A Prologue to The Muppets 2011

[Barry Lee]

This is fantastic, and touching.

 

[outerelf]

Thank, thank you, thank you all! And the third chapter is now coming right on up!

 

[outerelf]

A banjo strummed softly in the cool summer air; mosquitoes hummed softly, attempting to keep out of the way of hungry frogs, as fish splashed through out the water, gaily chasing each other.

Next to the banjo playing grandma was a young frog, happily humming along to the music, his light mood a welcome contrast to the earlier moodiness.

Grandma balanced on the cusp of a question, a question she had been slightly curious to know, but hadn’t asked yet since the first time young Robin had claimed it was too soon.

“So Robin-“ When subtlety wouldn’t work go straight for the straightforward question- “Who was left in that house after the small time Muppets left?”

A nearby tree grew an icicle in that stony silence. “Grandma- I-”

“You need to talk about it sonny, or the pain will never leave you.”

“You sound like Rowlf!” Robin complained, frowning unhappily, earlier good mood now forgotten. “Before-“ He stopped, thinking it over.

Grandma watched in pleasant happiness as the emotions and thoughts crossed Robin’s face, in an interesting scurry of emotions. First anger, slowly replaced by belligerence, giving way to thoughtfulness; and finally, acceptance. “You’re right. And Rowlf is right. Normally Rowlf would be the one I talk about this, but… he hasn’t said a word since Jim Henson died.”

It was interesting that the young frog kept referring to the human by his full name, but she supposed Robin had to of known the human at least slightly. “Go on. Rowlf- he left next, didn’t he?”

“…Yeah. Dr. Teeth went with him as well. Actually, it was more like Rowlf slipped out…”

Dr. Teeth and his band broiled in chaos and noise; muted and tired noise then their usual happy blaring, but at least that noise was still there. Not for too much longer however. That much at the very least was certain.

Robin clung to the railings of the stairs, peering down steps to where Dr. Teeth stood; his band members encircled him, carrying their instruments- the Muppet van was parked outside. “We’ll take the van on down near the theater and leave it there Kermit.”

”You don’t have too,” Kermit protested weakly in response, his eyes reflecting part of his desperateness. Behind him, a brown dog, carrying a single doggie bag with a few of his toys, and the bust of Beethoven under one arm snuck past.

Up above, Robin’s sharp eyes tracked Rowlf’s steady, but wandering, path to the door, as Animal cried loudly, clinging desperately to a pillar of marble. Miss Piggy was upstairs in her own room, refusing to come down and say goodbye to the members of the band.

Dr. Teeth looked up, eyes falling on Robin on the stairs. He smiled and waved at the muppet- Robin waved half-heartedly back, as he glanced down at the gathering crowd, saying sad goodbyes. Gonzo, Fozzie, Miss Piggy, Scooter, Bunsen and Beaker, and Sweetums were the only other Muppets left in the house at this point.

”No Kermit; the van is yours. We’ll be signing up for another one of those gigs that Scooter and Pepe recommended to us.”

Kermit nodded slowly, almost sadly. Robin watched as Rowlf walked straight out the door, vanishing from sight. He didn’t call out- Rowlf’s own grief had been hanging hard and heavy over him, and truthfully there was nothing none of the other Muppets could do. When the comforter needed comfort, what was a Muppet supposed to say?


Robin hopped down the stairs, circling around to the side door. If he were lucky, he’d be able to catch up to Rowlf one last time.

Like a blur he hopped through the lawn, cutting corners and jumping over bushes. He hopped over one last bush, sliding to a halt in front of a small wooded area- Rowlf liked to play his harmonica, or other portable instruments here, using the seclusion of the woods to howl to his hearts content.

“Rowlf?” His quiet voice broke the silence, as members of the Electric Mayhem began to pour out of the house and onto the bus.

The dog’s head appeared around one tree, cocking inquisitively. Underneath his eyes were heavy bags. Robin took one leap into the dogs arms, holding on tightly, breathing in deep. Rowlf smelled like earth undertones, of old musty paper, newly dried ink, but most of all, he smelled like music. “I’ll miss you uncle Rowlf. Goodbye, and goodluck.” Robin placed a quick peck on the dogs cheek, before speeding off.

Grandma’s eyebrows went up- Robin was very stingy with those he addressed as Aunt or Uncle- Mainly because he had been practically raised with his uncle Kermit. Uncle to Robin had the same connotation parents would have to just about anyone else. “You like Rowlf don’t you?”

“Yeah, like him. He’s a good uncle. You could sit and talk to him for hours, and he wouldn’t get bored, or need to go somewhere else. Kind of like Beauregard- I hope he’s doing alright.”

“He probably is. I’ve heard about him from Kermit. It sounds like he’s doing just fine.”

“You heard from Uncle Kermit?” Hope and disappointment warred for dominance.

“I sent him a letter- and got one that he mailed awhile back. It’s been lost in the mail for quite some time. Do you want to see-“

“NO!” Robin sniffled, disappointment winning over. “I don’t.”

Grandma simply nodded. “So, go on about Rowlf.”

“Rowlf? Well…”

The frog hid behind a bush, head in his arms, shaking from disbelief. He had actually called someone from Muppet Theaters ‘Uncle’. He had done it- “Hello Rowlf, I thought you might attempt to leave quietly. I heard what Robin called you- you sure you don’t want to stay?”

Rowlf must have nodded, for a moment later, a heavy sigh echoed in the small clearing. “I see.” Kermit was never a good liar (that’s why he had Scooter do it for him) and judging from his tone he didn’t see.

Robin peeked through the bushes in time to see Rowlf pat Kermit on the shoulder, and pull from his doggie bag, a small harmonica. It was his only instrument he had on him, and as he walked down the street, the sad mournful tune hummed to the street, as if encouraging everyone to sing.

Kermit softly spoke the words. “Country road, take me home/ to the place, I belong. Muppet Theaters, the muppets there- Country road, take me home.”

The green frog with the fringed collar stared after the dog for a long moment, before softly whispering, “Goodbye.”

Robin stopped there, and Grandma was surprised by how much time had passed. The sun was slowly beginning to set over the trees, long fingers of red streaking across the sky in a brilliant display of colors. Off in the distance Robin could hear his mother caling for him, and he stood. “Sorry Grandma, but I gotta go- I promised Ma I’d be home every day in time for dinner from now on, if she stopped pushing so much for me to get along with my siblings in other ways.”

Grandma nodded, shooing him off with a flap of her hand- the uneasy truce the two parties had made was better then nothing, and at the very least a platform for them to build off on.

It was better then nothing.

--------

The blue ghost stalked through the rafters of the theater, every nerve on edge. Nobody had told him anything. They had all simply left in a rush, abandoning a play in the middle, and not closing the performance.

The abandoned performance lingered in the air for awhile, before being quietly closed out- he could sense that it was a single Muppet, saying goodbye.

He snarled at the birds roosted in on the rafters- with a startled squawk, they disappeared in a flurry of feathers. If his hands were substantial enough, he’d be leaving claw marks in the floor. For although the performance may have been put to rest, the bad feelings created when the performance was brought to a halt had not been.

And, as a spirit, bound to the place where he had died, at least mentally, the feeling of ever increasing doom and gloom; a feeling of being abandoned was beginning to settle over the theater. Even the regulars, precious few there were, had given up, sadly giving a goodbye to the theater.

Kermit- all of this was Kermit’s fault. His fault that the theater was so dark, and so mournful. And he would make the frog pay.

“I don’t care how and when Kermit, but I shall get my revenge. This theater shall go down- and I will not be bound here any longer.”

His ghost moved further into the depths of the darkness, as the dragon Muppet murmured vengeful curses upon those that had dared abandon this theater. “May all of your future jobs be empty and hollow.”

The last speck of light flickered out.

 

[Aaron]

Wonderful! keep writing.

 

[outerelf]

I'm glad to have such an eager reader. I'll do my best.

 

[outerelf]

I have to admit, I have my own reservations about continuing this fanfic. The more I hear about the movie, the more I get the feeling that what I've thought is completely wrong. If it is totally wrong, I may ask a mod to just delete it.

But, nonetheless, on with the next chapter!

 

[outerelf]

Robin was being forced to see a therapist. The large bullfrog had a thin, scraggly beard, and unlike Rowlf who would play music when he talked and actually listened, this therapist would sit in heavy silence, looming above him in condemning silence.

Thick lips pulled back in thoughtfulness, as Robin sat in his chair, staring the bullfrog defiantly in the eye. I’ve faced bigger Muppets then you. You don’t scare me a bit.

“Sooo, I think our session –growrk- has ended for the day young Robin.” The bullfrog shifted its ponderous weight on the lilypad, its giant eyes staring down at the young frog. Robin nodded quietly, and was hopping away, when the bullfrog called out to him, one last time. “Oooh, and Robin? I suggest –gwooork- that you participate in the talent show your teacher is putting on.”

Small shoulders drooped in response, a small mutter fitful in its response. “Join? But- I don’t wanna… I don’t want to sing anymore, and I don’t play any instruments. The bike is gone now… I don’t have anything left…”

A warm hand descended on his shoulder, and his grandmas soothing voice cut through his thoughts. “Then sing my boy. Not theatrically, not anything else. Just simply sing to the world, and let them know how you feel.”

“But- part of it is that you have to write why you chose this particular piece.” Robin’s eyes closed in pain. “I- I don’t think I can Grandma.”

“Yes you can.” It was amazing, Robin reflected, that a single old frog could be so much more inspiring then a therapist with a degree. “I think it would help you quite a bit.”

“Help me with what?”

“Who left after Rowlf and the Electric Mayhem Robin?” A pang shot through the young frog. “What song would they sing?”

Wide, sad eyes stared up at her, eyes that held a sorrow and wisdom no frog his age should have, mixed with the emotional immaturity of someone so young. Gently she tapped him on the head. “Think about it young padefrog.”

She swept off, in time to miss the whisper, “But all the puns are gone grandma. At least for me.”

--------

Roars of delight filled the large meadow, as firefly’s danced among the waving grass. A log performed as a perfect stage, a perfect vantage point for anyone who wished to perform, and for anyone who wished to see.

Grandma clapped in approval, croaking her wild joy at the contestants’ performances. Yes, they were slightly off tune, yes they made mistakes, but the entire performance had been one sea of funny jokes and laughter and silly songs that she had no doubt that even Kermit smiling in joy and approval.

“And next up on the program, is Robin the Frog!”

Robin hopped out to thunderous applause. Everyone knew him as the poor frog that had been depressed lately, and each member held their breath over what he would give them next.

The young frog didn’t stutter or stumble, he simply walked up to his place, and bowed theatrically. “Ladies and Gentlemen- thank you for coming out tonight!” Without really realizing it, he fell back to old theater techniques to grab attention. A flashy wave of the hand, and a loud booming voice.

“As you know, each of us have to state why we choose our particular sketch or song, and share it with the audience. And so far everyone has had a grand old time! There’s been music, laughter, art, and so many other shows that leave you in stitches and laughing. It reminds me of a friend back at the theater. His name is Gonzo. Gonzo the Great actually, but just Gonzo to friends. He was amazing.” As Robin spoke, in the background, completely unnoticed, the teacher scurried to rig up what Robin wanted to play.

“Every day he’d bring laughter, ignoring pain in his pursuit for art. He’d fly high in the sky, without wings, and come down maybe not without a scratch, but be much happier for it.” Robin gulped, almost stuttering. “But then, every once in a while, when nobody was looking, when the lights were off, and watchers had gone home; when only family surrounded him, he would come out with something a little slower. A little more poignant. Most of those blessed with seeing that softer side remember it well.”

The teacher gave thumbs up in the background, and Robin spread his arms out, starlight and firefly light bathing him in its glow. “So, I’d like to dedicate this song, to the one, the only, The Great Gonzo!”

The soft strands of music picked up there, quiet, thoughtful, a sharp contrast to the fun and laughter filled skits of before. Robin stood on the log, staring off, over yet into the audience.

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the boards beneath my feet
Sat by the cannon and it made me complete
​

Gonzo smiled sadly at the chicken beside him, juggling the case full of clothing and her nest awkwardly. It had been several months of grounded living, and he… was tired and yet used to it. “Gonzo?” Kermit’s tired, yet unsurprised voice spoke from the head of the stairs. Gonzo took a deep breath- now it was time to begin the hard part.

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

​

“Hey Kermit.” Gonzo nodded in his direction, as a sleepy young frog squirmed its way onto a stair. “Sorry that we’re taking off on you so soon, but, well, unless we leave shortly, we’re not gonna have enough money to start our new business.” Dark shadows flickered across Kermit’s eyes at that simple statement.

I came across a fallen cannon
I felt the bronzen metal looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?
​

“New business?” The frogs tone was mild, but the curiosity at the very least real enough. “You’re leaving as well Gonzo?”

“Aww, you know me Kermit, I have to be up and flying, I need to move- to see the world, to see the sights and the sounds. Yeah, now that I look back, I guess me becoming a Bombay movie star is impossible, but well… I gotta have some way of providing chicken feed for Camillia here. Even if it means giving up my dream. In a way, the theater being shut down was a bit of a boon- I’ve gotten over most of my flying urges now.”

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute, why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know

​

Fozzie peeked around the stairs, wondering at the noise. His entire posture drooped as he recognized the surefire signs- somebody was moving out- and this time, it hit closer to the heart then before. Kermit descended down the stairs. “You don’t have to go.”

“We can’t mooch off of you forever. I need something exciting- something scintillating!”

KABOOM! The explosion echoed eerily among empty hallways as two scientists began to make their way to the doorway, carrying suitcases. “Bunsen? Beaker? You two as well?”

“Well, we promised that we’d help Mister Gonzo in his new business venture for the time being- isn’t that right Beakie?”

The lab assistant nodded quickly, gesturing to the suitcases they were carrying. “After that we’re thinking about going out to test our nuclear knowledge.”

Gonzo nodded, as Kermit considered locking the two away in his basement for the good of the world. His mouth opened to mention something that would probably entice them to stay, when Robin stood up, an utterly resigned look on his face. “Goodbye Gonzo.” The young frog hugged the whatever tightly. “Bye Doctor Honeydew. Bye Beaker.” Hugs went to the two scientists as well, and the frog stepped back. “Good luck.”

Kemit descended to the last stair, and picked up Robin, staring the three in the eyes. “Good luck.”

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
​

Gonzo smirked as he turned around. In typical Gonzo fashion, he was leaving at dawn. The fresh breeze billowed in through the door, and the Whatever laughed, arms rising into the air. “Let’s go Camillia!”

The chicken clucked softly, glancing over her shoulder at the lone frog in the doorway. Bunsen tapped the frog on the shoulder- “Oh, and I left you behind a gift- you’ll need it now that there’s no one to take care of all of Miss Piggy’s needs!”

The scientist laughed, and gestured to his lab assistant holding three suitcases. “Let’s go Beakie!”

None of them looked back. The nearly asleep Robin felt wetness on his arm, as green arms held him close.

And if you have a minute, why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know
​

The song ended, the last note lingering on the warm summer air. Robin left the log, a small stain that smelled of salt left behind.

----

Two old Muppets stared up at the theater. It was beginning to crumble now, the already in disrepair theater gone to the rats literally. One said rat scurried out of the abandoned theater, tail flicking in disgust. “Honestly, ever since Rizzo left, this place isn’t worth it anymore. There’s no food left.”

“Yeah, but it’s a good place to build nests. It’s not like anyone is going to do anything to this place now.” The two rats laughed together, vanishing into the darkness.

Still, the two old Muppets stood there. “Hey, Statler?” Waldorf’s tone, low and soft, spoke.

The smaller Muppet grunted, eyes fixated on the darkness ahead. “Do you remember?” Statler’s eyes closed in pain at the question. Did he remember? Of course. The songs, the rag times, the vaudeville acts. The roar of laughter as they finished, the cheers and the clapping, the roar for an encore. “We started here. A Vaudeville act- one of the very first.”

“Well those days are over you old fool.” The grumble lacked its customary sharpness, and instead held bitterness. “We’re just a couple of old men reduced to shouting down complaints to an almost empty theater and a bunch of idiots.”

But the theater wasn’t always empty. And it hurt to watch it slowly fall to pieces. It was far better to tear it down in one go.

“Soo- Know any stupid villains to use?”

“Stupid? What other kind is there?”

“DO-HO-HO-HO!”

 

[Muppetfan44]

I don't think it matters whether your depiction is consistent with the movie, it's your take on it and it's very interesting and heart-wrenching. If you like writing it then keep on writing it, it seems like a good number of people including myself enjoy reading it and I don't think we care if it is accurate with the movie. You have been doing a great job so far!

 

[outerelf]

I don't think it matters whether your depiction is consistent with the movie, it's your take on it and it's very interesting and heart-wrenching. If you like writing it then keep on writing it, it seems like a good number of people including myself enjoy reading it and I don't think we care if it is accurate with the movie. You have been doing a great job so far!

I'm glad it's been touching some peoples hearts <3 At least I can take comfort with that. I'll get the next part up soon! (hopefully)

 

[outerelf]

Grandma plucked gently at the strings, eyes unfocused, staring off into the distance. It promised to be a brilliant, bright day, yet somehow she couldn’t quite help the melancholy music that drifted out from her banjo.

She sighed softly, one flipper covering the strings to bring the music to an abrupt stop. As the discordant note jangled on the morning air, she found herself tackled by a fast moving ball of sobbing, shaking green. “By the swamp- what’s wrong Robin?” She quickly moved the banjo to one side, and brought her arms around the small frog.

The thin body shook and trembled from the desperate, wheezing sobs of sorrow. “Oh Robin, what happened? Come on, you can tell your Grandma anything.” She patted his back, a trick she had learned from taking care of so many tadpoles, but the motion only made Robin sob harder.

“I thought I was done with dealing with temper tantrums.” She murmured softly to herself, as her mind worked overtime to figure out some way- any way at all- to calm down Robin.

“Robin-“

“I didn’t mean to say that! It just slipped out! I didn’t mean too Grandma!”

Ice slipped into her heart, cold and dark. Once again, the delicate situation of Robin with his family had fantastically blown up- “Uncle Kermit is going to hate me forever!”

What?

“Uncle…Kermit? Kermit called?”

“Uh-huh.” Robin sniffled, one flipper scrubbing at the snot and tears. “He called on your phone…”

Despite her consternation, a slow smile spread across her face. What she wouldn’t give to have a recording of that conversation! Oh boy, the fireworks that must have gone off! The dumbfounded tone to Kermit’s voice; the boiling rage of Robin; the sheer Muppety anger that pulsed through them- the conversation promised to have been a very, very good laugh.

“I-I-I yelled at him, and t-t-told him I ha-hated him. Bu-But I didn’t m-mean too!” The words, mixed up in between sobs, stuttered out.

Grandma couldn’t quite help the laugh. “No, don’t worry Robin. He would never hate you- or any of his crew really. Even now, I can promise you that each of you hold a special part in his heart. If any of you ever truly needed help, he’d be there in a minute.”

Robin was sitting up now, looking at her with an expression close to awe on his face. “You really think so Grandma?”

“Think so? I know so. Don’t you have any faith in him? Haven’t you known him your whole life?”

Robin looked down, murmuring, “I- I didn’t ever think that he would let Muppet theaters break up. I didn’t think he would shut himself away, and I most especially didn’t think that he’d do that…”

He trailed off, quietly staring down at the ground. Grandma’s eyes softened as she gathered him up into her lap. “Robin, shall I tell you something? Your uncle loves bad jokes.”

“Oh, I already knew that.” Robin’s deadpan reply threw her for a loop. “Fozzie was the king of bad jokes and the two of them were best friends. Though, Fozzie was actually a pretty good singer.” A distant smile crossed his face.

Grandma nodded thoughtfully- “Let me guess, he was the next to go?”

An almost imperceptible shiver ran down his back. “Yes.”

Silence for a few moments, before she gently questioned, “Want to tell me about it?”

Robin nodded simply, snuggling back into her arms. “We’ll skip the italics this time, and go straight for the line break.”

---------

The brown bear nervously wrung the hat in his hands, looking from side to side. Across the hallway, and two doors to the right was Scooter’s doorway. The half-parrot teen was busy attempting to sort out unused scripts and ideas that had never hit the theater.

Once upon a time he would’ve walked right on over, helping Scooter out, talking about a time when they would start the theater again.

Now every sound echoed eerily among empty hallways, as dust slowly gathered and collected in abandoned rooms. Fozzie hardly dared to go out of his room anymore. Every time he did someone was leaving.

Speaking of leaving-

A few crashes rang out from Scooter’s room; followed by the teens voice grunting, “Get in! Get in!”

It sounded suspiciously like someone was packing- and Fozzie couldn’t find it in his heart to ask him to stay. Now when he had a bit of a more pressing question to ask. Gently he knocked on the door.

The room fell silent for a few moments, until Fozzie called, “Scooter, it’s me! Let me in, would ya?”

The door creaked open squeakily, like it hadn’t been used for several years- and it hadn’t. Most of the time Scooters room was open for any to enter, as either way, someone would be coming on in to pick up their script, or some sort of paper they inevitably left in Scooters room.

“Fozzie? What are you-“

“I- I wanted to see those scripts.” Fozzie nearly whimpered, but continued on softly, “Before I leave.”

The door had only been open a crack, but at Scooters dumbfounded expression, the door decided to move back into its most comfortable position- wide open. Inside the room, only paper could be seen. None of the nick-nacks or nostalgic items- not even a shred of clothing could be seen on the floor.

On the large bed lay two suitcases, both filled to the bursting. “So then- you’re leaving too?” Fozzie smiled weakly, groping desperately for a joke.

It was a testament to how much his joke brain had shriveled in the time of non-practice that he could not think of a single one. “I-Yeah. Uncle… Uncle said I should find a job somewhere else. He reminded me that I wasn’t allowed to laze about.” Scooter laughed harshly, and Fozzie kept silent.

Many Muppets didn’t have the greatest of home lives. Fozzie didn’t ask, and nobody ever said. All that mattered was that they were together. Emphasis on were. “Well, I think I’m loosing my touch as a comedian; so I guess I need to leave, get out a little- see the world.”

Scooter nodded, turning to the stacks. “I have all the copies of the scripts of ones we were supposed to do, the rough outlines of the ones we eventually did, and ideas for ones we were going to do. I would offer you a digital copy of all of them, but well- I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“I know what you mean.” Fozzie nodded sharply, and his paw stretched out to the pile. “I’ll take the ones we haven’t done. Who knows, maybe I’ll make my own group!”

Scooter grinned at the image, a fleeting grin that faded far too quickly. “Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.”
_____

Kermit stood at the head of the stairway staring down at the two Muppets leaving. Idly he wondered if the distant sound of shattering was his heart or Miss Piggy. He hoped it was Miss Piggy- it was easier to replace mirrors then it was to replace a broken heart, and it had already been broken enough.

“Fozzie?” His voice cracked on the last syllable, and the bear flinched, as if struck by one of Suggs mallets. “You two Fozzie.”

The bear pulled off his hat, holding it to his chest, “Aww, Kermit, I don’t want to leave, but you know what ma always said- if you don’t exercise your funny joint then it’ll dissapear.”

A tart, angry response nearly made its way out of Kermit, stopped at the last second by sudden, dreadful overwhelming indifference. “Fine.”

Fozzie took a step back at that perfectly dead tone. “Go ahead and go Fozzie. I wish you luck.”

The bear nodded quickly, backing up to his waiting suitcase, before pausing and taking a few steps forward to pull the frog into a fierce, tight hug. “I’m sorry Kermit.” I’m sorry that I can’t help more, sorry that I have to leave, sorry that I’m not a good friend-

“It’s okay Fozzie.” Thank you. Thank you for everything.

“But-“ I don’t want to go.

“I know. Go ahead Fozzie. Good luck.” Goodbye.

“I…Bye Kermit.” See ya later.

Silence.

Fozzie turned away, picked up his suitcases, and took a deep breath. A fresh wind blew in from the doorway, filling the air with hopes and dreams. For a brief second, he could almost imagine it; being back on the road, in his Studebaker, him and Kermit, singing out to the world.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, leaving behind only bitter ashes of defeat. “Come on Scooter. I’ll give you a lift in my Uncles car.”

“Oh, is he dead?”

“No, just hibernating.”

The door swung shut on the leaving Muppets.

And nobody noticed the young frog standing in the kitchen doorway, with the final report card of the year, complete with all A’s.

-------

Robin yawned tiredly, leaning back into his Grandma’s arms. If he had eyelids, now would be the time when they would droop. As it was, he simply snuggled in to the cool warmth of an older frog.

“Did Kermit cry?”

“No. But… Fozzie did. Once he was outside. He sobbed for a good minute. Uncle Kermit went into his room and didn’t come out for awhile. But he wasn’t sobbing. I would hear him.”

Grandma supported the banjo on top of Robins lap, playing around the young frog- it was easy enough. Kermit used to climb in her lap all the time, watching her play. Robin watched the jumping strings, wondering if they would start complaining.

It had happened before.

“The rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreamers, and me~” Robin sang along softly to the song, his voice low and sleepy. Grandma smiled softly, changing the song.

The beautiful day had changed by now, the once clear skies turned into a boiling grey soup pot. “I have a song for you Robin. Want to hear?”

“Sure Grandma.”

little child, be not afraid
though rain pounds harshly against the pad,
like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger
I am here tonight

little child, be not afraid
though pain and trials have made you an unwanted stranger,
the firflies light, your childish delight,​

and I’m here tonight-​

and someday you'll know
that nature is so
the same pain that draws you near me
shall fade over time,
and eventually you will see-
That the beautiful thing, have not gone away,​

They were only hiding.

little child, be not afraid
though storm clouds mask your beloved moon
and its candlelight beams, still keep pleasant dreams
I am here tonight

little child, be not afraid
though fear makes creatures of our trees
and their branches to hands, they're not real, understand
and I am here tonight

for you know, once even I was a
little child, and I was afraid
but a gentle someone always came
to dry all my tears, trade sweet sleep for fears
and to give a kiss goodnight

well now I am grown
and these years have shown
that pain's a part of how life goes
but it's dark and it's late
so I'll hold you and wait
'til your frightened eyes do close

and I hope that you'll know...

everything's fine in the morning
the rain'll be gone in the morning
but I'll still be here in the morning​

Robin smiled at Grandma as the last note lingered in the air, whispering softly to her, “Can you teach me that song? I want to sing it to Uncle Kermit when I go to see him again.”

The pain that had once pierced a young heart was finally beginning to heal.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Kermit stared at the disconnected phone, stunned into silence by the sudden tirade that had lashed out against him, unable to quite believe that Robin, his darling little nephew Robin had said all of that.

“Kermit?” The familiar voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he turned to face his friend- his friend that had come back. “Is something the matter?”

“I- Yes. I guess once we save the theater I have a visit to make to some relatives of mine.”

Kermit gently placed the phone back, casting it one last look. Pretty soon he was going to be far too busy to take phone calls from family. I’m sorry Robin. The only person I never said goodbye too was you. But now… I don’t want to. I want to say hello. I don’t want to say goodbye ever again- only goodnight.