Chapter Seven
“I don’t get it,” Rizzo said.
“It’s simple,” Gonzo said. “All I have to do is ride one of the blades of this ceiling fan while I whistle Dixie and juggle five rutabagas, four zucchini, three avocados, and two bananas.”
“And a partridge in a pear tree?” Rizzo guessed.
They were in a back room of the Muppet Theater, one of Gonzo’s favorite places to develop new stunts. He called it his stunt closet. Everyone else called it, one of those storage rooms with the random junk.
“Help me think, Rizzo,” the weirdo said as he excitedly examined the floor-bound ceiling fan. “I’ve gotta make this absolutely
harmless for
everyone- except for me, of course.”
“Ya know, buddy,” the rat said, “I don’t see why you’re freaking out so much about Rowlf.”
“Because he’s my
friend,” Gonzo said defensively. “And I
hurt him.”
“Yeah, so?” Rizzo said. “He’s fine. And besides, I’m your friend too, right? It’s not like you’ve never hurt
me with your stunts.” He rubbed his tail. “I’m
still sore from dat flaming wire act.”
“That’s different,” Gonzo said. “You’re my performance rat-in-arms. You’re
supposed to get hurt. That’s called sharing the glory.”
“Yeah but what if I don’t
want the glory?” Rizzo said. “I mean if you want someone in arms, why not choose Pepe? He’s got six of ‘em.”
“He lacks the coordination,” Gonzo said. “Now come on, Rizzo, would you concentrate? This is
serious!”
“It’s serious?” Rizzo said. “Good, ‘cause the jokes are dyin’ like flies and the frog’s not here to eat ‘em.”
“
Rizzo!” Gonzo sighed and turned back to the fan. He hesitated, then looked at his friend. “How could you still be sore from the flaming wire act? That was over a year ago.”
Rizzo grinned. “Well I’m not, but dat’s not what I tell da masseuse,” he said slyly.
“I
told you she’s good looking!” Gonzo grinned. “Now aren’t ya glad I recommended her?”
“Uh huh, but I’ll be even
more glad if ya let me eat the leftovers of this stunt.”
Gonzo sighed. “Silly me,” he said. “For once, I thought you were thinking of something
other than food.”
“Hey, a guy’s gotta keep his priorities straight!”
Gonzo shook his head. “Cute,” he said. “Cute priorities.”
Rizzo waited for a moment. “So… about those leftovers?”
Gonzo held the rat’s gaze for a moment, just to make him squirm. He shrugged. “Yeah, sure, I guess,” he said.
“YES! THANK YOU!” Rizzo ran out the door in celebration.
“But not until AFTER the stunt!” Gonzo called after him. He shook his head and sighed. “Well that was
helpful,” he grumbled.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kermit studied the paper work, trying to figure out the next show’s lineup. In the back of his mind, he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t listening for anything, but he knew he was. He was listening for the sound of Rowlf’s piano, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to hear it. On the one hand, the theater would seem empty without it; Rowlf was
always practicing. It was part of who he was, and Kermit hated to think that his friend was cut off from something so essential to him. On the other hand, if Rowlf played in spite of his broken wrists, then he could hurt himself even worse, and Kermit certainly didn’t want that, either.
He did not hear Rowlf’s piano. He
did hear Fozzie’s approaching feet. He turned. “Oh hey Fozzie,” he said, waving his friend over.
“Hiya Kermit,” Fozzie said.
“Hey listen, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Kermit said, “How did your monologue go last night?”
“Um, well…” Fozzie squirmed and took his hat off. “It didn’t, Kermit,” he said solemnly.
Kermit did a double take. “What?”
The bear squirmed. “I… I cancelled it,” he said.
Kermit stared. “Oh,” he said, “Well-
why?”
“Well the show was running long,” Fozzie explained. Kermit nodded. “And I… I wasn’t ready.”
Kermit tilted his head and lightly scrunched his face. “Fozzie,” he said, “You’re selling yourself short.”
Fozzie gestured with his hat. “Well Kermit, I’m not exactly the tallest bear…”
Kermit chuckled, then shook his head. “No Fozzie, I mean you’re not giving yourself enough credit. You did that monologue for me yesterday afternoon; you had it nailed!”
Fozzie wrung his hat in his hands. “But- I was just so nervous last night, Kermit… Besides, there wasn’t enough time.”
Kermit nodded understandingly. “That’s okay, Fozzie,” he said. “We’ll put you in for next week, how’s that?”
“Um- Well- okay,” Fozzie said.
“Because that’s a great monologue. I’d hate to cut it completely,” Kermit said as he wrote something in on the schedule.
“But- but what about the song you and I are doing?” Fozzie said.
“What about it?” Kermit said.
“Well if I’m doing the monologue…”
“You’ll do both,” Kermit said simply.
Fozzie stared at him. “Both?” He fumbled his hat back on.
“Sure, it’ll be great!” Kermit said.
“HEY BOSS! YOU’D BETTER GET OVER HERE!” Scooter called frantically.
“Oh boy. Excuse me, Fozzie,” Kermit said.
Fozzie watched him walk away, and then sighed miserably. “This is gonna be a
long week.”
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