Be careful what you wish for! Here it comes! I didn't make it all the way through opening night, but I made it to intermission. Oy, I'm tired. Enjoy. Oh--and apparently I'm a completely unreliable source of information about when I'm going to get done with things. Go figure.
Ever, Ru
Chapter 24: The Cost of Doing Business
“I hate these things,” Kermit muttered without moving his lips.
Piggy squeezed his arm and favored him with a sweet look, but her voice was more of a growl. “Cost of doing business,” she murmured, also without moving her lips. “Now smile and act nice.”
“Me?” Kermit gritted, annoyed, but they were at the maitre de’s podium now and he had to swallow his ire. “Um, Mr. and Mrs. The Frog. We’re meeting some other people—“
Before the maitre de could recover from the force of Piggy’s shockingly blue eyes, three gentlemen in well-cut suits were coming toward them, smiling. Two of the men were dark-headed, but the one in front had salt-and-pepper hair with snowy white at the temples and a pair of direct hazel eyes.
“We’ll take it from here, Hermes,” he said, smiling broadly. “Hi—I’m Jack Littleton.” He offered a very firm handshake to Kermit and took Piggy’s proffered glove with delight, brushing a kiss across the knuckles. “Kermit. Miss Piggy. Wonderful of you both to come,” he said. He took both of their hands in a warm grip. “We at the Palace are absolutely delighted to have you here.” He turned and made introductions.
“Forrest Canderling, Seymour Strathers, my partners. Forrest—this is Kermit the Frog.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“No ‘sir’ about it—call me Frosty.” He was a big bear of a man who walked with a western swagger. Kermit kept mentally putting him in a cowboy hat.
“All right, Frosty—my pleasure. My wife, Miss Piggy.”
“Enchanted,” she said gravely, and lowered her long lashes.
“And Seymour….”
“A huge fan, Mr. the Frog,” Mr. Strathers said earnestly. “Please call me Seymour.” He had an unlined, energetic face, but his eyes revealed the march of more years than his physique. His proffered handshake was firm and dry, but Kermit saw a pulse jump in his jaw when Piggy turned her velvet gaze on him. “And…gosh, Miss Piggy—I’ve seen all of your movies.”
“And did you like them?” Piggy asked, eyes innocently wide.
It left poor Mr. Strathers momentarily speechless. “Uh, yes—oh, yes, I—I did.”
“I’m so relieved,” Piggy murmured, then turned to Mr. Littleton. “Shall we sit?”
Beside her, Kermit had to transform a burst of laughter into a cough to cover his amusement. Piggy might look restrained, he thought absently, but she’s already playing this meeting for keeps.
Their table was in the back dining room and although the main dining room had been crowded, there were no other patrons back here. A private meeting, Kermit thought, not sure what tincture to put on it yet. Jack held Piggy’s chair—the one to his right—as she scooted her knees under the table.
“How very charming,” Piggy said, scooting in close to the table. “Ooh!” she said suddenly, putting her hand on Kermit’s arm. There was a momentary scuffle since both of the other men had been vying for the open seat next to her. “Did you remember to tell Scooter about the changes to the program we made last night?”
“Left him a message, Honey,” he said easily, sliding into the seat beside her. She turned and looked at the men helplessly. “Sorry,” she said, and gave them all the warm, lazy smile that often had waiters bumping into each other and busboys dropping crockery by the tub load. “I always get so nervous before opening night.”
Ah, thought Kermit, the first big lie of the day. Piggy was definitely calling the shots. Inwardly, he smiled and picked up his menu. This might not be such a bad meeting after all.
“Oh, golly, show me that one more time,” pleased Sara. “I just can’t seem to—“
“Like relax, Sara,” said Janice gently. “You’re doing just fine.”
“It’s this blasted slink-walk we do with the half-turn. I know I’m supposed to do left-hip-right-shoulder forward, then right-hip-left-shoulder forward, but I keep doing the same side at the same time and walking like Frankenstein.”
Janice laughed and Camilla, who’d been watching them from her perch on Clifford's cube in the back, hopped off the raised platform and came down to ground level where they stood. Camilla demonstrated, hips and shoulders moving in sultry slow motion, then Janice followed, and finally, after some intense concentration, Sara began to slink her way down the stage.
“That’s it—that’s it, honey!” called Janice. “Now, like, do the turn.”
Sara, after a moment’s hesitation, executed a decent turn and began to slink her way back up the stage. Janice got in front of her and Camilla got behind her as they made their way the length of the stage and back again.
“Bawk, bawkbucbuc begawk,” Camilla said. Sara didn’t have a clue what she’d actually said, but guessed by the tone that it was vaguely encouraging.
“Now do the shimmy,” Janice said, illustrating.
“There’s already more of me shimmying than I’m used to!” Sara complained, but she did her best to mimic Janice’s impressive movements as accurately as possible. Camilla joined in and they shimmied the length of the stage and back.
“Now do the slink-walk,” Janice called, “and when you get to the end, do the shimmy back, ‘kay?”
“Watch her—just watch her,” Pepe whispered to Rizzo. “See how she moves—his sexy, non?”
“She’s definitely got some moves, but I’m still putting a vote in on Janice—as long as Floyd is not around. That woman has some serious moves. Pass the nachos, woncha?”
Pepe had been adjusting a cable connection in the dark recesses of backstage left, but when the impromptu practice began found little incentive for making himself known. When Pepe had not returned, Rizzo had gotten a little worried and gone looking for him, carrying a huge plate of nachos before him. Once the king prawn had been located, Rizzo thought better of a hasty return to work and the two of them had settled back comfortably in the silence to watch the highly instructive dance lesson unfold. Pepe was about to comment on a point of interest when the sound of footsteps treading toward them made him and Rizzo look up nervously.
“And what, might I ask, are you two doing?” asked a firm voice.
“Busted,” Rizzo muttered. “We are so busted.”
Scooter has his arms crossed over his chest and his highly-polished shoe was tapping. Before they could answer, Scooter turned in time to see his girl come slinking sexily down the stage. His mouth fell open but he shut it with effort. He blinked several times in astonishment but the sight before him remained the same.
“What are they—what are they doing?”
“Practicing,” said Pepe.
“Yeah, but for what?” Scooter’s voice, although puzzled, held a definite hint of awe.
“Si, hit was like this. Jour woman, she says to Janice, ‘Janice, help me walk sexy for the song’ so Janice, she says, walk like this’ h’okay? So she shows her how to walk, and then they all start to walk and, ai carumba, I am here chust doing my job, h’okay? But I hear them and so hi turn and see them, and h’okay, hi am stricken with their beauty, si? Plus, hi do not want to embarrass them, so I stay quiet.”
Scooter looked disbelieving.
“What he said,” Rizzo said, “only I came looking for him and, um, stayed to, um, help him.”
“Well you guys shouldn’t be spying on them without them knowing you’re here,” said Scooter, scowling. “It’s not right.”
“Spy? Hi am not spying? Hi am here, chust working, si—not spying. And they are on the stage, h’okay? Hi am not looking through the keyhole—which hi would never do—but hi am watching them on the stage.”
Scooter looked torn between duty and interest.
“And, uh, if you tell ‘em we’re watching, they’ll stop dancing,” said Rizzo. “Nacho?”
“Oh, sure,” said Scooter, succumbing to temptation with a great sigh. “Why not? But if we get caught I’m going to be in such hot water.”
“Oooh! I love the slink-walk!” said Sally Ann, coming in with Amy Lu from a morning work-out. The girls were wearing bright leotards and had towels draped around their necks, but they quickly shed their towels and joined the caravan of femininity making its way up and down the length of the stage.
“Now we’re shimmying, right?” said Amy Lu, executing a perfect turn and shimmying with all her energy. “Lawsy, that feels good. Gets the kinks out, huh?”
“Gets something out,” Sara gasped, and they all giggled.
“Hey!” cried an indignant voice. “What’s the big idea of having a practice without us?” asked Laura May crankily. She and Gloria Jean had been out for a quick run before the heat was high-noon sweltering. “Howard will have my head.”
“Not a real practice, honey,” said Sally Ann. “This is Dream Girl stuff.”
“Well I’m a real dream girl even if whats-his-face thinks I’m not,” said Laura May, cutting in front of Amy Lu. “Wow—this does feel good.” She shook all the tension out of her muscles, then began to vamp-walk down the stage, leading with her hips, her arms posed artfully like an old Hollywood pin-up. “Here I am—Miss Available!”
Giggling, Sally Ann followed her, posing like a Greek statue every few seconds. Not to be outdone, Janice pirouetted neatly after them, stopping in a pose made famous by Betty Grable back in her pin-up days. “Hey there, soldier-boy!” she called, blowing a kiss to the audience.
“Ooh, me next, me next!” cried Gloria Jean. She sashayed her way down the stage and stopped with one hand in the air, one hand on her knee. “Yoo hoo, fellas! We’re new in town!”
Somewhere in the midst of this, Sara found herself laughing so hard she found it impossible to be nervous. She threw her shoulders back, shook her long hair back over her shoulders and put her assets forward, striding across the stage in her character shoes with an exaggerated swagger in her hips. “This is fun,” Sara thought. “But thank heavens Scooter isn’t here to see it. I would positively die.”
Piggy had shed the linen jacket when the waiter had brought the second round of mimosas. Underneath the crisp jacket was an impeccably tailored purple linen spaghetti-strapped chemise with a daring sweetheart neckline. By the time the food had arrived and Piggy had unclasped her hair and let it fall in shimmering waves around her shoulders, Kermit had the distinct feeling that no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to him, which suited him just fine. With a playful laugh here and a daring look there, Piggy had cajoled a few extra rooms for the additions to their cast and gotten permission to review and approve—or disapprove—any public relations releases that the hotel sent out. She’d even gotten some control over the hotel’s advertising budget for the show. And yet, even as Piggy laughed and smiled at the men who so openly fought to hold her interest, Kermit felt her watching him, knew she was tuned to him at the most basic level. After she had won some major point, she would turn and look at Kermit with her blue eyes wide. “Is that okay, Honey?” she would ask, deferring to him. “You know much more about the business end of things.” And he would smile and say, nonchalantly, “Oh, sure, Sweetheart. That sounds fine.” Watching her, Kermit was very, very glad they were on the same side.
When at last the plates had been cleared and coffee had been lingered over to the extreme, Kermit held Piggy’s jacket for her while she slipped her arms inside. He buttoned the first button, and found his fingers weren’t quite as steady as he thought they were. Piggy looked up at him for a moment and everything else around them stopped just long enough for two hearts to jump, then real time asserted itself again. A little flustered, Piggy turned back to their hosts.
“We had a lovely time,” Piggy said sweetly. “Please come backstage to see me, um, us after the show, won’t you?”
Jack Littleton stepped forward and pressed her hand between his own briefly, shook Kermit’s hand with a satisfied air. “I said it before, but I’ll say it again. We’re glad you’re here at the Palace. Good things are going to come of it—just wait and see.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Kermit said, and they took their leave.
Once outside and safely in the key-coded elevator, Piggy let out a huge sigh and buried her face in Kermit’s chest.
“Oh, Mon Capitan,” she murmured, resting against him. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there.” Kermit folded his arms around her and held her against him.
“Tired?” he asked, as the elevator slid to a stop on their floor.
Piggy raised her head and looked up at him for a long moment. “No,” she said simply.
Kermit swallowed whatever he’d been about to say. “Oh,” he said softly. “Well then….”
Mabel put dessert plate down in front of Clifford, who looked at it, then at Mabel, with a growing smile on his face.
“Is this what I think it is?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he tore off the cellophane and stuck his finger into the pie filling, then pulled it out and popped it in his mouth. “Oh my gosh, Mabel,” he swooned. “I haven’t had sweet potato pie in I don’ know when.” He picked the pie up and took a big bite, chewing and swallowing with his eyes closed.
“Wow,” he said softly. “Are you married?”
Mabel put a hand on her hip. “I only known you guys about two days now and that’s the 12th proposal I’ve gotten. ‘Course half of them were from Rizzo. Whatsa matter—don’t nobody feed you guys at home?”
“Long story,” said Clifford, licking the cellophane to get the last sweet, sticky morsel. “And don’ make me tell it cause it will spoil my appetite.”
“Well, that’s the only piece was left, but there’s a guy that makes our pies for the buffet. I’ll see if I can cadge one for back here before they all get gone.”
She started out the door but, on impulse, stopped and came back to the table and sat down. “You been with these guys a long time?”
“Pretty much,” said Clifford. “Not as long as some of the folks—Fozzie and Rowlf and Gonzo, but yeah, me and the green guy go back a ways.”
“Seems like a nice guy,” Mabel said.
“He is a nice guy,” Clifford said. “That’s why this business is so hard on ‘im.”
“I, um, heard he and the missus are havin’ some trouble.”
“Who, them?” Clifford began to laugh. “Mabel, Miss Piggy set her sights on that little froggy the first time they ever met, and she’s been nothing but trouble for Kermit. And Kermit—he loves every minute of it.”
“I didn’t mean between them,” Mabel said carefully, although she was glad to have Robin’s opinion confirmed. “I heard somebody was makin’ trouble for ‘em in the papers.”
Clifford sighed. “Yeah—stupid stuff, mostly, but you know what people are. They love to gossip.”
Mabel looked worried. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Clifford reached out and put his hand on her arm and squeezed it in a reassuring manner. “Naw, naw, Mabel—I didn’t mean you. I meant people outside—people who don’t really know them like we do.”
“I don’ want you to think I’m bein’ nosy,” Mabel said, still a little distressed. “They just seem like nice folks. I don’t want nothin’ to happen to ‘em.”
“It’s cool,” Clifford said. “We’re watching out for ‘em. Kermit’s always been the one to look out for us—the least we can do is return the favor.”
Chapter 24&½: Another Opening, Another Show
The afternoon has passed slowly, but it had passed. Robin had grumbled about taking a nap in the middle of the day, but had finally dozed off and sawed logs noisily for almost two hours. Kermit and Piggy had come down around noon to find everything ship-shape for the show and spent a little time playing with the choreography for “Baby It’s Cold Outside” before catching a light supper, which Mabel had graciously had sent up to their room.
Now, however, the hour was upon them, and the dressing rooms were a flurry of activity. In the midst of it all, Howard and Thoreau stood like traffic cops, directing people either toward the stage area or back into the dressing room to fix or find whatever was needed. Luckily for his piece of mind, Kermit was not near the dressing rooms, but backstage watching the auditorium fill up. They’d sold every ticket, and the place looked packed.
Piggy came by wearing a beautiful dark purple satin dressing gown with lilac sleeve and pink feather-boa trim around the collar and cuffs. Her hair was put up under the dark wig she’d wear for her first number, but her makeup wasn’t quite complete. She pulled Kermit to her and kissed him with a great deal of enthusiasm, so much so that he temporarily forgot what he’d been about to say.
“Wanted to do that before I get my lipstick on, Mon Capitan,” she said, and drifted back toward the dressing room.
“Well, um, thanks,” he called after her, still wondering what he’d been about to say. Oh well, he thought, it will come to me.
“Hi ho. I’m Kermit the Frog and it is my very great pleasure to welcome you to our Holiday Revue.” There was a warm surge of applause from the packed house, and although you couldn’t see it under the warm stage lights, Kermit felt himself glowing with flushed pleasure. “We hope to entertain you tonight, and set the mood for a Happy Holiday.” He had to stop again for applause, nodding and smiling with satisfaction until the clapping died out. “We want this year, this Christmas season, to be your very best, but before we get ready for Christmas Future, let’s take a little trip back to simpler times. Step back with us to a time of sock-hops and soda pop, rock-and-roll and Radio City Music Hall, Pin-ups and Elvis Presley.”
Kermit waited as an excited hush settled over the crowd. “Now, without further ado….”
The curtain swept back and there was a blast of music from Dr. Teeth on electric keyboard and Rowlf on piano as they faced each other from opposite ends of the stage and played the acoustical equivalent of a drumroll. As the sound thundered out of the two keyboards the musicians smiled, watching each other intently. Grinning like a Cheshire, Dr. Teeth opened his mouth and let our a great whoop of sound, followed immediately by the slam of two paws and two hands on some forty-odd keys.
“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!
Too much love drives a man insane
You broke my will, oh what a thrill
Goodness gracious great balls of fire!
Amy Lu, Sally Ann, Gloria Jean and Laura May high-kicked their way onto stage dressed as carhop waitresses. Their trim-fitting costumes edged with glittering sequin flames sparkled under the hot stage lights. Despite Howard’s dire predictions of the day before, they moved together in beautiful synchronicity.
If you had asked the audience, they would have sworn that the keys were literally hopping off the piano under Rowlf joyful pounding, and Dr. Teeth played the keyboard with such energy that some patrons swore the lights went low in the poker room.
“I learned to love all of Hollywood money
You came along and you moved me honey
I changed my mind, looking fine
Goodness gracious great balls of fire!”
The girls split off into groups of two, leaning in and pretending to kiss Rowlf (who always seemed to manage to get both of his kisses on his mouth) and the good Doctor, then dancing back off into formation again.
“You kissed me baba, woo.....it feels good
Hold me baba, learn to let me love you like a lover should
Your fine, so kind
I'm a nervous world that your mine mine mine mine-ine”
I cut my nails and I quiver my thumb
I'm really nervous but it sure is fun
Come on baba, you drive me crazy
Goodness gracious great balls of fire!”
At this point, the piano duet practically set the stage on fire. “Good thing we didn’t bring Crazy Harry,” Kermit thought absently from his perch backstage. “We’d have had the fire marshal out here for sure.”
“Well kiss me baba, woo-oooooo....it feels good
Hold me baba
I want to love you like a lover should
Your fine, so kind
I got this world that your mine mine mine mine-ine
I cut my nails and I quiver my thumb
I'm real nervous 'cause it sure is fun
Come on baba, you drive me crazy
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
I say goodness gracious great balls of fire...oooh!”
“Sizzling, ladies—absolutely sizzling,” Howard said approvingly. He caught himself immediately and scowled. “Amy Lu—you were slow on your shimmy in the last half of the song. And Gloria Jean, I want to see your high kicks first thing in the morning!” He nattered after them, but as soon as they had disappeared into the dressing room, he turned shining eyes on Rizzo and sighed. “Weren’t they just lovely?” Howard said happily, and drifted back toward the wings.
“Got no argument from me,” Rizzo said wistfully. “And to think—they were almost my roomies.”
Sara walked up at that moment and paused with her hand on the dressing room door. “What’s the matter, Rizzo—do you need somebody from the girl’s dressing room?”
Rizzo heaved a great sigh. “And how,” he muttered, but turned and walked toward the kitchen.
Robin had opted, after much consideration and some helpful overseeing from Piggy and Thoreau, to sing his song wearing just a pair of faded overalls. While Rowlf played the merest of introductions, touching the keys so lightly they were almost echoes of notes, Robin walked onto stage carrying a wooden bucket, sighed, and looked up at the “sky” just in time to see a very convincing rainbow burst from the carefully set stage lights and cover almost the entire backdrop. Robin let out a gasp of awe at the same moment the audience did, and stood still (just like Uncle Kermit said) while the people ooh’d and ahh’d over the impressive display. When the flutter of noise from the audience had died down, Robin backed up slowly as though mesmerized by the beautiful colors until he was sitting on a very realistic-looking tree stump at center stage. Without ever looking away from the rainbow, Robin set down his bucket, pulled his legs up to is chest and began to sing.
“Somewhere over the rainbow way up high, there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.
“Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream
really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me--
Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops--that's where you'll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow--why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow why, oh why can't I?”
There was a lovely little hush over the audience until the last note had completely died away, then the whole auditorium burst into applause. Without breaking character, Robin stood up, picked up his bucket and strolled serenely off-stage and into the arms of his uncle.
“That was super, Robin—just terrific,” Kermit whispered. “Way to go!” While Kermit slipped back onstage again, Sal was there to meet Robin and take him back to the dressing rooms, but their progress was impeded by pretty much the whole cast who wanted to kiss, hug and congratulate Robin for a job well done. While Robin was making his way back, Fozzie stood silently in the wings, taking deep, steadying breaths.
“Wasn’t that wonderful, folks?” asked Kermit. The audience clapped and cheered. “My nephew,” Kermit said proudly. “Robin the Frog.” The audience clapped even louder. “And now,” Kermit said enthusiastically, “it is my very great pleasure to give you the furry bear with the funny stories, our very own funny man, Mr. Fozzie Bear!”
Kermit walked off as Fozzie started toward the stage, but when their paths crossed, Fozzie grabbed Kermit’s arms in a tight grip.
“Kermit!” he whispered furiously. “Kermit—I, I have to tell you something.”
“Fozzie, you’re on! Go on—knock ‘em dead! I know you can.”
Fozzie looked toward the stage, but his eyes were haunted. “I—Kermit, I think I did something bad.“
Kermit returned Fozzie’s grip and smiled at his friend. “It’s okay, Fozzie. I already know.”
“You—you do?” Fozzie looked half-hopeful, half-ashamed.
“Yeah. It’s okay C’mon—get out there and do your thing.”
“But, but, won’t that be cheating?”
It took Kermit a second but the light finally went on. “Oh. No,” he said firmly. “Just better living through technology.” He’d have to explain it later, but for now, the audience was waiting. He gave Fozzie a pat on the back which was also a push toward the stage.
“Go get ‘em,” he said sternly. “They’re waiting for you now.”
Fozzie ran on.
“Hello ladies and gentlemen and wocka, wocka, wocka!”
The audience tittered approvingly (if for no other reason than the quaintness of Fozzie’s manners) and Fozzie was so surprised by this show of initial support that he stopped and stared for a second before regaining his composure. “Wow—who’s from out of town?” Fozzie asked, raising his hand up in the air. Almost the entire audience raised hands, and Fozzie nodded thoughtfully. “Oh. I guess the locals already know about this place.” A good-natured chuckle, and Fozzie felt a burst of adrenaline that was not caused by his fight or flight instinct. “I’m from out of town, too, and I’ve got to tell you folks—this is nothing like home! This place is huge! In fact, the casino here is so big….”
“How big is it?” a few quick studies asked.
“The casino here is so big, the doorman has to have a passport!”
The laugh this garnered might not have thrilled every performer, but to Fozzie is was balm to an aching ego.
“And my room at the hotel is so big….”
“How big is it?” a few more voice chorused. The audience began to lean forward in their seats, waiting for their next cue.
“My room at the hotel is so big it has it’s own zip code!”
“You know, dear, he’s not that bad,” said Astoria Waldorf. “You said he wasn’t funny at all.”
Statler humphed. “Beginner’s luck,” he insisted.
“You old coot,” sneered Waldorf. “He’s not new!”
“Yeah? Well, neither is his material!”
Both men chortled heartily, but with the room packed and the lights up high and hot, Fozzie couldn’t see past the first row, and—blessed be the architect—there were no balconies to afford anyone a bird’s eye view.
The casino here is so big….”
“How big is it?” the audience roared.
“The casino here is so big that it’s applying for statehood!”
More raucous laughter.
“And the swimming pool is so big….”
“How big is it?”
“A lady went too far in the deep end and they had to call out the coast guard!”
“No, Astoria’s right,” said the second older woman, who had not spoken yet. She shook her head a little for emphasis. “No. He’s not nearly as bad as you said, dear.” She gave Astoria a little look of dismay. “Men—they exaggerate everything,” she said dismissively.
“I’m telling you, the bear was terrible!” Statler insisted.
“He usually stinks!” Waldorf insisted.
“The buffet here at the casino is so big….” Fozzie was saying.
The audience swelled out the questions with wild enthusiasm.
“How big is it?”
“The buffet here at the casino is so big, the fried fish left the kitchen as caviar!”
“Good one,” Kermit muttered from backstage. “Caviar.”
“Did someone say caviar?” Piggy whispered archly. Kermit startled, turning to find Piggy right at his elbow, already changed for her next act.
“Um, Fozzie,” Kermit whispered. “The crowd seems to like him.”
“Apparently,” Piggy said, sotto voce. “I’m usually half-dressed for my next number when the audience begins to get ugly.”
Kermit peered out from between the curtains. “Seems like a good crowd, too.” He continued to stare out at the audience.
“Honey,” Piggy said patiently.
“Hm?”
“Sweetheart—aren’t you in the next number?”
“Um hum.”
“Mon capitan—aren’t you in the next number with me?”
“Yeah, sure.” He turned to look at her. “It’s the a cappella number.”
“And you’re wearing…?”
“Sheesh!” Kermit cried. “I’ve got to—I’m not—“ He started toward the dressing room in a flurry, but Piggy caught hold of him and held out his clothes. While he put on his jeans and white t-shirt, Piggy plucked the headset from his head and handed it off to Dr. Teeth, who stood by patiently, waiting to sub backstage for Kermit until the next number was over.
Kermit’s luck—and Fozzie’s routine—held out, however, and Kermit had enough time shrug into his leather jacket and make it to the other side where the rest of the group waited for their cue. Fozzie left the stage to applause which—if not quite thunderous—was certainly music to Fozzie ears, and stage lights went up and the curtain came back. When the crowd saw Piggy again, they screamed her name and cheered, but Piggy paid them no mind at all. When Kermit sauntered across the stage, hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, Piggy watched him go with limpid, adoring eyes. Behind her, Clifford, Scooter, Rizzo and Gonzo stared at her with open admiration.
“Shooby-dooby-dooby-dooby-do-wah-wah. Shooby-dooby-dooby-dooby-do-wah-wah,” sang the boys, and they were off and running.
To say the audience was appreciative would be a little like saying the sun is warm. By the time the Piggy and Kermit skipped off stage holding hands and gazing at each other, the applause in the auditorium had risen to a fever pitch.
After a moment of grinning at each other like idiots in the wings, Kermit and Piggy returned to the stage before the curtain and took another set of bows while the Electric Mayhem set up for their song. After a gracious acknowledgement of the wildly appreciative audience, Piggy leaned in, kissed Kermit demurely on the cheek (to absolutely moans of jealously from a group of college boys in the back row) and slipped off stage while Kermit introduced the band.
Backstage, Gonzo was struggling to get his goggles adjusted before mounting the ladder. Scooter hovered nervously nearby, but Rizzo was calm, at least outwardly, as he filled a sip cup with milk and hooked it onto Gonzo’s belt. Holding the bowl of fruit, Scooter shifted his weight from side to side, but when Gonzo reached out to take it from him, his face composed and confident, Scooter relaxed enough to smile.
“Break a leg, Gonzo,” he said earnestly. “But don’t break anything else!”
Gonzo’s eyes flashed with excitement. “On this cakewalk? Are you kidding?” He tucked the fruit bowl under his arm and stepped up onto the ladder. When “Shake it up Baby” had finished, Scooter and Clifford would wheel the whole tightrope contraption onto the stage.
Clifford reached out and touched fists with Gonzo. “You’re crazy, man—happy landings.” The strains of the raucous tune on stage were coming to an end. He and Scooter walked to the opposite side of the ladder and got ready to move.
Once Scooter and Clifford had left, Gonzo turned urgently to Rizzo. “Hey, buddy,” he said quickly. “Look—if something happens to me, make sure to tell Camilla—“
Rizzo put his hand up to stop him. “Tell her yourself when you come down, you lunatic. Now get out there.”
The audience was oddly receptive to Gonzo’s act, which did indeed have more of a nostalgic flavor to it while the band thumped out Little Richard’s “Tutti frutti.” Although Kermit had initially worried that the tempo would distract Gonzo, Gonzo had found the strong beat helpful in shutting out everything but the task at hand. Gonzo took a bow with his fruit and his bones intact to mostly incredulous applause.
Sal was already waiting in the wings with Johnny to make sure that he made it onto stage at the right time and ready to sing. The curtain closed, and Kermit scurried out yet again.
“You don’t see that everyday, do you?” Kermit said, gesturing toward the now-invisible stage. The audience clapped and laughed their approval. “And now, for your listening pleasure, the unique song stylings of Johnny Fiama!” Off went the frog, and on came Johnny.
Kermit hooked his headset back on, but only briefly, to be sure that the song was starting well.
“You have to admit—he’s got presence,” said Scooter, listening on his headset. Kermit looked at him and shrugged.
“He’s got something,” Kermit quipped, then he was handing off his headset to Dr. Teeth again so he could go change. This last number of the second half present a few technical challenges, not the least of which was the fact that most of their cast was also most of their crew. Dr. Teeth would hand the headset off to Rowlf once he finished playing for Johnny, then join the band for “Dream” onstage. Scooter, in turn, would hand of his headset to Dr. Honeydew closing to end of Johnny’s song because he was already dressed for the next number. This, Kermit thought suddenly, would be a great time to let Robin handle the sound stuff from the booth. He made a note to mention it to Scooter as soon as they were had broken for intermission and, providing Robin didn’t get too nervous, to implement it by the next show.
The “Dream Girls” number went very well even with a few glitches. Right before the “Gee whiz” line that—much to Scooter’s annoyance—had been deemed “his solo" by the other singers, Sara had reached out to almost stroke his face with her hand, overbalanced, and tumbled with surprising grace right into Scooter’s lap. A lifetime of working with the muppets (the last few years of which had been as Kermit’s right-hand man) had honed Scooter’s instincts to a fine edge, however. He caught her deftly, said “Gee whiz” with more-than-understandable longing and twirled her back on her feet before his next line. The audience seemed to like it. They made it through the rest of the song without any noticeable mishaps, but several people noted that Camilla looked a little flushed and flustered as she hurried back to the dressing room.
“What’d you say to her?” Rizzo asked knowingly, handing Gonzo a glass of iced tea.
“Oh, nothing,” Gonzo said airily. “Just a few sweet nothings at all.”
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