AUTHOR'S NOTE: I got this idea from (believe it or not) the McDonald's Fraggle Rock Happy Meal toys from 1988. If you're not familiar with these, look them up. I might use elements from the animated version of "Fraggle Rock," as I think I can see this fitting that version more than the live action version (yes, I like the animated version, it's not all *that* bad). The use of songs will also be included in this story, and the one that appears here in chapter 1 is from the "Fraggle Rock" episode "Wembley and the Great Race." All characters in this story belong to Jim Henson (my sister will be proud of me! This is the first time I'm writing a story that has absolutely none of my own characters in it!)
The Fraggle Horn sounded. Every last Fraggle in the Rock gathered in the Great Hall for the news. The World's Oldest Fraggle was standing in his regular place, waiting for everyone to arrive. Once everyone was there, the World's Oldest Fraggle got everyone's attention.
"Fellow Fraggles," he said, "as you all know, it is almost time for one of our yearly events. It's time for . . . . the annual Fraggle Five Hundred!"
Almost every single Fraggle in the rock cheered happily at the news. The Fraggle 500 was one of the most exciting races held in Fraggle Rock. It was the equivalent of a Silly Creature soap box derby, or a go-cart race. The racers built cars out of vegetables from the Gorgs' garden, and raced along a track. Every Fraggle in the rock loved it, whether they were participating in the race, or just watching it from the sidelines. The only Fraggle who wasn't looking forward to the event was Boober.
"Oh no, not again!" he moaned. "I hate the Fraggle Five Hundred!"
"Why do you hate it, Boober?" Wembley asked. "It's so exciting, watching the cars go by Vroooom!"
"It's also dangerous!" Boober shouted. "You have to go to the Gorgs' garden to get the vegetables to build your cars, and then you have Fraggles driving them at high speeds, taking hairpin turns . . . . don't you realize that going that fast could result in severe damage? Not to mention whiplash!"
"Oh, come on, Boober," Gobo said. "You don't have to enter, you know."
"I know, but I still worry about it," Boober said.
Gobo sighed and rolled his eyes, and then he ran toward the sign-up area. Wembley followed him.
"You're the best racer in the Fraggle Five Hundred, Gobo!" he shouted. "How many times have you won so far?"
"Three years in a row," Gobo said, proudly.
"What kind of car are you going to race this year?"
"Let's see . . . ." Gobo said, thoughtfully. "I drove a rutabaga last year, didn't I? I'm not sure what I'm going to drive this year."
"Well, I'm gonna drive a radish this year!" Red shouted, jumping in line. "I love the Fraggle Five Hundred! I've won it twice already!"
"I'm going to make my car out of an eggplant again," Mokey said. "I find that eggplants fit my needs quite nicely."
"Eggplants also don't go very fast, Mokey," Red said. "You always come in second to last. Don't you ever want to win the Fraggle Five Hundred?"
"Oh no, Red!" Mokey shouted. "I enjoy watching the race from behind. It's more exciting that way."
"Whatever you say, Mokey," Red said, giving her best friend a strange look.
"Gee, I wish I could enter the Fraggle Five Hundred," Wembley sighed. "But I can't, because everybody says I'm too young."
"Well, Wembley," Gobo said, "you know this year is actually very special."
"It is?" Wembley asked.
"Yeah!" Gobo shouted. "You know how every year you always say you wish you could enter the Fraggle Five Hundred, and every year everyone tells you you're too young to enter?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, this year, you're now finally old enough to enter the Fraggle Five Hundred!"
"Really?"
"Oh no," Boober groaned. "Gobo, you can't really mean that!"
"It's true, Boober," Red said. "Wembley meets the age requirement this year."
"Oh, our little Wembley is really growing up," Mokey sighed.
"Oh boy!" Wembley shouted, and he began jumping up and down, excitedly. "I finally get to enter the Fraggle Five Hundred! Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!"
"So what are you going to make your car out of, Wembley?" Red asked.
"Oh gosh," Wembley said. "I don't know. Maybe a turnip. Or maybe a zucchini. Or maybe a beet, or maybe, or maybe . . . ."
Suddenly, steam flew out of Wembley's ears (complete with train whistle sound effect). His body stiffened, he let out a scream, and then fainted. The other Fraggles were used to this. Thankfully, the bout of unconsciousness didn't last long.
"I knew he was going to have a wembling fit over this," Gobo sighed, as he helped his best friend to his feet.
"Gee, I don't know what I should make my car out of," Wembley said.
"Don't worry about it, Wembley," Gobo said. "I'll help you."
"Really, Gobo?" Wembley asked. "But don't you have your own car to build for the race?"
"Yeah, but there's nothing in the rules that say you can't help out a buddy," Gobo said. "This is the very first time you're going to race in the Fraggle Five Hundred, Wembley, and I want to make sure you have an unforgettable time!"
"Gee, that's real nice of you, Gobo."
"Hey, you know I'd do anything for my best friend!"
Gobo: Pick any song you please
Click we're in harmony
Stick to me and you'll see
What a kick it is to be
Both: Friends, friends, friends
'Til the end
Wembley: You travel where you will
I'll tag along and we'll
See most of everywhere
Everyone will know that we're
Both: Friends, Friends, Friends
'Til the end
Sometimes when we feel a little bored
We play a little game but we don't keep score
Friendship is its own reward
Fun just to play the game
Win lose it's all the same
Gobo: Who cares who really comes in first?
Wembley: Let's spell it out!
F
Gobo: Someone asks of me
Wembley: R
Gobo: You and me a team
Wembley: I
Gobo: Say we'll always be
Both: Friends 'til the
E-N-D
Friends, friends, friends
'Til the end
'Til the end
'Til the end
'Til the end
Gobo and Wembley laughed, and then they both signed up for the race. Once both their names were on the list, Marlon Fraggle approached it.
"Little Wembley, you're not really signing up for the Fraggle Five Hundred, are you?" he asked, incredulously. "It's much too dangerous for a little Fraggle like you! You're much too young!"
"Gobo said I was old enough this year," Wembley said.
"Oh?" Marlon asked. Then he did some mental calculations. "Hmmm . . . . hmmm . . . . uh huh. Yes, I suppose you are old enough. I forgot."
"You gonna sign up again this year, Marlon?" Gobo asked.
"Of course I am!" Marlon shouted. "And I'm going to come in first this year, and beat the hair off your baloobious, too, Gobo!"
"Now, Marlon," Mokey said, "it's good to be confident, but you don't want to be too confident."
"Especially since you come in last every year," Red said. "Remember last year?"
"Yeah," Gobo said. "He made his car out of a head of lettuce, and as soon as he picked up enough speed, the leaves began flying off of it until there was nothing left."
"Or the year before that when he made his car out of a pea pod," Mokey said. "He went so fast, the pod opened, and he went off course after running over the peas when they fell out."
"Or the year before that when he made his car out of a potato," Red said. "It was so heavy, he crashed it into the wall the minute he took the first turn, because he took it too fast."
"Or the year before that when he made his car out of a parsnip," Wembley said. "It was so long, he didn't have enough room to make the first turn."
"Or the year before that when he made his car out of an onion," Boober said. "There wasn't a dry eye in the rock after that race!"
"Yeah, it took nearly the entire year to air out the Great Hall," Red said.
"Or the year before that when he made his car out of a broccoli stem, and . . . ." Wembley started.
"I GET THE POINT!" Marlon shouted at the top of his lungs. "Just wait until this year! I'll show all you Fraggles!"
"Aww, it's okay, Marlon," Gobo said, patting the squinty-eyed Fraggle on the shoulder. "We're just teasing you."
"Besides, it's not as if your race car goes to waste," Boober said. "The potato car made for some delicious mashed potatoes. I have to say, there is one thing I do love about the Fraggle Five Hundred."
"What's that, Boober?" Mokey asked.
"I get to make the best victory casserole out of what you guys don't use to build your cars," Boober said. "And, I have plenty of ingredients left over for other recipes after the race is over."
"Well, come on, everybody," Gobo said. "Let's head up to the Gorgs' garden and pick out our vegetables to build for our cars, eh?"
The Fraggles that were entered in the race cheered, and followed Gobo to the Gorgs' garden. Marlon grumbled as he followed.
"I'll show them," he said. "I'll go and win the Fraggle Five Hundred! Just wait and see!"