((A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, happy happy happy Halloween. Happy Halloween of '75. Enjoy this next chapter.))
------
“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock, jingle bell sing and jingle bell ring…”
The melodic sounds of Christmas carols flowed from the radio and into our ears as we drove around the town in the month of December, looking for decorations and such. Since the campus was closed for the holidays, Lindbergh and I had taken temporary residence at Beard and Clifford’s apartment building, staying with Clifford for the time being. Flash and Francine’s parents also allowed them to come over for the holidays, so we all thought that we could take a drive through town to see what we could find to add some Christmas spirit to the apartment.
Lindbergh, Flash, Francine and I were all together in the back seat of Clifford’s car, with Clifford and Beard in the front two seats. Even though Lindbergh had his own car, we were all car pooling to avoid wasting gasoline. The radio was on and we were conversing while the carols were playing.
“I love the holiday season,” Lindbergh said. “Everyone’s got a smile on their face and the whole world is truly in the Christmas spirit.”
“Yeah,” Beard agreed, “and the glitter of it all keeps it sparkling every year.” Everyone chuckled at that comment.
The radio then switched over to “Jingle Bells”, but a female's hand soon switched it over to another holiday station. “How many versions of this song are there?” Francine asked with a sigh.
“Hundreds, probably,” I answered, trying to think of all the versions I’ve heard over the years while nearly everyone else groaned as “I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas” came on. “I guess everyone’s had their shot at it once in a while.”
She shrugged, reaching over to turn the radio off. “Well, better that than--”
“Hey, everyone, guess what this song is,” Clifford suddenly stated, interrupting Francine (and essentially batting her hand away from touching the radio) and launching all of us into a guessing game. All of us listened as he started to hum a semi-familiar tune.
The drummer was probably the first one to get it. “Oh no,” she grumbled. “Clifford…”
The man in in question just kept on humming, a slight smile forming on his face.
Beard joined in with Clifford. “Ba-dum-bum-bum-bum… Da na na na na na, ba-dum-bum-bum-bum…”
It was at this point that Lindbergh discovered the song and started to sing along. “To lay before the king, par-um-pum-pum-pum, rum-pum-pum-pum, rum-pum-pum-pum…”
It was then I realized that the song we were trying to figure out was “The Little Drummer Boy”. I decided to join in and harmonize with the three that were already singing. “So to honor him, par-um-pum-pum-pum, when we come.”
At this point, our own drummer was resorting to burying her face in her hands while our bassist, guitarist, and even saxophonist busted out laughing. “Guys, you know I hate that song,” she complained.
“Sorry, Fran,” Clifford apologized the laughter, “but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.”
“Hey, Clifford?”
“What?”
“Shut up,” Francine told him, snatching the sunglasses off of the driver. “And I’m not giving them back until you stop singing and/or mentioning that song.”
“Ha ha ha, very funny, Francine,” Clifford retorted sarcastically before sighing. “Okay, I’m sorry about… you know what. Now give me back my shades, we’re almost there.”
The female drummer put on a triumphant grin and handed Clifford back his sunglasses (“I might keep them.” “Ask for your own for Christmas, girl!”) as we pulled into the parking lot of the local Wal-Mart. Once inside, we decided to split up into small groups to cover more ground. Naturally, I was paired up with Lindbergh for the shopping trip. Our job was to get the lights for the tree and a some extra lights and displays for various places in the apartment.
“So what kind of lights do you have in mind, Digit?” my friend asked me as we made our way towards the Christmas lights.
“Well, we should probably get some white lights for the tree,” I replied, “and then maybe some colored lights for the displays so that we could work with them a little bit more.”
“All right.” We then came across several boxes of Christmas lights with different lengths written on them. “Let’s see… ‘seven feet’, ‘eight feet’, ‘nine feet’ ‘twelve feet’…” Lindbergh turned to me. “You think eight is enough?” he asked.
“Considering that the tree has to fit inside the apartment, eight’s plenty,” I answered him.
“Okay,” the kiwi said as he lifted the box up. “Now to find some multicolored ones for the displays.” He glanced down at the heavy box of lights in his hands. “Hmm... maybe I should put this in a cart," he concluded.
"I believe there's still some up front," I told him. "Let's go see if we can grab one."
"Okay." The two of us then set off for the front of the store to get a shopping cart. "Hey Digit, did you ever have a tree growing up?" I was asked on the way up there.
"... well, yes," I replied to my feathered friend. "The tree was small, but it was just right for Mother and me." I felt myself smile as I remembered all the Christmases I had back in my old home with my mother. "Every year, we'd wrap presents for ourselves, neighbors, relatives, and close friends and store them under the tree until Christmas Day."
Lindbergh nodded, a look of understanding in his eyes. "My tree was small, too," he told me. "We didn't always have much under it, but we were all happy with what we had. My family used to make ornaments to go on the tree: popcorn balls, paper chains... little pictures of ourselves on hooks," my friend described to me.
"It sounds like a nice tree," I commented. "My mother and I made some ornaments every year, but we also bought some more to make the tree look more festive." A sigh escaped my throat as I remembered all the good times I had with my mom in my old home back in Illinois. "You know what they say, Lindbergh," I stated, trying to hide my homesickness as I pulled out a cart, "'There's no place like... home... for the holidays...'"
The bird placed the box in the cart before putting his arm around my shoulder. "Yes, but there's another saying about home, too," he said to me reassuringly, "'Home is where the heart is.' We're both together with a new family this year, even though we're not related to any of them."
I paused and considered my friend’s words to me. Over the passing months, I had gone from living with my mother in some state (oh no, I've forgotten where I grew up...), human and almost friendless, to a half-robotic person in a Kansas town (was it Kansas? I've forgotten...) who was in a band, played an actual instrument, was going to college, and had a group of very close friends. Even though I still missed my mother, Lindbergh was correct in his comment. I did have a new extended family in this place, a family that I cared about and who cared about me back.
I managed to get a smile on my face. “Thank you, Lindbergh,” I thanked him, “for being such a great friend.”
“That’s what friends do,” the kiwi told me. “They stick together no matter what.”
After getting the rest of the lights and a few displays, we ventured to the ornament section of the store to meet up with the others. From the looks of everyone, they seemed to have successfully gathered all the items that they were assigned to get and were ready to select more decorations for the tree. (“Why can’t we just make our own ornaments?” I heard Lindbergh ask. “I’ve got this neat idea for decorating an old wrench that I have.”)
As for myself, I had a special project in mind. Not only were Lindbergh and I working on the animated displays, I had planned to make an moving ornament to put on the tree. It was going to be perfect: the ornament would have the grace of a butterfly as it would dance around a snow-covered town to a beautiful Christmas carol… Now if only the technology would catch up to the idea...
I was snapped out of my thoughts by the appearance of a thickly clothed… animal, to give a generalization. All that was visible through the heavy clothing were two bulgy yellow eyes that were looking around the store in a strange manner. There seemed to be a tail poking out amongst the bundle as well. He was spooked by the passing-by of an employee and started to hurry away into our groups’ general direction.
The next thing I knew, I was knocked to the floor in a hurry.
“Digit!” Lindbergh quickly rushed to my side and helped me up. “Are you all right?”
“Well, Mrs. Claus, how’s your hubby?” I half-dazedly asked in response.
“He’s okay,” my best friend told the rest of the group. “He’s just got a small technical problem. Nothing I can’t fix.”
The creature’s eyes grew wide. "Hey, um ... you get any other channels? 'Cause, see, I gotta few in mind ...."
"I'm Mr. White Christmas," I introduced myself, "I'm Mr. Snow."
Lindbergh held me still to prevent me from breaking out into song and dance. "What do you mean, sir?" he asked the heavily clothed reptile.
"Well, ya see, uh, heheheh," began the lizard. However, Francine cut him a deadly glare, making the reptilian nervously chuckle and shake his head. "Uh, yeah, never mind. Well, anyways, thanks for breakin' my fall," he continued. "I'm Leon."
"Friends call me Snow Miser," I sang, "Whatever I tou--"
I was cut short by the hand of my avian friend. "This is Digit," he introduced me to him, quickly turning a knob on my control panel. "My name is Lindbergh."
"And we are the band currently known as Solid Foam," Clifford said, introducing the rest of the band. "What brings you around these parts, Leon?"
Leon glanced around and lowered his head. He shrugged. "Aw, well, you know how it is," he told them. "The holidays can get to be hard for anyone without ... without," he continued, starting to blubber, "a family of their own." He wiped his snout on his sleeve. "I'm just tryin' ta get through the holidays, rememberin' my girlfriend." He looked up hopefully. "Did I mention she was hot?"
He seemed to be concerned about his holiday season so far, so I decided to ask him what was wrong. "Is something wrong, Leon?" I asked, hoping my talk would help him.
Leon nodded, tears freely flowing as he started to break down. "A coupla years ago, I cared deeply for my smokin' girlfriend Susan. We did everyt'ing together: watched TV, went strollin' in da park, lit fireworks, heheheh." He couldn't help but grin at what must have been fond memories. Suddenly, though, he got strangely quiet. "Winter came along, an' she got sick. It was super freaky, she was so pale. All she wanted was a Christmas ... a Christmas," he continued.
There was a long pause. Nearly everyone was sniffling at that point (well, maybe Lindbergh and I were the only ones who were really sniffling; the others mostly had looks of concern on their faces). He told us, "She just had to have her man get her a Christmas tree. She got out some cherries an' popcorn an' construction paper, so she could make da decorations while I went lookin' for da tree." He wiped his snout on his sleeve again. "I was tryin' ta find da perfect tree for my girl, but soon there was nuttin' left but scraggly lil' branches what was supposed ta be trees. I couldn't let my girlfriend have somethin' like that."
"Man, that's awful," Beard commented sadly.
Clifford nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you must've had it really tough," he said to the lizard.
Flash hugged Francine for comfort, a few tears coming out from under his eyes. The drummer blinked and gave him a confused look before hugging him back.
Lindbergh was close to tears, and even I was trying not to sob. "What a touching story," I stated, trying to hold back the tears.
"Can you dig it?" Leon added teafully. "I searched for hours for da perfect tree." He shook his head. "I came back just before dawn. My long search had finally turned keen on me, baby. I was sho dis would make her happy." He sighed. "I carefully opened da door so she wouldn't hear me." His voice continued to break up. "I found ... I found ... I found her face in a bowl o' popcorn. I was, like, 'Hey, sunshine!' She wouldn't answer. Den I realized ... she had done left dis world for sho." He cried some more as everyone looked on in sorrow. "So, now I gotta gets me a tree so I can look at it an' put her last decorations on it, so her hip memories can live on."
That just about did it for me. By the time he finished up with his story, I was bawling, tears streaming down my face. "Why did she have to go-o-o?" I tearfully asked Lindbergh.
The kiwi put his arm around me and patted my back. “She’s in a better place now, Digit,” he told me, trying to calm me down.
“Poor guy,” Francine commented, still in Flash’s embrace. Her expression was of one who didn't quite know what to make of the situation.
Flash nodded and mumbled out, “Nothing like that should ever happen to somebody, especially during the holiday season. We should definitely help him out.” He them mumbled something to Clifford, also asking him what he though of the subject.
“I don’t know,” Clifford said, “this dude looks like he’s up to something.”
“How can you say that?” I asked the bass player through the tears. “He has lost the love of his life to illness. Imagine if you lost your mother to that same disease that she had.” I wasn’t exaggerating: I’d be devastated if I found out that my mom was sick during the holiday season. “I say we help him,” I added, a wavering amount of sureness in my voice.
“I agree with Digit and them,” Lindbergh agreed with us. “It’s Christmastime, and Christmas is about helping others.”
“Well, Cliff,” Beard told his apartment buddy, “it’s a group decision: Should we help him or not? It‘s your verdict.”
The bass player looked around at the rest of us before letting out a sigh. “All right,” he said in defeat, “we’ll help him out. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he added under his breath.
Leon's eyes widened. He glanced around at all of us, momentarily unable to speak. "I can't believe this!" he exclaimed. "Thanks, guys! You guys are slammin'!"
"Well, it's Christmas, man," Clifford replied to the lizard. "It's the least we could do to help."
“To the trees?” Lindbergh asked.
“To the trees,” everyone else answered, ready to head up to the front of the store and pay for the Christmas decorations.
I hooked my arms around Lindbergh‘s wing and Leon’s arm (who was possibly thoroughly confused) before we se out for the front. “Weeeeee’re off to see the Wizard--” I sang joyfully before I was cut off by the rest of the band with a sure “Not right now!”
I grinned sheepishly in response. “Right…” We all (Leon included) headed up to the front of the store to pay, all without breaking out into song and dance.
~o~o~
All of us looked on as Lindbergh and Flash bravely set forth to climb a tall building. The climb would be dangerous, but thanks to Lindbergh’s equipment, they would probably be all right.
“I just hope that he knows what he’s doing,” Francine commented to me.
“It’s okay,” I told her, “Lindbergh’s had experience doing these things.”
“I meant Flash.”
My eyes widened with realization. “Ooh…”
When the two climbers reached the top, they looked around. “I don’t see a tree up here,” the kiwi shouted over to the saxophonist. “Do you see anything?”
The young man held on to the top in exhaustion, gasping for breath.
“Hey, you two!” a man with a megaphone suddenly yelled from behind the rest of us, startling us all. “Get off of the playground equipment!”
“Wow, I can see the Wal-Mart from up here!” Lindbergh commented.
Down below, Francine buried her face in her hands.
“We’ve gotta long way to go,” Clifford stated as a group of children formed to stare up at the bird and the teenager.
~o~o~
"Don't worry, Leon," Lindbergh said to the reptile as the group walked down the sidewalk, "we'll find a tree for you soon."
"Yeah, um," Leon began loudly, then lowered his voice, "that's the important thing."
We passed a mime performing on the streets. Almost all of us slowed down to watch him perform, but Clifford continued onward down the street side.
The mime pointed in the bass player’s direction in surprise and quickly (and silently) started to follow him.
“This should be interestin’,” Beard whispered as we all followed, wondering what the mime was going to do next.
The purple bassist was walking with his head down and his hands in his pockets. He let out a soft sigh. The mime followed suit, miming all of Clifford’s actions.
Flash was the first to let out a chuckle, quickly followed by Francine and Leon. Clifford turned around to see what was going on, and the mime froze in place, pretending he was in a box.
The purple male shrugged it off and continued on, the mime and our group following him. Reaching into his pocket, the guitarist pulled out a candy cane and started to lick it, his face becoming less serious. The mime followed suit, pulling an imaginary candy cane out of his pocket and licking it gleefully.
This earned more giggles from the group. “Guys, what is going on?” Clifford asked before turning around, only for the mime to be pretending to wrap a Christmas present and give it to him. “… thanks,” he answered, a little bit freaked out. He then continued down the street, whistling a tune to himself. The mime, being the showman that he was, lowered his eyelids and followed in silent suit.
This was enough for Clifford to turn around and catch the mime in the act. “Get outta here, man!” he yelled at the street-performing mime. The white-faced man put on a sad face and ran away, crying silently. “Wait, come back! I didn’t mean--” The bass player sighed. “Great, I’m an enemy to all mimes now,” he said sarcastically.
The rest of us were still laughing. “What’re you laughing at?” Clifford asked us. We immediately calmed down before setting off again.
~o~o~
At the lumber store, Lindbergh and I were glancing at the axes. The kiwi took one off the shelves and gave it to me to hold. “Cool, you look like the Tin Man!” he exclaimed.
“Do I really?” I asked in amazement.
“Except you don’t have that one thing on your head,” he continued. “Why don’t we go find one?”
Before I could answer him, Beard approached the two of us with a glass of eggnog in his hands. “Hey, guys,” he began, “how’s it--?” The guitarist didn’t have time to continue, for the next thing that we knew, he tripped over a stray log and spilt his drink all over me.
Everything that happened next was all a blur to me. All I can remember was my arms waving wildly around with the axe still in my hands. Then I shut down from all the glitches I had.
Later I learned that we were thrown out of that store.
~o~o~
Possibly inspired by Flash's actions earlier (or determined to do one better), Francine started to climb a giant red slide in the mall in order to speak to the department store Santa about getting a tree for Leon. We all watched in amazement from the ground as she scaled the slippery slide on her way to the top.
“Mmm, that sure is one strong-willed woman you got there, Flash,” Clifford teased the saxophonist. “She sure can climb.”
“Shut up,” the teen mumbled, embarrassed a little.
Leon suddenly walked in front of us and stopped. He kept staring at the ground. "Uh, look, fellas," he began softly. "You guys are pretty far-out, an' I've been a total chump, y'know? You dudes were totally down wit' tryin' ta help me an' everything. You didn't even focus on da inconvenience I was causin'. I just ... I just can't ruin da Christmas of such funky fellas. Let's just go back ta my place. I'll make this alright."
“What! ?” We all turned at the sound of Francine’s voice yelling at the Santa on top of the slide. “I just climbed up this stupid slide just to ask you for a tree, probably making myself look like an even bigger idiot in the process, and you tell me ‘you'll splinter your nails, kid’!?”
We all looked at each other in concern. Before any of us could act, however, the department store Santa Claus had fallen face first down the slide and into the “snow” on the ground.
Francine came down the slide a few moments later, a look of anger on her face. “Let’s get out of this dump, guys,” she said to us.
"C'mon, bunny," Leon said as he elbowed Francine. "You and the guys need ta come over to my place."
"Don't call me bunny," she said to the lizard. With that, we all exited the mall, exhausted from the day's events. (Though we never did find out if they found a replacement for that mall Santa that day.)
~o~o~
"Are we there yet?" Lindbergh asked for the tenth time. We had been walking with Leon to his apartment for quite a while (we had to park Clifford's car quite a ways away) and were all wondering when we would reach the place.
"Keep your pants on, birdy," Leon replied to the kiwi. "We're almost there."
I took this opportunity to quicken my pace to be beside the lizard. "Sir," I said to him, "thank you so much for inviting us to your home on this cold winter evening. We all deeply appreciate what you're doing for us, even though you have so little to offer. You are a truly generous person, Leon," I finished with a smile.
Leon looked away. I could see him sigh silently to himself. His eyes moistened. He tensed as though he wanted to answer ... but he didn't. All he did was open the door to his apartment…
… and boy, were we surprised with what we saw.
The place was brightly decorated. Christmas knick knacks were on the shelves and the side tables. The table in the dining room had a decorated turkey on it, ready to be eaten. But what surprised us the most was the fact that there was a tree in the middle of the living room.
“Hold up!” Clifford exclaimed, breaking our awe of silence and turning to Leon. “You mean to tell us that you actually had a tree? And I bet that story about your dead girlfriend is fake, too!”
Leon chuckled to himself as he wiped away the water from his eyes. "Yep," he confessed, "this was all for you guys! Merry Chris--"
The reptile was cut short by Francine’s hands wrapping around his throat. “Listen, you little two-faced liar,” she growled through gritted teeth, “if you think that you can just expect us to forgive you just like that, you’ve got another thing coming!”
“I can explain, girlie!” Leon choked, gasping for air.
“Start talking,” she demanded, her hands still around his throat.
Flash, Lindbergh and I intervened in between them, the saxophonist taking the drummer’s hands off of the lizard’s throat, the kiwi and myself getting our host away from the slightly angered female.
“Let him explain,” I told the others, “he must have a good reason behind all of this.”
"Indeed I does, Digit," the lizard said before starting to tell his real story. "Y'see, I saw you guys performin' a coupla times at some of da clubs I go to. And when I heard you all play, I thought to myself, 'Wow, these guys can really rock,' you know? So, when I heard you were all in the neighborhood, I decided to invite ya all to my home to celebrate the holidays."
“You see?” I defended him. “He only wanted to spend the holidays with us.” I gave them a smile, hoping to help ease the tension.
A few moments of silence followed. I was starting to believe that nobody was believing either Leon or I. The stares from Clifford and Francince didn't help, either. They seemed to both have a look of “I knew it” or “I told you so” on their faces.
Lindbergh spoke up. “Well, thank you for having a change of heart, Leon,” he thanked the lizard for his generosity. “We’re glad to spend the holidays with a new friend.”
Leon’s eyes widened. “You really consider me a friend?” he asked the others.
“Well, I do,” I answered before them. “And… I believe that people deserve a second chance at things. So guys, can we start over with him?”
I had some doubt that my words would make sense to them, but in the end, everyone had found a friend (define that as you may) in Leon. After we agreed to spend the night there, Leon started to hand out some Christmas presents to everyone. I was very grateful, for my gift was the other keyboard that completed the set of two.
“Francine, look up,” I heard Flash say to the drummer. As I looked up, I as well as the others plainly saw the two teenagers kissing underneath the mistletoe.
“About time,” Clifford commented with a smirk on his face. The two teens blushed at the bass player’s words before they kissed again briefly.
When the New Year came around, I knew what I was thankful for. I was thankful for having so many new friends that have helped me out in so many different ways. From then on, I knew the true value of friendship and I still treasure it to this day.
Welcome to the Muppet Central Forum!
Jim Henson Idea Man
Back to the Rock Season 2
Bear arrives on Disney+
Sam and Friends Book
