Chapter Text
[3rd POV]
“First thing, I could never love you.”
The Reader bopped their head side to side to the song as they finished sewing a collar to the vintage Kermit puppet they had bought on eBay. “You sound like a richy bitch, yo fuck you.” They mumbled, tugging at the collar to see if the thread held securely. They smiled when it didn’t become undone and had the puppet in their arms.
“There you go, Kermit. You’re as good as new!” They told him. He stared into their eyes unblinkingly. Of course, he wasn’t going to respond, he was just a puppet after all.
The Reader smiled anyways, putting their hand inside him and grabbing the rods connected to his arms. “Oh gee, Reader. I’m awfully glad you gave me my collar back!” They did a fairly good impression of his iconic voice, “Without it, it sounds like I have a frog in my throat!” They started to laugh at their pun.
Settling down, they sat Kermit on a mini-chair and began to clean up their little hobby station. All while listening to some good ol’ Insane Clown Posse, of course!
“I’d order you a drink, and stir it with my dick.” The Reader sang along with the song as they put away the green thread they used to sew, “And then to get your attention in a crowded place, I’d simply walk up and stick my nuts in your face!”
They tidied up the escritoire desk, wiping light green felt scraps into a trash can. Because the vintage puppet’s collar had been eaten by ravenous moths, the Reader had created a new one for H im instead.
They poked the needle they used into a classic sewing tomato. Sighing to themselves when they could finally relax.
The Reader closed their eyes and took in a deep breath. They stretched in their comfy chair before looking at Kermit. “Welp, I’m bored as fuck now. What do you think I should do, Kermie?”
They waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. They mentally facepalmed and picked him up. “You know, you’re a great company and all- But I’d like some of my friends here.” The Reader puppeted him into speaking.
They smiled at the inanimate object, “That’s a great idea!” They said. The longer they looked at the puppet, the more self-conscious they became. “... This is stupid.” The Reader mumbled, taking Kermit off of their arm. They got up from the comfy chair and stretched their back. They grabbed him before making their way to their living room.
The Reader lived alone in a one-room apartment. It had a bedroom, bathroom, and a conjoined kitchen and living room. It was a small apartment, so they had to store their repaired projects on shelves. Every time they brought new friends over, they had to warn them of the many puppets and plushies they had sitting around.
The presence of the dolls around their apartment creeped others out. There was a doll in every room (Yes, even the bathroom). Most of them resided in the bedroom, but The Reader started to display some in the living room as well.
The Reader looked around for any free shelf place for Kermit, but yet there wasn’t any. “Damn… Gotta buy more renter-friendly shelves…” They placed Kermit down on the couch and positioned him to appear as if he was sitting.
They sat next to him and sighed, “I really need to get out more.” But yet they didn’t want to. They felt content while repairing abandoned plushes. Finding a dirty, mangled doll on the sidewalk made The Reader’s day. With each toy they cleaned, re-fluffed, stitched up, and clothed, they felt as if they gave the inanimate object life.
Bored, The Reader began to do what they always did whenever they repaired a plush… Surf on eBay for more, of course!
They typed ‘Vintage Puppets’ into the search bar and pressed E nter. Pictures of puppets available in the US appeared. They scrolled past the ones that didn’t need repairing. In fact, most of them looked well cared for. They explored the first few pages, but no. There just weren’t any that caught their eye.
“Sesame Street… Wooden Vintage String Doll…” The Reader sighed to themself, “Why are there so many damn hand puppets?” They skipped to the 13th page, frustrated at finding nothing so far.
Then they saw them.
These weren’t simple hand puppets for kids, no.
They looked straight out of an old children's show!
The Reader could tell that they had found something worth repairing just by looking at it. There was a trio of puppets laid out on a dirty polka-dot tarp. The first one was the smallest. It had two rods connected to its arms, showing it only needed one handler. That puppet was, surprisingly, the cleanest compared to the other two.
Its fleece skin had no lint balls and the yellow coloring was so vibrant. It had calm, half-lidded eyes with blue eyeshadow. Its ‘hair’ was a ball that looked goofy on top of its head. There was a swirl that made it look like a pompadour. It wore a lively blue jacket, a white undershirt, a red neck scarf, and pants whose pattern made the Reader wish they had a pair.
“Look at you, you’re just a little guy!” They said to themself, “You look so cute!” They cooed over the picture on their phone. Then, they swiped to see the other puppets.
While the first was practically in mint condition, the other two weren’t as lucky.
The one that L ooked like a grey Bert was absolutely covered in dust and fuzz balls. The fact that it didn’t have any legs showed that it was a hand-rod puppet. The colorful vest that it wore had holes from moths eating it. Its puffy sleeves were positively filthy, plagued by mysterious stains.
The next puppet didn’t have any legs, but there weren’t any rods attached to its hands either. It was a live hand.
But oh man.
This is just sad…
The Reader could tell that it had been burned by fire. Some of its fleece skin had melted away, exposing the foam that made its body. The colors were dulled by the soot that covered it. It broke their heart just to see the puppet in such a terrible state.
They just HAD to fix it.
The Reader looked at the price that was listed and was surprised to see that it was $70. They began to read the description.
‘Real Wally, Frank, and Eddie puppets from Welcome Home, a children’s TV show. Used.’
They deadpanned at that, “Uhh, yeah, they’re used. That one is fucking burnt.” They said to themself. They bought the puppet and the estimated delivery said it was going to take a week for them to arrive. The Reader opened a new tab on their browser and searched for Welcome Home.
The only thing that came up was a website. They c L icked on it and were greeted with a gif of a house looking at them. The art was incredible. “What’s this?” They asked, tapping it.
It redirected them to a page where a drawing of Wally was looking at them. Confused, they scrolled down and began to read the text, ‘Welcome to Welcome Home website, Feel free to explore our humble homepage and learn more about a puppet show now lost to obscurity. Thank you for visiting…’
Now intrigued, they pressed on the rainbow Welcome Home, and it took them to another page. ‘Welcome Home was an American children’s television program created and produced by The Playfellow Workshop, and also served as the studio’s only production…’ Their jaw began to drop, “Oh my Glob, why have I never heard of it before?” The Reader asked themself.
They soon found themself in a hyperfixation cycle. The more they learned about the show, songs, products, and characters, the more they became interested.
They enjoyed listening to the recordings on the website and found themself smiling at the art. The team who made the website was incredibly talented. Just looking at the colorful masterpieces instilled a sense of wonder in them. They could tell that the team genuinely loved the show.
The cast of characters was all unique as well, each one contrasted yet complimented each other’s dynamics. The Reader was surprised to see that there were audio clips of the characters in their profiles. Each voice was special and fit the respective character. They found themself wishing that the show hadn’t been discontinued. It was obvious that it could have grown into something much more.
The Reader became sad when they reached Eddie’s profile. Even though the art was different than a physical puppet, they couldn’t help but imagine the damaged puppet they bought, back in its original state. He looked like a sweetheart in the art, but in the eBay listing, he looked as if his soul had been sucked out.
That just made them more determined to fix the puppet. It was the most passionate they’ve ever felt about a project.
The Reader blinked, their eyes burned. “Ouch… What time is it?” They checked and were shocked to see that five hours had passed. They sat up from the couch, ‘When did I lay down?’
Since it was late at night, they went on with their bedtime routine. Showering, brushing their teeth, dressing into c O mfortable clothes, and going to be. They stared up at their ceiling. They had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to it.
They took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, ‘I can’t wait until they arrive…’ The Reader closed their eyes. The sound of their music box lulled them to sleep.
~~~~~ Dream ~~~~~
When they woke up, they were blinded by the bright sun. “Oh, my f- squeak - ing Glob…” They cursed- well, tried to curse. “What the- Squeak! ” The Reader looked down at their hands.
They were happy to see that they were still human.
“Unless I swallowed a dog toy squeaker… This gotta be a dream.” They looked around. They were currently in some bushes. Why? They had no clue.
The Reader stumbled out of it and onto a pathway made of rubber. The texture reminded them of playgrounds as they stood up. They found themself in front of Home. The house looked down at them, making them tense up.
Even though they had seen on the website that Home was a friendly neighbor, the Reader found themself creeped out by the staring. The very air around Home felt… Heavy. The world seemed to dull the more they looked at it. The sound of the birds chirping had become muffled, sweat rolled down their neck.
They blinked and Home’s door opened. Wally appeared at the doorway, looking at them.
“Hi there, neighbor,” He said in his forever calm voice, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”