Chapter 42: The Return of The King
“Well, it wasn’t the worst thing he’s written about them,” said Scooter. He didn’t look happy, but he was trying hard to be matter-of-fact.
“True,” said Rowlf. “He didn’t really say anything nasty, but he—“
“I know. He just implied it.” Scooter’s hands had balled unconsciously into fists. “He just implied that Kermit is a real pain to work for and that we’re all miserable, but Piggy should probably be the most miserable because she has to put up with him all the time.” Scooter looked flushed with anger, his chin pointed aggressively and Rowlf wanted badly to pat him on the head and say, “Good boy.”
“Has he seen it?” said Rowlf. Scooter shook his head, twisting the tabloid into a tight roll.
“No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t think he pays as much attention to the second day stuff—opening night is the big deal. After that, it’s not such a thing.”
Rowlf looked at Scooter fondly, letting him get by with this little white lie. Kermit might not make as big a deal over second-day stuff, but he sure as heck read it. Gingerly, Rowlf reached out and took the rolled-up newspaper from Scooter. He found it hard to relax around one of those things.
“Here,” said Rowlf. “Let me take that. I need something to line the trash can in our room.” Sheepishly, Scooter surrendered the malicious little rag. This time, Rowlf did pat him on the head, mussing his hair. Scooter hardly noticed.
“So, you don’t think we should tell him about the shooting?” said Scooter. He seemed suddenly very young, looking to Rowlf for reassurance.
“Naw. I don’t see that it will do any good,” Rowlf said philosophically. “Let’s just keep our eyes and ears open, all right?”
Scooter nodded, then started nervously as the door from the dressing rooms onto the stage area banged open and cast members starting filing in. He looked at Rowlf ruefully.
“I better go change. If I don’t get in there and warm up, Howard will probably cut me out of the dance number altogether. You coming?”
Rowlf shrugged. “Might as well try. You know I’ve got two left paws, but—man!—that is one kicking song. When’s Kermit coming down to see it?”
Scooter looked at his little handheld for a moment. “Um, we’ve got a coupla hours, yet.” He grimaced. “Only a couple!” Scooter trotted backstage to put on something he could dance in.
Piggy was already wearing something she could dance in, as was Janice. Gonzo, Clifford and and Fozzie leaned together nearby on the other end of the stage, talking in low tones. They watched the other dancers milling about on the stage and waited for Howard to give coherent directions.
“This might take a while,” Piggy murmured to Janice, and was rewarded by a knowing giggle. Sara looked scandalized. Howard had been beside himself all morning, putting Pepe through his paces long before the others had arrived. There was something funny going on—Piggy could feel it, but it was no use bullying Howard in situations like these. She’d have to settle for waiting along with everyone else…unless she could bully Thoreau. She looked thoughtfully toward the dressing rooms, but any movement in that direction would have to wait. Howard came charging through like a small hurricane and everybody scrambled to get out of the way.
“Okay—you! Up! And you!—don’t budge from that spot! Scooter—you dance with Amy Lu.” He frowned and looked around critically. “Camilla—pick a partner, dear. Someone you aren’t afraid will tromp on you and—yes, dear—that will be just fine.” He eyed Rowlf narrowly, but Rowlf was too busy grinning to be dismayed.
“Hey there,” he said to Camilla. “I’ll try not to trip over my own feet.”
Camilla clucked something funny, her wing on his arm, and they both laughed. Howard gave them a snotty look but moved on. Rizzo and Gloria Jean latched hands and tried to look nonchalant. Howard rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me separate you,” he snapped grimly.
“You, you—that’s fine, that’s…well, it will have to do. Okay, okay! Everybody!” He clapped his hands in a peremptory manner. “Just like we rehearsed it!”
They ran it. Then they ran it again. And just when everyone felt it was coming together, Howard changed several things; but after they had run those a couple of times, they had to grudgingly agree that it was better this way. At last, Howard sent them to shower and change.
“We’ve got 20 minutes, people,” he reminded them. “Twenty minutes before Kermit comes down to see how we’re doing.”
Piggy sprinted to the shower and was standing in her spot in less than the requisite time. Others took their places, arriving breathlessly on stage in various degrees of dampness and discomfort. Fozzie’s jeans looked stiff and new, and he smiled up at Piggy self-consciously.
“Hi Piggy,” he offered. “Gosh, I hope Kermit likes it.”
Although every instinct told her he would, Piggy, too, wanted to see the confirmation on his face, but she nodded at Fozzie in a reassuring manner. Although initially paired with Clifford, she and Fozzie had been partnered for the audition. Clifford was dancing with Sara, and Gonzo had been paired with Janice—at least until the solo part of the dance.
There was an excited hush—Kermit was coming now!—and Piggy smiled indulgently. They were like children, really—every one of them—waiting for the word of approval from Papa Frog. She sneaked around and tried to peak out of the curtain, but Howard came over and slapped her hand. For a long moment, they glared at each other.
“I ought knock you into next week’s—“
“Yeah, yeah—but you’d ruin your nails. Get in your spot, little miss Diva—I have enough on my mind without riding herd on you.”
Piggy stared at him, openmouthed, after he had scurried away, then her eyes softened. Poor thing—he must be really stressed. He would never had talked to her that way if he’d been himself. She began to smile, thinking how horrified he’d be when he surfaced and remembered what he’d said and done. It was—almost—worth getting her hand slapped over. She returned to her spot and waited.
Kermit had settled into one of the slightly uncomfortable chairs, crossed one ankle over his knee and his arms across his chest. To his extreme bemusement, he watched his nephew do exactly the same, mirroring his body language expertly.
“What’s going to happen?” said Robin.
“Um, I’m not exactly sure,” Kermit admitted. He was trying hard not to think about it. After his teasing about the audition, Piggy had not been forthcoming with details.
“Is Pepe going to dance?”
“Well,” Kermit hedged. “I think so. But I think he’s singing, too. And Piggy is apparently dancing with him.”
“Aunt Piggy is dancing with Pepe?” asked Robin. If possible, Robin’s eyes were even more wide than usual.
Kermit nodded, trying not to think about that either. “Yep.”
They looked at each other.
“Wow,” said Robin. He was obviously trying hard to be matter-of-fact, but his gleeful anticipation was evident. “This should be very interesting.”
Kermit fought the urge to laugh out loud. He uncrossed his arms and put one across the back of the chair, his hand resting fondly on the nape of Robin’s neck. Robin didn’t just have his build—he apparently had his gift for understatement, too.
There was a loud crash, a word that Kermit sortof wished Robin hadn’t heard, and then the curtain ruffled in the middle as though someone were trying to escape backstage.
Someone was. Howard’s perspiring face appeared between the folds of the curtain and he searched the audience frantically until he had located Kermit. He gave a high, nervous laugh.
“Oh—there you are!” he said, attempting to appear unruffled and failing miserably. “We’re ha ha ready if you’re ready!”
Kermit and Robin exchanged looks, then turned their faces up to the stage.
“Um, we’re ready,” said Kermit, hoping he actually was.
Howard disappeared and the curtain began to open.
The stage was dark, but you could make out several shapes all standing perfectly still, and Kermit could discern the outline of three of the big cubes from the Dream Girls number standing lined against the back like Stonehenge. He could see a gleam of light off of Dr. Tooth’s trademark gold front tooth as he said, “A-one, a-two, a-one-two three-four—“
A hot, bright spot light came on suddenly, turning its brilliant eye onto an almost unrecognizable form standing dead center of the big stage. It was…it looked like Elvis—if Elvis had had four arms and a red brushed back DA instead of a black one. There were enough sequins and rhinestones on the white jumpsuit to have outfitted every showgirl in Vegas, and Pepe was holding the microphone in a dead-on Elvis pose, his body turned to the side just enough to show off his silver-lined cape.
“Mama said on the day I was born there was a whole lot of shakin’ goin’ on!” wailed Pepe. “There was a party next door with people callin’ out for more and they played the boogie all night long—yeah!
“I was raised on the beat that was oh-so-sweeeet, fed on the rhythm and bluuuues. When she sent me on her way I heard my Mama say, Son, don’t forget your dancing shoes!”
Immediately, the stage was flooded with light, and the crowd of dancers erupted into tightly-choreographed contortions, every body moving in an eerie unison that made Kermit feel like he was watching something unfold in slow motion. Robin was trying to look at everything all at one, fairly bobbing in the seat as his eyes jumped from one sight to another. Kermit felt the same way, overwhelmed with sound and movement and he…he liked it.
“Bop till you drop! Shake it till you break it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance! Bop till you drop! Shake it till you break it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance!”
Of a sudden, the slew of dancers broke rank and began to vault off the stage in pairs, coming down the aisles about one-third of the way back and dancing in enthusiastic twosomes. Only Piggy, Janice and Sara were left onstage with their partners—everyone else was dancing in the aisles. Smoothly, suavely, channeling his inner king prawn, Pepe tossed the microphone to another of his arms and began to belt out the second verse as he swiveled his hips and snapped the fingers on two of his hands in time to the music.
“When you’re down at a party and the music’s hot and you see somebody that you like a lot—don’t fight the feelin’ if the feelin’s right! Take a chance and dance ‘cause tonight’s the niiiight we’ll do it right!
“Bop till you drop! Shake it till you break it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance! “ sang Pepe, while once again the dancers snapped into sleek syncopation on the chorus. “Bop till you drop! Shake it till you break it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance! Bop! Bop! Bop! Shake it shake it shake it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance!
Pepe executed a complicated hip movement and turned to face the audience with a sneer that even Elvis would have envied.
“Dance! Dance! Da-da-dance!” shouted Pepe. He held his two left arms out parallel to the floor and cradled the microphone close to his chest. Three more spotlights snapped on in time for the amazingly attentive amphibian audience to see Fozzie, Clifford and Gonzo swing their partners up onto the now-black-draped cubes in a swirl of crinoline, then disappear off the stage. Janice was in the middle, looking like a Biker’s dream girl in a shiny black poodle skirt with her two-tone guitar appliquéd on the skirt and a tight white sweater. Piggy was also in a poodle skirt, but her’s was bubblegum pink and Sara’s was a perfect cerulean blue. Piggy’s hair was her own, but it was now up in two little sassy pony-tails with pink ribbons, and Sara’s long hair was tied up high on her head with a scarf just a shade lighter than her skirt. Janice’s hair swung free over her shoulders as she moved, and—boy—did she move. In fact, Kermit’s mouth felt suddenly dry as he watched them dancing in perfect sashaying rhythm to Pepe’s vocals.
“Back in ’57 I was chust a li’l boy and my sister Jenny Sue she was the queen of the hop! After school she’d be stackin’ up her 45s—practicing her shimmy shimmy koko bop! She had to do it right cause come on Saturday night she was the hot girl on the floor! Mama’d catch her in the kitchen but instead of doin’ dishes she’d be brushin’ up her boogie on the ‘frigerator door!”
Pepe jumped and landed with his microphone in the air above his head while he sang into it for all he was worth. The frozen dances swelled back to life once more, everyone dancing in perfect time.
“Bop till you drop! Shake it till you break it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance! Bop till you drop! Shake it till you break it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance! Bop! Bop! Bop! Shake it shake it shake it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance! Da-da-dance!” shouted Pepe.
“Ah when it's come-a come-a doo down down pretty baby and the music starts movin’ and it’s drivin’ you crazy—“
Robin was standing in his seat by this time. Well, not strictly standing, since he, too, seemed to be in a state of perpectual motion to the driving beat. Kermit felt like he ought to do something parental, but he felt like jumping up and dancing too.
“Don’t get caught just-a hangin' around ‘cause you gotta get up if you wanna get down—get up, get up, get down down down!”
Kermit gave up. He got up and did his best to get down down down with the rest of his cast. Seeing it, Piggy fought a big smile and put a little extra swing in her swing.
“Come on and dance, dance—don’t it make you wanna get up and dance!
"Bop! Bop! Bop! Shake it shake it shake it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance! Bop till you drop! Shake it till you break it! Move it till you lose it! Dance! Dance!” howled Pepe.
“Bop, bop, bop! Come on, come on, come on! Shake it, shake it, shake it! Shake it, shake it, shake it! Move it till you lose it! Move it till you lose it! Move it till you lose it! Dance, dance, da-da-dance! Come on and dance, dance, da-da-dance...”
The band finished with a flourish and a bang, and everything went dark on the stage except Pepe. “Come on and dance, dance, da-da-dance!” he hissed soulfully. The stage went dark.
Everyone who had not yet seen Kermit standing on his chair and clapping now did so, and Howard appeared from where he’d been hovering in the wings to accept Kermit’s delighted approval. Cautiously, like a man shying from gunfire, Thoreau also peeked around the curtain.
“Wow!” said Kermit, genuinely astonished. “That was—I was, wow. That is going to be a terrific addition to our fifties show. Great job guys! Oustanding job!” Robin was trying vainly to whistle, and finally gave it up and made loud whoops of sound to convey his whole-hearted endorsement.
Howard blushed and stammered showily, knowing he’d pulled a rabbit out of his hat for sure this time. Then, shocking everyone, he swept his hand back to include not only Pepe, who was looking thoroughly self-satisified) and the Jenny Sue girls and their partners (who had reappeared for the final verse) but the entire ensemble.
“Well!” thought Piggy. “We must have looked pretty decent for Howard to be this pleased.” She smiled at Kermit fondly and accepted Fozzie’s help swinging off her cube. There was a murmur of excitement through the cast and the band and they crowded around Kermit as he approached the stage and hopped up on it. Robin bounded after him.
Kermit took Piggy’s hand and looked out the sea of exultant faces smiling up at him. Their open delight in his enjoyment was very humbling, and he felt a wave of emotion that he couldn’t quite place. He felt proud and indulged and…happy. He felt like he was exactly in the center of where he ought to be, safe and protected and…. Well, almost safe, he reminded himself, but that was all the intrusion he would allow the recent unpleasantness to have. He squeezed Piggy’s hand and felt Robin’s small hand seek his own, trying to think what he could possibly say.
“Pepe—were great! Howard--you’ve really outdone yourself. You’ve all really gone above and beyond for this show,” said Kermit. His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat self-consciously. “Must have a people in my throat,” he cracked, and everyone groaned.
“Hey,” said Fozzie. “Telling jokes is my job.”
“That sounds about like one of your jokes,” muttered Floyd. Janice shushed him through her own giggles.
“I know some of you would rather be home for Christmas than here—I know some of you gave up plans to be here.” His gaze rested lightly on Scooter and Sara. “But I—gosh, I can’t tell you how much doing this live show means to me—“
“I didn’t have any plans—nobody wanted me home for Christmas!” said Rizzo.
“Nobody wants you here, either!” somebody called, but the affectionate tone made it plain that they were teasing.
“Hey!” said Rizzo indignantly.
“Pick on someone your own size!” laughed Gloria Jean, moving in to put a conciliatory arm around the little rat’s shoulders. “That is—if you can find someone your own size—“
“I had to come—my water’s been cut off, so this seemed—“
“I’m hiding from my creditors,” quipped another.
“I’m hiding from my girlfriend—and her boyfriend,” said a deep voice.
“And Hi am chust here for the womens, h’okay?”
Although it seemed impossible, things went downhill from there, erupting into a veritable free-for-all of good-natured razzing and snappy one-liners. It went on for some minutes, and Kermit was finally forced to shout about the crowd.
“Get out!” he yelled, laughing exuberantly. “Sheesh—try to have a tender moment. You were wonderful! I loved it! Now go! Go away! Go back to your rooms or out on the strip or somewhere where you won’t get into trouble! And come back tonight in time to get ready for the show! We’ll debut this tonight!”
Laughing, the tired and happy masses made for the dressing rooms to store their costumes and don street clothes for the rest of the day. Kermit watched them go, his expression wry.
Piggy tugged his hand, and he turned around and smiled at her.
“Hey!” he said warmly, leaning forward for a quick kiss. Her pony-tails brushed his face and made him sneeze. Then Piggy giggled in the middle of that kiss, so they had to kiss again to make up for it. The pert little bobbie-soxer pulled back and looked at Kermit.
“You liked,” she asserted.
“I loved,” Kermit said. “I—I honestly don’t know what to say. It was…just wonderful.” He looked carefully over his shoulder. “Who would have thought that Pepe would have made such a good Elvis?”
Piggy shrugged. “For a little shrimp, he can be surprisingly h’okay.” She shot Kermit a sly look. “He is a king prawn, after all.”
Kermit groaned and took her hand, pulling her after him toward the dressing rooms to find Robin.
“Jeez,” he said. “Shouldn’t somebody be writing these down for Fozzie?”
“Don’t give him any ideas,” murmured Piggy. She slipped her arm around Kermit’s waist, proud to have pleased him and reassured by the look of contentment on his face. “Pepe’s already going to be insufferable. Let’s try to deal with one crisis at a time, shall we?”
Kermit laughed.
It was good advice. He didn’t know then how badly he was going to need it.
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