Janice was pacing the corner in her shortest gold skirt. It was frayed on the right side from the tear left by Dr. Teeth the last time he roughed her up when she was short a twenty.

He stood just out of immediate view by Fozzie’s old Stude the Mayhem had fixed up on one of the old episodes. Of course, everyone missed the outtakes where Foz flipped out afterward when he saw it.

She caught a glimpse of a soot covered lab coat trying to dive over a white picketed fence at the back of the apartment building. Her red stilettos click-clacked as she walked straight up the sidewalk to the hedge bordering the fence and reached over to grab the cuff of the skinny shotgun toting Beaker to pull him over the wooden barrier.

One hand on her hip she smiled with her Mick Jagger lips in her deep raspy voice stated, “Like, Beak- man, you look, like, hell, rully!”

With one swift shuffle of his hand, he shucked the spent shell from the shot gun and readied to reload. In a flash Dr. Teeth was by Janice’s side.