dad..." I say, tearing up. Some days I would so mad at him for working all day and leaving me alone. I would get so sick of being alone! Now, I can finally have a family.

"Now..." Dad says, "Do you want to do this?"

"No, Dad. I won't know what to say.. what to do!" I shout, tears streaming down my cheeks. I wipe them away. I hate crying. I hate feeling weak. I hate feeling helpless.

"Skeeter, I respect you're opinion, but you'll be fine. I believe in you."

"No!"

"Skeeter..."

"He doesn't even remember us!" I blurt out, spilling my thoughts I've kept inside for years, "I bet he ran away because he hates me! I didn't mean it all those times I've called him a nerd! He probably loves it there because he's away from me!"

"SKEETER GROSSE." Dad shouts (Which got a few remarks from our downstairs neighbors. So I banged my foot against the floor and screamed "SHUT UP!") I put my head down when Dad gives me a look.

He sighs and says, "Skeeter, he doesn't hate you. I know that for a fact. And, Skee... You know you want to." As much as I hate to admit it, I do. I've longer to see my brother for years. Dad sighs and shuts his eyes, "Jim would've never approved of your brother leaving, if he knew what the circumstances were."

There's a moment of polite silence.

"And," Dad starts after a couple minutes, "You're 24 or 25..."

"I stopped getting older at 19, Dad."

Ok, I interupt this exciting story for a short Muppet biology lesson (Com'on, let me hear those, "Awwww's"). Many of you guys might be wondering- or you just don't give a crud- "Skeeter, what do you mean 'I stopped getting older?'" Well, my dear reader, muppets don't age. Or, they do before they decide to stop. I stopped at ninteen because it was my last year as a teenager, and I didn't want it to end.

Now, I stopped at ninteen; I can't say "Oh I want to twenty now." Nope, I'm stuck at ninteen for the rest of my life. Scooter stopped at sixteen I think, Kermit at twenty something, and Zoot from Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem is NOT fifty; he stopped at twenty according to his blog on The Muppet Show website (may I quote- "No, I'm not 50 years old-I'm 20-yes I'm Jewish, and I DON'T SMOKE HASH!")

Now, back to our feature program,

"Oh you're that young..." Dad says and rubs his chin, "Now, Skeeter." he exhales. "Do you want to do this? This is the last time I'll ask, promise." I pause.

Don't. You're better off without him, one side of me says-the practical side that's usually always right. The other side- where my heart is located- is saying go, go and find your brother.

I let my heart get the best of me.

"Yes." I nod and smile. Dad smiles, too. He says, "Ok Skeeter." he points to the map cut out, "Now. All the way down in this corner is where we are." He points to a dot on the bottom left corner, then traces a red line with his finger, "This red line that I'm tracing- See it?- is the highway you'll take. There's a motel for ten bucks a night plus breakfast right here, I don't know what the quality will be like, so make the best out of it. Then,"

His finger moves from red to black, "Then make a right in the fork in the road. Take this black road-You see it, right?- and soon you'll arrive in Muppetburg." He points his finger to the right top corner of the map cutout. "There should be signs all over the place saying where the Muppet Theater is." He exhales deeply and I do the same.

"You'll take our new car. I got it for you, you know."

I half smile, "Really?"

"Yeah, Skee." he continues, "You're going to leave tonight, and soon at that."

I bolt up, "What!" Is he mad! I kneel down next to him.

"Yes." Dad remains calm, "There'll be less traffic and you'll get there sooner." I nod, slowly.

"Skeeter?" I turn my head to look at Dad, "Bunsen has been paying me... well, a lot more then two bucks an hour. I mean, I did start out with that... but I've gotten a lot more raises then just this one today."

"Wh, what?" I say, my mind blown, "How much then?"

"Let's just say, he pays me 600 a week, for about two years now."

"Dad, you, you lied to me?"

"Yes, in the fact I didn't tell you about this... And no, Skee. I've been saving a lot of money for you, 'cus I love you. You know how I always ask if you want something from a fancy magazine for your birthday every spring? But, Skee, you refused." He laughs softly, "You were too concerned about me then you." He gently nudges my cheek wit his fist, "You're just like your mother. Ah, she was the most beautiful parrot I've ever seen."

I try to smile, but it comes out as a half smile/smirk.

This is a lot to take in. I'm leaving the only place I've ever lived in and finding my brother I haven't seen in 30 years-I stopped aging at 19, remember. And for a double whammy, my dad's getting paid a hell of a lot more then I thought he was.

I just noticed Dad never called Scooter by his name. Scooter was always just, "Your brother." or "My son." or sometimes just "Him."

Dad says after a while, "I packed your knapsack full of some food and money." I check in the green knapsack and see some doughnuts, a bag of trail mix, and microwaveable Ziti. I check in the wallet and see seventy bucks in tens, enough to spend the night at that crumy motel plus gas. Also, a pair of folded pj"s are in here, in the front pocket. I walk swiftly to my room, my feet, it seems, never touch the ground.

I get changed into a green cami with the yellow half jacket and jean pants with least amount of patches. I throw another blouse, a half shirt (it's half because some dog in appartment 201 thought it was some chew toy. But I hemmed it and it looks OK now) my jeans, shorts, a skirt, and some socks into the green knapsack I found at the dump. I gave the thing a bath, sprayed it with Fabreeze a couple of times- and I had a new knapsack! I saved my dad a couple bucks, so I was happy. I reach into my closet and get slippers, sandels, and a pair of beat up boots-also from the dump- and toss them into the bag.

That's all the clothes I own. I sold most of my old clothes to give us a couple of dollars a while ago. I close my empty closet door shut. I put my head against the cool wood.

I pick my head up after what seemed like hours and walk outside my room. I turn around, look at the tiny room one last time, and flick the lightswitch off.

I swallow and say to Dad, "I'm wide awake, Dad."

"Good," He starts, "You need to be." A single tear runs down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away. I embrace Dad and never want to let him go. I inhale, trying not to loose his smell. Rain, spring, and a hint of lab chemicals. I remember that.

He finally lets go and I reluctently do the same. He shakes my hand and I walk out the door. "Wait!" I whip my head around and see him open the safe on the wall and whip out a stack of money, "Get something nice for your brother." I nod, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, Skeeter. My daughter." I smile. I know now that if I never see my father again, I know my last words were love, not hate. I walk out the door.

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Author's Note: Alright! Long chapter here... Promise the next one will be shorter. (I dout anyone will read this though...) Please Review! Merci!