Chapter 7
Link Hogthrob quietly tip-toed up the porch steps of the Muppet Boarding House, trying to remain unseen and not heard. Waking Miss Piggy—or anyone in this house—at three in the morning was definitely not a good idea.
He knelt down, still quiet, to lift up the tattered “Welcome” mat in front of the door. He pulled up a key and pushed it through the keyhole on the doorknob. Link smirked smugly as he tried to turn the key.
It didn’t turn.
Link’s smirk turned into an expression of gross misunderstanding. He fiddled with the key harder, trying his best to make it turn.
It didn’t turn.
Link bit his bottom lip and began to whimper. Silently, he remembered the advice of Fozzie Bear, Stop crying Link, Fozzie had said to him. He pulled the key out and stuck it into the breast pocket on his shirt. He scratched his head and exerted all his brain power. Alright, fine. Time for plan… uhh… plan… Q? No, no, plan B! Time for plan B, Link thought to himself. Yes, truly all of his brain power.
Link, being the “macho” pig he was, decided it would be best to climb up the side of the house and enter through his bedroom window.
Unfortunately, his bedroom was on the side of the house with no window. He supposed that’s the thanks he got for volunteering to be roommates with Crazy Harry. (He figured soon enough he’d have the only room in the house with direct access to the first floor or a sun roof.)
Link moaned softly and decided that he might as well just go in the back door—the lock was broken after all. He strolled down along the side of the Boarding House and came to the fence that divided the front and back yards. Cool and casual like, Link tried opening the gate door.
It didn’t open.
Link sighed heavily; this evening just wasn’t going how he had planned. First, his date left him at the bowling alley for a furniture salesman—the worst kind of people, in Link’s opinion. Then, he had to get a ride home with someone named “Kleptom Aniac” who made a half a dozen stops at gas stations—but always came back with a bag of chips for Link—and now he couldn’t get into the house.
The perplexed piggy leaned against the wood of the fence and let his body slide down onto the lawn. He let out a large moan and hit his head back against the gate.
“Ow!” Link groaned, grabbing the back of his head as some sort of obstruction rammed into the core of his cranium. He turned around and shot a glare at a padlock keeping the gate closed.
“Oh yeah,” Link muttered. He reached into his pocket, somehow putting two and two together, and put key and padlock together.
He turned the key, and it actually turned (hence the fact that he turned the key). He pulled down on the padlock and slipped it off the gate. He pushed forward and strolled through. “Who puts the key to the gate under the front door mat?” he mumbled to himself.
Link reached the back door and quietly pushed it open; he poked his head in carefully and looked around the kitchen. He gasped quietly as he saw some sort of strange figure standing in front of the refrigerator with the door standing wide open. “A robber,” Link whispered—this was no ordinary robber either (their ordinary robber was Ricky Raccoon, who succeeded in breaking in, but never broke out—he moved in).
Link began visibly shaking with nerves as he decided how to go about confronting the man burgling the fridge. As chief in the “Bear on Patrol” sketches, he had a duty to protect. No one had ever bothered to tell Link that the officer’s badge he proudly wore in the sketches was plastic, therefore not really—though he wouldn’t have known the difference anyway.
Link decided that a headstrong approach would be best.
So he charged, head first, at whoever was now closing the fridge door.
“Not in my house—those are my ice cream bars!” Link said, now kneeling on top of someone he didn’t recognize—obviously a robber.
“I’ve heard that pigs are protective of their food—but this is ridiculous!” Bob said from underneath Link as he relinquished the ice cream bar he tried to have as a midnight snack.
“That’s right,” Link said. “Now, tell me your name so I may report you to the proper authorities!”
“Proper authorities?” Bob asked, staring down the snout of Link as it edged closer to him, trying to scare the information out. “Link, I was just trying to get a late night snack—I couldn’t sleep.”
“So you decided to come and take our hard earned food?” Link asked. “I don’t think so—and how do you know my name? Wait—tabloids… I’m everywhere.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Bob said. “I’m a friend of Kermit’s—from Sesame Street!” Bob added, hoping it would make his case seem more legitimate.
“And you came all the way here just to take our food? That seems like a waste to me,” Link said.
“I came for—well, that’s a long story actually,” Bob said with a laugh. “But I’m staying here in the Boarding House.”
“Not for long, we don’t have anymore room, you should’ve gotten here before Ricky,” Link said, not letting up on his interrogation.
“I’m staying as a guest,” Bob said, “not forever.”
“Oh,” Link said, sitting up straight on top of Bob. “Whose room are you in?”
“I think Kermit said it was Rowlf and Lew Zealand’s room,” Bob said.
Link nodded slowly. “I like their room… they have a window,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s got a great view of the back yard,” Bob said.
“Oh, have you seen the Jacuzzi?” Link asked.
“Yes,” Bob said. “It’s very nice. Umm, Link?”
“Yes?”
“Could you let me up off the floor?”
“Oh!” Link shouted. “Yes, so sorry,” he said getting off of Bob and extending his hand to help him up. “You’ll probably want to be getting to bed.”
“You probably are too,” Bob said. “It’s late—or early, depending on your stance on the glass half full or half empty debate.”
“I prefer water bottles,” Link said. “They make me look important.”
Bob chuckled. “I see. Well, I’m heading off to bed, good to see you Link,” he said.
Link nodded in agreement. He moaned for a second. “Bob?” he whined.
“Yes?” Bob asked calmly.
“Do you still sing lullabies?” Link asked childishly.
Bob laughed. “C’mon upstairs Link, I think I can help you,” he said with a smile.
~-~-~-~-~
Kermit never knew how uncomfortable the seats in the Muppet Theater were until he had slept a long night in one of them. He groaned heartily as he stretched out his spindly arms and legs in any direction they’d reach. He pushed off the blanket he was using and rubbed his eyes. He yawned groggily and scratched the back of his neck.
“I sure hope Piggy had a better night than I did…” Kermit muttered to himself amid his drowsiness. “But I’m guessing she didn’t.”
Rowlf was sitting in a seat in the aisle in front of Kermit reading a newspaper. He peered down over the top of it and smiled at the frog. “Wanna bet on it?” he asked.
“Rowlf, you don’t bet,” Kermit said.
“Not unless I know for sure I’ll win,” Rowlf said with a smirk.
Kermit frowned, he didn’t need Rowlf to tell him now—that smirk said it all. “Piggy went home last night, didn’t she?” Kermit asked, annoyed.
Rowlf straightened the paper. “I woulda won that bet,” he said. “Want the International section? Fozzie already has the funnies.”
“Sure,” Kermit said, taking a section of the paper from Rowlf. “Where’d you get this paper anyway?”
“I fetched it for you,” Rowlf said.
Kermit grinned. “How very stereotypical of you, Rowlf.”
Rowlf shrugged. “I thought I might get a treat…” he muttered.
“How ‘bout this,” Kermit said with a smirk of his own, “you don’t have to sleep in the dog house tonight.”
Rowlf scoffed. “I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that, Kermit,” he said. “I’m not the one getting married.”
Kermit scrunched up his face. “Cute, cute joke,” he said.
“I haven’t been called cute since I was a pup, Kermit,” Rowlf said. “Debonair and handsome, however—”
Kermit shook his head and smiled at his old friend. “Alright hound dog,” Kermit said. “Have you seen Scooter this morning?”
“Oh sure,” Rowlf said. “He was up at the crack of dawn wrangling coffee and bagels for everyone in here.”
“Why would he do that?” Kermit asked. “I didn’t ask him—”
“Do you really want my opinion on the matter?” Rowlf asked.
“Well of course,” Kermit said. “There’s no one else here, and there’s no one else with a better opinion—in my opinion of course,” feigned the frog.
Rowlf folded his newspaper and leaned in closer to Kermit. “Methinks the go-fer’s jealous,” the dog whispered.
Kermit leaned back a little in confusion. “Jealous?” he asked. “Jealous of what?”
“Well, you did imply that he needed an assistant,” Rowlf said.
“You mean Prairie Dawn?” Kermit asked. “I didn’t mean it like that at all, I just thought it would give her a way to entertain herself.”
“Kermit, she’s here for four months,” Rowlf said. “I think she can handle entertaining herself.”
“Huh,” Kermit said. “I guess you’re right Rowlf.”
“I’m moderate actually,” Rowlf said, scratching his chin.
“You know, you’re not supposed to talk about politics during meals,” Kermit said.
“Neither of us is eating,” Rowlf said.
“Now that you mention it, I am kind of hungry,” Kermit said. “Want a bagel? I’m going to get one.” Kermit smirked.
“Touché, frog,” Rowlf said.
“That sounds like a French entrée, Rowlf,” Kermit said.
“You did say you were hungry,” Rowlf said.
“That’s just gross,” Kermit said.
Rowlf laughed. “Welcome to the Muppet Theater.”
“But I really am going to get a bagel,” Kermit said.
“’Bout time,” Rowlf said. “I’ll keep an eye on Robin.”
Kermit smiled in the direction of his sleeping nephew hidden beneath a blanket and curled up under a blanket next to the seat Kermit was in. “Thanks Rowlf,” Kermit said.
“Anytime,” Rowlf said with a smile, returning to his newspaper.
Kermit strolled down the middle of the aisles passing countless Muppets asleep in various chairs throughout the theater; most of them from Sesame Street.
All of a sudden, Kermit was ambushed in the middle of the aisle by a speeding fuzzy and blue monster that jumped in front of his path. “Hello froggy baby!” Grover said happily, holding out a cup of coffee and a bagel towards Kermit. “I have taken it upon my cute, furry self to get you breakfast this morning!”
Kermit tilted his head to the side. “Why, thank you Grover,” Kermit said. “But may I ask why?”
“Well it was just so nice of you to let me come and stay with you in preparation for your wedding!” Grover said. “And it was also very nice of you not to get mad at me for bringing everyone from Sesame Street…”
“Mad at you?” Kermit asked. “Not at all Grover, it was just a misunderstanding.”
“Oh I am so glad you feel that way, froggy,” Grover said. “After all, it really was your fault…”
Kermit took the bagel and coffee from Grover’s hands. “My fault?” Kermit asked. “How was it my fault?”
“Well the phrasing of your e-mail was not very clear, froggy baby,” Grover said.
Kermit frowned. “Thanks Grover,” Kermit said.
“That is my job as groomsman,” Grover said. “Though I have been meaning to ask you froggy, can I change my title to groomsmonster? It is much more fitting,” Grover said with a large, cheesy smile.
“Grover, if I changed your title I’d have to change everyone else’s too,” Kermit said.
“Not necessarily, my dear frog,” Grover said. “You see, you would only have to change furry old Grover to groomsmonster—no one else in the wedding party is a monster!”
“You haven’t seen Miss Piggy in the morning then, have ya?” Floyd asked, laughing as he strolled past the chatting monster and frog.
Grover scratched his head. “No, I have not seen Miss Piggy in the morning,” he said. “Where is she anyway, froggy baby?” Grover asked. “I do not see her here.” Grover stood up on his tip-toes and peered around the theater seats.
Kermit sat his coffee down on the armrest of the seat he was standing next to and took a bite of his bagel. “I think she got tired of her own great idea,” Kermit said after swallowing his bite. “She went home to her own bed last night.”
Grover nodded. “I see,” he said. “You know froggy baby, I do not really know very much about Miss Piggy.” Kermit nearly choked while swallowing another bite of his bagel.
Kermit cleared his throat and looked at Grover. “I think you know enough, Grover,” Kermit said.
“Well how do you know?” Grover asked. “I have never really been around her—you never bring her to visit!”
“I’ve tried,” Kermit said.
“Oh,” Grover said, nodding in realization (or so he thought). “Does she not like New York City?”
Kermit’s face twisted around. “That’s not exactly it…” Kermit said quietly.
“Aww, I think I know what it is,” Grover said. “She is just shy, right, froggy baby?”
Kermit looked behind him in hope of an escape route, but just saw Floyd with his boots propped up on the back of the seat in front of him, laughing at the frog’s general misfortune. “No, she’s not shy, Grover,” Kermit said.
“Are her feet stuck to the floor, then froggy?” Grover asked. “Come on, what is the story?”
“She just—well, the thing is, Grover—” Kermit squirmed around. “She’s not the biggest fan of… well… kids.”
Grover gasped heavily. “Is that true, froggy?” he asked.
“I’m—er, well—yes,” Kermit said.
Grover sighed in relief. “Good, I thought it was something serious,” he said.
Kermit did a double take. “Come again?”
“Well if she just does not like kids, we can just act like grown-ups!” Grover said. “After all, she likes you, froggy, and you are a kid!”
Kermit smiled. “At heart Grover,” the frog said. “Definitely at heart.”
“Then she will simply love all of us from Sesame Street,” Grover said. “We are kids on the outside, too!”
“Very true,” Kermit said. “Now if you’ll excuse me Grover, I need to find Gonzo—I have something very important to talk to him about. Have you seen him?”
“I have indeed!” Grover said. “Come on, follow me, froggy baby, I will show you the way!”
Kermit smirked and picked up his coffee. “Thanks Grover.”
“No problem,” Grover said. “It is what groomsmonsters do best!”
“I wasn’t aware,” Kermit said.
“Yes,” Grover said with a nod. “They are also very good to tell very important secrets to as well.”
Kermit scrunched up his face. “Grover!” he chided.
“Kidding, of course, froggy baby!” Grover said innocently.
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