CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE (part two). In which the troll meets the terrifying Pesties, and then Snookie meets the troll.

Half an hour later, the Newsman kept an anxious lookout while Sweetums pried open the boarded-over entrance in the basement of the Statler Hotel (circa nineteen-ten). The troll struggled and strained with the massive iron-barred gate behind the rotted boards, then grumbled at Rhonda, "Crescent wrench!"

"C-wrench," the rat responded, handing up the tool from a sack the troll had brought along. Newsie jumped when Sweetums used the wrench to bang violently on the hinges of the gate; they clanged to the ground, and the gate fell inward with a long metal whine. "After you," Sweetums said, extending a gallant hand to Rhonda as she clambered over the rusty remains.

Newsie caught up quickly, glancing back several times, but apparently nobody noticed the noise upstairs in the near-deserted lobby of the hotel-turned-flophouse. They ventured into the dark, crumbling station. Newsie swung his flashlight out, up, and around, awed at the immensity of the place; the entire Muppet stage could have fit in here. "Aw, cool," Sweetums said. "This would be a great place to hold the next Uggerh Family Reunion!" When the other two looked at him, he grinned. "Even cousin Morty would be able to play the trampoline-breaking contest!"

"See anything...buggy?" Rhonda asked, her own light darting from point to point along the soot-stained tile walls and arched-dome ceiling.

"No," Newsie replied, stepping to the edge of the platform and checking the tracks immediately below. They looked more like old railroad lines than modern subway rails, with no third rail present. Just to be sure, he picked up a bit of wooden debris from the platform and tossed it onto the tracks. It made a dull clunk. "No...it seems safe."

A screeching blast of sound made Newsie and Rhonda cry out and clap their hands over their ears. They backed away in horror at the swarm of clicking, shrieking beetles which clambered onto the platform from underneath. Rhonda screamed, and in her haste to get away ran straight into Newsie, tripping him; they fell in a frantic, flailing heap. Newsie threw his arms over his face, expecting the worst – and heard a happy roar from Sweetums: "Oh great!Lunch!"

Newsie stared, astonished, as the troll scooped up huge handfuls of the squirrel-sized bugs, stuffing them into his mouth and crunching with sickening joy. In seconds the tide had turned, with bugs scattering for the far reaches of the vast room, chittering in fear. Sweetums nodded at the picnic hamper they'd dragged along in the bed of a small red pull-wagon. "Hey, open the lid so's I can pack a few for later!"

Shuddering, Rhonda opened the lid and shoved the hamper toward Sweetums. He shook his fingers, tumbling terrified bugs into the container before slamming and buckling the lid shut. The basket bumped and jerked around like a demented fisherman's creel. Noticing one last beetle scurrying desperately over his shoulder, Sweetums nabbed it. He held the squirming thing out to the Newsman. "Uh...want one? I think that's the jelly kind."

"N-no thank you," Newsie gulped. A dazed, shivering rat clung to his leg, but when he helped her to her feet, she shook him off with a glare of embarrassment. "Uh...according to the map, this line passes close by that Con-Ed tunnel where we found the leaking wall...and the caterpillar monster." Rhonda nodded, and Newsie asked quietly, "You believe me finally that I did see something down there?"

"Goldie, after my fur got slobbered off, yeah, I'll believe just about anything you throw at me." He nodded, grateful, and she added, "Although I still refuse to give any credence to Fleet's report last week on giant marshmallow Peeps running feral through the Ramble in Central Park."

Together they joined Sweetums at the edge of the platform. Rhonda eyed the rails dubiously. "Ya really think this will work?"

Newsie shrugged. "I hope so... Uh, Sweetums, can you put the wagon on the rails?"

Shortly they were walking along the abandoned tunnel, flashlights constantly sweeping ahead and above them, though no more bugs troubled them; word must have spread quickly about Sweetums. Their wagon squeaked as he pulled it along the rusted rails, carrying the picnic hamper (still wobbling in a fashion which made Newsie queasy, so he tried not to look at it), Sweetums' bag (which also moved around slowly; he didn't want to know why), and a small videocamera. The camerasloth had begged off the expedition when Rhonda had called him earlier, and had simply hung up on Newsie, so Rhonda had brought along the lower-quality instrument as a means of capturing something down here. "Do you think we should go ahead and start filming?" Newsie whispered to her. The echoing silence of the old subway was starting to get on his nerves.

"Might as well," Rhonda agreed. She fetched the camera, avoiding touching either the hamper or the sack. Sweetums tromped along in front of them; she darted forward and got his attention by swatting repeatedly at his toes. "Hey! Hey, no kicking! Put me on your shoulder, ya lug, so I can get a clear shot!"

Sweetums cheerfully swung his bulk from side to side as he strolled; Rhonda clung to his fur with one hand while filming with the other. Newsie tried to stay alongside them, swinging his flashlight everywhere, feeling warm as he increased his pace to keep up with Sweetums' much longer strides. "Dum, ta dum, ta dum," Sweetums sang tunelessly, not seeming to mind his voice reverberating so strongly off the arched walls that bits of the ceiling crumbled down around them.

Ducking a large piece of fossilized junk tumbling past, Newsie hissed, "Sweetums! Please be quiet!"

Baffled, the troll blinked at him, pausing mid-step. "Why? Are we hunting rabbits?"

"We're hunting secrets," Rhonda told him, panning her camera around. "Much more dangerous."

"And it would be nice to have our heads undamaged," Newsie muttered. His light caught something gleaming between the tracks ahead. "Uh...do you guys see that?"

"Yeah," Rhonda replied, training the lens on it. "It looks like...it can't be!"

"What? What?" Newsie hung back, but Rhonda swung down from Sweetums' shoulder, camera trained on the object which sparkled and flashed in their lights. Newsie finally saw what blocked their progress. "It's a...jar of gumballs?"

"Yeek!" Rhonda cried, leaping backwards nimbly to end up just behind Newsie. Frightened, Newsie shone his light directly at the large, startlingly sparkly-clean jar...and realized those round things were not exactly gumballs.

"Oh frog," he choked, feeling ill. He averted his gaze immediately. Sweetums lumbered up to the jar, bent over to study it, and picked it up. "S-Sweetums, don't touch tha—"

"It's only a jar of candied eyeballs!" Sweetums protested, opening the jar and tossing one of the dubious treats into the air to catch it in his broad mouth. "Aw, rats! Lemon flavor... Oh, well." With a heavy sigh, he took another step along the tunnel.

None of them saw the tripwire triggered by the jar. Suddenly an eight-foot troll was wobbling unsteadily right in front of Newsie; he threw himself to one side, rolling painfully onto the filthy tracks, Rhonda squeaking and bolting for the side of the tunnel. "Whooaa-ohh!" Sweetums yelled, crashing down, flattening the picnic hamper; hordes of screeching bugs fled in all directions. Dazed, Newsie felt briefly thankful the bugs weren't sticking around, until he saw why...and it had nothing to do with the troll in their party. Huge shadows loomed, closing fast, rising to the very ceiling of the tunnel...and an eerie moaning arose, echoing horribly off every curving wall so that he couldn't tell where it originated. "Dooooom! Doooooooom to aaaallll intruuuuders!"

"Aaagh!" Newsie yelped, trying to get to his feet, but his coat snagged on a chunk of broken rail. Rhonda pointed the camera at the shadows.

"Remember that bit about you running home if we found anything awful?" she shouted."Now would be a good time for that!"

"Ow, ow, ow!" Sweetums hoisted himself to his feet, hands pressed to his back. "Hey, that hurt!" He gestured angrily at the advancing shadows, growing larger by the second across the walls. "Whadda you guys got against trolls, anyway? And what's the big idea only settin' out lemon flavor eyeballs?"

"Don't say eyeballs," Rhonda groaned, huddling close to Newsie, still pointing the camera ahead at the approaching menace.

The shadows groaned, wavering over the ceiling and creeping closer along the ground. "Leeeeave...leeeave or staaay foreverrrrrr!"

"Rhonda, help!" Newsie gasped, tugging frantically at his coat-hem. The rat yanked the coat open, startling him. "Hey!"

"Leave it, genius! Let's book!"

He managed to pull his arms out of the sleeves, and staggered to unsteady feet, but by that time the shadows were upon them. Hearing a tapping noise along the rails, Rhonda shone her light there, just in front of Sweetums, and saw...three pairs of tennis shoes and spindly legs in stripey socks. Sweetums' eyes widened. "Wha-! Stripey socks? Oh no – Pesties! Waaaauuugh!"

Rhonda and Newsie called out to him, but the troll panicked, breaking into a pounding run back toward the abandoned hotel station. A bright blue light made the rat and the reporter wince. Shaking, Newsie shone his flashlight up from the advancing stripey socks still revealed by Rhonda's tiny beam, and saw three squat bodies, three pairs of skinny arms with tiny claws; moving up, he saw six more arms upraised and swaying menacingly, three tiny heads with bobbing antennae...

"They're...bugs?" Rhonda asked incredulously. She stood up, stepping from behind Newsie to stare at the creatures halting just a few paces away. "They're tiny bugs! Oh for crying out loud!"

"They're...what?" Newsie blinked, trying to see clearly against the spotlight just behind the creatures, but he could tell they were indeed fairly small.

"Turn that thing off, you little creeps!" Rhonda snapped.

The things looked at one another. One on the end continued to moan, "Wooooooooooh! Tuuuurn baaack!"

"Geez, Howie, can it," another grumbled. "They ain't buyin' it."

The moaning one sighed, tiny shoulders slumping, and turned off the large lamp mounted on a rolling platform. The middle creature groaned, letting drop the rope he'd been hauling, dragging the moving light behind them to cast the eerie shadows. Rhonda set her paws on her hips, whiskers twitching in disgust. "A Kleig light? Seriously? What the heck do you power that thing with?"

"We gotta extension cord," one of the things mumbled, looking defensive. "A really longextension cord."

Calming somewhat, Newsie stared at them. They resembled insects, but with round faces, fat cheeks, and downturned mouths. Each was dressed in a different jacket, and one sported an Islanders cap, but all wore stripey socks on their long lower legs. "What the heck are you?" he wondered aloud.

"Hah! Looka him!" scoffed the one in the cap. "Is he deaf, or just stupid?"

"Shoulda listened to the troll," another snickered.

"You're...you're Pesties?" Newsie asked.

The bugs stood up proud and straight. "Dat's us!"

The bugs were the same size as Rhonda, and seemed sheepish now that their shadow illusion had been destroyed. She looked at all three of them, then suddenly thwapped the center one atop his head with the paw not holding the camera. "You idiots! A tripwire? A jar of...of...things?"

"I thought up the eyeballs," the Pestie on the left offered. The center one recovered from his smackdown and glared at Rhonda.

"Yeah, well, it's not like we used real ones! We figured they'd either scare people off, or catch 'em in our trap! Anyway, we hadda do something! Those danged monsters wouldn't leave us alone otherwise!"

"Yeah, and now you mooks gotta come down here wit' your camera and ruin everything!"

"Yeah, please don't post that online," the third one begged. "Dis is our home, and dose monsters won't let us stay if dey know we're not...uh...we're really...um..."

"Tiny little bugs in stripey socks?" Newsie asked.

The Pesties glanced at one another. "Uh...who you callin' tiny?" the center one bristled, antennae twanging.

Rhonda shook her head. "I'm gonna go fetch our troll, if he hasn't run all the way back to the theatre by now." Hoisting the camera, she stomped back the way they'd come. Newsie hoped the other, less friendly bugs wouldn't bother her. One of the Pesties looked him up and down, head cocked sideways.

"So whaddayou doin' down here anyway, bub?"

"Er, well...I'm...I'm actually investigating a secret monster television production studio which I believe is somewhere underground, and –"

"Oh, sheez. Like dat's a big secret," the second Pestie grumbled, shaking his head.

"Yeah, like, get with the program, mac," the first added. "Everybody knows where dat is!"

"What?" Shocked, Newsie took a moment to find words, and then to move them out of his mouth. "Er...uh...you...you know how to get into MMN?"

"Sure, but why would ya want to?"

"Yeah, dat place is crawlin' wit' creeps! Buddy, they'd snap you up for a snack before you could say 'cool beans'!"

The center one glared at the third one. "Dude. Nobody still says 'cool beans.'"

"Well, I do!"

They started to argue. Newsie broke in: "Wait, wait! Can you tell me how to get to..."

"Oh noooo way. I ain't dealin' wit' dat red furry guy again," the center Pestie groaned.

"Tell me about it! First it's all 'yayy Huxley,' den it's 'yayy Grouches,' and next thing ya know the calls stop comin', and even our agent drops us widdout a' explanation, an—"

"Stop, stop!" Newsie shouted, and again they shut up but glared nastily. Trying to think past his excitement, Newsie pinched the bridge of his nose, resettled his glasses, and tried again, "I need to know how to get into MMN! It's a matter of extreme importance, not just to me, but to everyone in this city!"

Voices sounded along the tunnel; Newsie whirled, bringing his light up, then relaxed, heart stuttering, when he saw it was Rhonda prodding Sweetums back this direction. "Ow, that was my ear!" the troll complained. "Uh...you're sure they're not really Pesties?"

"Umm...call it a case of mistaken identity," Rhonda assured him. "They won't bite."

"Well, okay," Sweetums rumbled uncertainly. "But can we get ice cream after this?"

"Sure, big guy. Whatever ya want."

"Haw haw haw. She called me 'big'," Sweetums mumbled, blushing.

"Will you show me how to get into the MMN studios?" Newsie asked the Pesties.

They looked at each other. The center one shrugged. "Guess so. Your funeral."

Eagerly Newsie followed the grumbling bugs as they turned and trudged along the tunnel for several minutes. A section ahead had partially collapsed, and a heap of broken tiles and crumbling bricks blocked most of the tunnel. The Pesties grew visibly nervous. "Stop right there, Ricky. Okay, bub, this is as far as we take ya," one of them said. "We usually slip through that hole over there to the J line when we go out, but if ya go past the wreckpile instead, you'll see a big hole on the right. That leads right into the studio tunnels..."

"But you'll never get in," another Pestie said, shaking its tiny head.

"Oh they'll get in all right, but they'll never get out again!" the first one chortled. "Only monsters allowed!"

"Newsie, maybe we should come back with more ammo," Rhonda suggested.

"Or..." He looked up at Sweetums, who towered to almost thrice his Muppet height. "We could send in a monster."

"Hmm. Hold on, I got an idea," Rhonda said. She clambered into Sweetums' shaggy fur, working her way with dainty grunts to the center, where she slapped the videocamera against his chest. "Hold that there a sec while I tie it up," she commanded the troll. Baffled, he obeyed, watching as the rat carefully wove and knotted his fur around the camera to hold it in place and then brushed a lock of fur over the lens. "Okay, soon as you're past whatever security they have, uncover the lens and film all you can!"

"Rhonda, that's brilliant," Newsie approved. "Sweetums...can you...can you try to find my cousin? Here..." He dug one of the photocopied photos of Chester from his wallet. "This is him. He goes by Snookie, I think. He hosts some of their game shows."

Sweetums blinked at the picture. "How'm I gonna find him?"

"Maybe...maybe tell the monsters you're a fan, and you want to get his autograph?" Newsie offered, thinking of the piece of clay with his cousin's signature.

"Get as much of the layout of the place as you can," Rhonda told the troll.

"Tell Chester I'm going to rescue him," Newsie instructed Sweetums. "Tell him I'm his cousin by his Aunt Florabeth!"

"Do not tick any of 'em off," Rhonda continued; an increasingly confused troll looked from the rat bossing him on the one hand to the Muppet beseeching him on the other. "Remember, these guys may look fine to you, but they're up to something really, really bad! Don't let them talk you into staying!"

"He might not know me; I don't know if we ever even met as children," Newsie continued. He dug out another photo, one of the wallet-sized pics he carried everywhere of himself and Gina. "Here, give him this! Tell him his cousin Aloysius has been trying to find him for months, and I won't let him languish in a place filled with monsters!"

"And make sure not to –" Rhonda said, but Sweetums roared, shaking his head in frustration.

"Cut it out!" Fuming, he glared at their startled faces. "How'm I supposed to remember all that stuff? I thought we were going on a picnic!"

"We'll...we'll make it up to you," Newsie said, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice. A troll was big and scary enough; an angry troll...

"Ice cream?" Rhonda suggested, giving him a hopeful smile. "Any flavor you want! Our treat!"

"How come da big lug gets ice cream?" Howie Pestie wondered, pouting. "We're da guys what showed 'em where ta go!"

"Fine, fine, ice cream for everyone," Newsie said hurriedly. "But please, Sweetums, this is really important! We need to know what's inside this production company, and where my cousin is being held! Just...film whatever you can. Anything might wind up being useful, okay?"

"Wellll...okay," Sweetums rumbled. He touched the camera gently with one huge fingertip. "I, uh, I don't have to bench-focus or do a white-balance on it, right? 'Cause I always have trouble with those; everyone says my film comes out too yellow."

"Er," Rhonda choked, startled.

"No, just let it run...just remember not to let the monsters see the camera," Newsie said, too worried to wonder how the troll knew anything about camerawork. "Will you do this for us? Please? It would...it would mean a lot to me, especially."

Sweetums stared at him a moment, then chuckled and patted him on the head. Newsie gulped, bracing his feet, and managed to stay upright. "Aw, sure. Your News Flashes always make me laugh! I guess I can walk around and film stuff for ya."

"Thank you," Newsie mumbled, trying to fix his hair. "Uh...and my cousin. Snookie Blyer is the name he goes by; try to get my photo to him – wait, here." He took out his trusty pencil stub and wrote a brief note on the back of his picture. "Try to get this to him, but if you can't, just see if you can find out where they have him."

"And we need to know what the –" Rhonda began, but Newsie nudged her sharply, nearly tumbling her over.

"Thanks, Sweetums. We'll wait right here for you," Newsie said.

"You did not just do that," Rhonda growled.

Sweetums nodded, and strolled over to the debris pile, tossing chunks out of his way to go around unhindered. They heard him greeting someone: "Hey! How's it goin'? Any good bugs lately?"

"Oh, was that you I heard roarin'?" a gruff voice replied. "You...you didn't run into any Pesties, did ya?"

"Oh, uh...naw, naw. Just stubbed my toe," Sweetums said.

"Oh...good. Those Pesties give me the creeps. Ya know, they say they can suck the breath out of you while ya sleep! Yeesh...well, come on in, ya shaggy lump, haw haw haw!"

Newsie let out the breath he'd been holding. He attempted to dust off a large chunk of bricks and sat upon it, checking his watch with his flashlight. "I hope this won't be a long wait. How much time do you think we should give him?"

He jerked, startled, when Rhonda hopped up on his knee. She scowled and brushed back her hair. "Don't get any funny ideas, sunshine. I just don't want to get my new dress dirty...not that it's a particularly expensive one..." She shrugged, settling uncomfortably. "Who knows? But we need that footage! I'm hoping to post the Nofrisko stuff online today, but being able to call it 'Part One of an In-Depth Investigative Report' would be fantastic."

"I hope we can at least find out how to sneak in there so we can expose whatever it is they're planning," Newsie muttered.

"I hope we actually get the ice cream we were promised," grumbled Ricky Pestie.

A spectral figure slipped unseen through the warren of cells beneath the Ars Moribunda Studios, frowning at what he saw: almost every rough-hewn rock cubicle with iron bars seemed to be occupied. He saw a few Whatnots, a few cute furry creatures, and most disturbingly, human women; Deadly watched from a bend in the corridor while two large, toothy Frackles forced one of the young women to put on a fancy evening gown and a string of pearls. Good heavens, what is this? This had better not be what it looks like, or I'll –

"Come on, come on, hurry up," the green Frackle with bushy black eyebrows yawned, checking his watch. "You wanna be the featured girlfriend tonight, don't you? We don't let just anyone onto 'I Married a Monster', you know!"

"Please, please let me go," the woman begged. "Look, I don't want to be on any TV show, I just want to go home, please!"

"Hey JC, I think she needs more motivation," the pink Frackle with a buzzardlike nose snickered.

The green one sighed. "Look, I don't have time for this! You have been selected out of literally thousands of potential monster-girls to be on the newest, hippest, most popular 'Bachelor' style monster show! Let's hustle! Come on, work it, girl! The monster at the end of the show is only gonna pick one of you!"

The young woman cried as she was dragged from the cell, "But I don't want to marry a monster! I'm not a monster!"

"Oh, don't worry," JC assured her as they led her off. "We'll take care of that for you. Would you like to be green, blue, or orange?"

Deadly shook his head, grimacing. Whatever was going on here, it was stranger than any convention of spooks he'd ever attended... Even that one back in 'ninety-six where they stuffed Thog into a pool full of lime Jell-o. He turned a corner into the next cell block, and swiftly melted into the shadows when a thundering figure stomped into view, led by a far shorter monster which seemed to be mostly wild hair. "So's this guy's your favorite host, huh? I kinda like him myself. That bit last night on Carl where he got regurgitated by Big Mama was hilarious!"

"Uh...sure!" a deep and rumbling voice agreed, and Deadly almost gave away his cover, popping his head forward in astonishment: he knew that voice!

The monster led Sweetums right to a cell where a forlorn pale yellow Muppet sat on a plain concrete bunk. "Hey Snookie. Ya got a fan come ta see ya!"

"I'm busy," the Muppet answered, continuing to simply sit with his head down.

"Get up before I bring the naked biting mole rats on sticks in here," the hairy monster snarled. "Be nice to your fans!"

With a sigh, Snookie rose and looked up...and up. He swallowed at the sight of the enormous troll peering curiously at him; the troll seemed to be studying his face closely. "There ya go. He's not allowed out 'til the next show taping in ten minutes. You're lucky to even catch him down here; he's been busy every day this past week!"

"Uh...hi!" the troll boomed, wedging his massive hand against the bars. "Pleased ta meet ya! I'm Sweetums!"

"...Right," Snookie said, stepping no closer to the bars. "What...what exactly is it you want?"

"Oh! Uh..." The troll scratched his head, then perked. "Oh! Could you, uh, sign an autograph for me?"

"Huge fan," the monster added.

Snookie nodded. "Yeah. I see that." Reluctantly he came to the edge of the bars, staring up at the troll, who had to stoop slightly under the rough-carved ceiling. "What did you expect me to write with?"

"Uh...uh...oh. I didn't bring a pen..."

The hairy monster shrugged. "Eh, I'll go get ya one. Hang on. Don't eat him while I'm gone, okay? The boss would be mad."

Sweetums nodded, and the monster trotted off. As soon as he was out of sight, Sweetums leaned over and said in his quietest rumble, "I got a message for you!"

"Here's one for you," Snookie muttered, caught in the whoosh of breath from the troll's big mouth. "Floss much?"

His disdain turned to surprise when the troll shoved a small piece of paper through the bars. "Here! This is from your cousin!"

"My...?" Snookie accepted the paper; it was a photograph of a yellow, long-faced Muppet in a brown plaid sports coat, smiling as he held onto a lovely, dark-haired, tall young woman with amazing cheekbones. "Who...?"

The monster returned; instinctively Snookie tucked the photo into his pocket. "One pen. Here ya go."

"Uh...great!" Realizing he didn't have any paper, Sweetums thought a moment, then reached into a pocket of his torn workpants and pulled out a half-crushed but still-wriggling beetle. "Here! Could ya make it out 'to my biggest fan'?"

Snookie winced, but with the guard right there giving him the evil eye, he tried his best to sign the back of the bug without actually touching it. "Haw haw haw! Thanks!" Sweetums bellowed. Nodding, the guard monster tugged his arm.

"Great, great. Hey listen, it's wonderful you finally came by. Someone wants to talk to you about, uh, how you could maybe help us out. Why doncha come downstairs, and we can have us a little chit-chat?"

"Uh, okay! But I can't stay long; I'm meeting some friends for ice cream," Sweetums said, frowning.

"Oh sure, sure! This'll only take a sec." The monster threw a nasty look at Snookie as they left. "You behave. Someone'll come get you in a couple minutes. You're due on set for 'Swift Wits'."

Snookie, for once, made no reply, waiting tensely until the monsters' voices faded down the corridor. Then he unfolded the photograph and stared at it. My...my cousin? Well that's certainly not Jethro or Mikey or Maryann...who the heck? Turning over the picture, he saw the note hastily but neatly writ on the back: "Been looking for you for months; didn't know about you 'til recently or I would have come sooner! Your father was my mother Florabeth's brother. Hang on, help is on the way. –Aloysius Crimp."

Stunned, Snookie dropped onto his bunk, ignoring the dull pain this sent up his rear.Florabeth... Vaguely, he could recall his father having mentioned that sister, some sort of black sheep type who'd gone to New York and had a whirlwind marriage to a sailor. He'd never heard of another cousin from that side of the family! And yet... He looked at the photo again. There did seem to be something of a family resemblance. He has Grampa's nose...poor sap. Holy frog. This has to be for real! Trembling, he kept turning the picture over and over, staring at the unknown Muppet and then rereading the note. Who's the chick? She's cute...wonder what she sees in him. Wow. Guess things really HAVE changed aboveground...a Muppet dating someone with no felt! He shook his head in wonder; his parents would have been horrified at the very thought. Snookie himself rejected that sort of bigotry, but even so, he found it hard to accept that this sort of pairing was acceptable to society at large... Well, you've been down here a long time. They say even Trump has admirers these days, so who knows what's possible? Hearing approaching footpads, he tucked the photo under his shirt. His mind kept playing the note over and over as he walked escorted to the next studio of the day, outwardly silent, inwardly in turmoil. He's coming to find me? How? Those guys'd eat him in a flat second if he tried! But...if he has a troll friend...a Muppet friends with a troll? Once again, he shook his head in wonder. "Holy flying frog, what's the world coming to?" he muttered.

"Huh...haven't you heard, dude? The freaks will inherit the earth!" one of his guards jibed, and the other burst into laughter so harsh Snookie winced, and would have covered his ears had his arms not been restrained.

Deadly paid little attention to them, instead slinking after Sweetums. One of the Muppet monsters paying a visit to the show host, and giving him some sort of contraband...the others telling the troll he can help them with something...what under earth is going on down here? With a thrash of his tail, the dragon easily tracked his quarry by the smell of bugs and onions, heading for the next level down, still full of questions and feeling more unpleasant by the minute.