Chapter One: Gobo's Dream
Gobo didn’t know he woke up screaming until after he was fully aware of it. There was also the fact that it woke his roommate, Wembley. Startled by the scream, Wembley tumbled out of his bed – the hole carved into the cave wall above Gobo’s – and fell six feet to the ground. Gobo watched it happen and felt responsible, rushing to Wembley’s aid. “Sorry about that, Wembley,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine, Gobo,” Wembley grunted as he stood up. “But are you okay? That was some scream you let out.”
Gobo answered in a huff, “I had the most peculiar dream.”
“A dream? Oh, I love hearing about dreams!” the elated Wembley proclaimed.
“Well, you wouldn’t love this one – it was awful,” Gobo refuted. “There was this Silly Creature on fire…and she kept calling out my name.”
“How would a Silly Creature know your name, Gobo?” Wembley asked. “You’ve never even met a Silly Creature long enough for one to know your name.”
“I don’t know, Wembley. It was just a dream.”
“You’re right. It’s just a dream.”
Gobo knew Wembley would wemble like that, never one to disagree with anyone in Fraggle Rock. He made use of that character flaw when he requested of his friend, “Let’s keep this strictly between ourselves. Don’t tell anyone else about this dream.”
“Not even Mokey, Red, or Boober?”
“Especially not Mokey, Red, or Boober. You understand, Wembley?”
“Oh, of course, Gobo! I won’t tell a soul about your dream!”
“Good. Now let’s get back to sleep.”
The next morning, Gobo journeyed out to what a simple Fraggle like him would perceive as “Outer Space.” In truth, he emerged through a hole in the wall of a workshop owned by Jerome “Doc” Crystal and his dog, Sprocket. Gobo was usually careful never to be seen by Doc, but he was occasionally spotted by Sprocket, urging Gobo to retreat back into the hole – with or without the postcard left by his Uncle Traveling Matt. Doc usually discarded them in the trash bin across from the hole (and near Sprocket’s bed).
Luckily, Sprocket was more preoccupied with Doc, who was on the phone with his neighbor, Ned Shimmelfinney. “Look, Ned, I understand that you have nowhere else to go, and I’m truly sorry about the flood. A busted pipe is enough to ruin any man’s day.” He paused for a moment to allow Shimmelfinney to pour out his heart to him. “Aw, Ned. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you and Fluffinella to spend that long in a hotel with hardly any expenses to cover for it.”
Doc felt something tug on his cardigan, looking down to see Sprocket, who practically begged for him to agree to Shimmelfinney and his cat in staying in a hotel. He would’ve obliged to his loyal dog, but he saw no other choice in the matter. “Alright, Ned. Just calm down. You and Fluffy can stay until the repairs are done.” As soon as he bid his neighbor adieu and hung up, Doc immediately got an earful of complaints in the form of barks from an infuriated Sprocket.
“Oh, don’t give me that, Sprocket! You heard Ned on the phone! He can’t afford a hotel, not even one that allows cats! Now we’re gonna be good hosts to our houseguests. And, Sprocket, try to get along with Fluffinella…” Doc then added in a whimper, “…just like I’ll try to get along with Ned.”
Sprocket whimpered along with his owner – both deeply fretting what’s to come with their oncoming houseguests.
Because the Silly Creature and his ferocious hairy beast were so distracted, it was easy for Gobo to retrieve Matt’s postcards (there was a large cluster of them in the trash bin) and flee through the hole in the wall, undetected. Once he arrived back at Fraggle Rock, he informed everyone, “A bunch of new postcards from my Uncle Traveling Matt just arrived!”
“Oh, terrific,” Red groaned sardonically. “Ten times more nonsense from the world of Outer Space.”
Ignoring Red’s usual gripes whenever Matt sent a new postcard, Gobo began to read that first one of many left by his uncle…
Dear Nephew Gobo,
Something exciting happened today: I made a new friend who I do believe could be the silliest creature of them all! He was dressed from head to toe in red – more red than even your friend, Red! I met him one day along what the Silly Creatures refer to as a “sidewalk.” He was waving to all of the passing machines on wheels, particularly the yellow ones, when he turned to me, startled by my presence.
“Holy $#%+! You’re Uncle Traveling Matt!” he shouted.
How he knew my name, I was unable to discern, but I did confirm to him, “Yes, I am Traveling Matt.”
The Silliest Creature gasped and said, “Oh, my god! I’m in a fanfic right now, aren’t I? That would explain how I can’t remember why I’m standing here hailing a cab I don’t need out of freakin’ nowhere!”
His words baffled me, mostly the word “fanfic.”
He seemed rather distraught, but he was quick to surrender to his fate as he then stated, “Welp. I guess my life is now currently in the hands of an overzealous geek who probably only watches cartoons.” He then turned to me and asked, “So, Uncle Traveling Matt, how would you like a guide to the sights that only Silly Creatures like me know about – like the greatest strip club you’ll ever see in your life! Jimbo never let you go to one of those on your travels, did he?”
Though I prefer my exploring alone, a guide did sound like a refreshing change.
“That would be splendid, Mister…?” I only realized then that I didn’t know the Silliest Creature’s name.
“Pool,” he said. “Deadpool.”
Personally, I thought “Silliest Creature” sounded less intimidating, but nonetheless I addressed Mr. Pool by his given name.
“Cool!” he cheered, presumably in reference to the temperature. “Just make sure that I get Mokey’s phone number. Not to say that Fraggles have phones… or that I have any interests in dating a Muppet. Yeah, I’m not even sure where I’m going with this. That’s the thing about fan fiction – shipping gets weird as $#%+!”
I will keep you posted on my exploits with the fascinating Mr. Pool, nephew.
Your Uncle Traveling Matt
“I gotta say, Gobo, that was your uncle’s most confusing postcard yet,” Boober stated after Gobo finished reading.
“Yeah, more so than the usual postcards,” Red added.
“What is a ‘phone number’?” Mokey pondered. “And how did that Silly Creature know my name?”
“Like I said – confusing,” Boober reiterated.
“Well, I thought it was really interesting,” Wembley said. “Besides, it’s no more confusing than that dream Gobo had last night.”
“Wembley!” Gobo exclaimed, reminding him of the promise he made.
Wembley only covered his mouth after the fact, realizing his blunder.
“What dream, Gobo?” an intrigued Mokey asked.
“It’s nothing, which is why I didn’t want to mention it to anybody.” His scolding tone in those last few words was directed specifically towards Wembley, driving his guilt further.
“Well, we’re talking about it now,” Red prided. “So tell us more about it.”
Unable to avoid the attention, Gobo conceded to sharing the details of his dream to his other three friends. Even more intrigued now, Mokey advised him, “With a powerful dream like that, Gobo, you must share it with the Trash Heap. It could be a premonition.”
“A what?” Gobo questioned the term.
“A vision,” Mokey elaborated.
Following Mokey’s advice, Gobo snuck through the Gorgs’ garden and to one corner of it where Marjory the Trash Heap resided along with her rat-like acolytes, Philo and Gunge. Just as he had done with his friends, Gobo shared the details of his dream with the Trash Heap and received a surprise when she shared her own “premonition.”
“It was of a hairless Silly Creature in a chair with wheels,” she described. “He asked me about you, Gobo Fraggle.”
Gobo was shaken by this. “You think these visions are somehow connected?”
“I have reason to believe so,” Marjory said, “though I have yet to discern what the Silly Creatures are seeking your help for.”
“So what should we do ’til then, eh?” Gobo asked.
“Until then, I urge you to continue consulting with me on any more visions that you have of these Silly Creatures,” the Trash Heap recommended. “They might lead to a major discovery.”
On these departing words from the Trash Heap, Philo and Gunge announced in perfect unison, “The Trash Heap has spoken!”
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