Whew! This chapter took over a month to write, with breaks for emotional problems and the holidays and the Fraggles, but I have done it! A quick thanks to Slackbot for letting me borrow her given name for Dr. Teeth. Also, there is consumption of alcohol by Muppets in this chapter.
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You are cordially invented to the
California Education Association's Charity Dinner
honoring Donors of the Year
Tuesday, October 23 at the Ritz-Carlton
"Is that an open bar, hokay?"
"Pepe, they will be serving drinks at the dinner! You don't need to be drinking in the lobby!"
"Hokay, hokay. Don't get uptight, Kermit."
The Muppets were making their way through the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton, on their way to the Gold Ballroom where a crowd of tables and suited older people were waiting. This was a very prestigious event, one that celebrated the individuals and groups who donated the most time and money to helping out education programs in California throughout the year. The Muppets had been invited for their work with the School for the Gifted and Talented Whatnot, and the children were even going to play at the dinner.
But before anyone could see the kids play or be honored, everyone had to keep their clothes on. This was a black-tie affair, which meant that simply wearing a scarf or a green collar or even whatever the heck Sweetums wore would not fly this evening. Suits and dresses were on tap for the evening, and many Muppets were fidgeting with their clothes as they filed into the guest room.
"Kermit, my tie is too tight!"
"Fozzie, you know you can loosen the tie."
"But I don't want to look too informal."
As they filed into the room, already half-filled with teachers, politicians, educators and children, wait staff helped escort the Muppets to their seats. A dapper-looking waiter strolled up to Sam and his two children.
"Samuel T. Eagle, Hillary T. Eagle, and Andrew T. Eagle, may I escort you to your table."
The three eagles navigated through the maze of tables and drink carts being pushed around, Hillary needing to gently move Andrew out of the way of a poor waitress carrying a bottle of 1985 Chardonnay.
"Here is your table. You will be sitting with a Miss Janice Hunt, a Mister Floyd Pepper, and a Mr John Wogglebug'. A waiter will be around with the drink cart momentarily."
"Please. It's Dr. Teeth; only my mother and correctional officers call me John, and generally they're frowning while they do it."
"My apologies, Doctor."
Sam's face turned into a frown.
"No introduction is needed! I know who these three crazies are already. I can only hope they behave themselves tonight."
"Sam, like why are you so grumpy? They haven't even brought out the appetizers yet!"
His seat was pulled out and filled with a huff, while Andrew and Hillary gingerly sat down, only to be immediately met by another waiter, this time a neatly clad penguin.
"What can I get you to drink? Please cast your eyes upon our extensive list of wine, mixed drinks, and canned juice concentrates."
Janice piped up first. "I'll just have a glass of water please."
Then Floyd. "Can I please have a glass of your finest vintage Coca-Cola please? I hear the 2012 Diet is of a fantastic taste, heh heh heh."
"And I would like a glass of your 2001 Chateau Hout-Brion, because unlike these two unspoiled rogues over here, I consider myself a fine sommelier with a nose, nay a tooth, for the finest of wine."
Sam harumphed in disapproval.
"Can't order an American drink? Pssh."
Dr. Teeth waved an arm towards Sam. "Pay no heed to the All-American Dingbat on my right. He'll have himself a bottle of Diet Mello Yello."
"I. Will. Not. Please, waiter, ignore him and get me a glass of unsweetened iced tea."
"And for you, Mrs. Hillary Eagle?"
"I'll have a glass of the Cristal, please-"
Sam cut in again.
"My daughter will not be having any wine, thank you. She can have a glass of something else."
Hillary ignored her father. "Please get me the glass of Cristal. I can show you ID if you need it."
"That won't be a problem, we received your information before-hand. And for you, sir?"
Andrew smiled. "A Shirley Temple please!"
"Thank you." The penguin shuffled away, surely rolling his eyes.
Sam's scowl could have cut down everyone at the table.
"My goodness! Hillary, disregarding my parental advice. You're lucky I can't send you to your room from here."
"Dad! I'm 22. I can have a glass of champagne if I want to."
"And I do not appreciate the comments from the rogues' gallery across the way."
"Like, it's only one glass. And sparkling wine has all those bubbles in it, less room for alcohol."
"There's nothing wrong with a fine glass o' vino, as the good doctor said. In fact, sometimes me and Jan go out in the yard with a bottle and a blanket and some Isaac Hayes records and-"
"ENOUGH! My children do not need to hear discussion of what you do in the backyard. Now please."
Dr. Teeth laughed into his drink.
"Is something funny?"
"You're a prude, baby, a prude."
"And is there something wrong with that?"
Floyd cut in. "Sam's just cranky because his bit got bumped in rehearsal for our number."
"I am not mad about that, I am mad about your unsavory choices for dinner conversation. Though there's no reason why your latest collection of cacophony should have bumped my speech on John Adams."
"Sam, I like think your speech missed the point, the Alien and Sedition Acts were not good laws at all, okay."
"What do YOU know about John Adams?"
Janice crossed her arms. "I took my history classes in high school too."
"Hmmph." Sam snorted in the general direction of the three musicians, while his children sipped their drinks while gritting their teeth at the general atmosphere of the table. The deafening silence lasted for a small eternity until the arrival of the appetizer cart gave everyone something to smile about.
Hillary bravely spoke up. "This caesar salad is very good."
"My compliments and kudos to the shelf. Just like Mama used to buy."
"Don't you mean cook, Teeth?"
"Nope. She was never much of a cook. Preferred to order out."
"Okay then." Hillary went back to her salad confusedly.
Meanwhile, Andrew excitedly leapt into a plate full of potato skins.
"Potato skins? Potato skins? Really, Andrew? This is a black tie dinner and you are eating potato skins?"
"Mmm! They're good!" He picked one up off his plate and lifted it in front of Sam's eyes. "Look. There are little bits of chives in with the cheese! Chives!"
Sam slapped the skin down, which landed in the middle of the table with a barely audible thud. "I don't need to see that up close and personal."
Floyd picked up the potato skin with his fork and ate it. "Thanks, buddy!"
"You're welcome?" Andrew was extremely confused at the recent series of events.
And so went the evening, more stares and disapprovals and awkward jokes from the musicians. The only break from the action came with the plates of food being set down by the orderly wait staff. As the dinner was being finished, Rowlf sidled up to the table.
"Hillary! Andrew! The children are almost ready to line up and get set to perform, so I need your help. Hillary, you make sure no one has any food on their shirt, and Andrew, I need you to help move the drums into place."
"Let's do this!"
"Do you have any gloves? I've seen how Jarrett and Frederick eat, and if that's any indication…."
Rowlf put his arm around Hillary as they walked away. "We have plenty of paper towels."
The three walked away, through the tables and behind the stage in the ballroom, while Sam sat, picking at the rest of his green beans.
"Sam," said Dr. Teeth quietly, "your children have really made an dynamic impact here since they brought their talents to Los Angeles."
"I guess so…"
"But you don't seem to realize that choice fact, do you?"
Sam finally looked up from his beans. "What?"
Dr. Teeth shook his head. "At every turn, at every possible bump in the road, you only critique, criticize, chastise, complain, and I could go on but I don't have my Merriam Webster with me. My dear eagle, you need to lighten up."
"Lighten up? I'm just trying to be the best possible father out there. I don't think you understand how tough it is to raise a child."
"Maybe I don't, but the truth of the matter is those little eagles are no longer eaglets."
Floyd chimed in. "You can't hold their wings back much longer."
"But, like, you guys don't really have wings anymore, they seem to have changed evolutionary, you know. Trading flying for writing is kinda fair though."
Sam crossed his arm-wings. "Raising a child isn't just making sure they can tie their shoes and recite all the Supreme Court justices, it's making sure they can become good adults, productive members of society, and such. They still have a ways to go, and I need to make sure they get there. Matty certainly wasn't doing that in Virginia, so I had to step in."
Dr. Teeth stuck his long arm across the table, pointing it at the stage. '"Look up there at those eagles."
Hillary and Rowlf were in deep conversation with a couple of dignitaries, cheerily conversating, while Andrew was gladly moving the drums according to Scooter's work.
"Those are some great kids out there, and they have an excellent future ahead of them. I would be a lot of prouder of them if I were in your jet-black dress shoes from the Art Linkletter collection."
Sam swallowed. "Are you saying I'm not proud of my children?"
"You sure don't act like it," snapped Floyd.
"I never! I never heard such things from a bunch of drug-taking layabout musicians who have barely accomplished anything in their lives! I am an excellent father who doesn't need to hear any of this garbage from you fools! Please excuse me while I take myself elsewhere."
Sam tossed his napkin down on the table, spilling his drink across his plate as he left, leaving Teeth, Floyd, and Janice in a bit of shock.
"Like, do you think Sam's all that upset," wondered Janice.
Dr. Teeth sighed. "He's got a couple of veritable gems in those kids, who are on their way to being fine, classic adults. He's treating them like they can't even wipe their nose."
"Sometimes you have to learn the hard way," added Floyd, who suddenly noticed that Sam's glass of iced tea was beginning to spill on the tablecloth.
"Waiter! We need a cleanup crew STAT!" shouted Floyd across the room.
"Bring a dessert menu too!," smiled Dr. Teeth.
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Coming up next in Chapter Fourteen: A conversation at the bar between two of our friends goes in unexpected directions.
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: "But, like, you guys don't really have wings anymore, they seem to have changed evolutionary, you know. Trading flying for writing is kinda fair though."
