Last Rites or Lust for Life
“Animal! Speak to me, man!” Dr. Teeth implored, ignoring his own badly torn leg, stuffing protruding grotesquely. He couldn’t even see Janice. Animal only groaned, and his furry eyelashes fluttered.
Half the block looked like a war zone. Destruction was everywhere, car windows shattered, trees on fire, and tufts of white stuffing scattering in the night’s breeze. Dr. Teeth was fairly certain he was missing a gold tooth or two. But they’d been through worse, Animal especially.
The shaggy headed muppet stirred, trying to speak. Dr. Teeth leaned in closely, “What is it, man? What are you trying to say?” But his whisper was too faint, his fabric-covered life slipping away. Where was Janice? Where had Beaker slunk off to? Would this make a good blues song?
“W-wa…” Animal tried to speak again, unable to even sit up.
“Save your strength, man. Be cool. Be cool,” Dr. Teeth tried reassuringly.
With a fierce trembling, Animal sat up, growling, “WANT WOMAN !” The little guy was going to be all right.