Chapter 23: Strange meetings
Kermit could have slept late—probably should have slept late, but he woke up at the crack of 8:30, wishing someone would turn down the noise. It took him a minute and a stiff cup of coffee to realize that there was no noise—at least, no noise outside his head. With the show opening tonight, he’d been awakened by the buzzing of his own thoughts, and no amount of volume control would work until he’d dealt with all the details that were beating a furious tattoo in his brain. Dressed, caffeinated and sheepish, he trailed back into the bedroom to watch Piggy sleep, leaning in the doorway with both hands wrapped around his coffee cup. As if sensing his presence, Piggy let out a soft sigh, stretched luxuriously and opened her sleepy blue eyes. Now fully recharged by the caffeine, Kermit considered shedding his clothes and making a bounding leap back into bed, but before he could act, Piggy looked up suddenly and fixed him with a knowing gaze.
“That smells divine,” she said longingly. “Got any more?”
Kermit walked over and handed her the second half of his second cup. Piggy accepted it and a lingering kiss before slipping out of bed and toeing into her high-heeled scuffs.
“Lots to do,” she said, gulping the steaming brew. “Give me a second to throw on some clothes and I’ll come down with you.”
Years of long experience had taught Kermit that Piggy “throwing on some clothes” could take an indefinite period of time. He went in and gently awakened Robin, who had no need of caffeine to be ready for the day. Kermit poured him some Frosted Flies and a glass of orange juice and brought it into the living room area along with another cup of coffee for himself.
“I love these!” Robin said around an enormous mouthful of, um, cereal. “Mom won’t buy them for me. She says they have too much sugar.”
Inwardly, Kermit sighed. Apparently, there was more to parenting that stopping them from running into the street. Ah well, he thought resignedly, what his parents don’t know won’t kill me.
To his astonishment, Piggy appeared in less than a quarter of an hour, impeccably coiffed, dressed and shod. Her makeup was understated, but tasteful, and her lipstick was translucent enough to keep the bell-boys from stampeding.
“You look nice,” he said, but his eyes were puzzled. She did look nice, but it was not her usual look. Her hair was restrained, and the violet linen jacket worn buttoned up over a crisp white skirt looked business-classy, as did the purple and white spectator pumps.
Piggy put a satin-gloved hand on one well-rounded hip. “Did you forget about brunch?”
“Um…brunch?” Kermit repeated, flipping rapidly through the rolodex in his brain. It came—slowly, but it came. “Oh—gah! What time is that?”
“We’ve got about a half-hour to get Robin settled and get there.” She came over and straightened his tie. “Don’t worry—you look very nice.”
“Um, thanks,” Kermit said, reaching to answer the blip of his cell phone. It was Scooter.
“Hey, Boss,” Scooter said brightly. “Don’t forget brunch in thirty, okay?”
“I’m on top of it,” Kermit said, wishing he was.
“I’m backstage checking on some things for tonight. Bring Robin by anytime. If you need me, or if anybody else needs you, you can reach me on my phone.”
“Scooter, could you make sure the final coat of paint on the—“
“Checked it this morning. It’s dry—looks good.”
“Great. What about the stuffing for the—“
“Stuffed and stitched.”
“Did they get the short out of the—“
“Honeydew’s helping Dr. Teeth with it now.”
“What about the cable for the—“
“Pepe ran the rest of it yesterday.”
“Fozzie was wondering if someone could—“
“Already done. I saw to it myself this morning.”
There was a long silence, in which Kermit could hear Scooter grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Want to go to this meeting for me?”
“Can’t help you there,” Scooter said, laughing. “Don’t worry about it—Piggy will be there if you have any trouble.”
“Sure,” Kermit said crankily. He sighed. “If I think of anything else—“
“Just call me. I’ll take care of it. Now go on—you’re going to be late.”
“Thanks, Scooter.”
“Sure thing, Boss. Break a leg, okay?”
If only, Kermit thought wistfully. He closed the little phone and put it away, then reached for Robin’s hand. Piggy took the young frog’s other hand and they went out to face the day.
“Um, Rowlf?”
“Huh? Oh, hey Fozzie. Nice job at dress rehearsal last night.”
Fozzie looked ecstatic, then mortified. “Um, do you really think so?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know you didn’t do your whole act, and it just not the same without an audience but I thought you did a good job.” There wasn’t a muppet anywhere who didn’t know about Fozzie’s usual backstage jitters, and Rowlf’s generous heart was prompting him to reassure the furry funnyman. If anything, Rowlf’s comments caused Fozzie to look even more anxious. He swallowed nervously and looked carefully over his shoulder.
“Something bothering you, Fozzie?”
Fozzie took his hat off, worried it with his hands, put it back on, snatched it off again and twisted it between his fingers.
“Um, did I seem, um, different to you when I was doing my routine?”
“Nooo, not so’s I could say.”
“Do I, um, look different?” Fozzie held out one hand for inspection and touched his cheek self-consciously.
“Nope,” Rowlf said. “How come?”
“Um….” Fozzie looked nervously around. “No reason,” he said with a sigh. “I’m just wondering if I did the right thing.”
“About what?”
Instead of answering, Fozzie looked away absently. “Ma always said that you should play fair,” he said faintly.
“Beg pardon?” Now Rowlf was thoroughly confused.
“Oh, nothing,” Fozzie said with a great sigh, put his hat on his head and wandered back toward the dressing rooms forlornly.
“Thanks Miss Mabel,” Robin said politely, sitting down happily to a stack of buttermilk pancakes. “This looks yummy.”
“Glad to hear it, squirt,” she said fondly, taking the plastic wrap off a tray of strudel and setting them out of the table. “You having a good time with your Uncle?”
“Uh huh!” he said, digging in enthusiastically. “Uncle Kermit says I might even get to run the sound board for the show some night.”
“Wow! And I hear you’re singing a coupla songs in the show. Must be exciting.”
“I’ve done it before,” Robin said with that same appealing mixture of embarrassment and smugness. “I used to be on Uncle Kermit’s television show.”
“That’s what I hear. And Gonzo tells me you can play—what it is, the fiddle?”
“The ukulele. And I’m learning the guitar, too.”
“Well—that’s something to write home about!” Unexpectedly, Mabel’s comment seemed to have the opposite of its intended effect. Robin put his fork down and stared fixedly at his plate. Mabel thought his eyes looked suspiciously moist.
“Oh, hey there, Honey,” she said gently. “Did I—I’m sure sorry if I…. Are you homesick, Doll?”
Miserably, Robin nodded. “Maybe a little.”
Mabel sat down across the table from the little frog. “You miss your Mom and Dad?”
“Yeah—a little.” Robin wiped at his eyes. “And my brothers and sisters and cousins and everybody.”
“This is a big place,” Mabel said. “You feeling a little small here?”
Robin made a sound that might have been a little laugh.
“I feel small a lot of places.”
Mabel was silent for a second, thinking.
“You ever throw a pebble in a pond back home?”
“Sure—lots of times.”
“What happens when you drop something into the water.”
“It falls down.”
“Right. What else?”
“What—what else?”
“Yeah—what else happens?”
Robin looked thoughtful. “It makes ripples?”
“That right. And what do the ripples do?”
“They get bigger?”
“That’s right. And sometimes, even when we feel small, we can have a really big impact on the world around us. Sometimes one little thing we do can make a huge difference to somebody else—for good or for ill.” Mabel reached out and touched the back of his hand lightly. “Honey,” she said. “It’s not the size of the stone that matters—it’s the size of the ripples.” She smiled at him. “You unnerstand?”
Robin nodded. “You’re saying I may feel small but I can be important because of the effect I can have on others.”
Mabel gave him a look. “Smart boy,” she said approvingly. “Now—anything else bothering you, Sweetheart?
Robin looked at her, obviously burdened with something. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it,” he whispered.
Mabel sat perfectly still, but her heart began to race. Sheesh, she thought. I ought to go get somebody else—somebody like family.
Robin took her silence for encouragement, however, and plunged on.
“I think someone’s trying to hurt Aunt Piggy and Uncle Kermit.”
Mabel felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She felt all the breath leave her in a whoosh but managed to maintain an even façade with effort. What to do, what to say. There was no one here to guide her, so Mabel was forced to follow her own instincts.
“You might be right. What makes you think so?”
Robin looked relieved to have his fears acknowledged, and let out the breath he’d been holding. “Um, I’ve heard them talking about some bad stories somebody is printing in the newspaper. Aunt Piggy tore up a picture of Uncle Kermit that was in the newspaper. It said something about Uncle Kermit that wasn’t nice.”
“Do you understand what it was saying?” Mabel asked, treading carefully. You never knew with kids—sometimes they understood more than you thought.
“I didn’t understand some of the words, but I think it said that Aunt Piggy doesn’t want to be married to Uncle Kermit anymore.”
Smart kid, Mabel thought. Poor thing. She gave him a frank look. “What do you think? Do you think your Aunt Piggy wants to be married to your Uncle Kermit?”
At that, Robin looked up. “Duh,” he said, rolling his eyes. Mabel almost laughed at the picture he made, but she held on to her composure.
“So, why do you think someone would make up a story about your Aunt and Uncle that wasn’t true?”
“Um, so people will buy the newspaper to find out if it’s true? And cause it’s, um, mean.”
“I’ve already said it, Honey, but you’re a smart kid. I think those are exactly the reasons somebody might print a bad story about your Uncle and your Aunt.” She patted his hand again. “Look, I just met your Uncle Kermit and your Aunt Piggy, but I ain’t never seen two people more likely to stay together. They been together for a long time. I don’t think that’s going to change.” She tried to stop her tongue, tried to tell herself to stop where she was and butt out. “But I think you ought to tell them what you told me. They can maybe explain it better than me.”
“You’re not going to tell them, are you?”
“I think you should,” Mabel said firmly. “So I’m going to leave that to you. But if you want me to talk to them, I will. You let me know, okay?”
“Okay.” He looked up at her and smiled. “I’ll let you know.”
“Hey—chin up, kiddo. Nothin’ bad’s gonna happen today.”
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Somehow you make it sound delicious, if one doesn't think about it too closely. Rowlf's line about the marrying kind was very funny and nice characterisation. 
