Sorry it's been awhile, but I think this is a good chapter. All song lyrics used in this chapter are copyright to David Gates.
Chapter Sixteen
"Baby I'm-a want you, baby I'm-a need you,
you're the only one I care enough to hurt about
maybe I'm-a crazy, but I just can't live without…"
Rashida Jones stood alone on a dimly lit stage, singing quietly with the (for once) subtle backup of the Muppet orchestra. Who was she singing to? Was it the dashing Wayne? Was it the cute Fozzie Bear? Was it the suave host Kermit?
No. It was the manly Sweetums.
"….your lovin' and affection, giving me direction
like a guiding light to help me through my darkest hour
lately I'm-a prayin'
that you'll always be a-stayin' beside me…"
He had been agitating to get on stage more, and Rashida Jones was game, so Kermit and Scooter helped devise a number that showed off his husky vocals to their fullest power.
Kermit sat at his desk off-stage and smiled. "You know, this could actually go pretty well."
One person who was not a fan of this ersatz duet pairing was Sam, who happened to walk backstage as they hit the bridge.
"used to be my life was just emotions passing by
feeling all the while and never really knowing why"
"Kermit, I knew this was a freakshow but this is just OUTRAGEOUS! Sweetums cannot sing! His voice sounds like a coffee grinder! He has the dance moves of a wild yak! This is bringing down the show by the second!"
"If it makes you feel any better, we wouldn't let him sing "Le Freak" by Chic. Thought that song was a little too risqué."
"That is small consolation. I think I need to take a shower after hearing that song. And I am being generous by calling that a song."
Sam stalked off back down the hall, past the nearly empty canteen and to the cast dressing rooms, where he was met by an irritated Scooter.
"Do you think you could wake Zoot up for me? I've tried everything short of setting the fire alarm off and he won't budge! I poured water on his face, screamed at him, played Kenny G, everything! Nothing worked!"
"Well….uh….I don't have time for this! Where is my telephone! I'm expecting a very important telephone call and can't be bothered."
Scooter, who had his back turned by now, silently pointed a finger at the coffee table, where his phone rested on a stack of Historian Monthly.
"Thank you."
Sam stalked out of the dressing room only to find himself flying into Beauregard, who was absent-mindedly pushing his janitor's cart down the hall. Phone, cleaning supplies, feathers and fur went everywhere.
"Sorry Sam! I didn't mean to be in your way! Sorry!"
"You need to watch where you are going!"
"Sorry! Here, let me get your phone for you. Oh! I think it's ringing. I'll answer it for you."
"No you don't need to do that-"
Beau answered the phone anyway.
"Hello. No, this is Beauregard. Sam's sitting next to me. Anything you want me to tell him?"
"Give me that!" Sam snatched the phone out of Beau's hand and made his way to the theater's office section, which was generally silent during tapings.
"I am sorry about that Matty. That lump grabbed my phone after he tripped me."
"Don't be so harsh on Beauregard! He helped you fix your car last time I was in Los Angeles."
"I could have easily solved the issue had it not been so hot out. You know I can't work well when I'm sweaty."
"You almost put motor oil in the spot for wiper fluid if I seem to remember correctly, and Beau had to show you what to do."
"The sun got in my eyes! Merely a simple mistake."
"Whatever you say, dear. Now how have you been? I've heard you had a rough time of it the other yesterday at the benefit dinner."
Sam instantly became defensive. "And who told you that?"
"Our children, they were texting me the whole time during the dinner."
"Well…well…I was beset with some rough conversation partners in the Three Stool Pigeons. It wasn't for them it would have been a great night."
"I don't think it was their fault."
"How would you know? Were you there?"
"I talked to Janice about it."
Sam nearly dropped his phone in shock. "You? You talked to Janice?"
"We're friends on Facebook."
"Social media has never lead to anything good, you know."
"Don't change the subject on me. Look, Sam, they were saying the same thing I've been telling you since they were in kindergarten! You've got to have more faith in the children."
"I'm just looking after their best interests! There's nothing wrong with protecting your children!"
"They're adults!"
"That may be true, but they're still our children! Are you saying we shouldn't look out for them anymore?"
Matty took a minute before answering. "You're making this a black and white issue and it's not. If they were making truly terrible decisions, like taking up drugs or committing a crime, then yes, we would have to step in and make them do the right thing. But when it comes to smaller decisions, they've earned the right to make their own choices. This is what you raise your children to do, and what we've done since we hatched their eggs."
"But…but…well…how do I know when to not say something?"
Sam always stuttered a bit before saying something he was unsure of. "It's hard, Sam, I know. I think it's just trial and error."
"That's not my preferred method for doing things."
"I think you're more flexible than you think you are."
"Hopefully you're right."
"Sam, it's going to be all right. I know it will be."
"Thanks Matty."
"You're welcome."
An awkward pause filled the air for what seemed like an eternity, until Sam decided to force things in another direction.
"So onto more important things now. It's the fall season now, and leaves are falling. Have you cleaned out the gutters yet?"
"Yes, Sam, I have. A very nice owl who lives down the street came and helped me."
"An owl! You best be careful!"
"Sam! Don't be speciesist. It's not becoming."
"Sorry."
"Apology accepted."
**********
Coming up next in Chapter Seventeen: When Sam goes to "help" Rowlf and Hillary at the middle school, will he make it out of there with dignity intact?