Chapter 18
“Oops,” said Floyd as he watched Animal rampage off towards the limo, his chain dragging on the road behind him.
“That can’t be good, right?” Maggie asked.
“One can only assume,” Croaker added.
“Mee mo,” Beaker sighed.
“No,” said Dr. Teeth with a shake of his floppy head, “we don’t assume that’s bad, we know it is.”
“Right on,” Floyd said with a nod for emphasis. “Oh well, what can ya do?” he asked.
“I can throw the fish a-way—” shouted Lew Zealand, popping up from nowhere in particular, and hurling a boomerang fish from his hand. “—and they come back to me!”
Grover peered out into the distance. “But… it is not coming—WHA!” he screamed as the fish returned, whacking him right in his cute little nose.
Lew scratched his head and picked the fish up. He shrugged and grinned wildly. “Well, they usually come back to me.”
“Should we, like, go after him?” Janice asked, referring to the wild-thing that just jumped on the back of the limousine and was having a very nice ride, thank you very much.
“Hmm,” Floyd said. “Well, it would be fitting and proper.”
“All the more reason not to go after him,” Dr. Teeth said. “We don’t want to lose our unfit, improper image!”
“Exactly,” Floyd said with a laugh. “C’mon baby, let’s see watch Animal tear up the red carpet.” The hipster wrapped his arm around Janice’s waist and the two walked back into the Boarding House.
“Like, literally, fer sure,” Janice said.
“You mean you’re just going to let him run loose?”
Floyd sighed. He knew that voice. “And just what do you propose we do about it, marsh mush?” he asked Aunt Marge, who was glaring at him from the window.
“Go after that thing of course!” Marge shouted.
“Let me explain something to you about musicians lady,” Floyd said, letting Janice go and stepping towards the wrinkled heap of frog. “Going after Animal would require work—we don’t do work, got it? We get by with as little physical exertion as possible. Music, baby, is all we need.”
Aunt Marge’s eyes turned to slits behind her thin glasses. The pierced right through Floyd’s over-bearing mustache. “Is that so?” she asked.
“And do-re-mi-fa-and-la,” Floyd said.
“I think you need something else,” Marge said, reaching into her lavender purse that was dangling from her arm on a long, thin, chain.
Floyd smirked. “Gonna gimme a butterscotch candy, granny?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” Marge said.
“Watch this,” Maggie muttered to Croaker and Beaker.
Aunt Marge lunged forward (with surprising grace for a frog who appeared to be twice the age of the state of California). She whipped her purse off of her shoulder and began to whack Floyd with it.
Yet… no one moved in to stop her.
“Hey—ow! Lady—ow! Seriously!” Floyd shouted from his new position on the floor underneath the wrath of Aunt Marge’s purse.
“Go—get—that—thing!” Marge shouted between purse-whacks.
Clifford’s sunglasses were lowered off his eyes and he ran over to Sam Eagle, who was watching in disbelief from the living room. “Sam, dude, ya gotta do somethin’!” Clifford told the bewildered bird.
“You can not expect me to get into that,” Sam said, pointing at the goings-on.
Clifford bit his lip. “Erm, you do realize that if she kills him, that’s one less dude you got helpin’ ya get rid of her, right?” he asked desperately.
Sam’s eyes opened a little bit wider for the first time in thirty years.
The eagle put his wing tip on Clifford’s chest. “Stay back,” he said valiantly before moving towards the tussle.
“Gladly,” Clifford said, shying back behind the wall.
Sam stood in front of Floyd and Marge—turning many a-confused head within the Boarding House. He cleared his throat quietly. Aunt Marge continued wailing on Floyd with her handbag. Sam tried clearing his throat just the tiniest decibel louder leading to the same results.
“Hey, turkey!” Oscar called to Sam, emerging from his trashcan in the middle of the hallway.
“Yes Oscar?” Big Bird asked, sticking his head in through the window. “Oh dear, why is that wrinkled old shoe with legs and arms hitting Floyd?”
“Not you,” Oscar sneered at Big Bird. “Listen here, baldy—” Oscar said to Sam.
“What is it, Oscar?” Gordon asked.
“Not you!” the Grouch shouted at Gordon. “Listen wings, you’re gonna have to be louder than that!”
“I… have never been loud before,” Sam whispered to the Grouch.
“Never been loud?” Oscar shouted in disbelief. “You don’t know what you’re missin’ fella! Watch this,” Oscar said. “Yo, wrinkles!” he shouted at the top of his lungs in Aunt Marge’s direction.
Aunt Marge stopped whacking Floyd for a moment and spun around devilishly and stared right at Sam. Sam looked to his right for Oscar, but realized the Grouch had retreated back into his can. There’s some torture that not even Grouches want to put up with.
“Erm, pardon me,” Sam said nervously. “Aunt Marge would you—that is to say—would you come with me?”
Marge’s icy glare grew colder as she stared at Sam. “Where?” she hissed.
Sam gulped loudly. (Not loudly, actually, it was just so deathly quiet in the Boarding House that it seemed loud by the usual standards.) “Somewhere… else?”
Aunt Marge slung her purse back on her shoulder and smirked victoriously. “Good,” she said. She walked over to Sam’s side and forcibly linked arms with him. “Lead the way.”
Sam peeked over his shoulder towards Clifford. Clifford had never seen an American so concerned for his well-being and safety. Floyd got up off the floor and hobbled over to Clifford. “Thanks man,” mumbled the musician.
“Not your best moment dude,” Clifford said patting his pal on the back.
“I think I feel worse for Sam,” Floyd said.
“Speaking of which,” Goggles the whiny toad said to Floyd and Clifford, jumping up behind them. “What was he doing with Aunt Marge anyway?”
“Yeah, no one willingly associates with Aunt Marge,” Jimmy, Robin’s father said.
“Not unless it’s right before Christmas or their birthday,” Maggie added.
“And even then we usually communicate through lists,” Mom the Frog said.
Johnny Fiama shook his head vigorously. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You mean to tell me that none of you like Aunt Marge?”
“Johnny Fiiama wants to know if any of youze guys like Aunt Marge!” Sal Minella recited loyally.
All of the frogs within looking distance looked at each other. “No,” they all agreed uniformly.
“Well then why do you put up with her?” Clifford asked.
“Because Aunt Marge is a member of the Frog family and the Frogs love her very much?” Elmo asked innocently.
“Nah,” Maggie said. “She buys great Christmas and birthday presents.”
Zoot shot up from his nap on the couch in the living room. “Wha’?” he asked drowsily. “Did I sleep through my birthday again, man?”
“Yeah, but that’s beside the point,” Dr. Teeth said.
“Hey you guys, come quick!” Telly shouted from the living room.
“Yeah,” Baby Bear said, “Kewmit and the others just pulled up in their limo!”
“They’re gonna be on TV!” Zoe shouted.
Everyone in the house gathered around the single TV set in the living room—filling the couch, armchairs, and every surrounding square foot of floor space. “Mira,” Rosita said, “there is Pepe and Rizzo!”
“Yeah man,” Floyd laughed, “and there’s Animal!”
~-~-~-~-~
The flashbulbs burst with blinding light, reporters hollered, and fans cheered as Kermit stepped out, barefoot, onto the carpet (not necessarily red, yet by no means blue) and Animal hopped off the back of the limo and ran free. Kermit’s arm was linked in with Miss Piggy’s and he waved happily to the crowd. “Hi-ho everyone!” he said over the cheers.
“Kissy kissy!” Piggy swooned for the cameras. “Moi has arrived, vous may all bow down now! Ah ha ha,” she laughed sweetly.
The lights from the cameras made Piggy’s stunning white dress to glisten and sparkle ravishingly. She tossed her long feather boa, also white, around her arms and let it dangle gorgeously (of course).
Further ahead on the carpet, a reporter had stopped Fozzie and was leaned over the barricade with a microphone talking to him. “Fozzie, what can you tell us about this new Muppet movie we’re all hearing so much about?” the reporter asked.
“Ahh! The movie!” Fozzie said. “Well, don’t tell Miss Piggy,” he whispered, “but it’s gonna be on the big screen!”
“Don’t tell Miss Piggy?” the reporter asked.
“Oh yeah, be sure not to,” Fozzie said. “Kermit wants to surprise her for the wedding!”
“That’s so sweet,” the reporter said. “Well, you have my word that I won’t tell Miss Piggy.”
“Ahh! Thank you!” Fozzie said. “Do you wanna hear a joke? Why did the pig cross the red carpet?”
The reporter shrugged. “I have no idea,” she said.
“To get to the other sty!” Fozzie said. “Get it? Sty? Ahh! Wocka! Wocka!”
The reporter laughed. “It was great talking to you Fozzie, thanks!”
“No problem!” Fozzie said.
Rowlf and Scooter were met with a similar situation—albeit with vastly different results.
“So fellas, tell us, are you more excited about Kermit and Miss Piggy’s wedding or this new movie project Kermit and Jason Segal are working on?”
Scooter tilted his head to one side and looked at Rowlf, who was scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I’d say the wedding,” he said finally. “At least I know for sure I get to be in that,” he jested.
The reporter laughed. “What about you Scooter?”
“The wedding, definitely,” the go-fer said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s about time they tied the knot!” Scooter said.
Rowlf nodded. “And Miss Piggy’s gone for a few weeks on the honeymoon.”
The reporter laughed again and shook both of their hands (and paws) and went off down the carpet.
“Rowlf,” Scooter said to the dog, “what movie was he talking about?”
Rowlf shrugged. “We’ll ask Kermit later. It’s best to plead the Fifth in these situations.”
“Huh,” Scooter said, “maybe that’s why Miss Piggy was having me spy on Kermit.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Rowlf said. “Hey, guess what kid?”
“What’s that?”
“We just got interviewed by a reporter,” Rowlf said, proudly straightening his bow-tie.
Scooter sighed happily. “Just like the good ol’ days.”
Rowlf patted Scooter on his back lightly and the two of them went inside the huge building the carpet led into.
“Animal! Animal!” called a female reporter.
“Woman! Woman!” Animal replied, rushing over to the side of the carpet.
“Who are you wearing tonight?” she asked.
Animal blinked. “Wal-Mart!” he said.
“Did you bring anyone with you?” the reporter asked.
Animal blinked again (twice this time). “Ahh… yah yah!” he said with a sturdy nod.
“Really?” asked the reporter, peering around Animal. “Where is she?”
“Uhh…” Animal said. “One sec-ond,” he said. The beast ran off down the carpet and grabbed Rizzo and Pepe, dragging them back. “Rat! Shrimp!” he told the reporter. “Dates! Ah ha ha ha!”
“I did not agree to d’is, hokay!” Pepe argued. “D’is es not in my contract! I demand a lawjer, hokay!”
Rizzo pushed at Animal’s grasp. “Would a rat in a monkey suit do?” Rizzo asked sarcastically.
“Rat and monkey?” Pepe asked. “Jou do meet all de qualifications, hokay.”
The reporter shook her head. “Alright fellas, enjoy the party!”
“Par-ty! Par-ty!” Animal shouted, jumping up and down with Rizzo and Pepe in his arms.
“Yeah, t’anks,” Rizzo muttered.
“Si, si, we’ll be sure to do d’is, hokay…”
“Whoo!” Gonzo shouted. “These lights are blinding!”
“Bragawk,” Camilla clucked.
“Gonzo! Gonzo!”
Gonzo looked over at the calling reporter. “Camilla my dear, do excuse me, duty calls! Ha ha!” he laughed, sliding over to the luscious looking lady reporter. “You rang?”
She giggled rousingly. “Hi there,” she said.
“Well hi yourself!” Gonzo said with a smile.
“Did you bring someone along tonight?”
“Of course!” Gonzo said. “The love of my life, Camilla.”
“Really?” asked the reporter, sounding disappointed. “I had heard you two were finished.”
Gonzo frowned. “You don’t keep up with the tabloids, do you?”
“I write them, actually,” she said.
“Oh,” Gonzo said sheepishly. “Well Camilla and I have actually never been happier.”
The reporter sighed. “What a shame… well, who are you wearing?”
“Uh, I may be a weirdo,” Gonzo said, “but I still wear clothes, not people.”
Kermit and Miss Piggy met with a reporter and Kermit very carefully made sure the conversation strayed off the new movie path. Even if that meant kissing Piggy on the cheek every few minutes.
Which he was more than happy to do.
“Kermie,” Piggy said to him when they weren’t with a reporter, “you’re certainly frisky tonight!”
Kermit smiled at her and gave her another kiss on the cheek. “The lime-lights, my dear, just magnify your ravishing beauty.”
“Mmm,” Piggy sighed happily. “No champagne for vous tonight.”
“Alright,” Kermit agreed. “As long as I get to dance with my lovely fiancé.”
“That,” Piggy said, “can definitely be arranged.”
Kermit grabbed Miss Piggy’s arm and snuggled up in her shoulder. Miss Piggy laid her head down on top of Kermit’s and the happy couple advanced into the ballroom lying ahead of them.
Cameras flashed, reporters called, fans cheered.
The pig and the frog walked on happy, together.
“Kermie?” Miss Piggy said.
“Yes?”
“You do know that Animal is here, hmm?”
“Of course,” Kermit said. “But we’re at a party, Piggy.”
“So we should just forget about him?”
“No, no, we won’t have to, he’ll blend right in,” Kermit said. “He’s a party Animal.”
“Leave comedy to the bear, Frog,” Piggy growled.
“Leave Scroogeing to Michael Caine, Miss Piggy,” Kermit countered.
“Touché,” Miss Piggy said.
Meanwhile, Beauregard climbed out of the driver’s seat of the limo. He looked out at the carpet and gasped. “It’s filthy!” he said. “Someone should vacuum that carpet!”
Beau reached back inside the car and pulled out a cordless vacuum cleaner and held it in his hands. “Super Janitor to the rescue once again!” Beau said as he started to vacuum up the spread of carpet beneath him.
Kermit smiled proudly, and unknowingly, as he and Piggy entered the ballroom.
Cameras flashed, reporters called, fans cheered, Beauregard vacuumed, and behind the Muppets’ limousine, numerous horns honked, waiting for it to move.
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