Eyes That Twinkle
When Kermit and Robin returned from the mall, they found the entire house, yard, sidewalk, and driveway covered in several inches of snow.
Fake snow.
But… snow.
“Oh,
sheesh,” Kermit sighed heavily.
Robin stared at it in amazement. “…Could we build snowmen?” he asked excitedly.
“Later,” Kermit said as they began trudging through the white stuff. “Maybe.” He frowned at the sidewalk and the driveway. “…I’m not sure it’s even
possible to build a snowman with fake snow… Wash your flippers off when we get inside, Robin. I don’t know what this stuff is made of.”
“Don’t worry, Kermit! There are NO harmful chemicals!” Gonzo shouted from across the yard, and he threw a snowball at the two frogs before continuing to dust the fake snow off of his elaborate twelve-days-of-Christmas display. “Isn’t this GREAT? It’s almost like the real STUFF!”
Robin laughed and started making a snowball to throw back at the weirdo. Kermit was less impressed. “Gonzo, I am NOT shoveling fake snow,” he said sternly.
“Of course not,” Gonzo said. “We don’t have a shovel.”
Kermit’s face fell. “GONZO! How are we supposed to get the snow off of the SIDEWALK if we don’t have a SHOVEL? Why’d you PUT any there in the FIRST place? It’s BLOCKING THE SIDEWALK!”
“…Oh,” Gonzo said, his eyelids lowered. He looked at the covered sidewalk, and the covered driveway, and then turned to Kermit again. “Hey… Do you know any places that sell snow shovels in southern California?”
“
Sheesh…”
“Maybe Bunsen and Beaker can come up with some fake
salt to put on it…”
Kermit shook his head. “Look, I don’t care
how you do it; just get the snow off my sidewalk and driveway!”
Gonzo’s eyelids flew up. “You don’t care HOW we move it?”
Kermit stared. “…Oh, good grief.”
*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*
“Boy,” Fozzie said as he looked out the kitchen window, hugging to his chest the bowl he was mixing. “Gonzo and Robin
sure are having fun clearing the sidewalk and driveway.”
“Yeah,” Kermit said, standing next to his friend and looking out the window, sipping at a mug of hot chocolate. “Building a snow fort with the extra snow is a much safer idea than I
thought Gonzo would come up with. Of course, now he’s talking about putting lights on the fort, too.”
“It would look a lot better than all those big inflatable things he put up the
last couple years,” Fozzie said.
“Mm-hm,” Kermit nodded. “Who convinced him not to put those up
again this year?”
“No one. They popped.”
The frog looked at the bear. “…
All of them?”
“Yup,” Fozzie said, still looking out the window and mixing the bowl. “All six.”
Kermit smiled. “Now why do I think that
wasn’t an accident?” he said teasingly.
“Because Sam helped put them away last year,” Fozzie said simply. “And he had your gardening sheers with him.”
Kermit laughed. “Yup, just another Christmas with the Muppets,” he said contently, and he peered into Fozzie’s bowl. “That’s probably mixed enough, Fozzie.”
“You think so?”
“Yup. C’mon, let’s see what the next ingredient is.”
They turned back to the kitchen counter, and Fozzie set the bowl down as Kermit examined the recipe card. “Boy… I hope these turn out good,” the bear said. “Ma makes the
greatest Christmas cookies…”
“It was nice of her to send the recipe,” Kermit said. “As long as we follow this, they should turn out fine.” He started measuring out some sugar.
“Can we decorate them?” Fozzie asked.
Kermit grinned at him. “Of course!”
“I can’t
wait for Christmas,” Fozzie said. “Isn’t it gonna be
great this year?”
“Absolutely,” Kermit said, nodding. Then he hesitated. “…Although…” His voice quieted. “…Animal isn’t…
quite in the Christmas spirit, I guess…”
Fozzie frowned. “He isn’t?”
Kermit shook his head. “He’s not sure he believes in Santa,” he said quietly. “Very upset about it.”
“…Oh,” Fozzie said sadly. He sighed. “I hope he cheers up soon. It’s almost Christmas Eve!”
“Yup,” Kermit said, and he smiled a little. “
After all, it’s ALMOST one more sleep ‘til Christmas…”
*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*
The last few days before Christmas flew by. The snow fort—built with snow that had been covering the sidewalk and driveway—was trimmed with lights. The last minute shopping was rushed through. Presents were wrapped and stashed away. The cookies were baked, the feast was prepared, and as the sun set on Christmas Eve, the festivities began.
As loudly and spirited as they could, the Muppets sang every single carol they could think of, plus some that they couldn’t think of. (Don’t ask how. They managed it. Trust me.) They danced, and laughed, and told jokes and stories, and played a few games, and ate. They made good use of the mistletoe.
Animal sat very quietly through it all. Sometimes, he would lift a drumstick and tap his cymbal or snare to the beat of a carol. Sometimes, he would nod along. Sometimes, he would mumble a few words. Sometimes, he would nibble on some holiday treat or another.
The party wound down as the hour grew late. The sooner they slept, the sooner Santa would come! They cleaned up the dishes, turned out the lights, and shuffled away to their various bedrooms.
Kermit took out a glass and a plate. He filled the glass with milk while Fozzie and Robin picked out some cookies and set them on the plate. Then Kermit handed the glass to Fozzie and the plate to Robin, and they each carefully balanced their precious loads all the way to the coffee table in front of the couch.
“C’mon, Robin,” Kermit said quietly, putting a gentle hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Time for bed.”
“Merry Christmas, Kermit,” Fozzie whispered.
“Merry Christmas, Fozzie.”
The three of them quietly walked up the stairs, where most of the Electric Mayhem was sitting, half-asleep, their eyes on their drummer.
Animal was still sitting in the family room, staring out the window. The lights on and in front of the house shone in through the windows, but the main source of light in the room was from the tiny bulbs and the star on the Christmas tree.
Dr. Teeth reached down and tapped Floyd on the shoulder. “P’raps we should let him be,” he whispered. “Let him spy to see if reindeer really know how to fly.”
Floyd sighed heavily. “Santa’s
comin’, Animal, I
promise!” he said, and then he whispered miserably, “He has entirely
lost this season’s cheer…”
Janice put her hand over Floyd’s, but kept watching Animal. “…
Where are you, Christmas?” she sang. “
Why can’t I find you? Why can’t I hear music play…”
Floyd nodded quietly. “
Where is the laughter… you used to bring me?” he sang. “
Why can’t I hear music play…” And then they harmonized, their eyes on Animal.
“
My world is changing…
I’m rearranging…
Does that mean Christmas changes too?
Where are you, Christmas?”
“
Do you remember,” Janice sang, “
The one you used to know?”
“
I’m not the same one…
See what the time’s done?
Is that why you have let me go?”
Animal could hear them singing, but he did not acknowledge it. The words, at the moment, rang just a little too true. He stared out the window at the fake snow and the lights…
“
I feel you, Christmas…” Janice and Floyd sang slowly, softly. “
I know I’ve found you… You never fade away…”
“
The joy of Christmas…
Stays here inside us…
Fills each and every heart with love…”
Animal stared out the window.
Janice slowly turned and looked at Floyd. “Like… I
rully don’t know what else to do,” she whispered sadly.
Floyd closed his eyes. “…Me neither,” he whispered.
With no more ideas to help their friend, aching from their helplessness, Dr. Teeth, Floyd, Janice, and Zoot slowly gathered themselves and reluctantly climbed up the stairs.
Now alone in the dimly lit room, Animal was very quiet for a very long time.
He looked at the milk and cookies that had been left for Santa Claus. He looked at the Christmas tree, and the empty floor around it. He looked at the rows and rows and rows of stockings hanging, waiting. He looked out the window at the seemingly empty night. He looked at the fireplace.
He closed his eyes and listened as hard as he could. Sleigh bells? Sleigh bells? Any trace of sleigh bells?
None. But the clock seemed very loud now.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick…
Animal opened his eyes and crawled into the fireplace, staring up the chimney at the distant night sky. “…San-ta?” he whispered. He put his hands on the walls of the fireplace, staring up. With all the lights on the house, there were no stars to be seen in that tiny patch of sky the chimney framed for him. “SAN-TA?” he cried out, desperately. “SAN-TA?” And he felt a single tear on his cheek.