Christmas in the City


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Dec 14, 2004
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The best always inspire copy cats... TogetherAgain is the best, I'm the copy cat. I haven't done this in a long time... it feels so weird starting a new thread for a fan-fiction. But anyway... this is just a little something I started (and plan to finish) for the holidays. I'm hoping for a nice, clean-cut, five part story here... but we'll see what happens. Enjoy!

Christmas in the City

Part 1

Kermit the Frog hoisted a large amount of multi-colored, glistening gift bags in his hands so they didn’t drag along the wet New York City sidewalk. “I’m just saying it’s not fair, that’s all,” he told the equally gifted bear walking alongside him.

“You’re right,” Fozzie Bear said, having an easier time with his bags than his best friend the frog, “it’s hair.”

Kermit and Fozzie were dressed in incredibly warm winter clothing as they strolled down the sidewalks of Times Square, the many-colored neon lights and television screens shining down on them from above like some hi-tech Christmas angel begging you to buy his or her product marked down just in time for the holiday rush.

Kermit wore a hand-knitted red sweater underneath a thick, grey leather coat with a furry hood, and a tattered, well-worn, red and green striped scarf. Oddly enough, he was also wearing winter pants and hiking boots.

Fozzie, however, was not wrapped nearly as tightly. Besides his usual floppy brown hat and white tie with pink polka dots, the bear wore a red sweater with a goofy design featuring reindeer and snowmen and penguins, along with a pair of fleece pants. Normally he wouldn’t have been wearing shoes, but the rather unpleasant weather raining down upon New York City this Christmas Eve called for at least a pair of tennis shoes.

“Right,” Kermit continued, “it’s not fair that you have hair.”

Fozzie shrugged lightly. “It’s not my fault that I evolved,” he said sheepishly.

The frog smirked—without the light of a massive Verizon Wireless sign above his head, the smirk wouldn’t have been seen in the dark New York night. “Oh, I don’t blame you, Fozzie,” Kermit reassured the bear. “I was just saying… Although you and I may disprove that whole survival of the fittest theory tonight and prove a different one… survival of the warmest.” Kermit heaved again as he lifted the apparently heavy gift bag up from the ground once more.

“Do you need help with those bags, Kermit?” Fozzie asked.

“No, no,” Kermit said. “I paid for all of this; I might as well bear the burden of it. Thanks though.”

Fozzie slid the gift bags he was holding down his arm and reached out, grabbing a good number of Kermit’s bags from his spindly green fingers. “I’m the bear, let me bear it,” Fozzie said with a smile.

Kermit smiled back at his best friend and switched over a few of the bags to his free hand. “Thanks, Fozzie.”

Fozzie shrugged again. “‘Tis the season!” he declared.

“That it… ‘tis,” Kermit said happily. “I’m glad we all get to spend it together as a family.”

“Oh, me too,” Fozzie said. “Even if the apartment we rented is kinda small.”

Kermit scrunched up his face. “Fozzie, it’s the deluxe suite at one of the most prominent hotels in the whole city!”

“Yeah,” Fozzie nodded, acknowledging the frog’s argument, “but you forget how many bodies we have!”

“No I don’t,” Kermit said. “Trust me. We have everybody.”

“Well, you could’ve spent Christmas in the swamp like you usually do,” Fozzie reminded Kermit.

“True,” Kermit said with a nod, “but this is one Christmas I really wanted to spend with you guys.”

“Because Rudolph is on twice this year and you know that’s our favorite?” Fozzie asked.

Kermit gave a shrug of his own, the gift bags bouncing lightly. “That’s part of it. It’s also just a really exciting time for all of us, and this is the most wonderful time of the year! I just couldn’t miss it!”

Fozzie nodded. “We have been pretty busy lately.”

“Which is why we’re just now getting the Christmas shopping done,” Kermit reminded his fuzzy friend.

“Well Rizzo and the rats did offer to do the shopping for you—Scooter did too,” Fozzie said, giving a reminder of his own.

“You know my reasoning for saying no to the rats—they’re rats!” Kermit said, “And I can’t trust Scooter this time of year.”

Fozzie gave Kermit a confused look—this one less illuminated as they were walking away from the glitz of Times Square. “Why’s that?”

“Two words, Fozzie...” Kermit said.

“Miss Piggy,” Fozzie answered for the frog.

Kermit smirked. “Exactly.”

“Ah,” Fozzie said, nodding slowly. “Poor Scooter, though.”

The frog shrugged absentmindedly. “He doesn’t mind—he’d better not, anyway. Not with the Christmas bonus he gets!”

Fozzie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, now narrowing down into a dimly lit neighborhood just outside the main city—the lights could still be seen illuminating the sky in the distance. “Scooter gets a Christmas bonus?” the bear asked, sounding somewhat miffed.

Kermit squirmed. “Erm, well—Hey, look! Gonzo finished putting up the Christmas lights!” Kermit said quickly, pointing off towards an anything but modest hotel building, looking extremely out of place in the quiet neighborhood.

Fozzie peered up ahead of him. “How can you tell?” he asked, looking upward.

“They’re the only Christmas lights on any of the rooms,” Kermit said.

Fozzie looked at the building again. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I guess they are.”

Kermit smiled up at his best friend. “Let’s go see ‘em up close,” he said.

Fozzie smiled right back and nodded. “Whatever you say, Kermit.”


The inside of the hotel room matched the outside in style and size.

It was just a lot more crowded.

The central figure of the room was a dazzling fireplace, where five or six logs crackled in the orange and red light of the flames. Gold arches and designing outlined most of the fireplace, and the rest of the room.

Three couches sat in the center, arranged so a crystal coffee table could sit in the middle of them while one faced the fire.

Four doors were scattered about the walls of the room. One of the rooms led to a humble kitchen, where the Swedish Chef diligently prepared a (mostly) edible feast, another to a small, yet elegant, bathroom, the third and fourth both into equal-sized master bedrooms.

Against a wall sat a glowing white grand piano where Rowlf the Dog tickled a few ivories in a red Santa hat. A glass of eggnog adorned the top of the instrument and various other Muppets flanked the sides.

Side-flanking the piano was probably the safest bet for those various Muppets, as it put them out of the way of The Great Gonzo’s incessant zipping through each part of the room, knocking over anything, living or not, in his way. “Hoo-hoo!” he shouted gleefully. “Rizzo!” he called out.

No one returned an answer to the weirdo, but a red stocking hanging on the elaborate fireplace did twitch slightly.

Gonzo darted over to the fireplace quickly and peered down into the stocking. “Oh, Rizzo! What’re you doing in here?” the weirdo asked.

Rizzo’s tiny, brown, yellow-hat-wearing head poked out of the stocking top slowly and met Gonzo’s eye line. “I was hidin’ from you!” the rat said, obviously perturbed.

“And he’s the only one who’d fit in the stocking,” Rowlf said, rolling his fingers along a few keys.

Gonzo’s eyelids shot up. “Why would you guys be hiding? It’s Christmas Eve!”

“D’at’s exactly why we’re hidin’!” Rizzo spat, climbing out of the stocking and hopping onto the crystal coffee table. “Yer nuts on holidays, Gonzo!”

Floyd Pepper, who was cuddled up on the couch facing the fire with his main-squeeze Janice, chuckled his raspy chuckle. “He’s nuts every day, man!” the musician mused.

“Is d’is where my pistachios went? I can’t find d’em nowhere, okay!” Pepe the Prawn said as he emerged from beneath the couch.

Rizzo shook his head. “Listen, Gonzo, we all love Christmas—”

“That’s right!” Scooter piped up from near the piano. “We’ve done five movies and specials about it, plus who knows how many albums.”

“—Yeah, what he said,” Rizzo said with a tinge of annoyance. “But what we don’t love is you goin’ crazy—”

“Crazier,” Rowlf interjected.

Yes, crazier!” Rizzo snapped. “We don’t love you, Gonzo, goin’ crazier decoratin’ and carolin’ and merryin’ all over the place! It’s exhausting!”

“And it ain’t no gas either!” Floyd said with a laugh.

Gonzo’s eyes and eyelids fell as he looked down at the floor. “Oh.”

Rizzo frowned. “Look, buddy, it’s not that we don’t love you or—”

“No, no, Rizzo, I know how lovable I am—it’s not that!” Gonzo shouted, resuming his usual manic state. “I’ve just realized… you guys already have enough Christmas cheer, that’s why it bothers you! The world needs The Great Gonzo! The world needs my unique brand of Christmas! And get this, the world shall!”

Gonzo darted off again and began rummaging and causing a series of crashes and bangs in the other room.

Pepe, Rizzo, and Floyd exchanged looks. Rowlf nudged Scooter, as the go-fer gulped and nervously approached the other room. “Erm… Gonzo?” Scooter called uneasily.

The unease continued as Gonzo burst through the door, clad fully in a bright red Santa suit and laughed excitedly. He struck a pose as his laughter subsided and he cleared his throat. “People of Earth… within this hotel room… I, The Great Gonzo, have taken it upon myself to perform my greatest feat yet—spreading Christmas cheer to the entirety of New York City!”

“You cannot be serious!” Rizzo shrieked.

“As serious as a head injury!” Gonzo declared.

“And he would know this, okay,” Pepe said with a snicker.

Somewhere, somehow, Animal played a rimshot on a drumset. “Ah ha ha,” he laughed.

“Oh, like how are you going to bring Christmas to the entire city?” Janice asked. “It’s rully big.”

Gonzo laughed again. “Think who you’re talking to!” The weirdo darted out onto the balcony and slid the massive string of Christmas lights off the railing in one fell swoop.

“Now what’s he doin’?” Rowlf asked, now up from the piano on alert (even though no one had fallen in a well).

“Looks like he’s got another bright idea,” Floyd said.

Animal played out another rimshot while Gonzo tied the lights around his waist. “Dr. Teeth, a little mood music, please!” Gonzo shouted at the band leader.

The good doctor obliged and took seat at the piano. “Tempo for temper, at your service!” Dr. Teeth said with a tip of his hat.

“Dynamic and over the top, if you please!” Gonzo instructed.

Dr. Teeth chuckled. “The only way we know how, baby!”

At that moment, the door to the hotel opened as Kermit and Fozzie returned from their shopping excursion.

“Hi-ho, everyone! Merry Christmas!” Kermit chirped with a huge grin… a grin which faded almost immediately after laying eyes upon Gonzo. He gulped. “I really don’t want to ask, but what the hey? Gonzo, what are you doing?”

“He’s spreadin’ joy and Christmas cheer to the entire city,” Rizzo said. You could hear the smirk on his face in his voice. (Or something poetic like that.)

Kermit frowned and nodded. “Sure, sure. Now I feel silly asking!”

“As well you should!” Gonzo shouted, waggling his eyelids. “Farewell, wondrous wassailers! The world is calling, and The Great Gonzo is the telephone operator on the other end to tell it, ‘Please hold, I’ll transfer you now!’”

“I… What?” Kermit shook his head quickly. “Gonzo, listen, we just got the presents, the fire is on, we were gonna sing a few carols… Why don’t you hang the lights back up and help me with the wrapping?”

“Sorry, Kermit! The world needs me! Enjoy the yule log, frog!” Gonzo ran out onto the balcony again and peered over the edge.

Rizzo, Kermit, Fozzie, Rowlf, and Scooter sprang into action and darted toward the door leading outside as Dr. Teeth and Animal provided dynamic and over the top mood music.

“Did you really think that would work?!” Rizzo shouted at Kermit.

“I’m not good on the spot!” the frog responded.

Gonzo ran back in (for a running start, obviously), saluted quickly, and ran out again.

“Grab him, guys, grab him!!” Kermit squawked, scrambling to grab hold of anything.

Gonzo held most of the slack from the lights in his arm, leapt, and went flying over the balcony edge into the night air above New York City. He threw the slack behind him as he plummeted rapidly to the ground below, laughing all the way.

Fozzie managed to snag the end of the lights and held tight, planting his feet firmly against the edge of the balcony. “Kermit!!” Fozzie wailed.

Kermit sprang into action (which was easy, considering he was a frog), and wrapped his arms tightly around Fozzie. “Get Sweetums!” Kermit yelled at Scooter.

Scooter turned completely on his toes and ran back through the room calling the monster’s name.

About 50 feet below, Gonzo held his hat down on his head squealing with delight as the frigid rush of the New York air blasted his face. The ground was approaching fast, and he felt the slack in his light rope running out. Once again, he was on the verge of a perfect landing.

Higher up, Sweetums had barreled through to the balcony where he picked up Fozzie and Kermit (who was quickly becoming a frog sandwich in between the bear and the beast) and started hauling them backwards.

The lights tightened about three feet above the sidewalk, putting Gonzo nose to significantly smaller nose with a small boy wrapped in his winter warmest. “Hi!” Gonzo said with a massive grin. “Merry Christmas!”

The boy tilted his head to the side, debating whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for reaching out and squeezing Gonzo’s nose in his hand curiously.

Gonzo’s right eyelid raised as he managed to shrug and laugh. His body jerked upward, as he realized he was still attached to a rising string of lights. “Whoops!” He reached down to his waist, and untied himself, collapsing on the ground—which of course caused him to laugh again.

Meanwhile, Sweetums had grabbed the string of lights in his massive hands and was pulling them up on his own—not noticing that it had just become much lighter on the other end. Kermit and Fozzie were back on the balcony, looking over the other end, trying to see through the dark.

“See anything?” Rizzo asked, pacing back and forth inside the room.

Fozzie shook his head. “No, it’s too dark…” he said. “Maybe we should plug the lights in so we can see him!”

“And ruin the surprise?” Floyd asked.

Kermit scrunched up his face and glared at the musician, who continued to laugh. “I think we’re almost at the end, Sweetums!” the frog called back.

From the balcony above them, an elderly voice shouted down at them. “Hey! What’s going on down there?”

Kermit and Fozzie looked up and their eyes met the eyes of Statler and Waldorf, apparently staying in the hotel room above the Muppets (apparently just to heckle them).

“I think Gonzo’s at the end of his rope!” Statler said.

“He always was good at stringing people along!” Waldorf responded as both hecklers chortled.

The empty end of the rope made its way over the balcony’s edge and stopped at Kermit and Fozzie’s feet. Kermit sighed. “I wish I was surprised,” he said.

The frog made his way back inside, as numerous Muppet eyes laid upon him, waiting for the soaring, inspirational speech that was sure to come.

Kermit looked at all of them, shrugged, and said, “Well, here we go again. Get your coats everybody.”

The group of Muppets looked crestfallen. “Guess they can’t all be winners,” Rowlf said.

“What’s the plan, boss?” Scooter asked.

“We’ll split into groups,” Kermit said as he pulled on his scarf—which he had barely had time to take off before coming into the room. “Fozzie, Scooter, Rizzo, Pepe, you guys come with me. Dr. Teeth, you can search with the rest of the band. Rowlf, Sam, Lew, Dr. Honeydew, Beaker, you guys take the third party. Sweetums, you stay back here with Robin, Chef, and Beauregard in case Gonzo decides to come back… which sounded less ridiculous in my head.”

“You got it green stuff!” Floyd said affirmatively.

“Lucky I’m part blood-hound,” Rowlf said with a nod.

Kermit smiled weakly. “Alright, everybody, let’s go!” The frog turned to Fozzie. “Fozzie, get my cell phone and call Piggy… tell her what happened and to stall Camilla. No need to worry her unnecessarily.”

Fozzie nodded and took Kermit’s phone and started dialing.

“Always with the crazies on Christmas,” Pepe muttered. “Next year, I go to the islands and get away from you people, okay. No questions.”

“Who’s gonna give you presents in the islands?” Rizzo asked as he walked out the door.

Pepe stared at Rizzo. “…Never minds, okay. I stay here.”

The prawn shut the door behind him as the Muppets embarked on their quest.


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Apr 12, 2005
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theprawncracker said:
The best always inspire copy cats... TogetherAgain is the best, I'm the copy cat. I haven't done this in a long time... it feels so weird starting a new thread for a fan-fiction. But anyway... this is just a little something I started (and plan to finish) for the holidays. I'm hoping for a nice, clean-cut, five part story here... but we'll see what happens. Enjoy!
I get the blame for this, eh? Alright, I'll take it. Can't say I know how you feel about feeling weird to start a new thread for fan-fiction... I do it all the time! I just never finish the stories. :stick_out_tongue:

This forum format makes detailed reviews much more of a pain than they used to be, and you already know what I think about almost every line of this... But I thought I'd mention a few high points:

The hair/fair conversation. The bear's hair falls fairly on the pear? ...Erm...

The whole frog/bear conversation. It's been a while, so I thought I'd mention that you write those two really well. It's just one big solid friendship!

Your descriptions of the lighting in that first scene--what kind of lights, what they illuminate, comparing the neon to high-tech angels... Love it all.

And: "Scooter gets a Christmas bonus?" Nice.

Now, the NEXT scene... you know what I think about every single line, because I'm spoiled rotten and you're very, very nice. And because our MSN-teasers have evolved quite a bit from the days of me saying things like, "P, R, or C?" and "You are going to LOVE this one line!" (And aren't you glad of that?) BUT... Honorable mentions for the parentheses. I'm such a sucker for your parentheses, Prawn. It really isn't fair. And of course, you write Gonzo SO WELL, as always. It's as if you've lived with him or something... :wink: I love the little boy squeezing his nose, and all the "suspense" with the lights, and Kermit's "big speech," and... Whom am I kidding? I love it all!


Happy holidays, Prawnie. Welcome back to the world of posting fanfic. MORE PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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Jan 31, 2005
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PRAWNIE IS WRITING FAN FIC AGAIN???? Holy cow, you can go home again! I seriously did a double take when I saw this was posted by you TODAY. And then I started dancing in my chair.

Christmas and New York and so much detail and squeeeeee!

It's beyond thrilling to see this and it's so good!!! I have to second your half (that's an odd sentence) MORE PLEASE!


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Jan 1, 2011
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Be still my heart! What a great start to a Christmasy Muppet fic! I love how you write Fozzie/Kermit. Sometimes I forget how much I adore their friendship, and this really helped remind me of that. And the Rizzo/Gonzo friendship has always - always - been my favorite, so it's nice to see some really great dynamic between the two. And you write Pepe super well.

I adored:

“You cannot be serious!” Rizzo shrieked.
“As serious as a head injury!” Gonzo declared.

So good. Can't wait for more! :smile:


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Aug 11, 2009
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Mr. ThePrawn, you just gave me the greatest Christmas gift you could give. I love it! :big_grin:


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Apr 5, 2011
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*still laughing*

VERY nice! Dynamic and over the top indeed. But hey, what's a Muppet Xmas without tacky sweaters, sarcastic rats, rimshots, and Gonzo

I do hope you manage to work Xmas cookies in there somewhere. I don't know why, but this feels like it needs cookies. And skating at Rock Center. Woo HOO! :smile:


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Dec 14, 2004
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Part 2

Miss Piggy quickly and discreetly ended the current call on her cell phone. She whipped around and laughed airily at the two figures possessing the eyes that watched her carefully.

“Ahh… well, it seems that Kermie needs us to pick up just a few teensy-weensy things to make our Christmas spectacular tres… spectacular,” Piggy said with a grunt, which she covered up again with an airy laugh.

The figures staring her down were Camilla the Chicken and Walter the Muppet, the only other female around (who didn’t look like she just walked out of the 1970’s), and her favorite new person-who’ll-do-whatever-she-asks, respectively. “Here, hold this,” Piggy said gruffly, shoving her cell phone into Walter’s hands.

“But… Miss Piggy,” Walter said, nervously pocketing the phone, “I don’t really think it’s possible for us to get anything else!” Walter was dressed in his favorite pale blue suit and his hair was still as purposefully messy as ever. Behind him stood a pile of grocery bags, shopping bags, boxes, and more than a few containers of Bavarian chocolates (“From Kermie—and if you tell him it’s from him, I’ll chop ya in half!”).

“Aw, Walter, dear… how naïve of vous,” Piggy said sweetly. “There is always room for something else—especially when there’s someone by your side to carry it all.” That she said less sweetly.

Walter squirmed slightly. “I guess that’s a good point—I did volunteer for this, after all!” He perked up and grinned. “Whatever you need, Miss Piggy!”

Piggy patted the top of Walter’s head. She wasn’t patting with her usual purple gloved hand; for the holiday she had adopted a new wardrobe: a fur hat as white as snow, and a tasteful (and slimming) red and black cashmere sweater. Her gloves on this occasion were thicker and warmer than her usual satin, and were also black with red poofs at her wrist. Quite frankly, she looked hot (mostly because the heat was on in the department store they were in).

Camilla clucked a question, diverting attention away from poor Walter. (Poor Walter? The kid looked like he was on cloud nine when Miss Piggy touched him.)

“Oh, just a few more groceries—some wine, some cheese, some fly paper so Kermie can catch his dinner,” Piggy answered sweetly. “Ooh! We should go by a bakery and see if there’s any old, moldy bread for dear, sweet Gonzo.”

Walter had seen enough episodes of The Muppet Show, and had been hanging around Miss Piggy (around is right—“Five feet or more at all times, bucko”) long enough, to know that something was wrong. Dear, sweet Gonzo? That certainly didn’t sound right. Maybe she was overcome with the spirit of the season… but most likely she was overcome with some other devious emotion.

Miss Piggy gave Walter a look that read right through him—a look that scowled “Keep your mouth shut if you want to keep a head to have a mouth on”—and swept Camilla into her arm. “Where to first, sweety? Hen’s choice!”

Camilla pondered this as Walter stretched out his arms in preparation of the haul he had to… haul. “Bawk brawk bawk!” the chicken chirped excitedly.

Piggy’s snout scrunched up into a frown. “Ah… well, that is a… wonderful store—one of moi’s personal… well, moi has never been there, but people say such… interesting things. Off we go then! Get the things, won’t you Walter?”

Walter reached down and grabbed a handle that was attached to a large, wooden plank on wheels—like something you would see in a warehouse (although the one in warehouses tend to be motorized). The little guy pulled with all of his might, his face contorting into all sorts of crumpled wads, and slowly followed Miss Piggy and Camilla out of the store with his huge pile, onto the New York City sidewalk, into the snow and slush.

The careful stacking, piling, and organizing of the cart was brought to an end almost as soon as the final wheel hit the pavement outside. No one was sure what happened, all Walter could understand was that one second he was not under a pile of bags and boxes, and the next second, he most certainly was. Somehow Piggy had dodged the avalanche—presumably in a way that only Miss Piggy could.

A blue head with a long nose, wearing a Santa hat, poked its head out of the back of the pile. “Whoops,” Gonzo said. “And I thought the crash came after Christmas dinner.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Piggy groaned.

Camilla squawked excitedly and rushed towards Gonzo, fluttering him with affectionate pecks. Gonzo giggled and pushed her off. “Camilla!” he chided happily. “Save some of it for the mistletoe, my little asparagus pie!”

The glowing chicken backed off reluctantly, but remained very close to Gonzo, snuggling under his arm. “Say,” the weirdo said (go figure), “didn’t Walter go with you guys? Where is he? You didn’t trade him for that hat, did you Piggy?”

Piggy glared at Gonzo. “No… instead, for Christmas, you buried him alive!” she growled at the weirdo.

“Oh, cool!” Gonzo said excitedly. “He’s reenacting my Christmas in 1983—isn’t that sweet of him, Camilla?”

Walter had somehow emerged his upper half from beneath an entire rack of new coats for Miss Piggy and a stone bust of Millard Filmore for Sam Eagle. “Don’t worry about me… just caught between a frock and a hard-face.”

Gonzo and Piggy each grabbed one of Walter’s arms and yanked him out. “Honestly, it’s just an honor to be a part of your act, Gonzo!” Walter dusted off his pant legs. “This is an act, right?”

“An act of greatness the likes of which the world has never seen!” Gonzo declared wildly. “I, The Great Gonzo, will bring Christmas cheer to the entirety of New York City!”

Camilla cooed affectionately and Miss Piggy rolled her eyes. Walter, on the other hand, stared on with his mouth agape in a huge smile. “That’s fantastic!” he shouted. “How can we help?”

Piggy scoffed loudly. “We? We will not be going anywhere with vous, Crazy Claus.” She jabbed an accusing finger in Gonzo’s chest. “We are going home.”

“Well… I’m not!” Walter said, still shaking with excitement. “How can I pass up the opportunity to help The Great Gonzo with a brand new act?”

“The likes of which the world has never seen,” Gonzo added helpfully.

“What?!” Piggy shouted, turning on her feet to glare down at Walter, who shrunk down beneath her ire. “Vous are coming with moi! Moi cannot carry all of these packages alone.”

Walter, now shaking for an entirely different emotional reason, sputtered. “W-w-well… sure you can, M-m-miss P-p-piggy. Y-your biceps are b-bigger than m-my waist.”

If this were a cartoon, Miss Piggy’s ears would have had steam coming out of them. She rolled up the sleeve of her sweater on her right arm to reveal said biceps. “Would vous like to try that again?” she growled.

“Try rhyming it this time,” Gonzo said. “It’s more in the spirit of the season and sort of helps what I’m trying to do here.”

Miss Piggy took a deep breath, rolled her sleeve back down, and climbed off the pile of Christmas presents. “Look Gonzo, Walter, it’s Christmas! And moi wants to spend it with Kermie—surely the two of vous understand. Don’t you want to be with all of our friends?” she asked sweetly.

“Oh, we will be!” Gonzo said maniacally—which was less than reassuring. “But there’s so much to do first! Speaking of which…” Gonzo jumped down off the pile with Camilla and Walter following in toe. “You’ve already delayed me too long! At this rate I may have to cut the gingerbread opera at the Apollo. No… no. That’s too terrible to think about. Bah! C’mon, guys, let’s go!”

Gonzo shot off down the sidewalk and Camilla waddled to keep up with him. Walter looked back at Miss Piggy and smiled. “Isn’t spreading the Christmas spirit what the holidays are all about?” he asked happily.

Piggy made a mental note to herself to stop hanging around the cute characters (except Kermie, naturally). She sighed and waved Walter on. “Go, go… moi will find someone else to carry this junk—just don’t expect another present after this!” she said with a wink.

Walter grinned from ear to ear, thanked Piggy, and ran off down the sidewalk after the weirdo and the chicken (a surprisingly common sight on the streets of New York).

“At least moi’s charity work is done for this year,” she said with a shrug. “Now… to call Kermie, tell him where the freaks went, and return home for some wining and dining.” She chuckled happily to herself and opened her handbag. She mindlessly reached around inside while admiring the sign lights dazzling the sky above her. When she realized that she wasn’t finding her phone, her focus turned to a vicegrip as she began tossing various items out onto the concrete.

Four lipsticks, a tub of ice cream, and a bag of chips later, her purse was empty… and she was still without a cell phone. Slowly, realization dawned on her. “Oh noWalter!!” she howled down the street.

Frantically, Piggy began looking up and down the street. “Ah ha!” she shouted. “Hey! You!” she called at a passerby.

The passerby turned around, revealing the wrinkled and scarred blue face of Uncle Deadly. “Me?” he asked.

“Yes, you! Moi needs vous to stand here and scare people away if they try to steal any of this stuff, got it?” Piggy said.

“…Why on earth would I want to do that?” Deadly asked.

“Listen, bub,” Piggy said fiercely, “if you want any more parts in these things, sometimes you’ve gotta take the small roles.”

Uncle Deadly thought for a second and shrugged. “Fair enough, I suppose, carry on.”

Piggy nodded and smiled deviously. “Right,” she said before hailing a cab and following Gonzo, Camilla, and Walter.

Uncle Deadly bent down, picked up a sweater, examined it, and slipped it on. “One should always aim for style when performing a cameo appearance.”


Kermit’s group took the path back down Times Square in their search for Gonzo. “He’s just got to be around here somewhere, guys,” Kermit said. “How far could he have possibly gotten?”

“I once saw him get from the floor to the ceilin’ in five seconds,” Rizzo said.

“Well, yeah, but he had a rocket on his back, right?” Scooter asked.

Rizzo shook his head. “You’d think so, but he was all feet that day.”

“So pretty far, then,” Kermit said, scrunching up his face.

“No, pretty fir,” Fozzie said.

“What?” Kermit asked.

“Ahh!” Fozzie said as he pointed to a lavishly decorated Christmas tree outside a storefront.

Kermit shook his head. “Now’s not really the time, Fozzie.”

Pepe and Rizzo struggled to keep up with the taller members of their group, while trying to navigate around the ankles of New Yorkers brushing past them. “This stinks, okay!” Pepe called to Rizzo around a rather large woman’s stockinged legs.

“Eh, these smells remind me of home,” Rizzo said wistfully.

Pepe grumbled and dodged a heavy-looking bag from a hardware store. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for an escape route. Finally, he spotted a sign—a curvy sign in a tight red dress and high heels—which entered into a depressing looking tavern. “Ooh… Pepe’s got an idea, okay,” he said to himself.

“Kermin! Kermin, okay!” Pepe called to the frog. “I seen Gonzo! He took a dives into this bar, okay!”

“What?” Kermit said, doing a double take at the location Pepe pointed at. “Pepe, are you sure?”

“Kermin… when has Pepe ever let you down, hmm?” the prawn asked.

“Scooter?” Kermit asked the go-ger.

Scooter had already pulled a file folder out of nowhere and was beginning to thumb through it. “Most recently, yesterday at 3:42 when Pepe forgot to turn off the TV when we left the hotel room. Before that, yesterday at 12:17 when Pepe ate the last Christmas cookie you promised Robin—”

“Is a completely different situation, okay!” Pepe groaned.

“Okay, okay!” Kermit conceded. “We’ll check over there.”

“Great!” Rizzo said excitedly. “I love bar food.”

“What do bars eat?” Fozzie asked.

“Good grief,” Kermit sighed. “It’s gonna be a long night.”


“Hey, hey, Dr. Teeth! Think maybe we’ll find Gonzo in here?” Floyd called back to the band leader.

The “here” Floyd was referring to was a large, flashy, crowded electronics store almost exactly across the street from where Kermit’s group had been diverted.

The good doctor scratched his bearded chin. “If he is, he is! If he’s not, he should be. This emporium of pragmatic proportions seems to be the vicinity to visit!” Dr. Teeth grinned his shiny, toothy grin as he admired the crowded store.

“Oh, like, let’s check it out,” Janice said. “I could totally use some new ear-buds!”

“What about Gonzo?” Zoot said hoarsely.

Janice blushed. “Well, he’s, like, probably hanging around the headphones if he’s in there. He likes to bungee-jump with them, fer sure!”

“Truth!” Floyd said in agreement. “Let’s get our tech on!”

“X-BOX! X-BOX!” Animal shouted as the Electric Mayhem walked into the massive store.


Somehow, the third group consisting of Rowlf, Sam Eagle, Lew Zealand, Dr. Bunsen Honeydew, and Beaker, had ended up at the welcome center for Ellis Island. “Finally!” Sam the Eagle declared. “We’ve arrived at the Statue of Liberty… the woman responsible for the American recipe for apple pie, writing the league rules for baseball—”

“Quit while you’re behind, Sam,” Rowlf said. “Do you really think we’ll find Gonzo here?”

“What?” Sam asked.

Rowlf rubbed his head. “I shoudla gone with Kermit,” he bemoaned.

“Never to fret, pet,” Bunsen chirped happily, “Beaker and I are already working on our new Muppet Labs GPS!”

“Mee mee mee mo!” Beaker said with a nod.

“GPS?” Rowlf asked. “Wait, don’t tell me… Gonzo Positioning System?”

“Precisely!” Dr. Honeydew said. “By utilizing your superior sniffing skills, Rowlf, our latest invention will be able to track down Gonzo almost instantly!”

While Bunsen was talking, Beaker had set up a large mechanical mess of wires, all connected to a large satellite at the top and a nose-shaped ring in the center.

“Wow!” Lew Zealand said. “How does it work?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Bunsen said. “Allow me to demonstrate on Beaker, here. Beaker, if you would.”

Beaker shouldn’t have, but he positioned himself in front of the machine and inserted his nose into the center hole. “Mee me!” he said, giving Bunsen a thumbs up.

Dr. Honeydew flipped a few switches and pressed a few buttons as the machine whirred into action. The hole in which Beaker had placed his nose tightened and began rotating quickly. “Smell, Beakie! Smell with all your might!” Bunsen cheered as the machine operated.

Rowlf was incredibly glad that he was not the volunteer as the machine started smoking and jolts of electricity sparked all through the air. Beaker shrieked and squealed and tried to pull away, but his nose was stuck and thus, so was he.

Eventually, the machine exploded, sending Beaker flying into the wall of the welcome building. Rowlf and Lew Zealand rushed over to check on Beaker, while Bunsen remained to examine his broken machine, and Sam admired the creator of apple pie.

Beaker’s nose was pulsing. Oh, and glowing bright red. Rowlf shielded his eyes from the brightness. “Talk about a Christmas cliché,” he mused.

“Ah! I’ve found the problem,” Bunsen said, running over to the others carrying a metal piece from the machine. “This wasn’t our Gonzo Positioning System, it was our Glowing Proboscis Simulator!”

“Sure, why not,” Rowlf said with a shrug. “C’mon, Lew, let’s get Beaker inside the welcome center, see if we can find a first aid kit... or some sunglasses.”


Well-Known Member
Apr 12, 2005
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You write Walter SO well. The fact that he's strikingly similar to you obviously has nothing to do with that... And I do so enjoy Uncle Deadly's cameo.

Ah, there is SO much good stuff in here... And you already know what I think about all of it. (Also, my capacity for thought has completely vacated my brain without my permission... which makes it kind of hard to properly review.) I will try to post a more specific review tomorrow, but the main priority is to help my mom with whatever she needs for the TWO parties we are hosting this weekend... So we shall see. For now, suffice it to say, MORE PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I love having multiple punctuation back, don't you?)