CHAPTER THREE. In which the Newsman is mercilessly teased but doesn't mind; a charity event gains grudging participants and rats move in; and Gonzo has an ominous Tarot reading.

Wednesday morning brought pleasant confusion…pleasant for Gina, at least, as she watched her Muppet love dashing around the apartment half-dressed. "Where's the fire?" she yelled as Newsie ran out of the bedroom for the third time in five minutes. "You don't need to be anywhere for hours yet!"

A long pointed nose poked through the open bedroom door, and worried eyes stared at her through heavy lenses knocked askew. "But I wanted to get to the asylum before eleven, so I could see Aunt Ethel in her room! I called ahead and they said I'd be able to catch her there if I arrived before she goes to lunch!" He vanished again. Gina bounced her heels lightly on the thick throw rug next to the low bed, sitting among the rumpled sheets and quilt. She pushed her hair out of her face, smiling as she listened to Newsie frantically thumping up and down the hallway in search of frog knows what now.

"Anything I can help with?" she called, and within seconds he hurried back in, breathless, his comb in one hand and a can of hairspray in the other. Gina scowled at him, swiping the can playfully before he could stop her. "Newsie! I thought we agreed you looked much cuter without the plastered-down style?"

Annoyed, he tried to grab the hairspray back; she yanked it over her head, out of his reach, grinning. He gave her an impatient huff, then shut the bedroom door to view himself in the long mirror mounted on the back of it, and hurriedly combed his thick but flyaway-fluffed hair into its standard part to his right. Gina giggled, shaking her head. "Honestly! You look gorgeous. Slow down!"

His comb snagged in his hair, making him grunt in unexpected pain. Gina patiently took the comb away, wrapped one arm around his waist, and pulled him onto the bed. Sighing, Newsie submitted to her attentions, recognizing she was much better at this sort of thing than he was, especially when in a hurry. "I keep telling you, using conditioner every morning will solve that without making you look like you sewed it in place," she grumbled at him, efficiently teasing his hair into proper order with short strokes of the comb.

"I didn't have time," Newsie growled back, buttoning his shirt while she finished the job. He shot her a wry look over his shoulder. "As you may recall, I was kept somewhat occupied all morning and got to the shower late! Er…not that I didn't like, um…that is…"

Utterly unrepentant, Gina laughed. She released him, and he bounced from the bed immediately, looking through the numerous ties he'd hung in precise color-coordinated groupings in the closet. Gina grinned, noting he hadn't even picked out pants yet. "Basing the outfit around the shorts today? That's new. Kind of bold – I like it!"

The Newsman looked down at himself, flushing pink as he suddenly realized he was jumping all out of order; so far, the plain white button-down shirt, a pair of brown argyle socks, and the red-and-brown falling-leaf motif boxers he'd pulled out of his dresser drawer at random this morning were all the progress he'd made toward clothing himself respectably. "Let me help," Gina suggested, flustering him further when she languidly rose and sauntered to the closet…wearing nothing at all herself.

"Ah…er…" Newsie gulped, averting his gaze.

She waggled two ties at him. "Okay, what about these? You like the tiny oak leaves or the brown stripey one better? I think the oak leaves match your shorts."

Newsie dared a peek, regretting it when he saw quite a bit more than the ties. He blushed again. "Gina!" She laughed delightedly when he hastily threw his hands over his face, then with eyes tightly shut, pointed vaguely at her. "Uh…uh…fine! The leaf one!"

"You're pointing at something else, dear Modest Journalist…"

"Ack!" He turned his back before her teasing could completely derail his intention to get on the train for Queens as quickly as possible. "Er…um…could you…could you throw a robe on? I mean, not that I don't, uh, appreciate…um…but I really…er…" Exasperated, he sighed, glanced back at his grinning Gypsy love, and crossed his arms over his chest with a scowl. "You know what that does to me!"

"Mmm, don't I though," Gina purred, but with a smile she obligingly shrugged into her slinkiest, thigh-length red paisley robe. "There. Better?" She knotted the sash loosely around her waist.

Newsie saw she'd deliberately allowed the robe to reveal as much as it covered, and sighed, conceding defeat. "Thank you." He accepted the tie from her, tossing it around his neck and fumbling with broad fingers to knot it correctly. "The russet coat or the chocolate one?" he wondered. Having more colors in his fashion vocabulary now than brown plaid still baffled him; he was convinced Gina and Rhonda must trade notes about his wardrobe behind his back, judging by the comments both offered unsolicited whenever he picked what he wanted to wear any given day. Sometimes it was just simpler to entrust that decision to his beloved. Quieter, anyway.

"You have the news tonight, right?"

"And the Muppet Show," he agreed, calming somewhat as he finally coaxed the tie into a decent Windsor knot.

"Hmm…go with the russet, and the charcoal pants."

"Okay," he agreed, and promptly dressed the rest of the way. As he sat on the edge of the bed to tug his saddle shoes on, Gina leaned over to stroke his cheek with light fingers, and he gave her a smile. "Thank you."

"You're always welcome, gorgeous." Ah, and there was that adorable blush again. Some days she felt like tossing compliments at him continuously just to see how pink she could turn him. "I thought visitor's day was Thursdays at Shadowy Mile?"

"Shadows on the Dial," he corrected her, though he could tell at once from her smile that she was teasing again. "Technically, it's visiting hours, every day; but they said I might get better results if I made visiting a strictly-scheduled event." He grimaced briefly. "That doesn't seem to have worked yet."

"Well, okay…so why today? Did something change?"

Embarrassed, Newsie realized he'd forgotten to tell Gina that he intended to poke around in Aunt Ethel's private room at the retirement home for the dangerously senile. Last night, when they'd returned from dinner after his stint at the Muppet Theatre, Gina had launched into paperwork for her own theatre, drafting by hand a light plot for the next show at the Sosilly, a production of Pinter's "The Homecoming" they were putting on around Thanksgiving. He hadn't wanted to disturb her and had quietly buried his nose in a book about press censorship until they went to bed. "Oh, er…well, Rhonda actually had a good suggestion…" He hastily told Gina what he planned.

"That's a good idea," she said, startled. "Why didn't I think of it?"

"I'm a little ashamed it didn't occur to me." Newsie replied. He shook his head. "Anyway, you've been busy with your design work."

She knelt to give him a hug. "I know. Probably too much. I'm sorry, Newsie. By all means, go! Go forth and find the answers you seek, brave knight!" She returned his relieved smile, and kissed him. He saw her hand coming and ducked out of reach before she could muss his hair, and she laughed. "Hey! C'mon, I love doing that!"

"I love you doing that too," he murmured shyly, then did his best to look stern. "But I have to look professional! So – so –"

"So I'll just pounce on you later tonight," she agreed, making him smile. "Go on, Valiant Journalist! Get thee to Queens, and quest for your cousin!"

She loved it that he jumped three inches in the air, completely unprepared for her playful slap on his rear as he left the apartment. He was still bright pink and bright-eyed when the elevator doors closed. Chuckling to herself, Gina turned to her own side of the closet. Sooo…what says 'professional fortune-teller' without looking too stereotypical? she mused, flipping past dresses and blouses and skirts until she found something she liked.

An hour or so later, she was shifting uncomfortably on her old camp stool, and warily eyeing the beat cop strolling up the sidewalk. Although she wasn't hassling passersby on the corner, simply sitting and making herself available to anyone who might want their cards revealed, she hadn't bothered with the nicety of an actual license for this – what self-respecting Gypsy ever would? – and suddenly realized Newsie would worry if he found out she'd been cited for street peddling. Swiftly packing up her small folding card table and stool, she walked off. Rats. Where can I set up and not be harassed? she wondered. Wait…rats! That might work…if Kermit lets THEM hang around, maybe… Worth a try… She turned her steps toward the Muppet Theatre.

***

Scooter blocked their path as soon as the two shortest members of the company stepped down into the green room. "Hey, did you guys want to join in the charity walk?"

"What? Walking for charity? Of course I would be happy to show off my newest fall fashion finds! Ah – how much would be my fee for the modeling?" Pepe asked the gofer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial murmur.

Rizzo shook his head. Scooter corrected the prawn: "Not a catwalk, a charity walk! The kind where you get people to pledge their support for the cause if you complete the walking course!"

"Wait, jou mean there is actual physical labor involved? Because I do not do that."

"Sheesh," Rizzo muttered. "Hey, what's da cause, Scooter?"

"Uh…it's to support the Muppet Anti-Discrimination League. I, uh, should also mention the boss likes it… We're thinking of using it to help promote the new film."

"Wait. Ya mean dat film dey ain't even started filmin' yet?" Rizzo wondered. Scooter shrugged.

"Well, yeah. But it's got a Halloween theme, see – the walk, I mean – well, the film does too, and –"

"Don't twist yer shorts in a knot, Cecil da Mille, I get it," Rizzo interrupted. Scooter shot him a glare, tapping his fingers on his ever-present clipboard. The rat sighed. "Good publicity all around, yeah, okay. Will dere be catering?"

"Will there be beautiful womens?" Pepe chimed in.

Scooter shrugged. "The sign-up sheet with all the details is over there on the bulletin board! Just remember, if you sign up, you gotta get at least three sponsors to contribute!" He leaned over Rizzo with a warning frown. "In money, not cheese!"

"Whatevah."

"Sí, sí, we look but we promise nothing, hokay?" Pepe agreed huffily. When the gofer hustled off to whatever mission he'd originally been about, the pair gave in to curiosity while feigning complete disinterest. Pepe tried to read over Rizzo's shoulder as the rat perused the charity walk rules. "This is very poor timing, hokay? Why didn't they do this on some other day besides the New York Day of the Dead?"

Rizzo stared blankly at him. "What da heck are you babblin' about? It says it's on Halloween night! Lemme guess, you were plannin' on trick-or-treatin'?" He snorted. "What were you gonna go as, a lobster?"

Pepe sniffed. "Funny. Jou funny rat. Not that it is any of jour business, but the spooky night is the biggest party night in the city, hokay, except for New Jear's! I already have three costume parties which have booked me as the guest of honor, jou know." He struck a pose, hands on hips, antennae high in the air. "It would be rude to my fans not to reward them for their faithful worship, jou know."

"Oh, bruddah," Rizzo sighed. "Yeah, right! Or can it be dat you're just chicken when it comes to spooky t'ings?"

"What? What jou call me?"

"Bawwwwk," Rizzo teased. "Bawk, bawk, bawk!"

Pepe put a concerned hand on the rat's shoulder. "Jou have been spending too much times with your weirdo friend, I am thinking. Jou starting to sound like him. Jou taking a bird for your girlfriends too?"

"You moron!" Rizzo snapped, waving the sign-up sheet in Pepe's face. "See right here? It says da walk will be t'roo an actual, live haunted house!"

Pepe paused a beat, staring back. "If it is a haunted house, can they call it live?"

"Well apparently so, 'cause it also says da whole t'ing will be shown on live TV!" Rizzo read over the rules once again.

"Jou're making the whole haunted house thing up," Pepe objected. "Let me see that!"

"Hey, I ain't done readin'!"

The two wrestled with the paper a moment until it ripped in half. Noticing several other Muppets turning disapproving looks upon them, Rizzo sheepishly handed the other half of the sheet to Pepe. "It says so, right dere," he muttered, pointing out the venue's location.

Pepe skimmed it, then looked up with wide eyes. "Madre de las camerónes! Does Kermins know this?"

Rizzo shrugged. "He must! Ya know dat gofer and da frog, t'ick as t'ieves, da two of 'em!" The two considered it all silently a moment. "Ya t'ink dere's anyt'ing to it?"

Pepe huffed contemptuously. "Of course not! There is no such thing as ghosts, hokay?"

"Oh, den you won't mind signin' up for dis, huh?" When he saw Pepe pause uncertainly, Rizzo taunted, "Dat's what I t'ought! King Prawn? More like chicken of da sea!"

"Oh yeah? I do not see jou putting your names on this already!"

"Oh yeah?" Rizzo retorted. "Hey, hey Zoot! Ya gotta pen, man?"

They waited impatiently as the saxman searched slowly through his jacket, bewildered to find his wallet and keys in his pockets. Rowlf leaned down with a ball-point. "Uh, use this."

"T'anks," Rizzo replied, promptly scribbling his name with a flourish upon the sheet. Pepe snatched it away.

"Jou used two lines!" he complained.

"So? I write big. So what?"

"Are jou signing jour big head up separately?" Pepe asked, smoothly penning his own signature in elegant cursive with an unnecessary swoop at the end.

"Since when does da letter 'E' have all dem curlicues?"

Before the argument could escalate again, Scooter popped over the short balustrade to the green room stairs. "Rizzo! Hey, Rizzo!" When the rat looked up, Scooter jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "There's a bunch of rats up here wanting to talk to you!"

"Dere is? Uh, dere is!" Surprised, Rizzo hurried upstairs, Pepe immediately behind him. An entire contingent of dirty, mangy rats stood uncomfortably just inside the back door. Straightening his shoulders, Rizzo strode over to them. "Yes, may I help you?"

"'May I help you?'" one of the rats muttered snidely. "I told you dis was a bad idea!"

"Shh!"

"Uh, yeah…we, uh…we hoid you gots space here for lotsa rats, and dat sometimes youse guys let uddah rats in," said a shifty, whiny-voiced rat at the front of the group.

Pepe drew Rizzo aside to whisper loudly, "Be careful, amigo. They look like they have fleas."

"We do not!" another rat snapped, but was quickly shushed by others.

"Look, Mac, we ain't asking for room and board, just a place ta sleep at night. We'll forage for ourselves," the lead rat pleaded. "T'ings is getting' a little weird in da sewers lately. C'mon…I see ya got lotsa space!"

"Weird in the sewers?" Pepe repeated, dubiously regarding the scraggly clothing and dirty fur of the entire group. "Like it's not already weird to be living in the sewers, hokay?"

"Well, uh, well…" Rizzo stammered, taken aback at the request. Several of the rodents made sad eyes at him…including one young lady with a cute gingery punk hairdo. Struck by the happy coincidence, he pronounced, "Yeah, okay, just for now, you can sleep in da t'eatre – but ya gotta pay me re—"

Scooter suddenly planted his feet nearby, glaring down at the whole company of rodents. "Er – I mean, sponsor da cause! Yeah…be my sponsors for dis charity t'ing, and I'm sure da other guys around here will forgive a missin' sweet roll or two… Speakin' of…" He sidled up to the ginger rat. "I can show ya a pretty sweet roll, sister, if you're innerested!"

The rat looked briefly annoyed, but glanced at the lead rat, glumly twitched her whiskers, then managed a girlish giggle for Rizzo. "Heh, heh, right dis way, beautiful!" Rizzo said, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Everyone else, pony up! Five cents a night!"

Loud grumbling arose, but the lead rat rebuked them: "Would you raddah be down dere tonight? In da dark? Wit' dose sounds?" The entire group abruptly shut up, then grubby paws reluctantly reached into grubbier pockets to fork out nickels.

"Hey, that is not fair!" Pepe complained. "How am I supposed to get so many sponsors?"

Over his shoulder as he led the grudging lady toward Chef's pastry display in the canteen, Rizzo cackled, "Eh, why don't ya go down to da seafood joint an' hit up da scallops? You were such a good spokeshrimp for 'em I'm sure dey'd return da favor!"

Pepe snorted, watching the sewer rats stack their nickels on the floor where Rizzo had indicated. "Unbelievable!"

***

Gonzo's fur had mostly recovered – the singed bits flaked off in the shower – and he gazed up at the perfect blue sky as he walked along, bundled up nattily in a long yellow-and-black striped Merino scarf which perfectly contrasted against the brown plaid jacket, brown-and-orange-checked pants, and cozy orange sweater with a smiling jack-o-lantern face woven in. After much long internal debate and a half-watched marathon of "American Gladiator" re-runs last night, he felt he'd planned an even better audition piece than the cannon-con-carne. His feeling of confidence, however, dissipated when he heard clucking, and turning the next corner found a group of chickens strolling along. His heart fluttered like a moth to that feathered flame.

"Uh…Camilla?" he called out. The chickens paused; his lady-love glanced from them to Gonzo, then made soft shooing motions, assuring her friends in low clucks she'd catch up with them in a minute. She waited for him, her pure white feathers resplendent against the jaunty scarlet silk scarf tied around her neck. The way it gently tickled her back-feathers in the subtle breeze made his heart stick in his throat…oh, wait, he'd forgotten to swallow the dried chili banana he'd been chewing.

Camilla gave him a soft cluck when he at last stood before her on the sidewalk, dried yellow leaves blowing past their feet. Gonzo noticed the chicken had recently enjoyed a pedicure. "Wow, cute little gems; I like!" he offered; she ducked her head demurely, but said nothing. Gathering up his courage, Gonzo blazed ahead: "So, uh, did you hear I'm trying out for a TV show tomorrow?"

"Bawwwwk?" Camilla wondered, cocking her head sideways at him.

"Er…well, I don't know if it'll preclude the theatre gig or not yet. But it's perfect for me! It's a daredevil reality show competition!" Gonzo was dismayed to see the bright look in her eyes fade. "It's very prestigious! A national cable channel, Camilla! Just imagine the kind of fan following I might get with that! This could really be the big time!"

The chicken placed a gentle wing upon his hand, silencing him. She gave him a sweetly tolerant look…but he saw no spark of passion. "Bukawk," she told him, patted his hand, and turned to go.

"But –but –wait! Sweetie, don't you want to come help me out? Or –or watch me audition, at least?" Gonzo pleaded.

Camilla gave him a sigh, clucked again, and gestured the way her friends had gone. They hadn't walked very far, obviously curious about the outcome of this meeting. "Oh," Gonzo murmured. "Okay…sure…I understand. I'll, uh…I'll let you know if I make it onto the show, and maybe…maybe you can watch it with your girlfriends, and vote for me every week?"

Camilla considered it, nodded, clucked, and with a small wave of one delicate wingtip, hurried to catch up with the others. Gonzo watched the group of them hurry on, sneaking looks back at him, occasionally breaking into loud cackles and coos. Sighing, his shoulders drooping, he trudged on toward the theatre, all jauntiness gone from his step.

Why didn't she want to come see me? Does the whole idea bore her? Maybe…maybe I'm not being daring enough! Hey, she didn't even ask what my act was! Growing worried, he tried to convince himself that her attitude would change once she saw him in action again, but the way she bounced along at a fast trot, moving steadily away from him without once looking back, quickly melted his resolve into a small, grey puddle of woe.

He continued in a funk until he reached the front steps of the Muppet Theatre…at least, he thought it was the right steps, but he didn't recall ever seeing a street peddler there before. He craned his neck to read the theatre's sign before he realized the young woman in multicolored, fluttering silk scarves and large gold bangles and earrings was in fact the Newsman's girlfriend. Pausing, he listened in while she advised a girl who wore too much makeup, over a table of spread, colorful cards.

"Waiting tables will put food on yours, but no, it's not going to help with your acting career," Gina told the girl. She tapped a card which depicted a man made out of vegetables sowing seeds in a garden of pumpkins. "This means you need to focus on perfecting your art by planting yourself somewhere; once you've done that, your work will grow and you'll reap the full harvest in due time."

"Like, does that mean I should go work at the vegan co-op?" the girl asked, confused.

Gonzo was fairly sure he saw Gina bite back a smile. "No, but school would be a good step. Acting classes. And then plant yourself in a theatre." She swept the cards into the deck, and held out a palm. "That'll be ten dollars."

"Yeah, okay…thanks," the girl said, paid the fee, and walked off apparently still mulling over the garden analogy.

"Too bad she's not Chauncey Gardener," Gonzo commented.

Gina laughed, making him smile. "I love that book! Hi, Gonzo. How're you doing?"

"Ah…I've had better lives," he sighed. He looked curiously at her Tarot deck while she shuffled it. "Does that stuff really work?"

"Am I a Gypsy or what?" Gina returned. She leaned on the table, studying his drooping nose. "Would you like a reading?"

"Um, I don't think I have ten bucks…"

"Gratis, for the man who knows who Chance the Gardener is. Tell you what, why don't we make it a full spread, not just the three-card draw?"

Gonzo met those bright eyes a moment, and gave in. "Sure, okay."

"Here. Let's pick a significator card for you…the one which will represent you, right at this moment." Gina fanned the cards out face-up, looking carefully through them, then gave Gonzo a startled look when he pulled out one showing a clown juggling a number of symbols over his head, smiling as he danced toward the edge of a precipice. "The Fool? Okay…actually, that's a good choice…he's all about creative drive and wild dreams without pride or ego; risk-taking, innocent…"

"Uh, I'm not much of an innocent."

Gina regarded him with sharp eyes a moment. "You are, though," she said, "more than you think. All right, so that's you." She laid the card dead center in the table. "Now, shuffle these," she said, placing the rest of the deck in his hand. Gonzo did so expertly, the fresh cards making a satisfying burrrr-thwack with each feathering of them… Feathering. Yeah, great, rub it in, he thought, sighing.

Gina frowned lightly. "So what's on your mind? This isn't about Rizzo's garbage-recycling business failing, is it?" The rat had tried to convince everyone to invest in the dubious venture a month back, but when no one wanted to help him pore through tons of trash Rizzo had thrown some snappy words at all the Muppets, but especially at Gonzo. Newsie had reported it as an example of the difficulties faced by environmental entrepreneurs, though Gina doubted the rat's tree-hugging credentials.

"No…it's…I guess you could say it's a sickness of the heart," Gonzo muttered.

"Oh," Gina said quietly. "Gonzo, I'm sorry. Camilla still isn't talking to you?"

"Oh, sure, she talks to me…we even go out still sometimes…but all we do is talk, if you catch my drift."

"Ah." Gina wasn't sure what to say, what comfort to offer. She indicated the cards still in his hands. "All right, think about what you most want a minute…then when you feel ready, cut the deck."

Gonzo tried to quiet himself inside. Camilla, Camilla, we were so perfect…why have you turned away from me? he thought. One of the cards suddenly felt right, and he slipped his fingers into the deck there, bringing it to the top. Gina gently took the cards back, and flipped the top one over, covering the Fool card. "This card represents the matter at hand," she told Gonzo. "And it's reversed. That's odd…" The card showed three phantoms in traditional hooded shrouds smiling as they twined together, each holding aloft a goblet. "Normally, this is a good card; celebrations, friends, positive outcomes…but reversed, it means you're having a difficulty with a relationship. A break of friendship."

"Wow," Gonzo said. "I guess they can be accurate sometimes, huh?"

Gina turned over the next card, laying it across the reversed three of ghosts. "This is what's influencing you right now…why you're doing this reading."

"Because you offered it?"

"Not quite. See how there are two bats hovering over the blindfolded angel? This means you're searching for some kind of compromise, a way of rebalancing your life…between your desire for love and your need to perform?" Gina asked, and Gonzo's eyes widened. Seeing his surprise, Gina smiled wryly, and continued to the next card, placing it above the pile of three cards in the center. "This represents your hopes and goals. Oh…now that doesn't surprise me at all! The Magician. A major card."

"I haven't really thought about stage magic as a career," Gonzo mused, looking at the tuxedoed magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, while a cat, a bat, a jack-o-lantern and a ghost looked on happily. Numerous infinity symbols snaked around the card. "You think I should ask Mumford for some tips?"

"Gawd no," Gina growled. She tapped the card. "Hopes and goals. Creative drive leading to stupendous projects; infinite energy and ambition to push yourself over the top, always learning as you go, always getting better at your art. Tell me that's not you!"

Gonzo tilted his head to one side, silent. Gina placed the next card just behind the center pile. "This is your recent past, things you've gone through which are fresh in your mind." A group of five ghosts looked worriedly down at a spilled bucket while the pumpkin-headed man who'd dropped it seemed unhappily puzzled as to what to do. One full bucket sat untouched behind him. "No surprises there: you've lost something very dear to you…but you should realize all is not lost; you still have something left from that relationship." Gonzo blinked. He'd never put much stock in this stuff, but he didn't think Gina would lie to him. Seeing he wasn't going to comment, she turned over the next card, placing it lower than the center pile. "This is the root of the problem. Another reverse, hmm…" A bunch of short reddish imps raucously warred with long staves under a full moon. "Well, normally this isn't as bad as it looks; it says that sometimes, when your creative energy feels stagnated, you should just stir things up. But reversed…not so good. It means stagnation itself; complacency, which causes a lot of relationships to break up, believe me." At Gonzo's worried glance, she laughed. "No, not me and Newsie! He's wonderful. But in your case…"

"I understand," Gonzo nodded. Just as he'd thought: Camilla had become bored with him! He must not be daring and inventive enough anymore…

Gina placed another card in front of the center pile, so now a card showed in each cardinal point around the middle. A giant hand emerging from a cloud grasped an imp by its tail, while the imp scattered a handful of oak leaves into the sky. "This is what's in your immediate future, and that's good! Are you planning some new project?"

"Yes – I'm auditioning tomorrow for a new TV show!" Gonzo felt a flicker of hope.

"Well, this card is all about new beginnings, especially creative endeavors. So this only confirms your immediate plans."

"So I'll win the audition?"

"Probably," Gina grinned, seeing his eyes alight. "Wait, though. We're not done." She started a line going up off to the right side of the compass-rose of cards. "This card represents your attitude toward the problem. Hah…more imps! I'm not surprised; the whole suit is about creative force and restless energy, and that's you to a T. The eight of imps…" The little monsters flew in a frenzy all through a night sky, looking confused, some holding Cupid-like arrows. "You're moving fast and determinedly, but you might be overlooking something in all your haste. Your mind is all over the place."

"Um." Gonzo frowned, though if he had to examine himself, he had felt a little scatterbrained lately. Just this morning, he'd actually poured milk in his cereal instead of prune juice.

"This shows how your friends feel about your problem," Gina continued, placing another card above the last one. A bunch of ghosts seemed to be mourning a hooded figure as it climbed a hill, heading away from them all. "You may think your new plan will lead you to bigger and better things – and it might – but the other Muppets may feel you're abandoning them. Tread carefully."

"Geez," Gonzo muttered. Would his friends really think he was following the wrong path? How could they? Heck, everyone knew he'd always dreamt of stardom, fame and cool scars!

A third card went up the side. "Goodness. That's the third major arcana card…Gonzo, you really must have some magnificent dreams," Gina said, flashing a smile at him. He shrugged, and she explained the meaning of the card. "The Chariot. See how the driver is zooming along in the dark, with all those hazards close by?" A pumpkin-headed man grinned at the wheel of an old-fashioned hearse with Egyptian symbols painted upon it; a frightened black cat crouched close by the driver, while miles of spiked fencing hemmed in the car. "This is for the hopes and fears you don't talk about, and the Chariot represents great drive and self-discipline, but also the potential to crash and burn if your control ever slips." She gazed at Gonzo seriously. "You worry about failing, even as you push boldly onward."

"Well," Gonzo began, but fell silent. He didn't know what to say to that. He swallowed with a dry throat.

"Now the last one. It shows the outcome of your current path as outlined by all the other cards here, if you keep going as you are now, with your current plans," Gina said softly, and turned over the next card, setting it at the top of the line of four. It certainly didn't seem hopeful: a woman had eight bats swooping around her, each of them carrying a length of cloth; the woman was blindfolded and wrapped like a mummy, but it was hard to tell if the bats were trapping or freeing her. "Oh, Gonzo," Gina sighed.

"I take it that's not joy and celebration."

"Restriction, imprisonment, indecision…no. Not good at all." Gina studied the entire spread, lifting each of the center cards to view the ones beneath as well. "Okay…taken as a whole, here's what I see. You're still hurting from your breakup with Camilla, and you feel you've been stuck in the same place creatively too long, and you're throwing yourself head-on into a new act, in hopes of reaching bigger, better things in your art…but there are a number of cards here which talk about the need for caution, for reconsidering. You're launching into this new project because you think it will impress Camilla, aren't you," she said; it wasn't a question.

"Don't you think it will?" Gonzo responded. "I mean, if she broke up with me because I was getting too ordinary…"

"It's not about what I think, it's about what the cards say," Gina argued. She gave Gonzo a steady stare, making him fidget. She tapped the table for emphasis. "Everything here comes down to this: although the same-old-same-old may have led to the breakup, you're rushing into something that might have very unpleasant results. Something that won't achieve what you want it to. Reconsider." Sighing, Gina looked at the cards a moment longer, then swept them into a pile and began reshuffling them into the deck. "Sorry, Gonzo."

"So…what do you think? You, personally?" Gonzo wondered.

Gina shrugged. "That's a pretty strong and definite warning. I'd pay attention to it, honestly. But keep in mind, that's only where your current path leads. If you change something, the results can also change." She gave him a small smile. "Look, if it was me, and Newsie was looking elsewhere, and I thought doing something new and creative would get his attention…I would absolutely do it! I can completely understand why you'd want to win Camilla back. Just…watch your step, okay?"

"Slow and careful," Gonzo nodded. "Got it. Thanks, Gina."

"Anytime. Love the threads, by the way. You didn't borrow the coat from Newsie, did you?"

Gonzo blinked down at his tasteful autumn-hued plaid. "Uh, no offense, but he's usually not this stylish…"

Gina laughed, and with a grin, Gonzo waved goodbye and went into the theatre, privately musing, Maybe I should hold off on the chainsaw-dance for now. Slow and careful. Maybe just use the live jellyfish instead?…

Watching him go, Gina hoped whatever the Whatever was planning, he'd be able to stop himself from hurtling into catastrophe…although she knew from repeated visits to the Muppet Theatre this was rarely the case with him. She sensed someone else standing in front of the table, composed her expression into disinterested calm, and turned around to see a purple, dreadlocked Muppet peering at her from above dark shades. "Hey, baby," Clifford said, leaning in to ask in a low voice, "uh, say. Are you a real Gypsy?"

"Yes. Did you want your cards read?" Gina offered, but the Muppet shook his head, stringy mustaches flying.

"Naw, naw, gorgeous! I just, uh…I kinda need a…" He sighed, and gave her his most hopeful smile. "Do you, uh, brew love potions by any chance?"