And happy post-Thanksgiving everyone! Here's a little something while we're still recovering from all that turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, stuffing, and more stuffing. I really like stuffing.
Kiwi Ave was a two-way dirt road, with a mix of farm land and dirt lots scattered on either side of the road. 4981 S Kiwi Ave was situated on the grassier plot of land, with a dirt driveway that sat outside a two story home that looked long lived, with some modern adjustments having been made in the last few years. Painted white, there was a surrounding porch, with wooden structures on the left and a more solid white painted post and side on the right.
There was already a large SUV sitting in the driveway when they pulled up, causing a low growl from Piggy.
“Bet that’s Ham’s car,” she muttered. “Told you we should have gone with the Maserati.” Sending a sharp smack to the wheel, she let out a frustrated sigh, gazing at the house, blue eyes narrowed behind her shades. “Home sweet home.”
“Looks like they put out the welcoming committee,” Gonzo replied, nodding to the figure that was leaning against the post to the left. He looked an imposing figure, built like a brick wall, though he was leaning casually and chewing on what looked like a toothpick or a piece of straw. It was obvious he had to be a relative of Piggy’s - same brunette mop that matched a same colored thin beard around his chin and the same baby blues shining in the sun as he took in their car.
“Terrific,” came the mutter before she turned off the car and got out.
“Not too often we get starlets out this way, Hollywood,” the elder pig replied, watching as the group came forward.
“Well, I thought I’d come and class the place up a bit,” came Piggy’s retort, walking up the steps and facing the brawly pig. “How’s it hanging, Slick?”
“It hangs.”
Nodding her head towards Kermit, she asked, “You remember the frog, don’t you?”
Nodding, the other pig replied, “Nice to finally meet you, Mitt.”
“Likewise,” Kermit replied, smiling slightly. There were only a handful of people who actually called him that, mostly some of his younger siblings, so it went a long way to show that at least one member of Piggy’s family liked him enough to use the nickname.
“Oh uh, that’s Gonzo and Fozzie; Gonzo, Fozzie, my brother Nate.” Indicating her head towards the door, Piggy continued with, “So what’s the situation?”
“Well,” Nate replied, looking inside the front window. “Hattie and Millie are here, so are Ricky Lane, John…oh, cousin BlackJack...”
“You have a cousin named BlackJack?” Gonzo asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why do they call him BlackJack?” Fozzie asked, nervously.
“You don’t want to know,” Piggy responded.
“Oh, and Grandma’s here.”
“Grandma’s here?” Piggy asked, a grin lighting her face for the first time since leaving California and arriving in Iowa. “How is the old battle-axe?”
“Old, obstinate, cranky…” Nate began. “You know…Grandma.”
Piggy nodded, before looking over at the SUV she parked next to. Most of her family still lived in the area, but she couldn’t remember any of them owning that large of a vehicle. “Who owns that monstrosity?” she asked, thumbing at the larger car behind them.
Nate smiled, though it was more playful than anything else. “Oh, that’s baby Hammy’s.”
Rolling her eyes, Piggy muttered, “Of course it is, because this day has been going so well. I bet he brought the ‘smart’ twins with him, too.”
“Now, now, darling sister,” Nate chuckled. “Those
are our nephews and it is our duty to love, honor, cherish, blah blah. Yeah, dumb and dumberer are here.”
“And my day gets better,” she sighed. “You didn’t happen to mention that I planned to be here, did you?”
Nate outright laughed. “What?” he sputtered. “Of course not! Why ruin the surprise?”
Glaring at him, Piggy deadpanned, “You’re all heart, big brother.”
“In case you forgot,” he retorted. “There’s nothing to do around here. Watching you and Hammy go at it will pick up a slow day.”
“Ugh, let’s get this over with.”
The quintet headed inside, being announced with Nate’s, “Look who the gypsies left on the doorstep!”
The living room held a number of different pigs – their aunts, Hattie and Millie, who were the younger sisters of Piggy’s mother Hortense; Millie’s husband John and their son, the aforementioned BlackJack; and their uncle and Hortense’s only brother Ricky Lane. Introductions were made all around, along with the standard condolences and apologies for meeting during such a sad event. It only took five minutes before the group heard, “What’re you doing here?”
“Hamilton,” Piggy sighed, turning around to face a younger and shorter pig, this one dressed in what had been a suit, just without the jacket and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He had the same brown hair he shared with the other family members, except his eyes were a chocolate brown versus those of his older siblings’ blue. “Because my life wouldn’t be complete until I saw you.”
Throwing a look at his older brother, the younger pig growled, “You could’ve warned me, Nate.”
“Again,” the eldest smirked. “Why ruin the surprise?”
“There was a reason we called him ‘the instigator’ as children,” Piggy huffed. Pointing outside to the SUV, she asked, “Who’d you scam to get large marge out there?”
“Unlike you,” Ham replied. “I drove here when I heard Mother was sick.” Looking out the same window, the younger pig smirked before glancing back at his sister. “Aw, did you drive your little put-put car up from the airport?”
Crossing her arms, Piggy glared at him. “Not my choice.”
Kermit wasn’t completely sure she was just talking about the choice of car, but the reason she was there in the first place.
“Oh I see,” Ham said, smiling widely. “And what was your first choice, sister dear? A BMW? Caddy? Corvette?”
“A Maserati!” Fozzie supplied, unhelpfully.
Throwing a look at the comic, Ham’s smile grew larger before turning back to his sister. “A Maserati. Kudos. You know, some would say that was a desperate cry for attention.”
“So glad to see that psychology degree has come in handy.”
“Well,” Ham retorted, leaning in towards her. “It is a real profession.”
Not even ten minutes inside and already there was trouble from the way the diva took a few steps towards her brother, brandishing her fist at him. “You know, baby Hammy,” she snarled. “It would be a
great disservice if I let you head back to New York without prettying up that face of yours.”
“Piggy…” Kermit warned, blocking her path.
From behind him, Kermit could feel the younger pig stepping up towards his sister. “Do
not call me ‘baby Hammy’,” came his warning.
“Hey, Grandma, look who’s here!” Nate shouted, causing a total stand down process for Piggy and Ham – the raised fist from Piggy suddenly became a wave, while Ham turned around sharply to smile at the smaller, older pig who was walking towards them.
“Is that my little diva?” the elderly matron asked, as she came over. Ida Rose Maline, mother to Hattie, Millie, and Ricky Lane, grandmother to Nate, Piggy, Ham, and BlackJack, and great-grandmother to Ham’s sons, was on the short side, easily being dwarfed by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Her greying curls sat on top her head in a tight bun and while her movements were slightly slow, she seemed to carry herself as an elder you should and had better respect.
“Even as a child,” Kermit whispered, throwing a look towards Gonzo and Fozzie, who smirked.
“Don’t start with me,” came the retort before said diva greeted her grandmother. “Yes, yes. It is Moi, here in the flesh.”
Looking at three of her twelve grandchildren, Ida smiled widely. “Look at my little piglets, gathered together again,” she cooed, causing a round of scandalized “Grandma!” from the trio.
“We’re not kids anymore,” Ham groused.
“Well, you’re still old enough to cut your own switch, aren’t you, Hamilton Lee?”
Piggy’s snicker didn’t go unnoticed either. “Something funny, Pigathia?”
Clearing her throat, Piggy seemed to stand up straighter and regain her composure. It was probably the first and last time the other Muppets would ever see Piggy cowed by
anyone. “No, ma’am,” she said. “I just…nothing. Clearing my throat. Have you met my friends, Grandma?”
Again, introductions were made before Ida turned her attention back to her three ‘favorite little piglets’, earning another round of embarrassed groaning. “You’re my grandchildren,” the elder pig admonished. “And if I wanna call you piglets, I’m gonna call you piglets until I die. And even then, when we get to heaven, I’m
still gonna call you piglets. Unless the three of you want to do something about it?”
The three piglets did not want to have anything to do with that, with all them shaking their heads, and Nate sending a little, “Piglets forever, Grandma” to appease her. Satisfied her message was heard loud and clear, Ida nodded before clapping her hands together once. “Now,” she announced. “Who’d like to help me with dinner?”
Immediately, the fuzzy arm of one Fozzie Bear shot up, excitedly. “I would!”
Smiling, Ida patted the bear on the arm. “What a delightful young man,” she cooed.
Offering his arm, Fozzie said, “Allow me to escort m’lady to the kitchen fair.”
“Oh, I like you!” Ida chuckled, taking the arm and letting the comic lead her towards the kitchen, leaving a group of surprised spectators.
“You see that?” Piggy complained, poking Kermit in the shoulder. “Been here fifteen minutes and your bear absconds with my grandmother!”
“Rather ironic,” Ham observed. “A bear who’s a Cub.”
“What?” Gonzo sputtered, a mix between laughter and disgust. “Fozzie!?”
Kermit turned to look at the younger pig. “What’re you…?” When the term caught up with the frog’s brain, like Gonzo, he also sputtered, though more on the disgust side than anything else. “What!? No! No, he just likes being babied by mothers and grandmothers!” Glaring at the diva behind him, he spat, “Phrasing, Piggy!”
“Right,” Gonzo replied, sarcastically. “Cause your explanation makes it sound
less creepy.”
“Hey!” Ida called, standing in the kitchen doorway. “Piglets! Frog! Turkey! You all just gonna stand there or you gonna help in the kitchen?”
Those who were still in the living room were immediately on their feet and heading to the kitchen before Ida could come back out, leaving Kermit to whisper to Piggy, “It’s like looking at a future you.”
“You know,” the diva said, holding up her right fist. “This is specifically for baby Hammy, but the left one will easily have your name on it if you keep this up.”
[hr]
If Kermit had any idea of the tension filled, disastrous dinner that was about to take place, he probably would’ve given Piggy a free pass on her mother’s funeral.
After decades of trying to pull the smallest hints of her past and family, the little tidbits he
did get didn’t paint the picture he could clearly see once arriving at her childhood home. He knew not every family could be his – cheerful, loving, kind, joking - even when they
did have flare ups, they usually made up within the same day or by the week’s end; the frog didn’t know anyone who held a grudge longer or with more personal vengeance than Piggy and apparently, it was a shared trait.
The bits that he had gotten didn’t really pull a red flag – Piggy wasn’t the first person to grow up in a one parent home; Fozzie’s mother had raised him mostly on her own after the death of his father, Scooter’s mother had also died when he was very young and he had never known his father, even now, his own nephew was being raised by his brother after the death of his mother. As sad as it was, it was a normal fact of life. From what Kermit knew, Piggy’s father had basically abandoned the family at one point before dying in tragic tractor accident – that she never went into – thus leaving her mother to raise a liter of six on her own.
Piggy’s mother was such a taboo subject, the frog was surprised he had even gotten a name out of her, much less a story. Her mother was the reason she had gotten into beauty pageants and as much as they had helped her get to where she was, it was very clear to Kermit that she had hated it as a child. She got along with her brother Nate, only a few minutes older than she was, but she wasn’t as close to her younger siblings; other than Ham. At times, it seemed they had been close, but it was fragile; all it took was one fight and they could be at each other’s throats in no time.
For the trio that accompanied her, this was actually the first time they had meet or even knew Piggy had relatives outside of her parents and siblings. Ida had even stated that this was the first time in a very long time that a good portion of the family had been gathered in one place, at the same time. The elderly swine also stated they get ready for some excitement –
“Don’t get worried about any arguments,” she said. “Malines and Hogglesworths are a headstrong bunch, so sometimes a simple conversation can go south pretty quick.” Elbowing Kermit in the side, she said, “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Frog?”
“More than you know,” Kermit chuckled.
Okay, so Piggy’s stubbornness and never back down attitude was a family trait. They had pretty much figured that out, after all. They just never imagined that Piggy was probably the
tamest when it came to arguing with
them.
It started almost as soon as they had gotten into the kitchen, finding Andy and Randy Pig – Ham’s sons – eagerly looking for something to eat before being admonished to leave and find something else to do. “Like two walking rocks,” Ida muttered, ignorant of the look Ham threw her. “You’re too soft on those boys, Hammy.”
“Grandma!” the youngest sighed. “They’ve just gone through a huge emotional upheaval, first their mother and now their grandmother…”
“It’s been
twelve years, Hammy!” Piggy exclaimed.
“Let it go,” his brother added.
“Let it go?” Ham repeated, incredulously. “‘Let it go’, he says. Like that makes everything alright.”
“Junior, Piggy Lee, apologize,” Ida said, pulling out items to get dinner started. “It’s ill advised to speak unwell of the dead. And if your brother wants to mourn his wife for the end of time, then you’ll let him.”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry, Ham.”
“Now that you’ve resolved that,” Ida began, clapping her hands together. “What to have for dinner? I’m thinking we should have one of your mother’s favorites.”
“Roast beef?” Nate supplied.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Ida said, patting her oldest grandson on the arm. “I think we need something simple. It’s almost dinner now; you saw the scavengers in here earlier. We need something quick and easy.”
“Steak frites!” Ham suggested, only to get a slap on the back of the head from Piggy.
“Are you deaf?” she asked. “Grandma just said simple.”
“Steak frites
is simple!” Ham argued. “It’s steak and fries.”
“Well, unless you’ve got twenty steaks hiding in that fancy suit of yours, I’m pretty sure we can’t have that.”
“You know,” Ida interrupted. “I had been thinking about making Dutch letters, but obviously…”
The tone immediately changed in the kitchen, with the two siblings trying to win their grandmother’s favor. The treat must have been something because BlackJack, who had been out in the living was suddenly in the kitchen, asking, “Grandma, did you say you were making Dutch letters?”
“I might be persuaded,” the elder pig sighed, glancing around at her kitchen helpers. Pointing at each of them, she stated, “No funny business.”
The group assured her there would totally not be any funny business or shenanigans in her kitchen; however, as with any household that holds siblings, there were shenanigans taking place as soon as the matron’s back had turned. The most audacious was the ‘sword’ fight that took place between Piggy and Ham over, no one was even sure really, and it culminated in Ham blocking a swing from Piggy’s rolling pin with the spatula he had grabbed, which allowed him to punch the diva hard in her shoulder.
Not that Piggy was to be outdone because her other hand had snaked out towards her brother’s chest, grabbing, and twisting shirt and skin until Ham gave a muffled cry and fell to his knees on the ground besides the kitchen island in the center of the room.
Ham and Piggy had both wanted to help with the Dutch letters – a delicious pastry treat that had been a staple in the house when they had been especially good – so Ida, perhaps against common sense, paired the two up, stating that if they started anything, they wouldn’t be getting any.
“What
is going on back there?” Ida asked, turning from the stove where she had been making a not simple meal of spaghetti with meatballs, with a homemade sauce that required a team of vegetable and meat cutters.
“Nothing, Grandma!” Ham wheezed from the floor. “Just dropped the spatula!”
“Piggy Lee, what’s wrong with your arm?”
“Nothing,” Piggy whined, grimacing even as she rubbed her shoulder from where her brother punched her. “Pulled a muscle.”
“You pulled a muscle?”
“Yes.”
“From rolling dough?” Ida asked, suspiciously.
Gulping slightly, Piggy nodded. “Uh huh.”
“That’s just sad,” Ida replied, shaking her head. “You relay too much on your fancy caterers. The Piggy Lee I knew could whip up dinner in no time flat.”
“I’m sorry,” Gonzo interrupted. “Are you insinuating that Piggy can
cook?”
“Of course she can cook,” Kermit said, staring at the head writer like he had lost his mind.
“You’ve been holding out on us, Pig,” Gonzo admonished, turning to the diva. “Why does the frog get a home cooked meal and we don’t?”
“Okay, because first,” the diva began. “I was
dating the frog and the fastest way to a frog’s heart is through his stomach. Why do you think I keep piling him with coffee every day?”
“Okay,” Kermit retorted. “Not true and a little disturbing.”
“Second,” she continued. “Why would I cook for you? I’m not dating
you.”
“You could start,” the writer quipped. “Besides, you
still cook for Kermit and you’re not dating
him anymore.”
“That’s the rub,” Piggy said. “I
like Kermit.”
“Why stay on a sinking ship?” Ham mumbled, finally coming to stand on his feet. While he knew he had tagged his sister pretty good, she had gotten him equally as well and he could feel the bruise already forming on the right side of his upper chest.
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle?” needled Nate, handing his grandmother all of the ingredients he had been tasked to cut.
“It sounds like you kids don’t
want any Dutch letters.”
“No, we do!”
“We’re totally behaving!”
[hr]
The incident in the kitchen should have been their warning shot, but they got lulled into a false sense of security by the time they got to the table with food. So used to Piggy’s antics, the trio didn’t even consider this to be out of the ordinary, even when the diva rolled her eyes at Fozzie’s coveted place next to her grandmother’s left.
The small table that had been cramped when they had been children seemed have enlarged itself, though whether it was because of Hortense’s passing or just a change in tables, they didn’t know. A small table had been placed at the end, to ensure that all of the fifteen people in attendance were able to sit and enjoy their meal. Ida sat at the head of the table, with Fozzie, Kermit, Piggy, Nate, Andy, and Randy to her left and BlackJack, Gonzo, Hattie, Millie, John, and Ham to her right, with Ricky Lane seated at the other end’s head.
It started out small, a casual question from Hattie in regards to Piggy’s show –
“Piggy Lee, is your show still going to be on tonight?”
“I don’t know,” she said, turning to look at Kermit. “Is it?”
“C’mon,” the frog replied. Turning to speak to Hattie, he said, “I got a guest host to sub for Piggy tonight, as well as next week should she decide to stay on a few days.”
“You still haven’t answered my earlier question,” Piggy said.
“Whoopi and Melissa,” the frog stated. “You’re welcome.”
“You got Whoopi Goldberg to host your show?” Nate asked, a little bit of awe in his voice.
“Whoopi has been a long time Muppet friend,” his sister smirked. “And of course she would be happy to do a favor for Moi.”
“And this Melissa?” asked BlackJack.
“Oh, that’s Melissa Rivers,” Fozzie supplied.
“You know, Joan’s daughter,” Gonzo added.
That Piggy was surprised at – after the feud with Joan had flamed and withered out, the diva had been shocked to hear of her fellow diva’s death. The feud had been played up in the media, but the two did have a friendly rivalry that pushed their status to legendary; with Joan’s death, Piggy had sent her daughter Melissa a very lovely letter, stating that Joan was always a pleasure to play off of and she was the only woman Piggy knew who was a ballsy as she was, maybe even more so.
In thinking back, Joan had been the role model her mother
should have been and she wasn’t at all concerned that she just happened to feel more pain at Joan’s death than she did her mother’s. “You got Melissa to host for me?”
“She was happy to do it,” Kermit shrugged. Leaning over, he whispered, “We’ll have to have to talk some stuff out when we get back. No rush for it now.”
“Typical Piggy,” came the mutter, though it was clear Ham had definitely meant for that to reach his sister’s ears.
“What did you say?”
“You manage to miss out on work,” Ham began. “You get two celebrities to cover for you, and I can almost guarantee everything will be back to normal on Monday. I, on the other hand, had to completely close my office this week.”
“Does baby Hammy want a medal?” Piggy teased. “Would that make baby Hammy happy?”
“If you call me baby Hammy one more time…”
“You’ll do want?” interrupted BlackJack. “Everyone knows your bark is worse than any bite you think you have. You’re always whining about something, you big baby.”
Ham was obviously seething at his treatment, said something under his breath, but hadn’t exactly been heard by its intended victim, but his brother and sons must have heard it.
“Dad,” asked Randy – or was it Andy? – “What’s a…”
“Don’t repeat that,” Nate growled.
BlackJack managed to slam down his silverware before leaning forward to glance around the others that sat between him and his cousin. “You got something to say to me?”
“Jackie, sit down,” Ida commanded, giving her grandson a stern glare. She waited until he was firmly back in his seat before she addressed the entire table. “In case you ungrateful sows have forgotten, my daughter died yesterday. So I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in your mouths for this occasion or else I’ll make each of you cut a switch from that oak tree outside. And I know each and every one of you
don’t want that.”
Children and grandchildren shook their heads, knowing full well it wouldn’t matter that they were adults, Ida Maline wouldn’t allow for any more of these low brow hits on a day they should have been grieving. “Hamilton, man up for once in your life; Pigathia, stop antagonizing your brother; Pignatius, stop instigating; Jackson, threaten a member of this family again and your nickname will be Dead Eye Jack. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Letting out a sigh, Ida whispered, “Hortense would surely be sad to learn that most of her siblings couldn’t bother to show up and pay their respects. And her own children can’t bother to stop their squabbling for two seconds to even think about their poor mother.”
“I cared, Grandma!” Ham exclaimed. “
I was here when mother became sick!”
“Oh yes,” Ida nodded, sarcastically. “It was such a comfort that you come the two days before she died and not the
year she was sick in the first place.”
The burn was obviously not what the younger pig had hoped to hear and he immediately shrank back into his chair, suitably chastised. His siblings, of course, couldn’t leave well enough alone. “What’s that?” Piggy asked. “Is that the sound of
silence coming from Mount St. Hammy?”
“I believe it is,” Nate said, turning and smiling at his sister. “The danger has passed.”
“Don’t you two ever give it a rest?” complained Hattie, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Piggy retorted. “Did you
want to listen to Ham go on and on about how he’s the saint to the rest of us?”
“Why would she bother?” snorted Millie.
“She’s had that speech down pact since
she was a kid,” huffed Ricky Lane. “I used to call her Mount Vesuvius.”
“Well, if I’m the saint,” Ham huffed. “Nate and Piggy were always the heroes, because
nothing they did was ever
wrong.”
“No one wants to hear your psycho-babbling, little brother,” Nate retorted.
“Gets a fancy degree and now he wants everyone to think he’s a big shot,” BlackJack stated.
“Well, at least he applied himself,
Jackson,” Hattie said, the distain in her voice quite clear.
“I’ll thank you to keep your opinions on my son to
yourself, Hattie,” Millie shot back.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Ida growled, silencing the combined snickering and huffing that was happening on both sides of the table. “Is it too much,
really too much, to ask that we have a civil dinner in this house for once? Especially in light of the death of one of our own? I would think as her siblings,
one of you would have something nice to say about her and I would certainly
hope that her own children would. But if I have to make you say something nice, then so be it – Ricky Lane, both you and Piggy Lee can say something nice at the funeral.”
Ricky Lane made an audible groan, which was only covered slightly by Piggy’s annoyed, “Why me?”
“Because I said so, Pigathia!”
That answer did nothing to make the diva any happier, if her muttered, “Unbelievable” was heard towards the head of the table. “Fine,” she huffed.
“Grandma,” Nate piped up. “Why don’t you let me give a eulogy?”
“Nate, I already said I would do it, so back off.”
“Hey, I’m trying to be nice. You don’t have to be a brat about it…”
“You always do this. You’re always trying to take something I get. Six minutes doesn’t mean you’re the boss of me.”
“It’s seven minutes, thank you very much. And yes it does…”
“Aw Piggy,” Ham cooed, sarcastically. “Let big brother play the role he’s used to.”
“Shut up, Ham!”
Ida rolled eyes, sighing as she stood up from the table, grabbing her plate and glass as she did so. “Mama,” asked Millie. “What’re you doing?”
“I am obviously done with dinner,” the matriarch said. “For some reason, I seemed to have lost my appetite; I
can’t imagine why.” With that, she lumbered into the kitchen, leaving the table silent, if only for the short amount of time it took to make sure she was out of earshot.
“Well, look at what you all did.”
With the exception of three non-Hogglesworth or Maline family members (and two confused twins), most eyes turned harsh towards Hattie, who had broken the silence first.
“Oh put a cork in it, Hattie,” Ricky Lane said, throwing his older sister an annoyed look.
“Like you weren’t a part of that conversation,” Ham replied.
“Certainly didn’t stop you from throwing your hat into the ring,” Piggy countered.
“Well, you certainly weren’t stopping it, Pigathia!”
“Why would she want to?” Ham smirked. “She’s always liked the attention.”
“And you don’t?” Nate spat. “You look for any excuse to drop that psych degree in any conversation.”
“I do not!”
“Yes, you do,” Piggy said. “We could be talking about anything from astronomy to the menu at McDonald’s and you’d find a way to insert the fact that you have a psych degree before we’d even finish.” Turning on Nate, she said, “And I don’t need you to defend me against Short Round over here…”
“Um…guys…”
Before
another argument could start, the eyes turned again, this time at Fozzie, who cringed slightly when he noticed he was now the focal point of topic. “Do…do you think we should help Ida in the kitchen?”
“That,” Hattie began. “Is a very thoughtful gesture, Mr. Bear.”
Everyone looked around, waiting for the first person to get up.
“Well, don’t everyone all get up at once,” BlackJack huffed, grabbing both his and his parents’ plates before standing, causing Nate and Piggy to do the same.
As she reached between Kermit and Fozzie to grab their plates, she made a comment of, “Hope you boys are enjoying the show.”
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