Chapter twenty-one
They got to the theater bright and early the next morning. Kermit was talking to Fozzie as they approached the back door.
“Really, Fozzie,” Kermit said, “I think they really liked that joke last night.”
“Oh, thank you!” Fozzie said. “I got it from my best joke book, just before I-“ the bear stopped himself.
Kermit unlocked the door and looked up at him. “Before you what?” he asked.
Fozzie took his hat off and fiddled with it. He couldn’t tell Kermit he had sold the book in the yard sale. That would give them away. “I, um, I lost it,” he said.
“Oh,” Kermit said. “Well, maybe it’ll turn up somewhere. You never know.” He opened the door, stepped inside, turned on the light, and froze. He was horrified.
Red spray paint covered the walls. There were seemingly random designs. There were direct insults at several of the Muppets. There were hate slogans.
Kermit felt a rage burning within him. He turned around and faced the other Muppets. “Wait here,” he said coldly, and he walked ahead into the theater. He had to see how bad it was.
Robin had seen the look in Kermit’s eyes, and he was worried that his uncle would fade away again. The young frog took advantage of his small size and slipped away from the others.
Every wall had another hateful message in red paint. There were some words that Robin didn’t understand, others that he knew he wasn’t supposed to say. He made his way onto the stage.
This was terrible! The sets, the beautiful sets, all had ugly red paint on them. Here, there were no words. The paint here was just to ruin the sets.
Robin looked off the stage. There was Uncle Kermit. He looked like some one was hurting him. He was standing a few feet from his desk, looking at the letter he had framed, where it hung on the wall.
Robin walked off the stage. “Uncle Kermit?”
Kermit did not even flinch. “I told you to wait,” he said, not sounding at all displeased with his nephew.
“I was worried,” Robin said. He came and stood next to his uncle.
Kermit put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “It will be okay, Robin,” he said.
They looked at the framed letter. Someone had shattered the glass.
“Sometimes...” Kermit started to say. Robin looked up at him. “Sometimes... people do things, that- that we just can’t understand.” He looked at his nephew, to see if he was making himself clear. “And when they do, sometimes... all we can do is pick up the pieces, and hold onto what we’ve got... you know what I mean?”
Robin nodded. “I think so, Uncle Kermit,” he said.
“Good,” Kermit said. “I learned that the hard way.” He looked around the theater, pulled his nephew close to his side, and walked on away from the stage. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s see how bad it is.” He looked up and shuddered. “Just don’t look at the dressing rooms.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kermit watched as a police officer took the framed letter off the wall and put it in an evidence bag, labeling it carefully.
“Mr. Frog?”
Kermit turned to see Detective Keene approaching. “Hi, Detective,” he said a little sadly. “Am I in the way? Because I can move-“
“No, no, you’re fine,” Detective Keene said. “We’ll be done here in a few minutes. I just, uh...” He pulled out a scrap of paper, wrote something on it, and handed it to Kermit. “That’s uh, it’s a cleaner that, should take care of this paint pretty well. If you’re quick, you... you might get it all off for the show tonight.”
Kermit couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Detective,” he said. He extended his hand.
Detective Keene took the hand and shook it firmly. “Good luck, Kermit,” he said, and he walked away.
Kermit looked at the piece of paper in his hand, and ran to the park where the other Muppets were waiting.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Every door and window of the Muppet Theater was open, with several industrial fans on inside.
Scooter carried a smelly bucket of what looked like water into the lobby, wet his sponge with it, and started to scrub the red paint off the wall. “The fumes really aren’t so bad,” he said.
Pepe rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you live in a trashcan, okay,” he said.
“Ha!” Kermit said, reflecting to himself that Oscar would probably love their current situation.
Pepe stared at the frog. “I think I missed something, okay.”
Kermit just shook his head and kept scrubbing.
Pepe continued to stare. “I’m serious, Kermin,” he said. “What’d I miss, okay.”
Kermit pulled a sponge out of a near-by bucket and tossed it at the king prawn. “You missed that we’re cleaning the theater,” he said, and he turned the other way. “Right, Piggy?”
Miss Piggy’s usual purple gloves had been replaced with yellow rubber ones. Her hair was messy, her dress was old, and she was not happy about it. “Right, Kermie,” she sighed.
She picked up her smelly bucket and moved to the wall on the other side of the lobby, where no one else was working. She looked up at the red paint. “THE PIG’S A FAKE!” it shouted at her. She set her bucket down and scrubbed at the words furiously, grumbling something about getting her hands on that turkey.
“Excuse me, Miss Piggy?” a familiar voice asked. Miss Piggy turned around to see Hilda standing there with her own rubber gloves, sponge, and smelly bucket. “I was wondering if I could help you,” she said. “Work always goes faster with a conversation.”
“Oh,” Miss Piggy said. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”
Hilda knelt at the pig’s side and started to scrub the “G” away. “I just knew you’d agree,” she said. “I loved your performance last night.”
Miss Piggy tossed her hair back. “Well,” she said. “Of course you did.”
“But I still think that turquoise ring would have been a nice touch for the closing number,” Hilda said.
Miss Piggy moved over a little bit and started scrubbing at the next letter. “Hilda,” she said sternly. “For the last time. Moi do not have that ring anymore.”
A voice behind them asked, “Why not?”
Surprised, both women jumped a little and turned around to see who was there. Kermit’s curious eyes were resting steadily on Miss Piggy. He was holding his bucket and sponge. Miss Piggy glanced past him and saw that the other wall was completely clean.
She looked Kermit in the eye and giggled nervously. “Moi seem to have
misplaced it, Kermie,” she said.
“Oh,” Kermit said as he set his bucket down and started to scrub the paint away. “I’m sorry to hear that. Didn’t your mother give you that ring?”
“Right,” Miss Piggy said. She picked up her bucket and walked away, knowing from years of experience that she couldn’t keep up the charade.
Kermit watched her go. “That’s strange,” he said as he scrubbed. “It’s not like her at all to lose a piece of jewelry.”
Hilda realized she would have to cover for Miss Piggy. “Well,” she said nervously, “Nobody’s perfect.”
Kermit shook his head. “Piggy only laughs like that when she’s hiding something,” he said.
Hilda rubbed the back of her neck, and started to scrub the wall a little harder. “You think so?” she asked.
Kermit glanced at her. Whatever Miss Piggy was hiding, Hilda was hiding, too. He shrugged it off. He would probably find out sooner or later, nothing with the Muppets stayed a total secret for long. Worst-case scenario, he could always tap Scooter. “Maybe it’s just the fumes,” he said, setting Hilda at ease. For the time being, anyway.
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