The fangs looked as long as he was tall. Gulping reflexively, the Muppet Newsman stared up in awe at the reconstructed skeleton of the prehistoric terror, Muppetasaurus Tex. The dark-stained fossil recently unearthed in the oilfields of west Texas had been pieced together, identified (after much scientific debate) as one of the Jurassic ancestors of modern Muppet monsters, and shipped carefully to New York for this special exhibit. Newsie had of course been thrilled to be the very first reporter to be allowed access to the exhibit before it opened this coming weekend to the general public; it was the only time he'd ever been first for something this big. However, the excitement and pride and worry that touched off in him was offset at this moment by the sheer anxiety shivering in his foam, just staring up at the monstrous bones. The curators had mounted the skeleton in what may have been a typical pose for it when alive: crouched on all fours, gigantic claws splayed, tail arched up and the heavy spikes of the tail-tip gleaming, its long neck raised and its head turned. It made Newsie think of a large cat interrupted at its dinner, swishing its tail as it looked around to see what the problem was, despite the fact that its bony features seemed more reptilian than feline. Its jaws were slightly open, and he shuddered at the mental image of gore dripping from those terrible teeth. He certainly would not have disturbed its feeding for anything!
The renewed attention bestowed on the Muppets had made the Museum board decide to collect the various specimens of prehistoric and proto-Muppet species that existed around the country and bring them all together, here on the third floor of the American Museum of Natural History, for this special exhibit. Newsie turned away from the Muppasaur, nervous enough about turning his back to it to dart glances over his shoulder repeatedly, to see Museum workers on ladders affixing a banner to the entryway of this gallery. FELT AND BONES: MUPPET MILLENNIA, the banner proclaimed. Inspired, Newsie waved at Rhonda the rat as she tentatively crept around the cordoned-off base of another fossil Muppasaur. "Hey! We should do the stand-up right here!" he called to her.
The blonde-haired rat scurried a wide route around the M. Tex and stood beside Newsie, staring critically at the banner while the workers struggled to raise it. Some marketing genius had decided it ought to be made from a long, wide sheet of bright green felt, and it wasn't cooperating too well for the hangers. "What, with the banner? Booorrr-ing. C'mon, let's at least get a teaser shot of Fangy back there!"
The Newsman glanced back at the Muppasaur, which towered head and neck over the other fossils in the exhibit. "We can't. The directors specifically forbade any shots of it until the exhibit opens."
Rhonda sighed. "What if we start with the stupid sign, then you walk this way and we pan with you, and you finish right at the foot of it? They'd let us show a foot, I bet! Talk about a teaser! Claws like that, they'll have every kid under twelve beating the doors down Saturday morning!"
Newsie considered it, trying to think objectively, although the very idea of standing anywhere near those vicious-looking toes (or were they fingers?) unnerved him. "Oh, come on," Rhonda griped, paws on her hips as she glared up at him, "What are they gonna do, whine about it when it gets them better publicity on the six o'clock news? I doubt it!"
The Newsman nodded. As usual, the rat had a good point. Annoying though she could be, he had to admit, her instincts for setting up a story were as sharp as her teeth. "All right. Where's Tony?" he asked, looking around for their cameraman.
Rhonda blew out an exasperated breath. "I keep telling you, his name's Tommy! Sheesh! You really have had way too many things dropped on your head…"
"Sorry," Newsie grumbled, fishing out the notes he'd made in his small spiral notebook for the story. "I keep confusing him with an old roommate…"
A large, three-toed sloth Muppet ambled over, his digital videocamera perched somehow upon one rounded shoulder. "I'm here," he yawned. "What're we shooting?" Then he slowly noticed the M. Tex towering behind him. "Like, wow, dude…that's a really big jungle gym. Why's it in the Museum?"
"Point over here, at Pretty in Plaid, Tommy, okay?" Rhonda snapped, and then tugged on Newsie's elbow to get him lined up in front of the workers still struggling with the banner for the opening shot. The Newsman scowled at her, though he was by now used to her frequent demeaning sobriquets. "I swear, it's always 4:20 to him… Okay. That's good. Start there." She squeaked loudly at the workers, "Hey guys, can ya hold it up a little so we can actually read it, huh? – Yeah. That's good. Now hold it, and smile for the news! Tommy? Roll it in four, three, two…"
The Newsman straightened up a bit, clearing his throat, looking right into the lens as the camerasloth began taping. "This is your Muppet Newsman with a special report! This Saturday, a new exhibit opens at the American Museum of Natural History which purports to shed some light on an historically murky subject: Muppet evolution." He looked over his shoulder once, gesturing with the hand holding his notes at the workers on ladders, both straining to hold their smiles and the ends of the heavy banner. "Which came first, the felt or the bones? Well, science is still debating that question; it is an issue which has been hotly debated for decades, after the first few prehistoric Muppet creatures were dragged from the tar pits at the original site of Madison Square Gardens here in Manhattan!" Behind him as he spoke, the workmen groaned quietly. One of them finally tumbled off his ladder with a crash, and the banner flopped down over him. Irritated at the noise, Newsie glanced at Rhonda, about to ask for another take, but his producer shook her tiny head, gesturing for him to continue. Thrown off a bit, Newsie checked his notes.
"Er…ahem. The world of archaeology and Muppetology was further thrown off balance just last year, with the discovery of a group of mummies in a deep cave in Indonesia. The mummies were proven to indeed belong to a previously unknown subgroup, Muppeti quidquid, and arguments over where exactly they fall in the line of Muppet evolution are still fiercely raging!" He walked slowly as he delivered the last sentence, the camera tracking him, until he stood before a clear case with one of the mummies laying inside. The weird burial goods beside the mummy puzzled him: a cup with two handles, a pair of staring eyeballs made of jade and ivory, and a fragile-looking piece of parchment flattened in protective plastic, presumably some ceremonial text fragment. He had interviews scheduled with a couple of scientists tomorrow; no doubt they'd explain the items to him. However, the mummy itself really, deeply creeped him out, and Newsie only glanced at it before moving on. The wrinkled gray felt over the shrunken foam body was at once horrific and oddly familiar, an unpleasant combination; Newsie didn't even want to look at it again. Disturbed, he checked his notes once more. He knew Rhonda hated it when he had to rely on them, but honestly, he was no science geek…and that thing in the case was genuinely freakish. Even if it was a Muppet. A dead, mummified Muppet… With a shudder, the Newsman tried to regain some sense of professionalism.
"Muppets and Muppet artifacts will all be featured, most of them for the first time ever, anywhere, in this amazing exhibit, which spans the millennia going back to the age of the Muppasaurs! Curator Dr Phil Van Neuter promises something to teach and tantalize every age group, from children to the elderly, from Muppets to mice. We'll have more about this astounding new collection in tomorrow's special report! For now, from the Museum, I'm the Newsman, for KRAK." His long stroll ended up right next to the back foot of the M. Tex, and he forced himself to stay still and direct his close at the camera, even though every instinct in his body urged him to flee, so near to those horrendous claws. Rhonda gestured for a cut, and Newsie immediately stepped away from the fossil, looking up at it. Its head was still turned up and over its back, not down at the smaller, much more human-looking Muppet in a blue-and-green plaid check sports coat.
"At least you waited 'til the cut to freak out," Rhonda complained at him, already making the sloth turn the camera viewscreen down so she could watch the playback. "It ain't gonna bite you, Newsie!"
"Never trust a monster," he snapped back at her, adjusting his tie and his dignity a bit.
"Yeah, yeah. Did you happen to miss the fact that it's dead?" she squeaked back.
"Are you sure that makes a difference?" Newsie grumbled, walking over to see the footage for himself. "I don't suppose you ever noticed that weird creature hanging around the Muppet Theatre, that blue dragon thing…"
"Who, Uncle Deadly? He's cool. At least he knows how to deliver a performance in a cool and collected fashion!"
The Newsman gave her a deep scowl. Ignoring him, Rhonda patted the sloth's arm. "Yeah, yeah, that's great, Tommy. Let's wrap it up. I gotta dinner date with a hedgehog on Wall Street."
Momentarily taken aback, Newsie stared at her as the rat checked her delicate diamond-studded watch, pulled a hairbrush from her purse, and quickly teased her perm. "You…you're dating a hedgehog?" he asked.
"So? You're dating a human," the rat pointed out.
Newsie shook his head. "No, I wasn't judging! I'm just…well…you? With something that timid?" Relationships continued to mystify the Newsman, despite recent success in his own love life; he'd been living with Gina for a few months now, but her continued interest in him amazed the still-shy Muppet.
Rhonda shrugged. "It was an online-dating match. We'll see how it goes. He's a broker in a trading firm downtown, though, so I'm letting him pay for dinner!"
"A stockbroker?" Newsie tried to picture a suit overlaid on all those little prickles. "Er…what does he specialize in?"
"Hedge funds, what else?"
Newsie stared at her, then silently shook his head. Rhonda didn't notice, checking her own appearance briskly in a compact mirror and dabbing some rouge on her cheeks before striding confidently toward the exit. "Tommy, make sure that gets there before the broadcast starts, willya? See you both tomorrow. Hey Golden Boy, don't forget to wear the light blue shirt, okay? It'll stand out better against all the beige around here without being so darned loud! 'Night!"
Was she suggesting his coat was too garish for the screen? Irritated, Newsie yelled after her, "Well, don't you forget to brief the interviewees on our time format! I don't want another grandstanding academic taking up my whole report!" He was still annoyed about the tech forum he'd covered last month, in which a Muppet competitor to Gates and Jobs had taken what was supposed to be a two-minute comment segment about Muppet-owned small computer businesses and turned it into a soapbox for himself. They'd wound up with a largely unusable half-hour of the strange pale man with wires coming out of his body ranting about no one ever appreciating virtual spaghetti, the Dangermouse cartoon, or androids who worked their shiny metal butts off without adequate recognition of their many talents.
As Tony the sloth – no, wait, Tommy – slouched off after Rhonda, presumably heading for the exit and the KRAK van parked outside, Newsie sighed. Although he'd ridden over from the station with the camerasloth, it would probably be faster if he simply went out to the subway stop and caught the next train. He remembered he was supposed to be bringing dinner home, as Gina had been working all afternoon at the Sosilly Theatre, hanging lights in preparation for a charity show this weekend to benefit a city summer program for children in poor neighborhoods. The show would feature songs, dance numbers, a comedian, a stage magician, and a local troupe of acrobats. Gina had offered to light it all, and she and her techie friends had spent the last two days putting together the final plans for scenery and lighting. A pro costumer had volunteered stock costumes for the song and dance numbers, and the other performers would bring their own paraphernalia along. Newsie was impressed with how quickly the show had come together, and was looking forward to attending it with Gina on Friday night. It had been a slow news week, but that didn't bother him as much as it used to; he had settled back into his News Flash job at the rebuilt Muppet Theatre fairly easily, and was able to spend as much time with his new love as her schedule permitted. Life, in short, was actually enjoyable.
Walking down the broad flight of stairs, the Newsman's attention immediately darted to the tiny green creature hopping up the steps. Robin the Frog recognized the journalist and broke into a big green smile. "Hi there, Newsman! Did you get to see the Muppasaurs? Are they really big? Are they scary? How many of them are there? Did you touch any of them? Will they come alive after sunset?"
Unable to keep from smiling back, Newsie crouched and held out his hands for the tiny peeper to hop into, and raised him gently up to talk with him. "Hi, Robin. Yes, I saw them. Yes, they're pretty big. Er…no, they're not scary, not so much," he lied. "And you know that was just a movie, right? The Museum doesn't actually come to life when everyone leaves." He looked around, puzzled. "Where's your uncle?"
"Oh, I'm here with my friend Ribsy," Robin told him, flipping himself around to wave at another tiny amphibian hopping slowly up the marble steps, followed closely by a worried-seeming, overweight toad. "Hey Ribsy! Look who's here! Newsie says the Muppasaurs are HUGE!"
"Cooooool!" the tiny toad croaked in reply.
"Robin? Robin, get back here! Your aunt will kill me if anything happens to you…" the older toad groaned, levering himself up one more step before stopping, panting.
"Oh it's okay, Mr Ribbot! He works for my Uncle Kermit!" Robin chirped happily, then did another about-face to pepper Newsie with more questions. "So is it true the Muppasaurus Tex is in it? Is it bigger than you? Does it have really big teeth like a monster? Is it a monster or a lizard? Ribsy thinks it's a lizard, but I think it's a monster! Can I see it? Can you let us in? Will you tell?"
"Wait, wait, Robin!" Newsie said gruffly, trying to stem the endless flow of chatter. The toads had caught up and were sitting at his feet, Mr Ribbot giving him a suspicious stare, and little Ribsy bouncing slightly on his flippers, too eager for the answers to wait; as soon as Robin fell silent a moment, the junior toad jumped in.
"Everyone knows Muppasaurus Tex is the largest known Muppet lizard fossil! Does it have a long tail? Did they show off its teeth? How big are the claws? Did it weigh five tons or six? Could it eat a Muppet if it were alive today? Could it eat you? You're pretty tall for a Muppet, aren't you?"
The boys' questions were not helping the Newsman's anxiety about the deadly-looking fossil in the least. "Er…"
"You work for Kermit the Frog? Don't you work for one of those news shows? Do you often talk to small boys in public places?" Mr Ribbot glumphed, waddling around Newsie's saddle shoes, giving them disdainful looks.
Newsie gently set Robin down, and held up his hands, feeling a bit defensive. "Sir, yes, I do happen to work part-time for Mr the Frog, and yes, I also am a reporter for KRAK, and no, I do not often talk to small boys in public – or anyone else for that matter, unless I'm in pursuit of a news story!" He pushed his glasses up his nose and matched the toad's glare.
"So can we go in? Can we go in?" Robin asked, hopping in place.
"Uhm…I believe the exhibit is not officially open to the public yet, Robin. I don't have the authority to let you in. I'm sorry," Newsie said to the boy, trying to be gentle.
Ribsy nudged his friend. "Told you."
"You boys are coming on Saturday with the whole Frog Scout troop, anyway," Mr Ribbot said. "Now come along! Let's go look at the Amphibians and Reptiles wing." Ponderously, the large toad half-hopped, half-waddled past the curtained-off gallery where the Muppet exhibit stood awaiting its grand opening, towards the nearby permanent exhibit for crawling, slithering things.
"Aww…okay," Robin sighed. He waved goodbye to the Newsman, and Newsie gave him a small wave back. Ribsy the little toad, however, sniffed contemptuously as he followed his friend.
"Tool of the establishment," the toadlet muttered, eyeing the Newsman in much the same manner as his father had. "Figures."
Taken aback, then insulted, Newsie glowered after the little group a moment. Called a name by a child! A TOAD child! Don't parents teach their kids manners anymore? Irritated, he started to walk off, pulling out his handkerchief to clean his glasses. Robin's eager queries had managed to get a little bit of froggie spit on them. He knew it wasn't intentional, and cleaned off the thick lenses without complaint. Tucking the hankie away, he felt a rustling from his inside coat pocket. Curious, he tugged out the brochure the curator had given him, a special program with many photos detailing the new exhibit. Suddenly realizing what a treasure it might be to a young boy, he called out, "Robin! Wait!" and hurried after the frog.
A few minutes later, pleased at the grateful look he'd been given by his boss' nephew for the advance peek (on paper, at least), Newsie stepped out into late-August heat and walked briskly past the Planetarium toward the subway entrance. As a Muppet, of course, he didn't sweat, and it would be unseemly to pant openly, so there was little he could do about the sweltering temperature. Underground proved much cooler, and by the time he disembarked at 50th Street he felt fortified for the walk of a few blocks to Gina's apartment on the edge of the Theater District, stopping once along the way at Kubla Khan's House of Stir-Fry and Mangoes (formerly, "and Bananas," before this summer's banana-boat tarantula health scare) to order takeout. He wasn't inside the apartment for five minutes before Gina arrived home.
"Hi, cutie," she said, bending over to give Newsie a kiss. He met her lips happily, and quickly gestured at the little white cartons piled on the dining room table.
"Hi! I brought you Orange Mango Shrimp, and Mango Hunan…I couldn't decide which you might like better," he offered.
"Thoughtful man," she murmured, stroking his hair back. He beamed at her, blushing. "It all sounds good…but I want to wash this scrum off first." She pushed back her own long hair from her forehead, and Newsie saw the dark spots on her skin. "I got into a fight with an older light, and it tried to toss back the WD-40 I was using on it."
"Are – are you all right?" Newsie asked, examining the stains.
Gina laughed. "Yeah – I won. But I'd love to get it off me now." She took a few steps down the hall, then looked over her shoulder at him with a suggestive smile. "Are you coming?"
"Er…"
He was repeatedly amazed at how she turned the simple chores of living into seductive situations. He didn't actually need a shower – he never left the apartment before ascertaining he was as clean and neat as possible – but standing under the warm water with this tall, shapely young woman always thrilled him, always caused a pink flush to steal over his entire person as he dared glances at her unclothed form. Gina took every occasion to tease him mercilessly, although if the truth had to be told, he didn't mind that as much as he pretended to, for decency's sake… This time, she managed to drop the soap no less than three times, bending over to retrieve it various ways so that he couldn't help but view her…uhm…features…from different angles, all provocative. Sometimes, she only wanted to wash, and to taunt him a little; tonight she was in no hurry, and she leaned against the tiled wall of the tub enclosure, murmuring his praises, her fingers twined in his soaked hair.
Things became even more involved after that, and it was quite some time before they returned to the now-cold food.
As Gina took charge of warming it all back up, Newsie finished setting the table, lighting an assortment of candles of various shapes and heights, all colored a relaxing green, and arranging them around a small tropical bonsai in its long pot on the table. Gina had suggested he take up the botanical hobby as a way to calm his nerves after stressful news days (or especially painful Muppet News Flashes), and he'd found he rather enjoyed the meticulousness of it. This one, a berry bush of some kind, he'd been carefully pruning and shaping for only a month, but already he could appreciate his efforts with it, as it slowly grew into a windswept-seeming form. Gina smiled at him, bringing the steaming food to the table. "Looking good," she commented.
Newsie shot her a smile. "Do you think so? I think I'm getting the hang of it."
"Oh, well, sure; the plant's cute too," she returned, and he chuckled and pulled her down for a kiss.
Newsie sighed happily, looking around the room a moment as Gina slid into her seat next to him. The apartment felt comfortably cool; the candles provided just the right amount of soft light in the otherwise darkening room, with sunset's last pink rays painting the buildings outside the living room windows; the tiny black-and-electric-blue fish schooled in their aquarium, lending a little movement to the peaceful scene. He turned back to his Gypsy beloved, admiring for the thousandth time her light grey eyes and silky auburn tresses, her small straight nose and well-defined cheeks. He'd never understand why she found him attractive, but her own charms were evident to all the world, he thought, and he could only thank whatever fates had smiled on him.
Gina gave him a quizzical look. "Do I have something on my nose? I haven't even dug into the mango sauce yet."
Newsie blushed. "Uh…no. Sorry. I was just…just…"
She grinned. "Admiring the view?"
He cleared his throat, unable to come up with a good response, and Gina giggled. "Fine by me. Same here." He smiled, and she reached over to stroke his long cheek. "You are so cute in t-shirts. I wish you'd go casual more often."
"Er…um. Well. I really couldn't, anywhere else," he stammered, glancing down at the Solid Foam World Tour t-shirt he'd picked from her dresser drawer-ful of strange shirts to wear after the shower. All he had on at the moment was that and a new pair of boxers, dark blue with tiny yellow lightning bolts printed all over, which Gina had bought for him. Gina had opted for even less, and he found it hard to focus on the food while seeing quite a bit of her around the pink tank top and matching short-shorts she'd decided to wear to the table. He reflected that her idea of pajamas and his were miles apart…not that this was a bad thing.
She giggled again, passing him a carton of rice, and started a more neutral conversation. "So, how'd the report on the exhibit go? Does it look cool?"
Newsie told her all about the Muppet natural history displays, how large and intimidating the Muppasaurs were, how odd the mummy appeared, how he'd run into Robin after the first report filming wrapped tonight. "I can't wait to see it all!" Gina said, grinning at him. "You did score free passes, right?"
"They're already on your desk," he replied, and she leaned over to kiss his nose.
"Fantastic! A charity revue Friday night, and a cool exhibit on Saturday! Sounds like a great weekend, Newsie." He nodded, pleased.
"What about your show? Does everyone seem ready?"
"Ohhh…yeah, basically, except for that stage magician. I haven't seen the guy yet at all, though Paul keeps saying not to worry." She grimaced. "I'm supposed to be tech director as well as lighting designer and master electrician for this thing, and I don't have a clue what the magic guy wants for his act yet, and we open in two nights! You'd think a performer would want to make sure he's at least lit well."
They continued to eat and talk, interested in one another's work, for a while until both admitted to being full and a little sleepy. Gina would have to leave early in the morning for an all-day tech run-through; Newsie already had her favorite iced scones in the pantry to warm up for breakfast, and planned to be up before her in order to have coffee ready, though he himself wasn't needed anywhere else until the afternoon. Comfortably they snuggled together on the sofa, watching a detective show rerun, and when that was over, both prepared for bed in an easy routine they'd settled into months ago. Gina lit a stick of the amber-spice incense she preferred; Newsie had at first found it too exotic, disconcerting and bohemian. Now he was accustomed to the rich Arabian perfume, and inhaled it deeply as he pulled the light coverlet up. Sated in more ways than one, both woman and Muppet were content merely to hold each other tonight. Gina liked to fall asleep holding Newsie, her arm over him as she curled her body around his shorter form, and he was all too happy to relax into her, his nose half-buried in his pillow, his hand over hers on his stomach, a smile lingering on his face as they both drifted into secure slumber.
His watch alarm awoke him at six, and Newsie gently pulled free of Gina's arms, slipping out of bed and padding to the kitchen while she continued to sleep. By now he was expert with the French coffee press, and peered groggily at the selection of beans in the freezer door, trying to guess which flavor his love might best like today. Picking the "cinnamon jolt" one finally, he had just measured the right amount into the grinder when he heard a noise in the living room. Grinning to himself – he hadn't told her he was fixing breakfast – he ground up the whole, rich beans in a few loud pulses of the machine, then tapped the rough granules into the press and started some water in the kettle. Stepping out into the dining room, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, he looked up and stopped in his tracks upon sight of the figure in the next room.
A tall, bone-gaunt, black-robed being seemed to suck all the morning sunlight out of the room. It held a scythe taller than it at rest in one skeletal hand. The Newsman felt his blood simply stop, his heart stuttering, ringing rising in his ears. "YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!" the figure intoned, pointing a bony finger at the Newsman, its voice echoing like a cathedral bell.
"Ack!" Newsie choked, his legs simply failing. He dropped to his knees, staring up at the horrible spectre suddenly turning his paradise into a charnel house.
Death sighed, shaking its hood. "OH, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. I'M NOT PICKING UP, I'M DROPPING OFF!" From behind the voluminous, tattered robes stepped a prim, grey, sharp-nosed, elderly Muppet woman. She frowned through thick spectacles at the Newsman, and set her hands firmly upon the straight hips of her shapeless housedress.
"Aloysius Ambrosius!" she snapped in a crackly voice. "Young man, I am deeply disappointed in you!"
Newsie's felt turned from golden-yellow to pale beige all at once. With a soft moan, he slumped to the carpet, unconscious.
The late Mrs Crimp turned to Death, jutting her large chin out. "Now why do you have to do that? Look at that! You just scared my lily-livered son to death!"
Death rolled his red pinpricks of eyes in their black sockets.