Chapter 5
Fozzie’s Story - Westmont College, 1972
Fozzie closed his eyes and slowly inhaled letting his lungs fill, taking in the mixed scents of paint, popcorn, carpeting, metal chairs, dusty curtains, and everything else that made up the theater he had spent most of his time in. He inhaled again, letting the feeling of standing center stage, unable to see the audience for all the lights, and the success of a job well done fill him.
He opened his eyes, scanning the room full of the cliques that the performance club held and smiled slowly. I can’t believe that this is it, he thought. Another season is really over.
Fozzie waited patiently as he watched each of the members of the troupe leave and listened as the director locked up for the summer. Quickly he stood up and walked to the edge of the stage.
“Boy, Foz, I thought they would never leave.” Balthazar moaned. “I am so stiff. If they use me to be dragged around by a four year old one more season, I swear I’ll have to run away. You would think that they would come up with another one act or two to use instead of this one all the time”
Fozzie stopped listening as he saw the spotlight hit him and heard the audience applauding his entrance. “A wocka, wocka, wocka, wocka. Thank you, thank you and thank you! What a lovely audience we have here tonight. Say, folks, did you hear the one about the man who walked into a bar?"
“Foz, what are you doing?"
Slowly Fozzie looked over at the brown bear with jointed arms wearing a plaid vest with a pocket watch and remembered where he was. Carefully he perched himself on the side of the stage and looked out. “Balthazar, how did you end up here?"
“What do you mean?"
“How did you manage to become a theater toy?"
“You were here when I was left behind; I think the more important question is how you became a theater toy?"
“I want more. At least I wanted more.”
Balthazar sat quietly and studied his friend as he pondered the statement. “You thought you would find it here?"
“What?" Fozzie pulled his hat off of his head and studied his friend.
“You said that you are a theater toy because you want more? You really thought you would find that here?"
“I thought I would learn how to get it.”
“What have you learned?"
“Only how to help with a show and stupid little sayings like, two silkworms were in a race.”
“Why would someone even bring up racing silkworms?"
“They ended up in a tie.”
Fozzie stood back up to go to the dressing rooms and started walking away when he heard a small noise coming from his friend. Carefully he turned around afraid that he would find that Balthazar had ripped himself on one of the nails holding the curtains around the edge of the stage.
Balthazar was slumped over, his head on his paw as he snorted and tried hard not to laugh.
“Balthazar, oh dear, oh dear, oh, dear. Are you hurt? What can I do?"
As he looked up at Fozzie, his peal of laughter rang through the theater. “They ended up in a tie. Fozzie, that’s hilarious! What else have you got?"
“Umm, well.” Fozzie paused as he scratched his head, searching for something that would make his friend happier. “What do you call a cow with no legs?"
“I don’t know”
“Ground beef.” Finding his energy, Fozzie dashed across the stage, “Do you know what happened to the man who loved tap dancing?"
Balthazar sat patiently as he waited for the punch line.
“He broke his ankle when he fell into the sink.” Fozzie continued spouting off simple jokes as he ran past the couches and tables, the curtains and sets into the prop room to grab his suitcase and quickly filled it.
“Foz, Foz, where are you going?"
“I don’t know, but I’ve got to get out of here. Balthazar, I’m not a toy anymore. I don’t know what I am, but I’m going to find out.” Fozzie turned to look at his friend. “I just know I can make that Studebaker out back work. After all they don’t use it for anything.”
Fozzie ran for the door, not pausing to look back until he heard his name called.
“Fozzie," Balthazar choked back his tears, unable to bear the thought of being without his best friend, “if there’s ever anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“Oh," Fozzie chocked back his own tears, embracing his companion, “you know I will. And give this a chance for a little longer. I just know they’ll find more for you to do around here.”
Fozzie found it too easy to slide into the Studebaker and start driving. Carefully he chose his rough, going from city to city; being booed out of every place he could think of to perform. Being unsure of what else was out there, it never crossed his mind to quit, even when he felt he had found the worst place in the world to perform- the El Sleazo Café. At least it was a job.
* * * *
“And that’s where Uncle Kermit found you!"
“That’s right," Fozzie said smiling down at the little frog. “That’s where Kermit and Jim found me.”
“Wow, Fozzie, isn’t great that you were once a toy?" Robin though out loud for a moment but quickly moved on from the thought. “I wonder what happened to Balthazar.”
“Oh, he’s helped us out a few times.”
“He has?"
“Yes, Robin he has.”
The small green face scrunched up as he thought hard about who Balthazar might be. Surely he wasn’t a toy still if he had helped them out.
Scooter came into the kitchen, running his hands over his face as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.
“Yes, yes. I’ll get that for you as soon as possible.” He paused and turned to look at the table. “Is it really? I just can’t…” It was at that moment Scooter saw Robin staring at him, seeing if he could figure out who was on the other end of the line. “Hold on a second, will you?" He spoke quickly into the phone then place his hand over the receiver. “Robin, I think it’s time for you to wash up for dinner.”
Without waiting to see if Robin complied, Scooter pulled his hand down and slammed out of the back door looking for a place where little ears wouldn’t hear what he was saying.
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