Chapter Text
The script starts like this.
The studio was once alive with light and laughter. The puppets sang and danced, their cheerful lessons flowing from the stage to every TV screen in the city, finding a home in the hearts of children everywhere. It was a bright, golden time.
But slowly, the world dimmed. Day by day, the light seemed to fade.
Still, the studio pressed on. The puppets and the producers kept moving, determined to bring joy and comfort to the damp, gray world outside. Sunshine and roses, cozy wonders—that was the puppets’ purpose. But the humans behind the scenes saw things differently. They worried about bills, production costs, angry letters from parents. Doubts crept in: Could this show really survive?
Then the war came, and happiness felt like a luxury no one could afford. The show wasn’t as popular as it once was. People began to wonder: Who even likes puppets anymore? But those thoughts were kept from the Norms, the Junebugs, and the Georges. The puppets didn’t need to know about the world’s complexities, its creeping darkness. Their vacant, simple smiles stayed untouched.
And then, one day, the show stopped. Its creator vanished, leaving no answers behind. The studio emptied as the staff packed up and left.
The puppets remained. Their painted smiles never faltered; their wool eyes still bright with hope. They waited, wondering if the cameras were still rolling, if the children were still watching. “When will everyone come back?” they asked, over and over.
But no one ever did.
…
It was a strange, rough time after the great exodus of adults. The professionals, the grown-ups—all gone. And the puppets, left alone, looked around the empty studio and wondered, What now?
Some took it the way children might.
“Woo! The grown-ups are gone! If we’re not rolling, we can have some fun!”
“Quick, hand me that bottle of glue! I’m gonna drink all of it!”
“Let’s roll down the hallways on the rolly chairs!”
“I bet I can jump higher than anyone else on the desks!”
“Oh! Oh! I got an idea! Let’s all wear stuffy coats over our heads! Isn’t that so silly?”
For a while, it was fun. Their hollow halls echoed with laughter, clattering furniture, and the sound of silliness unchecked. But eventually, reality caught up with them. It was a slow, creeping thing. The puppets weren’t really built to understand concepts like abandonment. After all, they’d probably done an episode about that once—and it was bad.
So why would it happen to them?
It took time before the puppets finally gathered together on the empty stage. The props were dusty. The furniture sat unused. The air felt still. The puppets sat cross-legged and quiet, their bright faces fixed in perpetual smiles as they tried to make sense of it all.
“What happened?” someone finally asked. “Why did everyone leave?”
A Norman puppet wiggled up to his feet, his arms flailing with goofy enthusiasm. “OH, OH! I’ve been rummaging around the office places!”
A Lenard popped up beside him, his painted frown a rare sight. “Wait. Aren’t we not allowed to go there?”
Norman blew a raspberry in response—a loud, silly fart sound—because what a ridiculous question! “If we weren’t allowed to go there, wouldn’t they stick around to stop us? Anyway! I found all kinds of things! There were staplers and rubbers and papers and rubber bands and mysterious bottles of strange liquid that smell funny and THUMBTACKS! And—”
“What was that one you said?” a Junebug interrupted, tilting her head.
“Thumbtacks?”
“OH YEAH! I love those!”
“No, no—what about the papers?” another voice chimed in. The puppets froze. For a moment, they all glanced around nervously, unable to see where the voice had come from.
A few Normans immediately sprang to their feet, wide-eyed and hopeful. “Is it hide-and-seek time?! I call hiding first!”
“SHHH!” The room quieted.
Then, from somewhere above, there came a noise—an old-fashioned, theatrical AHEM! Every puppet tilted their head up toward the rafters and the dusty pipes. And there, peeking out of one, was Ricky.
Ricky the sock puppet.
His googly eyes strained to look serious, though it was a losing battle with the wiggle of his soft, floppy form.
“HEY RICKY!” the puppets chorused, their excitement so loud it rattled the pipe. Ricky flailed a bit, swaying precariously.
“Whoa, WHOA! Okay now! I get it—I’m popular!” He puffed himself up as if trying to look important, though it only made his googly eyes jiggle more. “But seriously, Norm. What was on those papers?”
The puppets all turned to Norman. For once, he stopped wiggling. Everyone stared. Even the stage seemed to hold its breath.
And for the first time since the grown-ups left, it felt like maybe, just maybe, they were about to get some answers.
“OH YEAH! Well, um, I think… Hmm…” Norman wiggled uneasily, his usual energy faltering. For once, he was struggling. “The… uh… papers said… aahh… No one liked our show… Sooo… everyone left… I think… that’s what it said?”
The room went silent, the puppets exchanging uncertain glances.
“People don’t like our show? Really? But the nice grown-ups said everyone loves us!” Junebug’s voice trembled, her perpetual smile seeming smaller somehow.
To clarify, nothing on the papers actually said people didn’t like the puppets. But for many of the manmade creatures, the distinction didn’t matter. To not like the show was to not like them. After all, they were the show.
“What a couple of grumps!” Lenard exclaimed, trying to rally the room. “We’re just teaching kids to be nice, and to share, and to have a really fun, nice, good time!”
A Liliana hesitantly raised her hand, her soft voice barely cutting through the tension. “So, what do they not like about the show, then?”
The question hung in the air like a weight. Every puppet froze, their painted smiles unchanging but their felt hearts heavy.
Finally, the silence broke.
“IT’S PROBABLY BECAUSE NORM ATE ALL THE GLUE!” someone yelled.
“WHAT?!” Norman spun around, indignant. “HOW COULD YOU TATTLE ON ME? DON’T YOU REMEMBER EPISODE 256? NO TATTLING!”
“YOU NUMBSKULL! THAT EPISODE WAS ABOUT TELLING THE TRUTH! AND I TOLD THE TRUTH—YOU’RE A GLUE EATER!”
“NUH-UH!”
“YUH-UH!”
“NUH-UH!”
The argument escalated until George stood up abruptly, his felt chest puffing out as he screamed, “I KNOW WHY! OH DEAR, I KNOW WHY WE’RE NOT POPULAR! IT’S BECAUSE I STOLE JUNEBUG’S TOOTHBRUSH THAT ONE TIME! AAHHH!”
Junebug, her annoyance cutting through the chaos, slapped him lightly on the side of his fuzzy head. “You donk! That was part of an episode. You steal something, I say it’s wrong, and then we hug and make up. Remember?”
“Oh yeah…” George muttered, deflating.
“AHEM!”
Ricky’s sharp voice echoed through the room, silencing everyone. His googly eyes darted down at the group as he perched precariously from the pipe. “Don’t worry, guys! I’m sure it’s not your fault! You’re what makes The Friendly Neighborhood… well… friendly!”
“But then whose fault is it?”
Silence fell again, the weight of the question pressing down on them all.
“I’ll… uh… figure that out.” Ricky said hastily before retreating back up the pipe, disappearing with a muffled thump somewhere deep in the studio’s labyrinth.
The puppets exchanged shrugs. If anyone could figure it out, it was Ricky. Maybe everything would be okay after all.
“…Norm still eats glue.” someone muttered.
“OKAY, THAT’S IT!” Norm shouted, puffing himself up. “YOU’RE A BIG MEANIE AND I’M GONNA PUSH YOU!”
“I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE, BUT WHAT AM I?”
“WHAT?!”
And just like that, the squabble began anew, echoing through the abandoned studio like the faintest trace of the joy it once held.
…
The worry of not being liked—it’s a normal feeling, really. Everyone experiences it at some point in their day-to-day lives. But for a puppet? It’s a deeply unusual and unsettling emotion.
Not being liked?
But The Friendly Neighborhood was all about liking things! Liking people, liking animals, liking ice cream, liking sports, and most of all, liking kindness. Liking was their whole thing. The very idea felt alien to them, almost heretical. After all, the crew had liked them. The producers had liked them. Their creator had definitely liked them!
And oh, the children. The children most of all.
The thought of those bright, starry-eyed kids filled the puppets with a bittersweet warmth. The ones who came to the set, their little faces lighting up with wonder as they met the characters they’d only seen on screen. Those kids had loved them.
But apparently, lots of people didn’t like them. Didn’t like the show.
And that, maybe, was why the show was canceled. Or so they thought. The truth was murky, tangled in those confusing papers and contracts filled with big words and strange meanings. The puppets couldn’t make heads or tails of it, so they did what they did best—they doodled on the pages instead and tried to pass the time like they always had.
They vaguely remembered one episode they’d done, a heartfelt one, where they explained to kids how important it was to be open with their mommy and daddy. Sharing feelings, they said, was how you grow as a person and make everyone feel wonderful at the end!
But who were they supposed to open up to?
They could talk to each other, but everyone was feeling weird and confused, and no one seemed to have any answers. They could talk to Ricky—he was sort of the head honcho now that all the grown-ups had left—but Ricky was busy, always scurrying around the studio doing… grown-up things. Important things.
Maybe they could try talking to the humans. The big adults. The ones who used to listen, guide, and fix things.
But they had left.
Wow.
Guess the lessons they taught didn’t exactly translate into real life, huh?
…
Ricky called everyone together one day—or was it a month? A year? Time didn’t mean much anymore in the dusty, abandoned studio. Nevertheless, the sock puppet burst out of a crevice, full of excitement, as Gobblette, the big puppet with the even bigger mouth, rolled in a TV at his request.
Dozens of puppets gathered on the floor, quibbling and curious, wondering what their makeshift leader had in store.
“Hello, everyone! How are y’all doing?” Ricky greeted.
“We’re doing great, Ricky!” they answered in unison, although a few fibbed. A no-no behavior, of course—but who cared anymore?
“Well, I think I’ve found the solution to all our problems!” Ricky declared. “I’m sure most of you have heard about why all the people left, why our show was canceled, and all those fussy, bad things. It’s sad, for sure, but that’s okay! It’s okay to feel sad. Better to let it out than keep it in, am I right, fellas?”
The puppets nodded, remembering the lessons they’d once taught children. Being open with your feelings was important. Still, in the back, a Norman frowned quietly to himself, hugging his knees.
“But here’s the thing—I think I know what went wrong!” Ricky’s googly eyes wiggled with determination. “The show was canceled because some people didn’t like it, right? So, we just need to be more… hmm… what’s the word? Hip? Yeah! Hip! We need to be hipper with the kids and the adults!”
A George in the middle waved his hand frantically.
“Yes, George?” Ricky asked with a playful smirk.
“How do we be hip?”
“Great question!” Ricky gestured dramatically to the TV. “You see this? Gobblette helped me roll this out—thank you, Gobblette!” The big puppet waved shyly, her giant mouth curling into a smile. “We’re going to watch other shows! See what they’re doing, figure out what people like about them, and do some good ol’ self-improvement!”
“And then they’ll like us again?”
“I hope so! We’ll show everyone we can still be relevant. There’s nothing a dedicated puppet can’t do with the right motivation! So, let’s scope out the competition and get some fresh ideas!”
The puppets cheered, their felt faces lighting up with hope. Finally, a solution! They’d become better puppets, more fun, more exciting. They’d make The Friendly Neighborhood even friendlier.
But then Junebug raised a hesitant hand. “Um… the producers always said we aren’t allowed to watch TV. Not unless it’s our show.”
The cheers fizzled out, and all eyes turned to Ricky.
“I understand your concern, Junebug,” Ricky said carefully. “The producers probably had their reasons. But I don’t see any other way to fix things. Once we spruce up the show, the producers will come back, and everything will be back to normal! I’m sure they’ll forgive a little rule-breaking. Does that sound okay to you?”
Junebug nodded, reassured, and the room’s energy reignited.
A Lenard shouted, “I wanna use the remote!”
This sparked a playful tussle as everyone scrambled for the honor of turning on the magical window to the outside world. The brawl ended with Liliana standing triumphant atop a pile of giggling Normans and Lenards, remote in hand.
“Ha, ha!” she teased, wagging the remote.
Ricky rolled his loose eyes, warmth spreading through his sock-stuffed chest. This was what the world needed to see: a family, laughing and having fun. All they had to do was update their formula—a modern twist, a brighter smile—and the world would love them again.
“Okay, Liliana,” Ricky said with an attempt of a grin. “Go ahead.”
Liliana pointed the remote at the TV and pressed the power button.
The screen blared to life, casting a brilliant digital glow across their eager faces.
And that’s when everything went wrong.