“Gonzo, speak to me! Are you hurt?!” Tiny hands were stroking his nose in anxious little movements.
He shifted experimentally, feeling the warm ache of newborn bruises. Beautiful. Gonzo opened his eyes cautiously and was instantly jolted by the sight of the beady eyes of his roommate, no more than an inch away from him. Odd to see the little guy at this angle, Gonzo mused thoughtfully, pushing Rizzo back far enough so that he could sit up.
“Yeah,” he answered cheerfully, though not without effort. “I’m definitely hurt.” Even if it had occurred to him to repress the satisfied laugh that naturally bubbled out of him, he wouldn’t have. Rizzo managed to look both relieved and disgusted at the same time.
“You always have to make a scene out of every scene, don’t you?” he grumbled, still panting slightly from the fright of the accident.
Gonzo smiled ruefully at his friend. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan that. ‘Betsy’ wasn’t supposed to be loaded with anything but gunpowder and me!” He poked cautiously at his blackened fur. Flecks of ash crumbled to the floor. “I’m really cooked this time.”
“Or you would be, if I wasn’t such a good shot with fire suppressants,” Rizzo said pointedly, bringing another smile to Gonzo’s face.
“Well, I knew I could count on you, buddy.” A commotion had been going on around them since he’d regained consciousness and presumably before then. Muppets were darting past him in both directions, but a lot of the activity was focused on the left wing of the stage.
Suddenly, the noise level dipped and Gonzo clearly heard Scooter ask, “Should we call an ambulance?” The formerly blue creature frowned and started to twist around, looking towards the area where many of his fellows had congregated.
Rizzo grabbed his nose and pulled his head back. “Listen Gonzo, I don’t want to get you upset but-”
He stared at Rizzo, eyes widening as realization dawned like a black sunrise. “Oh no,” he whispered, suddenly feeling sick, “someone got hurt? Besides me?”
Without waiting for a reply, Gonzo bolted to his feet. It was one thing to hurt himself, to risk himself; it was another thing entirely to risk someone else. Yes, the daredevil played fast and loose in his stunts. Everyone knew that. However, from simple experience, Gonzo knew that injuries that would be serious, or even fatal for a human did not hinder him overly much. In fact, Muppets in general were rather impervious to a wide variety of impacts, explosions, karate chops, consumptions and awful puns.
Still, they weren’t invincible. Kermit had once given them a bad scare when he’d been hit by a car. That incident had later inspired scenes in The Muppets Take Manhattan; a movie, which in turn, got the frog into hot water of a different variety.
Rizzo was actively pulling on him now, helplessly dragging his feet along the wooden floor as the rat tried to deter him. “Hey! Stop! Wait, Gonzo!”
Gonzo did stop. He had caught sight of something that gave him chills. There, on the floor, near to the front edge of the left wing curtains, was the thin, red, sheen of blood.
Blood.
“Oh,” he whispered, “no.” Gonzo had nothing else to say.
Rizzo tugged gently on his crisped fur. “It’s- it’s not as bad as it looks,” he said quietly. “Really; it’s not.” The metal catwalk that once hung above the stage, high up in the rafters now lay in a heap where the cannonball had sent it crashing to the floor. It was not far from where Hilda the Wardrobe Lady laid now, surrounded by concerned Muppets.
