ANOTHER VERY MERRY MUPPET FAMILY CHRISTMAS STORY
BY
BOB WRIGHT
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is by and large an independent story with no direct connection to my previous Muppet story, although a few items are continued from there.
This story is dedicated to the memory of Jerry Juhl, and others with the Muppets who have left us too soon.
The classic Muppets are registered trademarks of the Walt Disney Company. Sesame Street characters are trademarks of Sesame Workshop. Fraggle Rock characters and all other are registered trademarks of the Jim Henson Company. And now, as always, sit back and enjoy the story.
"Last call, everybody out for the night," the guard called to the few patrons still flowing out of the museum, "We'll open again after the holidays." He waved goodbye to several visitors before walking over to the wall and activating the building's security features for the evening.
"Are you sure this system's going to work, Ken?" asked the curator gruffly, having come up behind him.
"It was the best I could get, Mr. Van Grouch," the guard said, "When we get to display the fabulous Baseball Diamond for four weeks, we've got to take every precaution we can. Lady Holliday would never forgive us if anything happened to it."
He gestured toward the large display case in the center of the room containing the largest diamond in the world, temporarily on loan to them. "Yeah, well I would have preferred a gem a little more flawed for the collection," Van Grouch groused, "It would fit in with our overall theme of artistic trash. Oh well, nobody's perfect. At least it gives us more prestige, and you can never have enough of that."
He hefted his coat and top hat. "Anyway, I've got a dinner engagement at the Don't Drop Inn in an hour, so I'll see you after the holiday, Ken," he said, walking briskly toward the exit.
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Van Grouch," the guard called after him.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Van Grouch growled back. The guard shrugged and pulled the levers that activated the laser grid all around the room. He took one final check to make sure the Baseball Diamond was safe, then walked toward the service entrance. On his way out, he passed an exhibit of stuffed North American animals. Or at least they all looked stuffed….
No sooner had the guard vanished than the seemingly immobile bear at the edge of the displayed glanced around, and then raised a radio to his lips. "All clear," he said into it, "You can make your move."
Up on the roof, a short man in a shabby gray coat was holding the other radio. "Check, Chuck," he told the bear, "You and your buddies get those cameras and alarms down while we get inside." He turned around and called out, "Bo, it's show time."
The only response to this was a loud snoring sound coming from behind the air conditioner. The short man rolled his eyes in disgust. "BO!" he shouted, kicking his associate's legs.
"I DIDN'T DO IT YOUR HONOR!" the other man, a tall person in need of a shave, shrieked as he leaped to his feet. He glanced around in a panic. "Oh, sorry Larry," he told the short man, "Just having a bad…"
"Here, get the winch set up," Larry muttered, shoving several mechanical items into Bo's hands, "I'll get the skylight open."
He strode over to the skylight and glanced down. The Baseball Diamond stood right in the middle of the room, surrounded by the alarm lasers. Larry knew that walking right into the museum and trying to snatch the diamond would have been folly; that had been the reason he'd told his employers that he wanted extra assistance from the infamous Riverbottom Gang for this job, as he had worked together with them a couple of times before on small jobs. If all went well—and given the combined IQ of his associates, he had his doubts—he was now in for the biggest payday of his long career in crime.
He pulled a wire out of his pocket and proceeded to cross-wire the skylight's alarm system. Next he produced a glasscutter and slowly cut a circle in the center of the skylight. Once he was finished, he reached through the hole to undo the lock—only to have the entire skylight shatter when his sleeve brushed a small portion of it. Larry merely shrugged at this misfortune; at least the alarm was still off. "All right, give me the harness, Bo," he told his partner.
"Coming Larry," Bo stumbled over with the winch half-finished. Rolling his eyes, Larry hooked himself up to the winch's harness and stepped out to the edge. "All right, lower me down," he told Bo, "And make sure you…NOT THAT FAST!"
For Bo has set the winch on its fastest setting, which send Larry flying downward at close to forty miles an hour, a fall that was interrupted only when he hit the floor hard. "Oops," Bo groaned from the roof, "Sorry about that, Larry."
Muttering under his breath, Larry grabbed the cable, which Bo was now holding on to, and gave it a hard yank that sent Bo falling downward into the floor as well. Miraculously, neither of them activated the alarm lasers upon landing, but as they shook themselves off, they saw they were now hemmed in by them. "Hey guys!" Larry hissed toward the hall, "Mind getting in here and shutting these lasers down!?"
"Keep your shirt on, pal," the Riverbottom Gang's Snake slithered into the room underneath the lasers. Upon reaching the Baseball Diamond's display case, it pressed the Play button of the tape recorder it had in its coils and listened to the playback of the case's alarm combination being punched in. Nodding, it pressed in the combination on the keypad with its nose. "Case deactivated," it announced loudly as the clicking of the alarm going down could be heard.
"Why don't you say it a little louder?" Larry told him sarcastically, "We can pull down the window and you can shout it all the way to the precinct. I don't see these alarm beams down yet!" he shouted loudly himself into the hall.
"All right, all right, give us a second!" the Weasel peered around the corner, wire cutters in hand. He dropped out of sight again, and moments later the alarm beams disappeared. "Wait, wait, wait," Larry pulled an eager Bo back down to the floor, "We need the cameras down first."
And fortunately for their cause, the rest of the Riverbottom Gang now entered the room, the Lizard carrying the Pop-Eyed Catfish in a metal bucket, and set about cutting the cords to the security cameras around the gallery. "OK, now get up," Larry hauled Bo to his feet once they were clear, "Get me the decoy ready."
He opened the unlocked side of the case and stared in greedily at the Baseball Diamond. Now came the tough part. The case was rigged, even with the main alarms down, to go off if there was the slightest loss of pressure from the diamond. The glass fake diamond he'd procured would have to be put in place at exactly the right time. He felt Bo press it into his hand now. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands into the case on either side of the diamond. "Three," he counted down to himself, "Two, one…"
In a flash he pushed the Baseball Diamond off its pedestal and shoved the fake into place. To his delight the alarm did not sound. Chuckling in delight he held the diamond up. "The fabulous Baseball Diamond," he said proudly, "And it's all ours."
"Now don't forget we get an equal cut of the profits once we sell this off," the Lizard reminded him.
"We don't take well to being short-changed," Chuck added with a growl.
"Don't worry boys, I'd never dream of short-changing you," Larry reassured him, "Bo, get the wrapping ready for…Bo? Oh great!"
For Bo was now disappearing into one of the bathrooms, a wrench in hand. Larry ran after him to find his partner underneath the bathroom sink, tampering with the plumbing. "Bo, how many time have I gotta tell you, don't shut the water off!" he yelled at him.
"But Larry, we gotta leave our mark!" Bo protested, "After all, we're supposed to be the Dry Bandits. Let me get this…"
No sooner had his wrench touched the U-bend, however, than the alarm sounded all throughout the museum. "Honestly," Bo remarked out loud, sounding offended, "who, puts alarms on their plumbing?"
"Probably people who know somebody feels the need to shut it off!" Larry hauled his fellow Dry Bandit to his feet and slapped him for good measure. "Beat a path for the alley, boys!" he shouted at the Riverbottom Gang as he ran out of the bathroom, tossing the Baseball Diamond to Chuck, "Wrap that up like a present so nobody gets suspicious."
"Hey wait, I can't go anywhere!" protested the Pop-Eyed Catfish, who'd been left stranded in his bucket on top of a display case. Larry backpedaled and picked the fish up. "I don't know why we even bother bringing ya along like this when you don't….OOOFFF!" his rant was cut off as Bo, in his haste to escape, accidentally slammed open the service entrance door in his partner's face. Growling, Larry staggered toward his large open-backed truck parked in the alley behind the museum. He tossed the Pop-Eyed Catfish's bucket into the back, where the rest of the Riverbottom Gang was wrapping the Baseball Diamond in green present paper, leaped into the cab, and gunned the truck's engine. They pulled out into traffic, sending three cars driving by onto the sidewalk. A light snow was now falling. "I hope this doesn't slow up our trip to the Bitterman Building," the Snake remarked, staring up out the truck open rear at the sky, "She did say she and the Doc like us to be punctual."
"Ah, as long as she pays up afterwards, who cares what time we're there?" Larry scoffed, turning on the windshield wipers, "And even if it does snow, we've got loads of time to get there. No need to rush when we've got the diamond and no one can trace it to us."
"Unless something else goes wrong," the Weasel pointed out, sticking a tag on the wrapped up diamond inscribed JUMBO GOLF BALL, DO NOT OPEN TILL NEXT XMAS.
"Relax, bud," Bo laughed, "What else could go wrong now?"
