Just a Little Laid-Back Conversation
Kermit, barely two-feet-tall, stood supervising, with one hand above his eyes, the Rock-climbing Wall Construction Team on a bright sunny day in Central Park. The area was closed off to visitors with yellow “Caution” tape, though occasionally muppets and monsters would pose with those who begged for pictures. After all, they didn’t want to make their audience unhappy. The muppets had been struggling to make ends meet for a couple of decades, forced to take less-than-minimum-wage just to keep the Theater afloat. Thankfully, with a little cross-promotion, ticket sales had started to pick up, when it was agreed to trade some cast members with Sarah Williams. Little crossovers here and there wouldn’t hurt, surely, Kermit started to think to himself.
He turned his head and spotted Toby in a gray tank top and jean shorts sitting at a laptop several yards away, with Gonzo, a hook-nosed blue furry “alien”, wearing a loud yellow T-shirt with black blotches and slick black dress pants and some purple flip-flops and some rose-colored sunglasses, pointing at the screen. Those two were still plotting the best setup for the different athletic/sports areas with Toby’s software. Kermit smiled to himself. Toby had taken a bigger interest in helping where he could ever since the Great Fraggle Evacuation. He also refused to accept any wages, which was also a great help. However, he did request Bunsen and Beaker’s help with some big science project he had set his mind on, and Kermit felt obligated to agree to it. After all, keeping those two busy meant fewer technical problems at the Theater.
“Hey Kermit,” a low-key gruff male voice said behind him, “I need to talk to ya for a minute.” Kermit turned around and looked up a bit to see Rowlf, sucking on an orange popsicle. Rowlf always had this cheerful “whatever, dude” look to him, which Kermit had always admired. Kermit tried to be like Rowlf, but he always fell prey to the mayhem around him. And then there was her, of course.
“Yeah, Rowlf?” Kermit replied.
“I think I came up with a name for your sports thing,” he offered cheerfully. “It even ties into the Theater for cross-promotion like you wanted.”
“Oh?”
Rowlf tried hard to keep a straight face. He kept his black lips tight for a couple of seconds until he could say it without laughing: “‘Break a Leg’”. He started to snicker.
Kermit face contorted in that disbelieving expression of his. “Ha ha … cute, Rowlf, cute.” He gave his old friend a strained smile. “I don’t think the insurance companies would appreciate that.”
“Oh, do you think so?” Rowlf asked, smirking. “I didn’t know slogans could be appreciated or depreciated!” He snickered some more, covering his face in embarrassment over such a bad pun. He stuck the tongue depressor from his finished popsicle in his mouth, gnawing on it casually. He slapped Kermit on the back. “So, anyway, Kermit,” he added, his tone getting more serious after a long pause, “when’d she come back?”
Kermit swallowed hard. “Who?” he asked nervously. “Don’t tell me Wanda’s here looking for a job again.”
Rowlf shook his head and kept his voice quiet. “Your ‘Athletic Coordinator’, Kermit. How’d you get her to come back?”
Kermit stared at Rowlf for several minutes, despite the hollers of pain coming from a monster whose foot was stuck under the rock climbing wall frame. He sighed. He couldn’t keep secrets from Rowlf. Not for long, anyway, he thought to himself. He hung his head. “I told her … ESPN … would be here all week … covering the event,” he answered slowly and sadly.
“You lied to her?”
Kermit shrugged. “They might still show up,” he offered weakly. He looked up at the big brown dog, who wore a skeptical expression. “Rowlf, this is the twenty-first century. If I have to film her myself and put it up on Youtube, that’s what I’ll do.” He jabbed a thin green finger into the rotund belly of his friend. “She’ll get her exposure, Rowlf,” he stated emphatically. “That’s all she cares about and that’s what she’ll get.”
<><><><><><>
It was the New Year’s after the Family Christmas at Mrs. Bear’s house, Fozzie’s mother. Rowlf sipped a small fruity mixed drink at El Sleazo, which had been turned into a swank sports bar a couple of years ago. A small black-and-white television set sat on the table, where Rowlf watched the year’s highlights as techno-pop filled the air with those awful synthetic sounds.
Skeeter sat down opposite him on a small black chair, her red hair swaying with small multicolored beads on each thick strand, glitter on her eyelids, neon pink blouse and neon green spandex leggings, and a yellow band around her wrist with little red hearts drawn on them made from what looked to be a segment of Venetian blinds. She nodded and Rowlf nodded back. They silently watched television for a little while. Then, she spoke in a serious voice. “I’ll be heading to South America soon to train in some martial arts down there,” she said as if reading from a daily planner.
Rowlf nodded and continued to sip his drink.
Skeeter frowned. “Rowlf, look,” she told him, “theater work is fine for all of you … but I want to be an Olympic gold medalist.”
Rowlf stopped sipping and looked across the table, leaning forward slightly, his eyes betraying a suppressed hurt. “I’m not trying to stop you.”
Skeeter gritted her teeth and shifted in her chair uncomfortably. She retorted in an angry whisper, her orange hands clasping the edges of the table, “Why can’t you people be proud of me? Why do all of you act like I abandon the group because I actually want to BE somebody?”
Rowlf suppressed a sigh and shrugged, chugging down the last of his drink and smacking his lips. He stared at the table. “Must be that ‘Pathetic’ label we’ve all got stuck to our heads.” He flashed the subtlest frown and stared at her. “You know us … we’re so provincial that way.”
Skeeter sighed and leaned back, letting go of the table. She stared at the television. “I’m not Piggy, Rowlf,” she said finally, avoiding his stare.
“Do you base that assessment on the fact that, unlike her, you’re independent, condescending, or desperate for attention?” he sniped back (in his usual laid-back voice, of course). “It’s the pot calling the kettle ‘black’, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “I don’t take that stuff from her and I won’t take it from you, either, Skeets,” he added, his voice growing more tense by the sentence. “I’m not zero-percent fat. I KNOW that. I’m not into playing GOLF, much less that suicidal ‘skateboarding’ fad that’ll get everyone killed in a year. I’ve been one-hundred percent honest with you, Skeets.” He sighed, nodding to the bartender for another round. “I just wish you’d give me the same courtesy,” he said sadly.
Skeeter’s lip quivered. “Do you REALLY think I’m so shallow?” She turned to him, tears welling up in her eyes. “Rowlf, we’ve been friends longer than I’ve spoken to my own BROTHER. Doesn’t that say ANYTHING to you?”
The bartender showed up, leaving Rowlf a margarita. Rowlf took a sip from the slushy drink. “Even the PIG comes back to the frog when she’s lonely.”
Skeeter slapped the table, stood up, and flung the glass at Rowlf, drenching him in frozen alcohol. Her voice quivered, “Maybe your perennial girlfriend ‘Margarita’ tastes better in your mouth!” She slammed the chair up against the table and turned slightly. “I am NOT Piggy!”
<><><><><><>
“Kermit,” Rowlf sighed, staring intently at his little green friend, “I’ve already discussed this with her back at her place. She wanted to come … this time,” he added unsurely. Kermit stared at him. ‘Discuss’ was Rowlf’s word for ‘argue’. Rowlf looked around. “She wants to be more socially responsible.”
Kermit patted Rowlf on the shoulder gingerly. “They denied her again, huh?” he asked in a quiet and knowing voice. The old dog nodded without replying verbally. Kermit sighed, motioning for Rowlf to join him on an impromptu walk in the park. As they left the area, Kermit confessed, “I tried not to believe your story, Rowlf. I always figured Piggy was my unique problem. I mean, I knew Skeeter had been headstrong just as much as Piggy, even as a kid. But,” he added after a small pause, “when you said she tossed out all our home movies with her in them and left you for South America … I couldn’t believe she was that selfish and vindictive. You were always my role model. I didn’t … I didn’t want you to experience the sensation of being strung along in a relationship.”
Rowlf smiled and draped a heavy arm on the back of his friend. “Kermit, what did I tell you in that hotel lobby, huh? I told you my trouble was women. We sang a song about it, remember?”
“Yeah, but --.”
“No, ‘but’ nothing,” Rowlf replied, cheering up. “I only think of it as a curse when I’ve had too much to drink … which is what happened between me and Skeeter.” He patted his friend on the back. “Kermit, I’m okay. Life moves on. I’m an old dog and I don’t intend on learning any other tricks. I’m flattered you wanted to protect me … but we dogs don’t let that sort of thing leash us for too long,” he added, chuckling. He stopped, nodding in the direction ahead of them. “Besides, let’s focus on that competition-slash-educational experience.” He pointed ahead. “I think they’ll make the insurance company wet themselves.”
Kermit followed Rowlf’s gaze until he saw a troop of metallic-clad creatures of all shapes and sizes approaching, looking as though they were ready for a medieval battle. A tall green-skinned heavily muscularized ‘man’ with a square jaw fitted with a trimmed goatee marched up to Kermit and Rowlf and saluted by pounding a fist on his chest, his armor chinking incessantly when he moved. The being had long slicked back black hair, which swayed slightly in a breeze. His voice was deep and commanding. “Kermit the Frog … by order of our master, we offer combat training classes for your war games exercise later this week.”
Kermit shook while Rowlf whistled as he glanced at the leader in appreciation of his bulk. Kermit shivered and barely spoke. “Uh, th … that’s n-nice,” he exclaimed, craning his neck up at a being that seemed to step out of the Lord of the Rings. “Wh-who are you?”
The ‘man’ could not help but smile, his sharpened teeth glistening in the sun. He enjoyed making smaller creatures quiver. “I am Candlewic, general of the forces of the Goblin Kingdom. With your permission, we would participate in your tests of skill and strength.”
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What I love about Skeeter/Piggy is that, honestly, they are exactly the same. They may like different things, but their personality flaws/pros are quite similar (though I'm watching MB on youtube for inspiration at the moment). I think what sets them ultimately apart from the others is that their dreams, as stated by them, never seem to encourage a sense of giving back. Kermit wanted to be rich and famous as well as Piggy ... but he's willing to temper that with helping his community and the world at large ... something I think Piggy resents him for, because it makes her look shallow and materialistic in comparison. However, I don't find that outlook completely fair (namely because I am a big Piggy fan ... she was my role model growing up). I think the fact that she's trying to make up for past circumstances (living in an impoverished rural area) is ignored by Kermit and the gang. Although, Kermit didn't exactly come from riches either ... which may be why her sob story fails to impress him. I want to explore the main differences between Piggy, Skeeter, and Red, since they seem so similar. In Comeback, Piggy went "back" with Nikki Holiday because he treats her like the queen she feels she's entitled to, because Kermit refuses. Rowlf took Skeeter's condescending attitude a little better, though whether he does because he feels little sense of commitment or because he's learned that she's not being condescending is another matter. I don't think Piggy or Skeeter actually believe that theater work is beneath them. I think they honestly want the best for themselves as they define it, but because they lack a certain diplomacy when they tell others about their dreams, it seems belittling.