Chapter Nine
Another lazy afternoon at the Four Seasons market. Hillary had the afternoon off to help Rowlf pick up school supplies for the after-school program, so Andrew was the only one of the Eagle twins to be working. He was manning his post at the deli, patiently waiting for an elderly hedgehog to decide what lunch meat she wanted.
"Hmm…my grandson really likes salami…he says it's nice and salty…but then again, he can't have too much sodium, right?"
"No! It's important to watch your sodium intake, too much will give you a dry mouth."
"What's your least-salty meat?"
"Hmm, I'm not sure. Let me ask Lenny." Lenny was an aged gazelle working in the deli along with Andrew. He spent most of his day looking like someone had thrown up on his shoes and slashed the tires on his bike.
"Lenny! What meat has the least salt in it?"
"Andrew, if you ask me another question I swear I'll stick a cheese wheel-"
Andrew's eyes went wide and he fixed his attention back onto the hedgehog. "Maybe you should get some olive loaf. Does your grandson like olives?"
"Well, yes, but he can't eat any pits. Are there any pits in the olive loaf."
"Nope! We only have the best olive loaf."
"Okay, I'll take a pound of olive loaf."
Andrew methodically sliced the loaf and measured out exactly one pound, not an ounce more or an ounce less. Precision was the name of the game. He handed the loaf over to the hedgehog, who profusely thanked him and waddled away.
"It's great to help someone out with a tough decision!" Alexander wandered in from the back of the store, with his ever-present clipboard and smile. "You really have a knack with customers!"
"Thank you!"
"Mind if I come back here? I want to check the inventory while things are quiet."
"No problem." Andrew let Alexander in and stood around waiting while he scribbled down incessantly on his clipboard. The deli had gone silent, with only the elevator music piped in throughout the store making any noise. Maggie May by Rod Stewart began to play, acoustic guitars and mandolins processed through an aged stereo system.
"You think one day we could listen to a different station, Alex?"
Alex looked up at Andrew. "You don't like Rod Stewart?"
"I'm not really a fan of his kind of music. It's a little too slow and old. I much prefer R&B. I know this great station Scooter showed me, it's-"
Alex flung down his clipboard suddenly. "YOU DON'T LIKE ROD STEWART?!!!! He is the greatest voice of our time!"
"What's the matter?" shouted Andrew. "Why are you so angry?"
"How could someone not like Rod Stewart? Maggie May has more soul than a Sperry factory! Too slow! Too old! You're just obviously uncultured."
"I'm sorry we have different tastes, but-"
"No buts!"
Andrew was at a loss for words. Was his boss really freaking out at him because he didn't like Rod Stewart? The same guy who had a kind word and boundless enthusiasm for everyone he came into contact with? The same guy who thought a narcoleptic ostrich was one of his best workers?
"Look, Andrew, I'm afraid we don't have room for you here if you don't appreciate the music of Rod Stewart."
"What?!!"
"Unless you're willing to change your opinion on the matter, then I can no longer employ you at the Four Seasons Market."
"But what about the quality of my work?"
"I'm more concerned with your tastes right now. Don't tell me you don't like First Cut Is The Deepest too. Or My Heart Can't Tell You No. Or Tonight's The Night. Never has there been such a song released that cuts to the core of what goes between a man and woman in their most private moments! A true artist recorded that song!"
"I thought First Cut Is The Deepest was by Sheryl Crow-"
Alex exploded again, nearly snapping his clipboard in half. "You've never heard Rod Stewart's version? It was a number in the United Kingdom in January of 1977! It beat out the Sex Pistols, for goodness sakes! The Sex Pistols! Those no-good no-talents."
"Sorry, boss."
"Don't call me boss! Hand over your apron and leave."
"Really?"
Alex shook his head and stuck out his arm.
"Fine."
"Good day to you."
Andrew was stunned as he walked out to his bike. He lost his job because he didn't like Rod Stewart, not anything negative with his work. How was he going to tell his father? And what would he say?
***********
"Matty, I tell you, it's an outrage! An outrage!"
"Sam, you need to calm down."
"Calm down?! Alex gave my son and daughter a job, only to fire one of them because he didn't like that weirdo who sang Rich Girl."
"I think that was Hall and Oates. Rod Stewart sang Do You Think I'm Sexy."
"Well that's even worse! Fired because he didn't like a singer who promotes promiscuous behavior!"
"There are other places to work in Los Angeles."
"You're right! Perhaps there is a toll booth he can operate somewhere."
"A toll booth operator? That's a boring job."
"I'll give him a book to read. I have a new five-volume biography of Henry Clay."
"Why don't you ask Andrew what he wants to do?"
"He doesn't know what he wants to do! I can't let him go out looking for a taxidermy job."
"Why? He has a degree from one of the best taxidermy schools in the country, with a 3.7 GPA. He certainly has the skills for the job."
"Taxidermy is not a job fit for my son."
"It's what he likes to do."
"But it's not a decent job! He could have chosen anything in the world, and he chose something that would be fit for a raccoon!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I can't have my son working such an undignified job. How do you expect me to answer questions about it to the public? I could be down at the post office and someone could say 'I thought I saw your son down at the taxidermy shop in the sleazy part of town. Was that him?' How am I supposed to answer that? "
"Well, that's your problem! You want everyone to be in your image, and your shape. That's not going to happen!"
"I can't help it if I'm right and people are wrong!"
"You can't be too sure of that, Sam!"
"Just because you've never been as good a judge of character as me-"
"You're not a good judge of anything, Sam! You're just selfish and closed-minded! If something isn't done the exact way you want, it might as well not be done. If someone doesn't think the way you do, they need to change their mind. Your children are brilliant, but you don't care, because they don't act like you!"
Sam wasn't used to people calling him out like this. The Muppets didn't always agree with him, but they generally just walked away rather than confront him. A long pause was his only response.
"Look, Sam, I know I yelled at you, but you can't be this restrictive anymore. You aren't dealing with children anymore. Andrew and Hillary are adults, not to mention me. We're not always going to act according to your wishes. I'll talk to you another time, Sam. Good night."
Sam sat alone at his desk, tapping his fingers in frustration. He had only worked to try and get his children a stable environment in Los Angeles, only to have his wife yell at him for his efforts. No one understood what he was trying to do.
"Hey, Sam. How's it going?"
Rowlf came into the room, munching on a bag of pretzels.
"I'm okay. How are you?"
"Great! Pretzels were two for one down at the market. Want some?"
"No thank you, too much salt."
"You're missing out!" Rowlf scarfed down a few more pretzels before sitting down at his desk.
Silence filled the room, Sam staring into space while Rowlf plugged away at his laptop until Sam dared to speak.
"Rowlf, do you think I'm a good parent?"
Rowlf was too shocked to answer at first; Sam was never one to show self-doubt, or emotion for that matter.
"Well, Sam, you have two very nice children, very funny, very responsible, all around good eagles. I'd say you and Matty did a good job. What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Just making sure you knew a good strong male role model when you saw one, working at the after school program and all now."
"Okay, Sam."
"No problem. Remember, complete sentences are a must when doing homework- even if the assignment does not call for it. It build up hand strength, not to mention character."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Let me know if you need anymore guidance. I'm off to the showers." With that Sam gathered his shower caddy and traipsed off to the bathroom.
Rowlf scratched his ear. Something was up with Sam. It was normal for him to give such strange, rigid advice, but for him to ask if he was a good parent was out of the ordinary. Perhaps one of his kids had gotten mad at him. He made a mental note to make sure to check on Sam over the next few days.
Sam already had enough to worry about with Wayne and Wanda, he didn't need something else.
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Coming up in Chapter Ten: Hillary and Rowlf work with the kids, but they're not the only Muppets showing up at the school.
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