As the clock approached midnight, they found themselves standing outside a nondescript door on Ninth Street. The place looked abandoned from the outside, but the faint hum of music and conversation leaked through the cracks. Floyd knocked, and a small window in the door slid open, revealing a pair of eyes."We're here for the gig," Floyd said simply.
The eyes studied them for a moment before the window shut. There was a sound of locks being undone, and the door creaked open, revealing a staircase leading down into the darkness. Dr. Teeth took a deep breath, glancing back at Animal, who was safely back at the bus with a trusted friend of theirs. They couldn't risk bringing him into this.
The air grew thick with smoke and the scent of alcohol as they descended. At the bottom of the stairs, they entered a room that looked like a relic of another era. Dimly lit, with small round tables scattered across the floor, and a low stage at the far end. The crowd was a mix of sharply dressed men and women, their eyes sharp and watchful. This was not just any audience; these were people of the city’s underbelly, the ones who thrived in the shadows.
On the stage sat a group of musicians, but the man at the center, holding a saxophone like it was an extension of his soul, could only be Zoot Zootowoki. His face was obscured by shadows and a fedora pulled low over his eyes, but the way he played—smooth, haunting, a melody that tugged at the heart—left no doubt.
Dr. Teeth and Floyd stood there, taking it all in. Zoot’s playing was unlike anything they had heard before. It was raw, yet refined. Full of pain, yet so beautiful it almost hurt to listen. This was the music of a man who had lived a thousand lives, who had poured every ounce of his being into every note.
Zoot finished his piece, the last note lingering in the air like smoke, and the room erupted into subdued applause. As he stepped off the stage, the man from earlier approached Dr. Teeth and Floyd, motioning for them to follow.
"You're up next," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.
They moved to the stage, their hearts pounding. Dr. Teeth set up his keyboard, while Floyd tuned his bass. The room grew quiet, eyes fixed on the newcomers. This was their moment to prove themselves—not just as musicians, but as equals to a legend.
Dr. Teeth glanced at Floyd, who nodded. They began to play, the first few notes shaky as they felt the weight of the room’s expectations. But as the music flowed, they found their rhythm. It was a bluesy number, raw and full of soul, a story in itself of two men searching for their place in the world. The crowd watched, some with curiosity, others with narrowed eyes. Zoot stood at the back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, the room melted away, and it was just them and the music. Floyd closed his eyes, letting the bass guide him, while Dr. Teeth’s fingers danced over the keys. They poured their hearts into that performance, not knowing if it would be enough, but knowing it was all they had.
When they finished, the room was silent. Then, slowly, applause broke out. It wasn’t thunderous, but it was enough. The man from before nodded in approval and turned to Zoot, who remained still, his face hidden in shadow.
Zoot approached the stage, his movements slow and deliberate. He looked at them, and for a moment, Dr. Teeth felt as if he were being weighed and measured. Then Zoot extended a hand, his voice low and gravelly.
"Not bad," he said. "Not bad at all."
Floyd shook his hand first, then Dr. Teeth. This wasn’t just a handshake; it was an invitation into a world they had only glimpsed from the outside. A world where music and family intertwined, where every note held meaning, every performance a risk.
"Tomorrow," Zoot said, turning away. "We talk."
As he walked off into the shadows, Dr. Teeth and Floyd stood there, the gravity of what had just happened sinking in. They had found Zoot, but they had also stepped into something much larger than themselves—a world where music was both a gift and a weapon, and where family ties could either bind or free them.
And they couldn't get enough of it
How y'all liking the story so far? Hope it's good! Thoughts 💭 ideas? Gammer checks?
Forget that last one hehe
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Human! Mayhem
FanfictionThis Story is my interpretation of the Muppets as humans. I'm not perfect in my writing and there is alot of mistakes , and this story is for mature audiences. That's why I make them human for these types of stories cause they do get abit dark at ti...