The Bottom
A blank, square hole at the top of the far stone wall functioned as a window and the only light. It was a long, narrow room that ran beneath the entire right side of the house. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all made of a dark, cold stone. Each of the two side walls were lined with five jail cells, equal in size, each with a pile of old rags in one of the corners. On each side of the room, next to the window wall, there was an empty space the same size as the cells. But instead of a cell, there was a large empty bird cage mounted on the wall to either side of the window. Through the window, one could see only the tips of a few blades of grass. About a foot below the window, a single nail driven partway into the stone carried a large, metal ring that held keys to every cell and the cages. A narrow aisle ran between the two lines of cells, just as wide as the door that stood exactly opposite the window.
A sad, low voice echoed slightly on the walls in a slow, mellow song.
"...bein red, or yellow, or gold,
or something much more colorful like that.
It's not that easy bein' green.
It seems you blend in
with so many other
ordinary things.
And people tend
to pass you...
...over..."
From his seat on the pile of rags in the first cell on the right, Kermit let the song die before it ended. It had always made him feel better before. Always. But now it offered him no comfort at all. He had thought they had hit the bottom a week ago when the bus had broken down. But now he knew he had been wrong. Because they had been there before, and they had gotten out before, and deep down, they had known they would get out again.
But now...
Kermit leaned his head against the stone wall. It was so smooth, hard, cold... like marble... marble numbers, that had been a gift... he brushed the thought away.
Now he didn't have anything. He really, truly had nothing. He had been taken from his friends, from the outside world. He was alone in a dungeon in Galt's basement. Alone, with absolutely nothing. He had come to The End.
He felt his heart breaking at the thought. Why had Galt torn them apart like this? Surely even he couldn't stoop this low. Who would take friends apart, he thought. Especially friends that are family. He might as well take away food and water, too. Where would anyone be without friends?
He thought of all the pairs and sets of friends he knew. As for himself, well, he had Fozzie, and Gonzo, and Rowlf, and Scooter, and Robin, and Miss Piggy, and Grover, and so many others. Then the Electric Mayhem came to mind. Nothing could break them up. And Gonzo and Rizzo, and Statler and Waldorf, and Robin and Sweetums, and Bunsen and Beaker, and Johnny and Sal, and all of the Fraggles... and there was Blotch and Goggles and Croaker and Pilgrim... Ernie and Bert. Bert and Ernie. Their friendship had had it's own fair share of tests, and they could never break up.
There were so many pairs, so many groups, of people who had such strong friendships. People he knew. People who were family. His family.
And now, they had all been taken from him. All of them. And he was left, alone, in some forlorn jail cell, with no contact to the outside world...
The outside world... The theater... Scooter... I haven't talked to him since I called last week. I wonder how things there are. I wonder how they're doing, getting ready for the show. I hope things are ok there. I wish I had some way to talk to them. For all I know, the theater's burned down..."
He shuddered at the thought, then continued to shiver from the cold. He pulled one of the rags up around himself for warmth.
I wonder what Fozzie and everybody is doing now. Miss Piggy was fighting. I wonder who won. Maybe she did. But then, there were twelve of them... no, eleven. One of them took me here. Well, they'll probably try to find a way to get me out of here. That seems like what they would do. I hope they can find me.
He wondered, then, if they would be angry when they found him. After all, it was his fault. He was their leader, and he had led them here. He had been the one to say they weren't going to do the movie. He had been the one to decide to leave. He had been the one to say they were going to face Galt. He had been the one who told them they were going to his house. It would make sense for him to be the one they got mad at. But some how, he doubted they would. He had been the one to lead them there, but he would be the only one to blame him.
He tried, as he had many times before, to figure out why he was leading them in the first place. He struggled with it a bit, and decided, as he usually did, that he simply didn't know. Perhaps that was just the way it was. Perhaps there was no reason to it at all. Perhaps if he had known them in high school, he would have led them then, too.
He could understand why he led Robin. That made sense. He was Robin's uncle, he was supposed be some sort of leader. Still, he had somehow turned into more of a father than an uncle to the young frog. But that had happened long ago...
Suddenly the door swung open with a loud bang. Kermit jumped to his feet, surprised, scared.
Galt walked in, with his personal set of keys in one hand, and a large bundle of something in his other arm. He unlocked the cell next to Kermit's, threw the bundle in, and locked it again. He started to walk back out, but he stopped right in front of Kermit. He grabbed one of the bars of the cell and leaned in.
"You feeling any regret yet, Frog?" he sneered, and then he walked out of the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.
Kermit looked into the next cell. The bundle had collapsed onto the floor, and hadn't moved. It was something... and then he realized. It wasn't something. It was someone.
He rushed to the other side of his cell, crouching next to the heap, examining.
The normally perfect curls of blonde were tangled and matted. The purple gloves were soiled and torn. The heel on one of the shoes was broken off, the toe of the other had a hole. The dress that had looked so clean and perfect was now twisted on her body, covered with shoe marks where she had been kicked. Her legs, arms, and neck were covered with cuts and bruises. The single string of pearls she always wore was broken. She laid there without moving, not making a single sound. Her face was blocked by her hair, but he didn't have a doubt as to who this was. He just didn't want to admit to himself that this was her.
But he had to. He found his voice. "Miss Piggy?"
She didn't move. She didn't say anything. She just laid there.
"Miss Piggy?" he tried again.
Nothing.
"Miss Piggy? Piggy, it's me. It... it's Kermit, Piggy."
Nothing.
He reached through the bars and brushed her hair away from her face.
The rest of her looked awful. But this looked even worse. Longer cuts. Bigger bruises. Her eyes were shut.
He tried to bite back his tears. "Piggy? Piggy, you're okay. You're okay now, Piggy. See, I'm... I'm right here, Piggy..."
He took her hand, squeezed it. "Piggy?... Piggy, please, answer me... Piggy..."
But she didn't say anything. She didn't make a sound. She didn't move at all.
He took a rag from the pile in her cell and spread it over her. Then he pulled her hand through the bars and held it close to him, leaning against the bars, his eyes never moving from her face. "Don't do this to me, Piggy. Please..."
Her eyes flickered part way open for a brief second and shut again. Then they opened, slowly. Only a little bit. But it was enough for her to see him, recognize him, look at him for just a moment before her eyes slid shut again, and the darkness overtook her once more.
Kermit clutched her hand, squeezing it closer to him, not realizing he was shaking. A tear escaped from his eye and slid down his face, dropping onto the cold stone ground. She didn't move at all, didn't make a single sound.
"Piggy..."
He sat with her like that for a long time. Then her eyes fluttered slowly open, resting on his face. She felt weak, oh, so weak...
"Piggy?"
She squeezed his hand.
He reached his other hand through the bars and gently touched her hair.
"Is this all from the fight?" he whispered.
It took a lot of effort, but she managed to rock her head, just a fraction of an inch, a little closer to the ground and then back up. No. It wasn't all from the fight.
He moved his hand from her hair to her face, stroking her cheek, being carful not to touch any of her injuries.
She let her eyes drift shut again, trying to find her strength. The pain overwhelmed her body to the extent that she couldn't even think. Her only comfort was Kermit's gentle hand. She tried to focus on it, tried to forget the searing pain. After a few moments of silence, she opened her eyes once more.
He watched her, holding her hand, stroking her cheek. It hurt so much to see her like this. And it wasn't even all from the fight. Which meant that she had been put through something else. Something worse. Where was everybody else? Were they being put through something similar? Or had they somehow gotten away? He hoped the second one was what had happened.
He realized tears were flowing down his face like a river. He tried to force himself to stop crying. Stop that, he thought. Stop it right now. You have to be strong for Piggy. The tears began to slow, and finally stopped completely. He gave her hand just the tiniest squeeze, trying to tell her that he was okay, that everything would work out.
But she had seen his tears. She had seen the effort it took him to stop them. She saw the despair he was trying to hide in his eyes. A single tear rolled down her own cheek.
Kermit quickly wiped the tear away and returned to stroking her cheek. It was all he could do. He looked once more at her cuts, her bruises, her battered clothing, and returned again to her eyes.
"What happened to you," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
Miss Piggy squeezed his hand again, shut her eyes, opened them, gathered every bit of strength she could, and sent it to her vocal chords.
"Galt."
Her eyes shut again, and Kermit could feel her slipping back into unconciousness. He held her hand, stroked her cheek, gazed into her face, hoped she would come back.
"Oh, Piggy..."
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