Chapter eighteen
The guest star had already slipped away from the Muppet Theater, leaving total chaos behind. Fortunately, only the stage lights were broken, and Clifford had already climbed up to work on them. But props had scattered across the theater, and the entire backstage was sprinkled with sets. Everyone was too panicked to do their jobs. Rowlf and Scooter had tried to take charge, but now everyone was just shouting at everyone else.
“Guys, quiet down!” Scooter shouted.
Ring ring.
They quickly lowered their voices.
Ring ring.
“If that’s another reporter calling, I’ll scream!” Clifford called down from the lights.
Rowlf picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“
Hi Rowlf!” the voice on the phone said.
“Kermit!”
“Kermit?”
“It’s Kermit!”
“KERMIE!”
“Oh, great! Hey everybody! Mr. the Frog’s on the phone!”
“Really? Good, could we put it on speakerphone?”
“Hey good idea, Johnny! Johnny says we should put it on speakerphone!”
“Si, he can tell us what to do, hokay.”
“Glad somebody can.”
“Alright, Kermit? You’re on speakerphone,” Rowlf said.
“
Oh, good!” Kermit said. “
Is everyone backstage?”
“I think so,” Fozzie said.
“The only one who isn’t backstage is Clifford,” Scooter said. “He’s fixing the lights.”
“
Alright. Great show tonight, guys,” Kermit said.
They stared at the phone for a moment.
“Kermit, please tell me you are joking,” Sam said. “This show was horribly un-patriotic, and terribly disorganized.”
“
Yeah, but we’ve done worse,” Kermit said. “
And next week, you’ll do better.”
“Yeah, but Boss,” Scooter said, “The guest star for next week backed out!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Inside the pizza place, Kermit scrunched his face up at the news. “I see,” he said. Maggie tapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, uh, could you guys hold on a second?” He turned to his sister.
“Wilson’s here,” she said. “We’re leaving.”
He nodded. “I’ll be there later. I need to talk to these guys.”
She shrugged. “Whatever, Mit. See ya.”
“Right.” He looked past her to all the frogs making their way onto Wilson’s truck. “Bye guys! See you back at the swamp!”
His mother smiled to him. “Don’t be out too late, now, Kermit,” she said in her forever-gentle voice. “You need your rest, you know.”
“I know, Mom,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”
She nodded and followed the rest of the family out.
Kermit turned his attention back to the phone. “Alright, I’m here,” he said. “Next week’s guest backed out, huh? Well- you’ve still got Grover coming, right?”
“
Yeah, but the plan was for him to sing with you,” Rowlf reminded him.
“Well, he can sing with one of you guys instead,” Kermit said. “You all know what you’re doing for next week, don’t you?”
He heard some uncertain murmurs on the other end. “
We’ve got a vague idea,” Scooter said.
“Well, that’s about all we usually have a week before hand,” Kermit said. “Do you know the skits, at least?”
“
Well, we know what they’re about,” Rowlf said.
“Oh, good. That’s the important part,” Kermit said. “You’ll do fine.”
“
Kermie?” Miss Piggy said, “
Moi will be dedicating moi’s performance next week to vous!”
Kermit scrunched up his face. “Focus less on the dedication and more on the performance, Piggy,” he said.
“
Yo, everybody!” Kermit barely heard Clifford shout. “
The lights are working again!”
“Already?” Kermit said. He raised his voice slightly, hoping Clifford would hear him. “Nice work, Clifford!”
“
No problem, Kerm!” Clifford called out. “
Can you actually hear me from up here?”
“Not too well,” Kermit said.
“
Well, I would come down, but with the sets and all, it looks a little grid-locked down there.”
“Sheesh,” Kermit said. “How bad is it?”
“
It’s pretty bad, Boss,” Scooter said.
“
Yeah, even the rats are trapped,” Floyd said.
“
Rully.”
“
NO ROOM! NO ROOM!”
“
Kermit,” Hilda said, “
I don’t suppose you could direct us?”
“From over the phone?” Kermit said. “I can’t see where anyone or anything is!”
“
Neither can we,” Fozzie said.
Kermit sighed. “Alright, guys, here’s what we’ll do...”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rowlf sat by himself at the piano. He hadn’t slept well, and had finally stopped trying. No one else was awake yet. The night was just beginning to fade, and there was barely enough light to see the black and white piano keys. It was a sort of quiet that was hard to find in this house. So although he was tired, he made the most of it, and let his thoughts wander until they gathered around a tiny pinprick of discomfort in the back of his mind.
He was thinking of family. One word, that took his mind so many places- a Mississippi swamp, an old farmhouse, an alien spaceship, a garage in Minnesota... and here. Always, family brought his mind here, to the boarding house.
He hovered his paws over the keys for a moment, then gently let them guide themselves in a soft, quiet melody.
He guided his thoughts back to the Minnesota garage, playing through memories, some old, some new, some joyful, some painful. Some less painful, thanks to the support of a brother who happened to be a frog.
The first full ray of sunlight streamed onto the piano keys. Slowly it grew, gleaming against the whole piano, and then the bench, and the floor, and a near-by chair, gradually filling the whole room with light.
Rowlf heard someone stirring upstairs. He stopped his tune, wanting to take advantage of the last few moments of relative quiet, and quickly walked over to the phone. He picked it up and dialed, hoping they were already awake in Minnesota.
“Hey, Moe? It’s Rowlf... I’m alright... Hey listen, is Mom up?... Could you put her on, please?... Thanks... Hi, Mom...”
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Sam and Friends Book
See I have it all right here on the inside cover of this very full notebook- all the random little scenes that will come before Mrs. the Frog's opperation. I have them numbered one through twelve, and right now we're half-way through number three. And then four is reference-y, and five is gonna be fun to write, so is six, and then seven is gonna be all ohhhhhhhhh and eight- well actually I don't know what's going to happen in eight. I'm gonna make if funny, though. And then nine will be more ohhhhh and ten- actually, I don't know what's going on in ten, either. But it'll be happy! ...I think... anyway, then eleven is gonna be another fun one to write, it's kinda like five. And then we get to twelve, which is a lot like three, and it's got kind of a bittersweet end. Then and only then will we actually be approaching the climax. Actually I'm not quite sure what the climax is, but... oh dear, I'm giving too much away again. You see what happens when I stop writing?!? I go through withdrawl!!! I miss this story... <sigh>.
