The colorful berry ink mosaic wallpaper that decorated the small , dank, nook of a hole in the ground was a wonder to beyond

. A wonder that is, if anyone was not running and playing and otherwise whipping though the fraggle rock caves. Since nearly all fraggles did this by nature all their lifes, the artistic merit of the wall was left unnoticed, save for the watchful eyes of Boober.

Secretly, this was just as the little green fraggle liked it.

Inhaling the steam from the pot that was now shimmering beneath his wooden spoon with an almost merry bubbling sound, he raised his head slowly.

His gaze fell upon the wallpaper, which actually was a collection of single pages of parchment all lined up neatly together. Each page had no words printed upon them but as a simple picture, nearly a living travel history of every living thing in the rock:

Here a doodle of a flying dreedlebug , there a profile of a lily at night, and every dozen pictures or so a group doodle of five smiling fraggles together, done in a little bit more skilled hand each time.

Boober paused for a moment in turn at the profile of two flying birds weaving together a ribbon, and much farther down, the outline of an egg with green spots, colored in with soft blue watercolor.

His eyes trailed down to the newest looking paper, a bird flying though inky black darkness.

Boober sighed softly, turning his red furred head back to the business of his pot.

Suddenly a loud shrill voice rang out, nearly making him dunk his nose into the burning stew.

"Boober? Boober Where in the rock did that little…?"

A set of ginger red pigtails tailed into view from the doorway, followed soon after by their owners sunny yellow face. Which was at this moment smiling bright enough to light up the whole rock.

"Oh, there you are!" She continued, trotting in with was pace that would make a gorg dizzy.

Boober sighed again, this was the deeper more practiced sigh of the two. The sort of sigh, he admitted , he was getting a bit too use to using as the years went by. Still. He did try his best to talk…

"Oh hello Red, be careful I just…"

"Hey Boober guess what I just got from outer spaaa!"

The young fraggle slid halfway across the kitchen, and fell head over tail, ending her trip with a painful sounding crash.

"….Waxed the floor."

A pitiful whimper of a voice trailed up from the ground.

"I can see that. Why are..you..so extra clean..all of a sudden?"

"I just want everything to look nice for Mokey when she comes home. Something you could have been helping me with you know." He added, pointing his wooden spoon in Red's direction.

"Oh, that's a great welcome home present, " Red said, grunting as she tried to get a better hold on the broom she had found to keep herself upright.

'Hello Mokey, fancy not seeing you for the last five years, so sorry about you lifemate, here, step into my parlor and break your neck!"

Red said a quickly before the old broom gave way and sent her into another face-plant with the floor.

"Hmm. Maybe I did use a bit too much polish."

"I'll say…Anyway, I just got a new new..letter..from Gobo… and Wembley."

"What did they ?...ACK!" He yelped as Red grabbed him around the waist trying to steady herself and only succeeded in taking him down to.

With great effort Boober craned his neck up slowly to come eye to eye with the offending Red.

"You do realize if I wasn't in so much pain I'd force you to finally read a whole one these yourself don't you?" He spat

"Yes. Don't care. Read!" Red barked with her usual good manners.

"All right, all right. "Dear Red," Oh he's writing right to you now is he? What…"

"Please just read the card already…"

A polaroid photo overlooking Niagara Falls was papercliped to the top of the letter, showing Gobo sitting on a railing bravely and waving, only half of the scene viewable thanks to a telltale thumbprint over the lens.

" Dear Red,

You won't believe what we found the other day: the end of outer space!

It's a magical, wonderful place where all the water of all the fraggle ponds go to crash over the edge!

The oddest part about it is that the falling water makes a mist that seems to act like a love potion for silly creatures!

Whenever they come near the edge, all the couples stop to hug and kiss.

Even Wembley got kissed by one of them, I think he was a little upset when we had to leave her.

Our little guy really is growing up!

We look forward to coming home for our yearly break, it will be great having the whole gang together again…If Mokey gets back before we do tell her hi for us!

Love,

Gobo & Wembley

P.S. Red I think… "

"..and thaaat's enough! Thank you Boober." Red said in a suddenly rushed tone, snatching the letter from Boobers hands from where she now stood above him.

"A little bit secretive are we?" Boober said, a rare playful tone in his voice.

"None of your beeswax!" Red said, crumbling the letter to her chest protectively, and holding up the attached photo to the light with an annoyed grumble "Why does Wembley always put his hand over the lifemirror?"

" Fine, fine. I really should be watching this stew."

"Oh no not Steeu ….!" Red's last comment trailed off from the inside of the cave as she was jettisoned into the distance in her attempt to cross the floor again.

"And maybe put down nice entryway rug." Boober added to himself.

With a grunt of effort Boober lifted an old, worn, dirty looking length of ivory carpet up to drape it over a ridge of stalagmates, and began to thump it with a rug beater.

As he hit it he started to hum to the beat:

"A place for everything, and everything in its place"

A tiny troop of dusty looking bunnies appeared from under the carpet, giving an angry chatter before running out of the hole.

"That's what makes a home just so."

The bunnies made a sharp u-turn farther down the passageway, away from the telltale crashing sounds that told that Red to was cleaning in her own way.

"No one telling you what to do, having your own space…"

She wiped her brow after tossing barbells, books, and assorted swim-wear junk over her shoulder and into the closet in a flurry of movement.

"That's what makes home the place beee!"

Red shrieked seeing a leftover plate of something that use to be food sprout legs and walk bold as brass across the floor.

Boober paused lost in thought as the two sang in unison.

"At least that's what I use to think, but now I'm not so sure,"

Red flopped down exhausted into her hammock.

"..could home not be just a place, but a little more?

"Home might be feeling." Red sang softly, gazing at the letter.

"It might only be a wishful memory…" Boober added sadly.

"Could he be home to me?" She sang to the photo.

"Could she be home to me?" He asked the drawings upon the wall.

"Does he know… that he is home… to me?" Red ended the song, still with the letter in hand.

The last section was written very neatly and carefully.

"Red, I think about you everyday. I really miss you."