Chapter Twelve
A box.
It was a box.
It was a box addressed to him.
It was a box addressed to Private First Class Kermit the Frog.
It was a box addressed to Private First Class Kermit the Frog, from the United States Marines.
It was a box addressed to Private First Class Kermit the Frog, from the United States Marines, sitting on the floor.
It was a box addressed to Private First Class Kermit the Frog, from the United States Marines, sitting on the family room floor.
It was a box addressed to Private First Class Kermit the Frog, from the United States Marines, sitting on the family room floor in the Muppet Boarding House.
It was a box addressed to Private First Class Kermit the Frog, from the United States Marines, sitting on the family room floor in the Muppet Boarding House, surrounded by a sea of countless Muppets.
It was a box addressed to Private First Class Kermit the Frog, from the United States Marines, sitting on the family room floor in the Muppet Boarding House, surrounded by a sea of countless Muppets, with Kermit the foremost among them.
To put it simply- it was the center of attention.
"Are you gonna open it?" Fozzie asked.
Kermit set his hand on the box.
They leaned forward.
Kermit opened the box and peered inside.
"What is it?" Gonzo asked.
Kermit reached in and pulled something out.
He held it up.
It was a shirt. Not just any shirt- his shirt. His combat shirt.
He bit his lip.
It was the combat shirt of his combat uniform... complete with the bullet hole in the back right shoulder.
He dropped it back into the box.
He sighed. "It's all in here," he said. "Everything. My uniform, and my equipment- the stuff they can easily make more of, anyway."
"So... Nothing you really care to look at," Gonzo said.
Kermit stared at something in the box.
"Well... Maybe..." he whispered.
He reached in and touched the thing he was staring at.
It was clean and it was soft and it was colored: red, white, blue. It had stars and it had stripes and it had a whole world of meaning that was clear and distinct and abstract and vacant and distant and gone and there and half-forgotten and unforgettable all at once.
He pulled it out of the box and cradled it in his good arm while everyone craned and strained and inflicted pain to look.
"It was just always there," he whispered, his eyes in some far-away place. "It stood for us, and… and we defended it." He frowned and looked at Fozzie. "That's all a war is, you know? A great big game of capture the flag."
Fozzie put his hand on Kermit's back. "They won't get this one," he said.
"No," Kermit said, looking once more at the fabric in his hands. "They won't."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A full day had passed since the box had come.
They were in the family room again, as usual, but their attention was turned to a different box.
This one talked.
The news reporter was warning them of some so-called sensitive material.
"You may want to have any young children leave the room," she said.
"Robin, cover your eyes," Rowlf said lamely.
"Our story takes us now to Baghdad..."
"Not this again," Robin whispered, covering his eyes.
Fozzie curled up and half-shielded his eyes with his scarf.
The entire room seemed to want to look away... but no one really did.
"Troops are still working to find a way to disband the Child's Corps-"
It was not until then that Kermit tensed. His entire body stiffened to the point that he could have passed as a cardboard cutout of himself.
"-While hurting the fewest number of children possible..."
"I still don't believe it's real," Johnny said, skeptically tapping his foot.
"It's real!" Clifford said. "Look, are you blind? Look at the screen! Those are LITTLE! KIDS!"
"It
could be photoshopped," Rizzo offered.
"Why would they fake something like
this, though?" Rowlf said.
"
Fake something like this?" Miss Piggy snapped. "Why would they
do something like this?"
"Because it's the perfect weapon," Kermit said miserably, looking at his hand. "They can train the kids to do anything, and trust that our moral compasses won't let us hurt them." He bit his lip.
"But what
idiot would send a
kid into
battle?" Gonzo said.
"That's what I'm saying!" Johnny said.
"Si! Dey probably made it up, hokay?" Pepe agreed.
"They would
not make this up," Clifford said.
"Dey made it up! Es not real, hokay!"
Robin was curled up into a tiny ball. He turned and looked at the older frog at his side. "Uncle Kermit?" he whispered. "Is it real?"
All eyes turned to Kermit. He was trembling slightly, staring very pointedly at his left hand.
"I wish I could tell you it wasn't," he whispered. He stood up. "I
wish I could tell you-" He shook his head and ran up the stairs.
Miss Piggy was instantly on her feet. "Kermie?" She followed him.
She opened his bedroom door without knocking.
He was on his bed, curling around his pillow, getting frustrated that he couldn't just bury himself, and slapping at the sling for inhibiting him, not caring whether or not he hit his arm.
She closed the door, crawled onto the bed, put one arm firmly around him, and held his face with her free hand. "Kermie,
what is going on?" she demanded.
He stared at her, distraught, stared into her eyes with his.
"Do they always make it sound like the Child's Corps is only in Baghdad?" he asked.
She caught her breath. "They've never been mentioned anywhere else, Kermie-"
"Well
that must be a
terrific luxury for civilians!" he said bitterly. "Ignorance is bliss! Never been truer!" He tried to tear away from her.
He wasn't about to get away with that. Miss Piggy had the elastic sort of grip where the harder he tried to pull away from her, the quicker he snapped back. It wasn't much good for his shoulder, but he hardly seemed to care at that moment.
"Kermie, what-"
"They're
everywhere, Piggy!" he said. "They're everywhere! They're mixed in with everybody else! You never know when the person shooting you is going to be your age or twice your age or half your age or hardly even able to walk yet!" He shook with tears. "That's why they use them, Piggy. It's not just another number for the troops, it's psychological! They
know we can't stand it! Because
who on earth would hurt a child?
Who on earth would..."
She trembled. "Oh Kermie..." She buried her face in his good shoulder. "Kermie..."
"Answer me, Piggy," he said, pushing her away. "Who would hurt a child? Would I hurt a child? I, Kermit the Frog, who worked on
SESAME STREET, would I hurt a child?"
She stared at him, frozen, afraid.
"
OF COURSE I WOULDN'T!" He said. "But I
DID! I-" He suddenly fell back into a helpless little heap of shaking tears. "I... I killed him..." he choked. "I killed a little boy..."
Miss Piggy could only stare.
"He was... he was just a little boy," Kermit sobbed. "And I looked.... I looked in his eyes and...." He was shaking too hard for complete thoughts now. All he managed to articulate, through the mess of tremors and tears, was, "...Robin's age..."
Miss Piggy stared, watched helplessly as his trembling slowly, slowly, slowly, faded into the occasional twitch, the muffled whimper, the stifled sob. "Kermie," she whispered.
He had somehow managed to sit up, curl into a ball, bury his face in his good hand, and ignore the sling that held his other hand in place. He seemed to have stopped crying now.
"I told you, you would hate me if you knew," he whispered. He did not question or accuse. He simply stated what, in his mind, was fact.
In her mind, it was pure fiction. It wasn't even real... yet... Oh, never mind it!
"No," she said. She firmly folded her arms around him. "No, Kermie, I don't- I couldn't- I..."
She held him close.
"Kermie..."
He let his head drop onto her chest.
"Piggy," he mumbled. "Why are you staying?"
She nuzzled her head on the back of his neck. "Where else would I be now, Kermie?" she whispered. "Where else would I go?" She snuggled him close to her. "Who else do I love like you?" she prodded. "Hm?"
He was quiet. "I don't deserve you at all," he whispered.
"Stop saying that," she whispered. "And what difference would that make, anyway?"
He sighed. "I feel like a traitor," he whispered. "I feel like I'm not even me."
She stroked his cheek. "You were a soldier, Kermie," she whispered. "Now you're home. Now you can be you."
"With a guilty conscience," he said.
She rocked him. "It will be all right, Kermie," she whispered. "It will be all right."
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