Feels weird reading a Christmas-themed chapter in early June, don't it? Oh well! So sorry this took so long to update!


Jet hadn't expected to be anywhere on Christmas, certainly not hanging out in a neighbor's apartment till noon, eating pie and sharing stories. And definitely not going over to another apartment for Christmas dinner.

Piggy had invited the girls back to her place for dinner once she found out that they had no plans with anyone for the holiday: Yolanda couldn't go to see Rizzo until tomorrow, when the roads were sure to be less hectic from the holiday traffic. Skeeter couldn't see her brother, Scooter, because he apparently had to work at Club Dot that night, and going to see her girlfriend, Darci, was bound to be a hassle. Jet had no plans with anyone because she never did. She usually had nobody to hang out with on Christmas.

(Jet was surprised Yolanda even accepted the invite, mainly due to the presence of Piggy's cats, but maybe the rat trusted the pig to keep her safe from them. Then again, Piggy did say they never took interest in mousing, so they probably wouldn't even bother Yolanda.)

So here Jet was, standing in front of Piggy's apartment door, holding a plastic bag of ciabatta rolls that she had baked earlier. She had the bag of take-and-bake rolls with the plan to bake them for herself to go with her microwave dinners, but she kept forgetting. That and her boss sometimes sent her home with a box of food, so she hardly had the opportunity to eat something else for dinner. It was probably best to bake them and share them now rather than letting them go bad. It'd be an extreme waste of good rolls.

Jet knocked on the door and after a moment, it opened, revealing Piggy standing on the other side, wearing a cat-themed Christmas sweater (with some strands of cat hair stuck to it).

The lady pig smiled up at her, "Oh good! You brought rolls with you! I forgot to get those when I went shopping yesterday!"

Jet nodded and walked into the apartment, stepping carefully around the cats that were walking about. Skeeter and Yolanda were already present, each donning a unique Christmas sweater for the occasion. Jet felt a little awkward being the only one not dressed festive. All she was wearing was a red shirt with elbow length sleeves, black pants, red socks, and black flats, which to her was her best semi-formal wear.

"I hope you don't mind that they're ciabatta," she said. "They were the only rolls I had in my apartment, and I don't know if they're really suited for Christmas…"

Piggy waved her hand, "Oh, relax, it's fine. Rolls are rolls."

Jet nodded again and set the rolls on a counter by the stove. "So, what else are we having for dinner?" she asked.

Piggy began stating the menu, "Well, I made turkey as our main course, with some mixed veggies and creamy potatoes on the side. Yolanda brought some wine and juice from her apartment, and Skeeter got some black-and-white cookies from a bakery that happened to still be open today. What was it called, Skeeter?"

"Benzi's Bakery," Skeeter stated. "It's a Jewish bakery, so they don't close on Christmas…unless it shares a week with Hanukkah, then they're closed on Christmas. The owner, Benzi Vered, is a sweet old guy who is nice to everyone. Funny guy too. If you're ever feeling a little down, he's bound to say something to put a smile back on your face."

Jet smiled, "Benzi's Bakery, huh? I'll have to check that out. My mom always had respect for Jewish businesses. It's only right that I do the same. And I LOVE black-and-white cookies! They're one of my favorites."

Skeeter nodded, "You should check the place out. There's a great selection to choose from!"

Jet nodded and after a couple of minutes, the four women each had a plate of food and a drink and sat down at Piggy's small dining table.

The pig smiled at the trio, "It's nice to have company over for Christmas. I haven't had a friend group in a LONG time. The last friend I can think of was Eileen, who I worked with in the perfume department until I was fired."

Yolanda furrowed her brow, "Why don't you seek her out? I'm sure she'd love to see you again."

Piggy shook her head, "She passed away a few years ago. She wasn't exactly young…"

Jet sighed, "That's sad. I'm very sorry."

Piggy shrugged, "Eh, I wasn't that attached to her. Sure, she was really nice to me but…" then the pig dropped off into silence.

Skeeter patted her on the shoulder, "Don't worry, Piggy. You got us now! You'll never have to be alone again."

Piggy motioned at her cats, "I wasn't really alone in the first place but…it'll be nice to have actual people to talk to."

Jet nodded and took a bite of the creamy potatoes. Her heart nearly stopped. They tasted pretty close to the creamy potatoes her mother used to make at Christmas!

"Piggy, where'd you get the potato recipe?" she asked quickly.

Piggy went to the counter and retrieved a sheet of paper, which she showed to Jet. Sure enough, it was from the same website her mom used to use.

She sighed, "As I suspected; this is the same creamy potatoes recipe my mom used."

Yolanda's brows rose, "Really? Wow, that's one heckuva coincidence!"

Piggy smiled hopefully, "Does that mean they're good?"

Jet nodded, "More than good, Piggy. They're great." She took a bite of the turkey and winced at the dry texture. "Wish I could say the same about the turkey though…"

Piggy snorted, "Yeah, I've always had bad luck with turkey. I probably roast it for too long every year. Don't worry if you don't like it, I honestly didn't expect any of you too."

Yolanda took a bit of a roll, "These rolls are pretty good. You've got good taste, Jet."

Jet beamed, "Thanks. People normally say my sense of taste is weird. I was probably one of the few kids in school who actually liked oatmeal cookies of any kind."

Skeeter frowned, "Seriously?"

Piggy shrugged, "I don't mind oatmeal cookies as long as there are a few chocolate chips in them!"

Yolanda nodded, "Same here!"

Jet could help but laugh. She was starting to enjoy this company.


There was no Santa Claus. Robin found this out on his first Christmas at Club Dot, which was just last year.

When he had packed up to leave the swamp, he had managed to salvage his stocking and bring it with him to New York City. Santa left presents for all the good kids all over the world, so he was bound to pass through there.

When Club Dot finally closed that night, he had hung up his stocking in his locker door and went to sleep, dreaming of the toys and candy that'd be found inside the next morning, making up for the ones he lost at home, but when he woke up, it was empty!

Why was this? Had Robin done something naughty? He would remember if he did. And if he had, he would've apologized for it. His mother always taught him it was important to apologize if you did something wrong. Then again, if Robin WAS naughty, his stocking still wouldn't be empty, it'd be full of coal, but there was NOTHING inside. Something strange was going on…

He brought up the matter later in the day to one of the few Club Dot employees he trusted, Scooter. He was a cage dancer, but he was really smart, so he had to know the answer.

Miss Bitterman happened to be nearby when he asked, so before Scooter could give his answer, the human woman said, "There is no Santa Claus, frog. All those presents and candy you'd been getting in your stocking all your life were from your PARENTS. Which they bought with MONEY. If you want Christmas joy, you got to BUY it."

To say Robin was shocked was an understatement; he was hoffified. Santa Claus wasn't real?! How could that be? His parents and grandparents have always told him about Santa as if he were! Had they lied to him and his siblings all that time? Why would they do that?"

Then, Bitterman added, "The Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy aren't real either. So don't expect a giant rabbit to come her before Easter Sunday to give you chocolate eggs, or a little fairy to fly in to collect your baby teeth…then again, I doubt she'd even see you 'cause you don't even have teeth. Well, it's best that you know the truth."

Robin had been pretty despondent to learn these cold, hard truths, but he was also a little embarrassed. He couldn't help but notice that a lot of the other employees, especially the humans, seemed to snicker and roll their eyes at him. It made him feel a little dumb, like he shouldn't have believed in Santa in the first place.

Scooter seemed really annoyed at Miss Bitterman, but he didn't say anything to her, and had tried to make Robin feel better by saying how the day after Christmas, all the candy and toys at stores were at a discount so they could buy things the next day.

But Robin didn't want to do that. Suddenly, Christmas wasn't fun anymore.

This year, Robin spent Christmas Eve differently; he didn't even bother to hang up his stocking, and he went about his job like usual, with no high expectations for anything. Bitterman was an adult, so therefore, she was right. There was no Santa Claus. The only way to get Christmas Joy was to buy it, and Robin didn't have the money to do that.

It didn't really matter though; the one thing Robin REALLY wanted for Christmas Santa probably wouldn't be able to give him anyway: his family back.


Scooter couldn't believe what Miss Bitterman had said to Robin last Christmas. Who tells a little kid there's no such thing as Santa Claus!? And so bluntly! Scooter stopped believing in Santa when he was in his adolescent years, and the reveal wasn't too bad. Still, to learn that at such a young age had to be crushing.

Scooter had hoped Robin would hang up his stocking this Christmas, so he could slip some candy and maybe a small toy inside to repair the little frog's Christmas spirit, but Robin never put it up. Scooter would've suggested Robin to try to hope for something this year, but if Bitterman or some other cruel-minded adult heard, they'd probably mock him and tell Robin to not bother.

Scooter used to love the holiday season. The joy, the love, the whimsy, but since he'd been working at Club Dot, it had been hard to enjoy that. Bitterman was such a taskmaster, that she always seemed to have things everyone had to get done on the holidays. At least at Club Dot. Scooter couldn't speak for any of the other businesses she was involved with.

Scooter had wanted to hang out with his sister, Skeeter, this year, but due to his work schedule, that couldn't be possible. Skeeter would probably forgive him for leaving her alone this year, but he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. He was such a terrible brother.

He'll have to come up with some way to make up for it later, cause for now, he has a lot of dancing to do. He just hoped that Skeeter wouldn't be very lonely this Christmas.


The backdoor to Club Dot slammed open, and a human man clad in dark colors and leather stomped out, carrying a puppet man by his hot pink hair.

"You're not what we want as a filler musician," he growled. Then, without a second thought, he grabbed the lid off a nearby trashcan and shoved the puppet inside. He slammed the lid back on with a loud clang and walked back into the club, letting the door bang shut behind him.

The puppet sighed. Another gig lost. Another trashcan to be stuffed into. Another night to be left alone. Crazy as it probably sounded, Hullabalou Sadley was used to this. His life had been one disaster after another, with no sign of ever looking better.

The one time it looked slightly better was when he happened to come across the Happiness Hotel as an option for a home. With how rarely Lou got paid for gigs, rent was hard to keep up with, and the hotel was said to be very cheap, and the owner was very patient and reasonable. In that place, Lou couldn't expect to be suddenly tossed out in the trash. At least for now. That could change at some point in the future.

Lou shifted in the trashcan to make himself more comfortable and sighed again. He should probably climb out at some point and go home, but he didn't really feel like it. He kind of wanted to sit inside the large metal tin and dwell on what just happened.

He had been contacted to fill in for a band that was doing a gig at Club Dot, cause their usual guitarist was unwell. That was Lou's job, a band filler. It'd been his line of work for a long time. Sometimes, the bands he played with liked him enough to keep him for as long as they needed him, which admittedly, was rare. Other times, they let him play a few times before deciding to replace him with some other filler. Most times, he was given the axe, or in this case, the can.

Why he was kicked out or let go earlier than planned was mostly Lou's own fault, or at least he perceived it that way. Due to how life had treated him over the years, the puppet had taken on a bit of a gloomy attitude, maybe even depressing, which a lot of people had been put off by. Lou didn't really mean to be that way; it's just who he was. Nothing to do to change that. (Though it didn't really stop his hotel neighbors, like Janice and Annie Sue, from trying.)

After a minute or so, he heard the door open again, prompting him to raise his brows. Did the band change their mind about not needing him? That had never happened before. He looked up at the lid that blinded him, waiting for it to be pulled open and to see the human face that had rejected him a couple of minutes ago. Was he really going to be given another chance?

But instead, he heard a loud bang of something being thrown into the alley, accompanied by a twanging noise. Lou sighed. He should've known better than to be hopeful. He had forgotten he had left his guitar inside the club. Well, at least he got it back. Other times, he hadn't been that lucky. There were times when he had to buy a new guitar or had to fight to get it back. (The latter thing usually happened if Floyd Pepper heard about him losing his instrument. That man didn't like the idea of Lou being "permanently separated from his tool of the trade" so he often encouraged him to try to get it back. Sometimes, he even helped, with that beast, Animal backing him up. That usually got messy…)

Lou settled back into the trashcan and crossed his arms. It was Christmas night, he had lost his gig and no doubt, there'd be a party of some kind waiting at the Happiness Hotel. Lou hadn't been a big fan of parties, so he opted to stay in the can. The last thing he wanted was to be in a loud place surrounded by overly optimistic puppets, who would feel way too sorry for him once they found out he lost his current gig.

Lou didn't deserve that sort of treatment. He'd rather be left alone with his misery than pitied by people who are too good for him. It was an easier way to live.


It was Christmas time. Everyone that worked in Bitterman Banking & Development was at home with their family and friends, celebrating the holiday. Everyone was enjoying an elaborate dinner, fancily decorated cookies and catchy seasonal songs. Everyone was happy on one of the rare occasions they got to stay home all day and enjoy quality time with those they loved.

Everyone except for ONE puppet, probably one of the few puppet employees who worked in BB&D.

Digit was typing away on his computer, checking the systems and files over and over, wanting to make sure everything was still in order. At least, that's what he told himself he was doing. There was actually no need to do it, but he had to kill time on the holiday somehow. Not like he could go anywhere on Christmas. Or any day of the year.

He reread the codes one more time before sighing and leaning back in his chair. When he initially got the job at BB&D, he had no problem with the work, more than happy to earn a living to stay alive, but now…things were feeling really dull.

With how Digit's life was, all he could do now was work. He had nothing to amuse himself with in his breaktime, and he had hardly any friends to socialize with. His only friend in the building may be Vicki, who was probably the only one who came down to talk about the days and recent news, rather than just only talk to him about work-related things like a bugged computer or a finicky system update, like pretty much everyone else in the business. Vicki worked as Miss Bitterman's assistant though, so she couldn't talk to Digit for very long, but she always tried to see him at least once a day. That was good enough for Digit, so he didn't complain.

Still, he wished he could see some of his old friends again. He exited his work files and opened up one of his personal folders, looking over several dozen photos that he had saved on it. He clicked on a particular one and let out a soft sigh as he looked at it.

It was of Digit and his friends, taken during one of the rare gigs they had as a rock band. They all looked so happy and excited in the photo, which Digit now realized was because they had been so sure that they'd make it into the music business eventually, like they always wanted.

That didn't happen though. You know what people say about "the best day of their lives"? It'll all go downhill from there. Since that time, gigs had become scarce. Not a lot of people were really interested in hiring a puppet band for their bars, coffeehouses or parties. Stood out too much, according to them. Digit always felt he was partially to blame for that, due to his very odd technological features. He'd been told by people that his appearance was borderline "body horror". Digit didn't think he was that scary to look at, so the comment seemed a bit rude sometimes. Other times, it did make him a little self-conscious, so he sometimes did his best to cover up the wires and buttons, but that felt suffocating, so usually he ended up not committing to it.

Eventually, after hitting too many dead ends, Clifford, the leader of the band, decided that it was best for them all to part ways and carry on down different career paths. Digit didn't really like the idea of being apart from his friends, but he went with it, not seeing much other option at the time.

That was a REALLY LONG time ago. Digit couldn't even remember how long given how tumultuous his life got afterward. He had job after job working as an IT guy for several companies in several towns and cities, before BB&D in NYC became his home.

He had been excited to check out New York City, hoping it'd be just as exciting as it was in the movies and TV shows. However, due to a drastic turn in his health, Digit was forced to be cooped up in the basement of a corporate building for the last few years, so he never had much of a chance to enjoy the city. Vicki's told him a lot about what goes on above, enough so that Digit couldn't help but be envious.

He stared at the old photo and wondered where each of his old friends were. Were they living exciting and happy lives, or were they just as stuck in a life of solitude and misery as he was?

He wished he could find ways to get in contact with them and be able to see them, but with how BB&D was stingy with visitors, he knew that would never be possible.

Still, he couldn't help but wish…


When Clifford and Zap got back to their apartment, it was noon, and Zap practically barged through the door, proclaiming, "Hallelujah! Time off at LAST!"

He had gone straight back to his room to catch a nap, while Clifford opted to stay up and in the living room to check out the news. He saw the bits about Pepe the Con Prawn breaking out of prison, but nothing much serious beyond that. No mentions of a jailbreak at the local precinct.

Gonzo, Fozzie, Lips and all those others would be safe for the holidays. Hopefully.

After he had checked the news, his other roommate, Darci had emerged from her room. She was a humanoid puppet with pale skin, short black hair and heavily made-up eyes. She looked at Clifford and said, "So, Skeeter was in jail."

"Good afternoon to you too, Darci," Clifford replied.

The punk-goth nodded, "Right, right. So, Skeeter was in jail, and she and her fellow escapees slept in Rowlf's café?"

"Only in the backroom, not in the area where people drink and eat," Clifford explained. "They were desperate for warmth, but none of them seemed too bad."

Darci frowned, "Yeah. The only bad people involved with their story are the bastards that locked them all up! Ugh, I can't believe what the police in this bloody city are doing!"

Clifford sighed, "Yeah, I can't believe it either. I'm just glad none of them got hurt or killed in the process. That'd make it worse."

"And then there'd be another case of police brutality committed against a puppet, which nobody will pay any mind to, cause police brutality is only a problem if it happens to HUMANS!" Darci shouted.

"Darce, lower your voice. We have human neighbors, you know," Clifford warned.

Darci huffed, "The shit we puppets go through is unfair, Clifford! Can you blame me for being this upset? I mean, what if something really bad happened to Skeeter in jail?"

Clifford winced. "Really bad" usually meant a trip to the ER…or the morgue. If Skeeter ended up at either of those locations, Darci would vow vengeance against the NYPD, and lord knows what THAT would lead to!

The catfish man looked at the goth and said, "Well, nothing happened to Skeeter, so you don't have to worry about that. I mean, it's the holidays, Darci. Hypothetical death should be the last thing on your mind."

Darci glared at him, "Clifford, you know I don't even like the holiday season. The only thing the Christmas season is good for is a day off from work. Nothing else."

Clifford sighed, "Right, right. Whatever you say, Miss Scrooge."

Darci rolled her eyes, "Clever. Clever insult. So, who were the other blokes that Skeeter got locked up with."

"A couple of homeless guys, a river dance troupe, a large monster, and a-," Clifford began listing off until Darci cut him off, "Creature."

"What?" Clifford asked.

"Creature," Darci said. "You're supposed to call what you perceive as puppet monsters as creatures. They get offended if you call them monsters."

Clifford nodded, "Right, sorry. So, a large creature, and a human woman."

Darci frowned, "A human? Seriously? What was she doing in there?"

Clifford shrugged, "From what I understand, she got spun out on something in Club Dot. I don't know what, though."

Darci sighed, "Of course it happened at Club Dot. Bad things happen to anyone who go to Club Dot…and of course there are homeless people in jail! The bobbies love picking them up and tossing them behind bars!"

Clifford nodded, "Yeah, I felt bad for them, especially for one named Lips. He was a transgender man and he got locked in with the women."

Darci frowned, "Well, that's fucked up. Did anything happen to him?"

"Nah, the girls locked in with him were friendly. I mean, one of them was Skeeter, and you know she's always been open-minded to that sort of thing," Clifford said. "So, if the other women had tried to do anything to him, you know she wouldn't allow it."

Darci smiled, "Yeah, Skeeter's always been passionate about helping others in trouble. Best girlfriend I've ever had. All my past ones had been passive cowards. Too weak for me."

Clifford laughed, "Yeah, Skeeter is something else! She's the perfect complement to you!"

Darci nodded and then she gave Clifford a smug look, which prompted his smile to fade. He knew what was coming.

"I bet you're jealous that I have such a great girlfriend and you have nobody," she said.

Clifford groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, "Not this again…" Ever since his girlfriend, Roberta, dumped him, Darci had been going hard with teasing him about his singleness. It was as annoying as you'd expect.

Darci snickered, "Yeah, that's what I thought! Say, you could've exchanged numbers with one of the women who broke out, or one of the men! It'd be an interesting 'how we met' story!"

Clifford shook his head, "No it would not, Darci…though, one of the guys in the group, Lips, did seem pretty cool. I wouldn't mind meeting up with him again, but the odds of that are probably slim."

Darci sighed, "Damn, you lost your chance."

Clifford rolled his eyes and then his mind thought of the Electric Mayhem band, or the river dance troupe that USED to be the Electric Mayhem band, and soon a sad frown formed on his face.

"Oh no, Cliff. Don't look like that. I was just joking with you," Darci said. "You'll find someone more than half-decent to date, I'm sure."

Clifford shook his head, "Nah, it's not that, Darci. I was thinking about the river dancers. Apparently, they used to be rock band together, but because of their poor luck with gigs, they couldn't keep it up…it made me think of Solid Foam."

Darci groaned, "Oh great, that's worse. You always get miserable when you think of your old band! You ought to get out there and find them or something! I still can't believe that you never kept touch!"

Clifford shrugged, "We thought it'd be better to part ways completely. Besides, email and cell phones weren't exactly common or great back then, so we had no fast means to contact each other. Though, Digit was a little downhearted that we all separated. I wish I had kept in contact with him at least. It'd probably make his day if I sent him a message."

Darci sighed, "Well, I guess there's nothing to do to change that. Though, not to be an optimist or anything, they're probably doing moderately okay, like you."

Clifford looked at the goth with a raised brow, "Moderately okay?"

Darci nodded, "You never achieved your dreams of rock stardom, but you have a well-paying job and a decent apartment, with pretty okay roommates and friends. That makes you better off than most people in this hellish world." And with that, the goth turned around and went back to her room.

Clifford sighed and got up from the couch and went to his own room. He went to his record box and began flipping through his vinyl collection, and soon his eyes took notice of a photograph set on the dresser nearby.

It was of him and his old friends, playing one of their rare gigs that they got back when they were still Solid Foam. They all looked so happy in the photo. Clifford looked so happy in the photo. Not that Clifford wasn't happy now, but…he wasn't as happy at present as he was back then.

If only he had known that things would go downhill from there. If only he had thought to stay in touch with his old friends. If only…


Mylie couldn't believe how badly her life had turned out.

She didn't expect her parents to die in an accident when she was 8 years old.

She didn't expect to be bounced around foster homes before ending up in that horrible hog, Miss Poogy's, "orphanage", where she remained until she was 18, which was only a few months ago.

She didn't expect to have such a hard time finding a job and keeping up with her rent, which was nearly due.

But most of all, she didn't expect to let her friends, her sisters, down so horribly.

Mylie had promised them that she'd help them get out of that hell house once she turned 18, the legal age she thought she'd be able to adopt them.

She didn't expect to be turned down. Too young. Too financially unstable. Too inexperienced. Those were the reasons she couldn't take them.

Personally, Mylie thought she'd be a better parent to them than the pig. Whenever Thea needed a new shirt, Mylie made her one out of old fabric she got ahold of. Whenever Nova got hurt, Mylie always tended to her and entertained her, so she wasn't miserable. Whenever Lucy had a nightmare, Mylie comforted her and stayed with her until she was calm and back asleep. Yeah, Mylie did a lot better parenting them than the sow did.

And yet, she couldn't save them. They'd have to stay in the orphanage until they were adopted (100% unlikely), until they aged out (which would take a while for Lucy and Nova, who were 7 and 11), or till Poogy did god knows what with them (100% likely).

Mylie had promised to save them, and she failed. They'd be stuck in that orphanage for a long time, which was practically forever to a kid, especially one Lucy's age.

Mylie failed them, and she didn't know how to make things right. She failed them and her friends' lives were going to keep being miserable. She failed them…and she didn't want to live with that.

How could she live with that? How could she live her life knowing that they were still living with Miss Poogy, where they'd be until god knows when?

Simple; she couldn't. And tomorrow, she would ensure that she wouldn't.


In a part of New York City, there stood an old junkyard, where people discarded furniture, trash and any other unwanted items one could think of. The place had a huge hill of junk situated right in the center of it, surrounded by a few small mounds.

One top of the trash mountain, a single individual stood, looking out at the city around them, where a few nearby buildings had red and green Christmas lights wounded around them, and the sounds of people chattering happily in the streets could be heard nearby.

The individual twisted his dragon-like face in disgust. Uncle Deadly hated the holiday season. It seemed unfair to him how so many people, so many HUMANS, could enjoy themselves and be merry in their nice warm homes, while he and his fellow creatures were miserable and cold in their abandoned warehouses.

One would probably tell him that if he wanted to be happier around the holidays, he could get a job and rent out a decent space somewhere. Oh, if only if were that easy. If you were a creature, your chances of living in a comfortable space were drastically slim. Many apartment supers don't allow creatures of any sort, from the abstract unknowns to the specific species, to rent out places to live. It'll drive down the property value or drive away potential renters, they'd been told.

Deadly knew this fact to be very true, unfortunately. When he lost his home in what used to be the Muppet Theater, he was forced to search for a new place to live, where he came up with nothing. Except the old warehouse district, of course. A pitiful home was better than no home at all. That's what some creatures he knew had said. Still, Deadly's heart was filled with scorn for the humans who had driven him to such a sorry place.

He'd very much like to make them pay, but he knew full well what would happen if he tried. If one creature acted out, all creatures would be blamed for it, and the last thing Deadly wanted to do was drag his fellow creatures into trouble.

Still, Deadly stewed his ideas in his mind, hoping for one chance to get even with the corruption that was humanity. He'd just have to wait for a chance…but then again, not EVERY human had treated him horribly. There was one human long ago who treated him with genuine respect…but he hadn't seen him for roughly a decade. Maybe he forgot about Deadly or stopped caring about his well-being.

Well, it's only natural for humans to be counted on, until they can't be. The same could be said for puppets. Maybe one day, Deadly will be proven wrong.


A bearded human man stood in his apartment, looking out the window at the light-wrapped buildings standing nearby. Christmas lights on skyscrapers weren't as impressive as Christmas lights and outdoor decorations in the suburbs, but they were pretty nice to look at. It showed enough people in the city cared about the holidays to set the mood.

The man took a sip of his hot chocolate and sighed with a big smile on his face. Holidays in the city for him used to be pretty quiet, maybe even a tad dreary, but for the last few years, he hadn't been alone. It was always good to spend the season with a friend…even if said friend wasn't human.

A low growl came from behind him, prompting him to look back and down, where he smiled, "Okay, Lion. I'm coming. I swear, your hunger gets the better of you around the holidays than other days of the year!"

He took one last look out the window and smiled, before turning around and going to the dining table where his large, white-furred friend was waiting with his large food bowl.


In another part of the city, a pale-skinned puppet was wandering the streets, going in no particular direction, until she found herself passing by Bitterman Banking & Development.

She glared at the stoic gray building with narrowed, black eye-shadowed eyes and muttered in her very stoic voice, "You're probably cozy at home, enjoying an expensive feast while most of your employees are eating the cheap stuff they can barely afford on their salaries. You truly are beneath Scrooge, Miss Bitterman."

Before she could come up with any more snark, her cell phone rang, prompting her to dig her phone out of her pocket and answer with a sharp, "Hello?"

After hearing the voice on the other end, her body tensed slightly, "Oh, sorry, Mr. Vered! I was passing by BB&D when you called! You know how looking at the place makes me bitter, especially after what happened to my father…"

After hearing a few words from the caller, she smiled, "Of course, I'll get right on that tomorrow, if society will allow it. I'll see you once it's done."

After hanging up, the puppet woman looked back up at the building and sneered, "Just you wait, Rachel; soon, your day will come at the hands of Zondra Brill!"


At the Happiness Hotel, most of the residents were in the lobby, getting ready for the Christmas party they threw every year. Lubbock Lou and his Jughuggers were running through a list of songs they could play for people to dance to after dinner, with some input from Dr. Teeth, Floyd and Janice, the Swedish Chef was just finishing dinner and Leon the Lizard was prepping a surprise he was going to give everyone once food was served (What it was, nobody could guess, except that whatever it was, he LIKELY didn't attain it legally).

One of the few residents not downstairs was Zoot, who was alone in the band's hotel room. With how chaotic the Happiness Hotel was, alone time was often very rare, so it wasn't easy getting privacy. With the rest of the band busy downstairs, Zoot figured now was a good a time as any to look at his face.

He stood in front of the small, cracked mirror hanging on the wall and pulled off his sunglasses, where he immediately winced.

As he suspected, a bruise had formed just below his left eye, right where Tubman had struck him with the baton last night. It was colored a dark shade of blue, maybe close to the same shade as his hair, and was kind of an oval shape. He gently poked at it, causing pain to shoot around that part of his face and him to grunt. Yeah, poking it was definitely a bad idea.

He sighed. At least it wasn't as bad as the kind of bruises he used to get when his father was in his life as a child. Those bruises were REALLY bad, especially if it was impossible for Zoot to hide them afterward. Yeah, his face could've looked a lot worse right now. Tubman had to look terrible after the beating he got from Animal, though.

Zoot was about to slide his sunglasses back on when he heard the door to the room open. "Hey, Zoot. Could you help Floyd keep Animal out of the kitchen? He's having trouble keeping a hold on his leash and the wild man's getting impatient for dinner," Dr. Teeth's voice asked.

Without thinking, Zoot turned around and went "Yeah, sure."

When the band leader saw Zoot's bare face, his brows shot up. "Oh man," he said, walking over to Zoot and leaning in close to him. "That does NOT look pretty. Was that from Tubman last night?"

Zoot winced and bit his lip. He should've slid his shades back on before turning around. He didn't want his bandmates to see it and worry.

Dr. Teeth gently touched Zoot's chin and turned his head slightly, studying the bruise with a furrowed brow. "I honestly didn't think he left a mark. Now I'm glad Animal kicked his ass last night."

Zoot shrugged, "I've had worse."

Dr. Teeth looked into Zoot's eyes with a twinge of pain in his own. "I know."

Zoot fumbled with his sunglasses before sliding them back on. "It only hurts when I poke at it. It's not too bad. It'll go away in a few days, maybe."

Dr. Teeth sighed, "Yeah, it will. Still, seeing you with a bruise on your face makes me a little down. Makes me think of…back then."

Zoot nodded and gave a brief shudder as memories of his tumultuous childhood flashed through his mind. The shouting, the breaking, the beating. It was all hell when his dad had been around. So much so, that Zoot never got to see any of his friends. Mainly Teeth.

Dr. Teeth patted him on the shoulder and said, "At least we're free of that pig now. He'll never hurt you again."

Zoot shrugged, "Someone else could still hurt me."

Dr. Teeth furrowed his brow, "Any if anyone dare try, I'll strike first!"

Zoot gave a small smile and said, "Thanks Leon…" Leon was Dr. Teeth's first name, but due to the presence of Leon the Lizard, he couldn't be referred to as that in mixed company.

His old friend smiled, "No problem, Zoot!"

At that moment, Floyd and Animal had come upstairs, where the former said, "Hey, the chef is about to start plating the food. We all ought to get down there if we want to eat."

Dr. Teeth nodded, "Yeah, and alert our new neighbors of the fine feast that awaits! I bet they'll be floored by it!"

Zoot nodded, "Yeah."

There may not be a lot of kind people in the world, but at least Zoot was friends with some of the best.


Gonzo had no idea how long he and his new friends had been asleep for, but he was startled awake by the bed unfolding from the wall, setting them free but leaving them in a bit of a daze.

After a couple of seconds of coming to their senses, Floyd's voice asked, "You dudes hungry?"

Gonzo looked at the base of the bed to see the Mayhem band were the ones who liberated them, who were also no longer in their river dance attire.

Floyd was now wearing a black shirt with blue jeans and a red jacket; Dr. Teeth had a dark purple and red striped shirt, blue jeans, and a floppy pink top hat accentuated by a long blue feather; Zoot wore a beige tunic shirt, black pants, and a navy blue fedora, and Animal wore a white t-shirt emblazoned with the letters 'I' and 'NY', with a red heart, and blue denim shorts that were torn at the bottom of the legs. He still had his metal collar with the long chain.

Gonzo nodded at the mustached man, "Yeah. Very." He hopped off the bed, setting his pad and pencil on the nearby nightstand, followed by Fozzie and Lips. The band released the bed, allowing it to fold back up into the wall.

Lips ran his fingers through his mussed-up hair before glaring at the band, "You could've warned us about the bed."

Dr. Teeth smirked. "What about it? How it could fold out right on top of you, or fold up with you still in it?"

Lips huffed, "Both."

Floyd laughed, "Yeah, that happens if you don't know how to control it. It usually stays open if you tie something very heavy to the base of it, like a cement block. We had issues with it too, when we first moved in. One time, the bed folded up while Zoot was taking a nap in it!"

Lips looked at the blue puppet with raised brows, "Were you okay?"

Zoot shrugged, "I didn't even realize it happened until I woke up."

Lips frowned for a moment, before shaking his head, mumbling, "You must be a very heavy sleeper…"

Animal grinned, "Animal LOVE bed!"

Dr. Teeth chuckled, "Yeah, the wild man folds himself into the bed on purpose sometimes. Insists it's comfy! Just wish he didn't do that when the rest of us are trying to catch shut-eye…"

Gonzo nodded, "Yeah, sleeping sideways does feel different…but it was actually kind of nice."

"Yeah!" Animal exclaimed, happy to have someone who agreed, it seemed.

The group went downstairs to the lobby, where Gonzo saw a line of puppets going to the kitchen, where he winced. He, Fozzie and Lips were pretty sudden guests. He hoped there was enough food for everyone. There've been a couple of soup kitchens where Gonzo had failed to get food from due to arriving late.

He looked to Dr. Teeth and asked, "What's for dinner?"

Dr. Teeth stroked his beard, "Well, we were going to have a classic turkey dinner, but the turkey checked out at the last minute. So, the main course is now shredded wheat with cranberry sauce."

Gonzo shrugged, "Better meal than what I usually have."

Lips nodded, "Yeah, with our old situations, we can't afford to picky, y'know?"

Dr. Teeth nodded, "Very true, but don't worry. There's other food too; some vegetables, some rolls, and fresh-baked pies of course! Courtesy of our own Janice and Annie Sue!"

"Apple! Pumpkin!" Animal shouted.

Fozzie smiled, "Oh, I love pie! I hope it's as good as Ma's!"

Gonzo sighed with his own smile. It'd been a long time since he enjoyed a full meal or anything sweet. He was going to be very satisfied this Christmas.

Once each resident had a plate of food, everyone sat around the first floor, eating and talking.

"Hey Gonzo," Floyd asked. "I saw you had a pad of paper and a pencil when we freed you from the bed. What were you guys doing? Or about to do, I guess."

Gonzo sighed, "We were going to write a song, but getting trapped in the bed interrupted the process. Then again, I can't really think of anything good at the top of my head. At least, not anything upbeat and completely original."

Dr. Teeth raised a brow, "What kind of songs do you usually improvise?"

Gonzo shrugged, "Sad sounding ones. Ones where I voice my lamentations with my life and whatever else makes me miserable."

The Mayhem band all winced, and Janice said, "Oh that's a bummer, I mean rully."

Floyd nodded, "Yeah, man. Sad songs can be good for getting your bad emotions out, but not if they're the only kind of song you write. You need to write more positive things to sell records."

Fozzie looked at the band and asked, "Have you guys ever written original songs? Or were you a cover band?"

Dr. Teeth grinned, "I'm mostly the writer of our music, and we have come up with a lot of decent numbers. 'Can You Picture That', 'Night Life' and 'Sweet Tooth Jam' are our favorites."

Floyd then sighed, "Too bad we can't perform them for you without our instruments. Especially 'Sweet Tooth Jam', cause that one's strictly instrumental."

Lips pointed at the piano, "Why not just use the piano? I'm sure you could carry on of your songs with just that."

Dr. Teeth shook his head, "Nah man. Our songs need electric fire for you to really feel them and get going. One ordinary piano isn't going to cut it."

The band began to look a little forlorn, where Fozzie, giving them an assuring smile, said, "I'm sure you'll get new instruments someday. You just got to work and save up!"

Floyd shrugged, "Yeah, someday."

Zoot shook his head, "Probably not, though."

Gonzo, Fozzie and Lips couldn't help but wince. The band losing their instruments was probably a very sensitive topic for them. Gonzo could only wonder how he'd feel if he lost his guitar, or how Lips would feel if he lost his trumpet. They'd both be pretty sad about it, he was sure.

Before the misery could set in any deeper, Leon the Lizard hopped up from his seat and exclaimed, "Okay! I think now is as good a time as any to break out the surprise!"

He ran towards the kitchen, beckoning the bellhop rats to follow him, and after a moment, returned to the room carrying a big box, with the rats holding several trays of champagne glasses. Gonzo read the box Leon was holding to see it was some brand of champagne.

Mildred's jaw dropped, "Mr. Lizard! Where on earth did you get that?!"

Leon set the box down and stated, "I found it behind a liquor store. Lucky me!"

Annie Sue winced, "Uh, Leon, that probably illegal."

Leon grinned, "It's only illegal if you get caught!" Then he laughed as he began pulling out the bottles of fancy alcohol and getting to work on opening them, while the rats passed out the glasses.

Gonzo had never had alcohol before. Being homeless never really allowed him the luxury. This was bound to be an interesting experience. He only hoped he didn't do anything stupid.

Once everyone had a glass, Leon began pouring the champagne for everyone, though there were a few instances where he poured too much or the bottle he opened was overbubbling, but eventually, everyone had a full glass.

Gonzo took a few small sips of his drink while most of the hotel residents gulped theirs down in a few seconds. Champagne had an interesting taste, but it probably wouldn't be Gonzo's favorite.

Fozzie, meanwhile, had gotten ahold of a sugar bowl and was scooping spoonful of sugars into his glass before taking his first sip.

"Aah," he breathed out with a smile. He looked at Gonzo and said, "If you put enough sugar in this stuff, it tastes just like ginger ale!"

Leon looked at the bear wide-eyed (well, more so than normal). "Seriously?! Gimme some of that sugar!"

Soon, everyone was trying Fozzie's drink hack, and eventually, everyone had drunk 3 or 4 glasses of champagne each, and the party began to pick up really fast!

Dr. Teeth was soon banging out a wild jazz tune on the piano, while Zoot sat nearby, seeming to listen to the music but also seemed about to fall asleep.

Mostly everyone else was dancing around the room, singing some made up nonsense song and hollering even more nonsensical things, having the time of their lives.

Gonzo was one of the few still sitting, just watching the action around him. He was probably the most sober puppet in the room, since he only had one glass of champagne.

Lips, who had drunk only one too, sat with him. He laughed, "Man, they sure know how to have fun here, don't they?"

Gonzo nodded, "Yeah, they sure do. Aren't you going to join the Doc on trumpet?"

Lips furrowed his brow for a moment, before smiling, "You know what, I think I ought to!" The blond hopped up from his seat and ran upstairs to retrieve his instrument.

Gonzo smiled and looked over at the bell hop rats, as they did little jigs on the floor, chattering and laughing.

"You guys have a lot of energy," he remarked.

One of the rats looked up at him and exclaimed, "We can't help it! Alcohol just gives us happy feet!"

"And wary blues can't get into our shoes if they refuse to grow weary," another rat stated with a chuckle.

Gonzo nodded, "Happy feet, right."

Then, a tune began to play in Gonzo's head. A jazzy tune, mostly played by trumpet, which soon became accompanied by some of the words the rats had said.

Once the whatever realized what he had, he himself ran upstairs. He nearly ran into Lips in the process, who asked, "You going to get your guitar?"

Gonzo shook his head, "No! I just came up with a song idea!" He walked around a very surprised Lips and went into their hotel room and shut the door.

He grabbed his pad and pencil and sat down on the sofa, where he began writing on the paper, muttering, "Happy feet, I've got those happy feet…"


If you divide this story into arcs, we've just finished the Introductory Arc! The next arc starts next chapter!

Gonzo has been inspired to write a song, and it's one we've associated with Kermit! What a coincidence!

And yes, Digit fans! Digit will be relevant in this story! Just not in the coming arc. I'm sorry but you'll have to wait!

And Hullabalou Sadley is an old Muppet OC by partycoffin on Tumblr, who I decided to use for this fic. Hopefully, I've done his character accurately...

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