Chapter Text
squeegee shuffles uncomfortably in her seat. the cushion of her wheelchair was normally rather comfortable, but today, she just couldn't seem to get in the right position to reach every button on the ancient, rusting show control board at once, which she didn't need to do, but it only felt right if she could, and it was just annoying enough to make her want to punch something. she stretches, throwing her hands up in the air and folding them back behind her neck. she throws her head back over her backrest.
"spotlight 4!" yells a voice from somewhere backstage, closer up to the curtain than she was. poor beauregard, he never seemed to get that if the mayhem weren't playing and hadn't CRANKED the amps that day, everyone on stage, in the pit and in the front few rows row could hear him. and apparently, the sounds of the last act ending weren't enough to mask his confused nasally yelping, which was made obvious by the nervous expression of the cameramen in the front. today wasn't a live show, though, so there was no audience to nervously chuckle at the clumsy and overworked old janitor. live shows were getting more and more rare. "spotlight 4, in, uhhh..." he repeats, sticking his free hand under his hat and scratching his head.. "uh... 5 seconds!"
scooter steps forward, quickly fumbling over his clipboard, shakily sticking up one of his hands and counting to 5 on his bandaged up fingers. he pinched, cut, and squished them between doors so often, squeegee had nearly forgotten what they looked like un-bandaged. she had almost even forgotten if she HAD seen them un-bandaged their whole lives.
"o-or, uh, n-no! no, uh- um, spotlight, uh- 3! wait- spotlight, uh, um... one, two-"
"BEAU! just, j-just pick one!" scooter yelps, wringing his hands frantically, dropping and promptly catching his clipboard. papers come loose and glide through the air, and he snatches up each one frantically like the floor was lava.
"u-uh... um, closest one to deadly!" beau yells, whirling around and nearly falling over, grabbing onto his broom for support. squeegee winces. "he should be using a cane." she thought. true, muppets didn't age conventionally, sometimes even at all. there was some sort of roger-rabbit-esque "fictional character" logic behind it, but what squeegee remembered it basically boiling down to was your age, as a puppet, depends on your mental maturity level. so, basically, however old you felt was how old you were. beau had never seemed "young" to squeegee, her whole life. he'd always seemed to be stuck in some puppet age purgatory between a frail old man and a clueless teenager. what that said about his mental state, who knew. physical health was a whole different ball game. squeegee could never walk, and beau had always had a limp, but the health of muppets didn't appear to "deteriorate" over time. again, there was some sort of scientific explanation for all that jazz that squeegee didn't have the brain capacity or desire to understand, but essentially, what she had gathered from dr. neuter, the only muppet with any actual medical experience at all, was that muppets were born the way they were. there was all sorts of mad science that could be done to help and change things about your appearance, you were muppets after all, but you're born the way you're born, and you were welcomed, wether that be as a bear, or a cow, or a chicken, or any other thing. whatever giant fuzzy rug monster thog was, whatever human-puppet hybrid walter was, whatever space alien creature gonzo was, it didn't matter. that was why the muppets were special. that's why squeegee did what she did, no matter how annoying it could get sometimes. beau steadies himself, and halfheartedly smiles while fixing his hat. what a sweetheart. he tries his best.
sighing and sticking up her index finger, squeegee lets her arm fall in an arc dramatically planting the outstretched finger on the old, near pushed-in button for floodlight 6. nowhere near what beau said, but he didn't know technical names, he just gave her and scooter a vague idea of what general area of the stage needed to light up. uncle deadly blinks away the floodlight in his face, wincing and pushing one of the first of a line of chicken dancers into the light. ever the fashionista he is, he had coordinated their outfits perfectly, but his own outfit was a mess of safety pins and fashion tape and other indiscernible stuff- "designing fashion for all manner of animals and humans and other creatures requires a level of creativity... and improv." he'd say. he also had never seemed "young" to squeegee. in fact, she wasn't even sure he was alive. he'd been described before as some sort of "phantom" or "ghost", but she didn't even want to begin to think about the logistics of THAT. the chickens do their number whilst squeegee presses buttons idly as if playing an instrument. they'd been rehearsing forever, but scooter still yells out all the cues at her frantically like it was the first time he's ever seen the number performed. squeegee understood deep down why he was so frantic to get everything right considering the circumstances they'd been in, it did always sort of feel like one mistake could cost them everything, but that didn't stop her from being less than fond of scooter's wobbly barking.
"pooter, it's a chicken number, we do this at least three times live per week, come on."
programming had become a little stale over the past few years, there hadn't been a major push for anything in the studio recently, but after the mayhem left for filming on their documentary series a few months back, kermit had promised more "big things" coming. "big things, big things." he'd say, the bags under his eyes seeming to grow every time he repeated the phrase. eventually, the mayhem got back, and nothing happened. "big things!" kermit would repeat. mhm, sure. ask the execs at disney about that one, they barely even remembered kermit existed, let alone the muppets at all. kermit could get on his knees and beg, and for all anyone knew he did, and you'd just barely get funding for the next season of the show. they didn't like the muppets up at corporate, they weren't a huge money maker, but... they were scared of them. they'd seen what happens when a corporation or agency or whatever person was in charge tried to cut off or fire them... chaos, absolute CHAOS. the muppets were a family, they did absolutely NOTHING apart, and that included being fired. throw fozzie at an exec to try and work out severance and special terms for each individual muppet and their circumstances and within 5 agonizing minutes, you'd have another season. maybe that's what kermit did. the truth was, the muppets were even closer than the movies or show or any fictional project they'd worked on portrayed. they were quite literally family. everyone was either related, practically related, married or otherwise together, and had known each other since childhood, if one hadn't grown up a muppet. muppet was practically a last name at this point, encapsulating every strange little creature with a dream that happened to come along and was willing to give it a real shot. a family so big and close it was practically the mafia, just without the violence- the graphic violence, at least, squeegee didn't think shooting gonzo through a ceiling in protest counted as actual violence. she had been born into the muppet family, the middle child, born between skeeter and scooter, living in the muppet house just behind the theater, just like all the rest of the core cast. in truth, the muppets had a whole neighborhood to hold their numbers. she lived in the big, old, quite literally crumbling house, affectionately referred to as "the big one". with uncle kermit and aunt piggy, with uncle fozzie, uncle gonzo and uncle rizzo, the mayhem- including floyd and doc, who had raised the trio due to a... less than stellar performance from their blood parents- her siblings, of course, and so many other people that she couldn't possibly count, mostly muppets who'd been there since the very early days. the theater lot is right across the street, past the trees planted strategically in a feeble attempt to hide the neighborhood in the background from lot visitors- again, a rarity- but it's kinda hard to hide a house where aliens quite literally have a landing platform on the roof of the big one for their regular visits. the house from "muppets from space" was based on the big one, but the real house was much more... "very much lived in", "charmingly retro", and "obviously well loved" were all phrases that she'd heard used to describe it.
"i've told you not to call m- CUE FLOOD 19 STAGE RIGHT- call me that! we're hanging by a- CUE SPOT 11 MIDDLE STAGE- hanging by a thread, here! we've gotta impressss!" scooter says, frantically pointing at the ground. "you aren't even looking at the board!" squeegee sighs, rolling her head over to look at scooter as he taps his foot frantically- he does everything frantically. "of course i'm not looking at the board. i see it in my sleep."
scooter glares at squeegee.
"what do you want me to say? i'm not looking at it because i'm afraid i'll melt it with my laser ey-"
"CUE!"
scooter reaches over suddenly, his arm flying over squeegee's face and slamming down a button. he retracts his reach and folds his arms as he stares angrily at the sliver of the stage visible from the inconvenient position the two are in. the theater was... usable, the team- being mostly squeegee, scooter, beau and deadly- kept it that way, but it was old, and not meant to house modern technology. most of the stage tech was old, analog stuff, ropes and levers and pulleys, but the tech that they have managed to shove in the cracks is at awkward angles and holding on for dear life, just like everything else the muppets have. well, except each other. that was the one thing that wasn't going away, for better or worse. strength in numbers was really the only thing keeping this theater, this neighborhood, this entire lot, really, from being mickey-mouse-shaped-wrecking-balled into a fine powder. the problems could be easily fixed, renovations could easily be done without destroying the theater or making it unrecognizable, but that costed money. "the big green monster", as kermit called it. "the big ol' greasy green monster in the nice black suit that pulls all the strings. that's all they care about, and we don't make it, so they don't give it to us." sad, but true.
"scooter, i'm gonna melt YOU with my laser eyes." squeegee said, looking back over at the board.
"you don't have laser eyes." he mumbles, childishly.
"would you rather me just tell you i'm gonna wring you out, because i am trying to be NICE about it."
"what is WITH you right now?" scooter whines as the number finishes, and deadly hurries the chickens backstage, panicking over a minor wardrobe malfunction- a feather from a hat is laying on the floor of the stage. tragic. kermit finally and hurriedly walks on stage as the transition music plays, unconsciously kicking the feather directly into zoot's sax, causing him to choke out a garbled final note that kermit will surely play off as intentional, but causes scooter to wince in pain. squeegee leans down, folds her arms on the control board, hides her face behind her elbows, and looks down at the pit as kermit says... something, and sighs. she's barely gotten any time with the mayhem since they came back from filming their documentary, especially doc and floyd. of course, all of the muppet crew was family in a way, but the mayhem, especially doc and floyd, had raised her and skeeter. she and skeeter were born a year apart, animal having been born a few years prior. nobody quite knows where animal came from, floyd finding him on their doorstep one day right after graduating college and committing to helping his longtime friend kermit start up his show idea along with a freshly graduated, clueless and sheltered teeth. apparently, the theater worker that was their dad and the ever-migrating biker that was their mom saw this and thought it was just the most stupendous idea they'd never thought of, dropping their unwanted new responsibilities, skeeter and squeegee, in the hands of the new permanent owners of the theater, the newly successful and ever growing muppets, and running. the two had been told their mother went first, motorcycle-ing off into the sunset- probably for the best, since the biker gang she was a part of wasn't exactly the best community to raise kids in, and their father went soon after, chasing down the love of his life, and hoping to make a new start of it. a life of thrills and chills and general dare-deviling... to which he promptly returned two years later with a baby, absolutely nothing else but the clothes on his back, a few incredibly embarrassing new tattoos and a black eye, and an apparent bounty on his head. scooter was the baby's name- fitting for the child of a motorcycle maniac- and that was all he'd say. he ran off into witness protection or something, whoever could keep him away from the criminal underground that apparently wanted him dead or alive, and was never seen again. by then, kermit was established in his role enough to pretty much take on raising scooter himself, but the siblings did stay close. a result of that, however, was that scooter was very much like kermit, whilst skeeter and squeegee were very much... not. skeeter and animal developed a close bond, both taking more after floyd- up to pretty much anything, spontaneous and fun, but also quick-witted and frustratingly smart- that part definitely applying more to skeeter than to animal. squeegee took much more after doc, incredibly emotional, getting attached to people and things way too easily, very nostalgic, chill to a fault, and having absolutely no self awareness of how ridiculous they look to everyone else. they could both also very practical, however, in their own weird way, pulling insane and seemingly incredibly stupid solutions to problems out of nowhere that- most of the time- somehow actually work. however, squeegee was feeling none of those things right now, as work had been incredibly stressful the past few weeks. kermit kept initiating new projects and then promptly cancelling them, buying or commissioning experimental new equipment from the already overworked bunsen and then promptly getting rid of it, seemingly throwing any and everything at the wall to see what sticks, what could be the next big thing that'll make the house of mouse finally acknowledge their existence again. all fine and dandy, but the brunt of the responsibility of setting up all these elaborate new ideas- and then more often than not having to immediately dismantle them- fell on the stage crew... a team which consisted of a severely overworked uncle deadly, a lovable, sweet and wellmeaning yet painfully incompetent beauregard, "voted most likely in class to have a nervous breakdown every single year" scooter, and a fed up, exhausted squeegee. oh, and occasionally sweetums to lift heavy stuff. squeegee always squabbled with scooter, as she saw him as a sort of uptight teachers pet, but this week in particular had been really bad. she had begged to come with the mayhem to their documentary filming, but as much as they wanted to take her and as much as kermit wanted to let her go, he'd explained to her that they simply couldn't afford to lose a member of the team as crucial in the production pipeline as her, even for just a few weeks. after watching the people that essentially amounted to her big brother, uncles, aunt and dads drive off into the sunset to sunny san-something california for a relaxing family vacation, something in her simply shut off, and it was all autopilot from there. she didn't even know that they had gotten back until bumping into a wandering zoot in a hallway, making him drop his peanut butter sandwich.
"oh, sorry, i didn't s- UNCLE ZOOT? YOU GUYS... YOU GUYS ARE BACK?"
"...my sandwich."
and that was all for that thrilling interaction. there wasn't even time for much of a reunion, as that day was scheduled to be... something. squeegee didn't even remember what it was. she just remembered it involved dismantling a giant machine that was supposed to automate the ropes and levers backstage, but after it had malfunctioned, caught and hoisted a clueless little robin up 30 feet in the air, kermit gave the executive order to take it down. she wasn't even sure why she was there, honestly... sweetums was doing most, if not all of the work, while the rest of the stage crew just kind of stood there and watched, and uncle deadly fiddled with the handwritten instructions bunsen had given on how to dismantle it properly without any further collateral damage to any other unsuspecting child pedestrians.
"alright, it seems you need to remove the panel marked with a large number 7 next."
"okie dokie!" sweetums bellowed as he tore off another large slab of sheet metal.
"and then..." deadly squinted despite already having glasses on, and tilted the paper a bit. "and then it says to carefully remove panel 8. directly after that, you will remove panel 10."
"isn't there a panel 9?" asked beauregard.
"it appears there was at some point, but bunsen says here that it did not make it out of the prototype phase because... 7 8 9. he then writes, 'just a bit of humor to distract from the fact that there's a 99.9% chance that a significant portion of the machine will now unavoidably expl-"
*BANG!!!*
when the smoke cleared, all that remained was a large crater in the middle of the backstage pulley mechanisms.
"oughhhh, see, this is why i wore this hazmat suit!" scooter whined, getting up off the floor.
"squeegee, you alright...?" asked beauregard.
"i think i'm gonna explode next, actually." she said as she stared at the giant mass of problems that she'd now not only have to fix, but figure out how to even begin doing that in the first place.
"oh man, why's everything EXPLODING?!? i don't get any of this!" beau said, walking away.
it almost felt like the executives were trying to push the muppets apart. whisking such core founding pillars of the community, who'd been there since the very start and played such a vital role on the show itself, away to film a documentary where they were barely even allowed to mention their start on the show whilst being distracted by celebrity and corporate endorsements like the muppets hadn't seen since at least the early 2000's, felt so deliberate when they also knew that back home, the studio lot was rapidly aging out of being anything more than a space suitable for a museum if action wasn't taken soon, far from being able to handle the constant use it was getting.
when the mayhem finally was able to reunite with their surrogate kids, it was to show the stage crew the actual good new sound and music equipment they had gotten for filming and were allowed to keep. stuff that was actually useful, tech they actually needed. squeegee only got to have a one on one discussion about the huge bruise on her nose- caused, of course, by a piece of a rusting floodlight falling on it- with doc whilst they were also looking over his new synth, squeegee having to leave right away to tend to kermit's confusion over the new equipment while the mayhem were left with free time so graciously granted to them by corporate.
"well, see, i don't get it, if the drum machine makes the sounds that the regular drum set makes, why do we need both?" kermit says softly, scratching his head. squeegee watches almost everyone else break for lunch while skeeter shows kermit the wonders of modern technology by loading up a second set of samples onto the machine.
"oh, wow! look at that! how neat!" kermit chuckles, sounding amazed that such a machine could exist, awestruck by the incredible technology that made what was essentially the "push a button and sound comes out" device possible. sometimes squeegee wished she could rip a calendar off the wall and shove it in his pointy green face. she felt like he lived every day as if it was 1980 and he wasn't fighting for his and his family's livelihoods. like this was a cool gimmick, not a vital step in an evolution that, if not made, would end in disaster. as kermit closes out the show, squeegee sighs and does her part with the lights and special effects as the rest of the stage crew scramble to handle the analog mechanisms of the stage.
"and that's a wrap!" yells scooter, more relieved than proud, which, even though she hears that tone of voice from the entire crew constantly, still makes squeegee sad. it's as if after every show, everyone is more shocked and surprised that they haven't been fired yet more than they're proud of the art they've made. the curtains close. squeegee adjusts her glasses and wheels down the ramp that leads from backstage to the orchestra pit.
"watchin' them curtains close never gets old, huh?" dr teeth bellows, turning off his synth and leaning back a bit on his bench.
"i'm just... i'm always worried one day i'll watch them close for the last time."
doc opens his mouth as if to say something, but closes it.
"all we can do is our best." janice says, unplugging her guitar and putting it away in a pink, orange and yellow case, covered in old stickers and fading hand-drawn art. ever thoughtful, as always, but even she seemed not to know exactly what to say. she smiles, and it's genuine, if a little empty. she walks between doc and squeegee and puts a reassuring hand on each of their shoulders. doc looks almost embarrassed, as if he knows if this all falls apart and anyone's getting out of it with any semblance of hope, it'll be the mayhem. good luck to everyone else, including squeegee, skeeter and scooter, and the rest of the kids who were raised here, and have nowhere else to go. he feels almost guilty, but what could he have done? it wasn't his fault that they were chosen by the powers that be to get a few more superficial years of use, just so the suits could profit off of people's nostalgia for however long they would tolerate them, before inevitably getting bored again, and then it was light out for good. he was a pawn on a burning chessboard, the pianist on the titanic that refused to stop playing as the ship sunk. he sighs as the rest of the orchestra walk by them and out of the pit. janice walks away, and soon after, doc gets up, too.
"well, i suppose we're headed back. hey, don't sulk around too long, alright?"
"yeah, ok."
doc nods and smiles, walking away. squeegee looks back up at the stage as the rest of the cast either hangs around, cleaning up and talking, or filters out of the theater, and the old echoey building falls quieter and quieter, the most prominent sound being the creaking of floorboards as people move about and walls shifting and settling. speaking of, the floorboards were especially loud today, squeegee thought. almost as if somone was-
"excuse me?"
"BAH!"
squeegee nearly jumps out of her seat as a hand lands on her shoulder. she recognizes that voice. she doesn't turn around.
"oh, sorry, didn't mean to frighten ya. do you have a minute?"
"uhhhh..."
squeegee slowly turns.
"if you're free, i just wanted to have a meeting with the full stage crew. it shouldn't take too long."
"meeting? he wants a meeting? he wants to COMMUNICATE? with US?"
squeegee thinks to herself. he was never free to have a meeting with anyone, let alone the stage crew! he was too busy running back and forth calming down corporate. even if he did talk to someone, it was never for more than a few minutes, and you certainly wouldn't have his full attention.
"u-uh... s-sure, kermit. i'll be right there."
"fantastic! i have some really exciting news, you'll love it!"
he says before hurrying away backstage, seeming excited and oddly... confident? "oh, good grief..." squeegee thought. what's the brilliant idea he's got now? the thing that'll save the muppets, the one thing that'll change the big guy's minds for good? that kind of thing happened at least once every week or so, but this seemed different. squeegee takes a deep breath and puts her hands on her wheels, turning to head backstage again. and as she propels forward, she can't help but feel an odd sensation, like something in the air today, something about kermit, is just a bit different. a bit less... hopeless. hope, at least these days, didn't ever seem to pay off. but maybe this was more than just hope. maybe somehow, this time, it was something bigger. bigger than that dreaded big green monster in the nice black suit that pulled all the strings. maybe the strings were finally being cut.