Part Forty
Scooter sighed, and shuffled through the pile of papers clipped in his notebook yet again. “I’m sorry, boss, but I just don’t see how we can manage the pyrotechnics and all the location set-ups! Even if Crazy Harry gets released by Homeland Security anytime this century, we still don’t have the budget to film the cabin blowing up at the end...”
Kermit shook his head. “What...what if we used CGI? I mean, I hate doing that, but everyone says it’s cheaper than real effects...”
Scooter grimaced. “No can do, boss. Still too pricey...and anyway, I hate that stuff, don’t you? It never looks as real as the real thing!”
Kermit gave him a wry half-smile. “Huh...I would’ve thought our resident technogeek would embrace digital technology!”
Scooter shrugged. “Eh, I guess I still am old-school about some things.” Kermit chuckled, then resumed pondering their finance problem. Having decided which of the outdoor locations best represented what they wanted the derelict cabin in the spooky woods to look like, they’d assigned the various locales to the necessary exterior shots in the script during a long afternoon of detailed discussion. Now the executive production team of frog and gofer were trying to hammer out what they’d have to cut in order to come in under the amount allotted by the studio. It proved a very difficult process, and Kermit was almost relieved to glance at the clock and see it would be time to head for the theatre in another couple of hours to prepare for tonight’s show. Speaking of... “Y’know, maybe we should table this, and talk about tonight’s lineup,” Kermit suggested, telling himself the acts really did need to be discussed, and that he shouldn’t feel guilty about postponing the difficult budget talk.
“You just wanna put off the budget talk,” Scooter said, grinning, and Kermit scrunched his face briefly. “Hey, ya never know: maybe when they see the enthusiastic response to the charity walk publicity Monday night, they’ll raise our limit!”
“Maybe,” Kermit said. “Are we all set up to go on that?”
“Got the shirts in this morning.” Scooter rummaged in his knapsack, bringing out a black t-shirt with the words HAM IN A CABIN: HALLOWEEN 2012 silkscreened on the front in bright orange. The illustration on the back of the shirt, a line sketch of Fozzie, Kermit, and Gonzo’s heads all with evil grins surrounding a wary-looking Piggy, and the catchphrase Be very afraid, made Kermit smile despite his headache.
“Cute. Cute shirt. Now put it away before Piggy sees it and complains that the drawing makes her look too...”
“Gotcha,” Scooter grinned. “Okay, Chief...so. What are we going with tonight?” Kermit shook his head wearily as his able assistant smoothly switched gears from movie-work to stage-work mode, closing the thick production notebook and bringing out his battered clipboard instead. Suddenly Kermit realized he didn’t really want to deal with this, either.
He looked up hopefully as Piggy swirled through the room, several hangers full of opulent gowns draped over either arm and her personal wardrobe assistant trailing after, nearly buried beneath more dresses. “Honey? Any chance there are any of those oatmeal cookies left?” he asked his wife.
“Kermie, dear, what do you – what? Cookies? Oh, ummm...no, I think they may all have been...uh...eaten already.” Ignoring her frog’s grimace, she launched into the purpose of her visit to the dining room, where papers littered the table and Important Production Decisions were being hashed out. “Kermie, I have narrowed down my choice of outfits tonight to only four, and I wanted your opinion!”
Kermit sighed. “Piggy, honey, you look good in everything...wear whatever you want.”
“Ah ha ha! Mon Capitan is too kind,” Piggy simpered, holding up two gowns in each hand. “But seriously, which do you think suits me best: the light orange cream chiffon, the little black number with the beaded bodice, the gold silk, or the fluttery leaf thing?”
“Oh, I think they’re all swell!” Scooter piped up. Miss Piggy shot him an annoyed glance.
“Kermie? What do vous think?”
Feeling too stressed to care, Kermit took a breath, considered how his wife tended to react to a declaration of indifference, and randomly pointed. “Uh...that one. The gold. That’d be great.”
“Really?” Piggy looked askance at it. “I thought the slit up the thigh was a little too Angelina.”
Exasperated, Kermit waved his hands. “Piggy, just – I don’t care! Whatever you choose will be fine! I have to focus right now, okay?” The pig’s snout suddenly shoved into his nose, and Kermit flinched. “Eep...”
“Kermie...it is not as though I am asking for a bigger allowance for my costumes in the new film. I just want to know which dress looks best on me, frog!”
“Well, that’s good,” Scooter muttered, “’cause we don’t have the money for more costumes.”
Piggy’s head jerked up, ears aquiver. “What?”
Kermit grabbed the fluttery dress of overlapping gauze leaves in various autumn colors. “This one! This one, okay? It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful, now can I please just get back to figuring out the acts for tonight already?” he yelled.
Piggy gave him a kiss. “Merci, Mon Capitan. Enjoy your meeting...” About to flounce off to choose the right eyeliner to go with the dress, she paused. “Just don’t forget: I’m doing ‘Autumn in New York’ with Rowlf and Zoot all this weekend as my spotlight piece!”
How could I forget, she’s been singing it all week, Kermit thought. Sighing, he nodded, and Piggy left, gesturing imperiously. “Come along, Jeanette! Those dresses aren’t going to re-hang themselves, ya know!”
Scooter gave his boss a sympathetic pat on the back. “Don’t worry, boss: we’ll figure out the budget somehow. Maybe...maybe we can cut the scene with the ghost chipmunk?”
“No, we’ve already contracted with the chipmunk’s rep,” Kermit said. “Scooter, I don’t want to talk about that any more today! Let’s just...just focus on the show, okay?”
“Okay, Chief. Uh...would coffee help?”
“A budget of more than five hundred dollars is what would help,” Kermit groaned.
“Cup a’joe, comin’ right up,” Scooter agreed, hustling to the kitchen of the Chelsea townhouse.
Resigned, Kermit called after him, “And some grub-bars, if Robin left me any!” Although he enjoyed having his nephew here for the school year, he’d quickly discovered that teenage frogs could consume more in a day than he’d thought amphibiously possible, and was forever restocking his own special snacks after Robin’s ‘fridge and pantry raids.
The doorbell rang. Kermit started to ask Scooter to get it, then realized even his skilled gofer couldn’t be in two places at once, and the kitchen was in the back of the house. He rose and went to the foyer, the interruption only adding to his annoyance...until he swung the door open and a chorus yelled, “Trick or treat!”
Startled, Kermit stared at the myriad of smiling, costumed youngsters on his stoop. “Uh...hi! I...I thought Halloween wasn’t until Monday?” Good grief, was he that discombobulated?
“Hi, Kermit!” A familiar voice came from an orange Muppet in a pirate captain’s outfit. The boy lifted his eyepatch, and merry dark eyes gleamed. “It’s me, Ernie!”
“Ernie!” Now Kermit recognized almost all of the creatures standing outside his door. “Bert! Big Bird! Count?” The Transylvanian-born nobleman bowed, smiling, his usual cape and monocle exchanged for a ten-pint hat and a knotted bandana. “What are you guys...” Then he remembered his conversation with Grover. “Oh...no...”
“Helloooo Froggiebaby!” the blue monster cried, waving eagerly. He was dressed in a black shirt with a big felt moon glued to the front, a black cap with stars on long boingy springs, and a large black cape resembling giant wings. “I am the Dark Night! Trick or treat!”
“Oh boy,” Kermit muttered. “Uh...guys...look, I...I’m really sorry but, uh, the invitation was for you all to come by the theatre! I wasn’t really expecting any trick-or-treaters yet, and I don’t have any candy...”
“Ohhh,” the collective sigh went up. Then a small red-furred monster under a white sheet, with his eyeballs sticking up on top, offered brightly, “That’s okay, Mister the Frog! We can still have a good party without the candy, right everyone?”
“Yeah!”
“Sure!”
“Uh...if no candy...got any cookies?”
Kermit tried again. “Uh...look...guys...it’s great to see you here, but I wasn’t really ready for –“
“What a charming house you have,” the Count offered, peering inside. “May we come in?” He looked behind Kermit, eyes lighting up and a toothy smile broadening his broad mouth. “Ahh! And such a beautiful lady of the house!”
“Merci beaucoup,” Piggy replied, then grabbed Kermit’s collar, dragging him off to the side. “Kermie? Vous did not tell moi that vous had invited guests!”
“Eep,” Kermit gulped. “Well, uh, that’s because I didn’t! I invited them to the theatre, not here! Grover got it all wr—“
“I’m not even dressed for company!” Piggy complained. Kermit looked her quickly up and down, baffled; the scarlet blouse with long ruffled princess sleeves, curve-hugging cream-hued pants, and three-inch heeled boots certainly didn’t seem much like a robe and slippers to him.
“Oh, boy! Mister the Frog has a very pretty house!” Elmo exclaimed, trotting through the open door. The rest of the children followed, though the big yellow bird had to duck through the doorway. “Elmo is very happy to come to a party in such a nice house!”
“Wow, Bert, get a load of that chandelier! I bet that would be great to swing from, huh? Huh Bert?”
“Ernie, don’t even think about it... H-hello, Miss Piggy. You look lovely!”
“Golly, I can stand all the way up in here! What a great room! Gee, those stairs are big; do big people live here too, Kermit?”
Kermit winced, helpless to stop the stream of Muppets now flooding his foyer. He gave Piggy an apologetic look. “I—I’m sorry, honey; look, this is all a big misunderstanding! I’ll round them all up and – and take them to the theatre, or something...”
Piggy looked at him a moment, her expression fathomless, then at the youngsters exclaiming at all the antiques and objets d’art she’d painstakingly hired a decorator to place in the more public rooms of their home. Suddenly she straightened her shoulders, put on her sweetest smile, and addressed the room loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. “Welcome, everyone! Welcome to my home...and the frog’s. I am so sorry, you have caught me a little off guard, ah ha ha...but if you will all come sit in the family room for a few minutes, I will get everything ready for you!”
“Vunderful!”
“Oh, gee, thanks, Miss Piggy! Say – is the ceiling this high in there too?”
“Hey Bert! Look! They have a closet without any junk in it!”
“ER-nie! It’s not nice to look in other people’s closets! Put that back!”
“Roosevelt Franklin is immmpressed, lady! You have one righteous pad here!”
Scooter entered from the dining room, looking confused, as Piggy herded the children toward the back end of the long townhouse where the kitchen and family room lay. “Uh, boss?”
Kermit shook his head. “I guess we’ll have to wait on that act schedule, Scooter. Look – just throw something together, and we can iron it out last-minute at the theatre later, okay?”
“You mean like we usually do?” the gofer quipped.
Piggy returned swiftly; her all-business glare and purposeful tread had Kermit unconsciously backing against the foyer wall before he knew it. His wife leaned over to glare at him eye-to-eye. “All right, frog – here’s what you’re going to do. Call Martha and tell her we have a kid-party emergency and to send her best guy over pronto! I’ll handle the caterers. And if you ever pull a stunt like this again –“
“Piggy – I didn’t tell them to come here! This is all Grover’s fault!”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on company today, much less throwing a party for two dozen kids on a moment’s notice, but...” Her gaze softened briefly. “They don’t understand that; they’re just kids...and it is almost Halloween.” Kermit blinked at her, thunderstruck. She turned growly again immediately: “And if there’s one thing I am expert at besides being moi, it is how to throw the best darned party anyone has ever seen! Now move it, frog!”
“Y-yes ma’am!” Kermit gulped, hurrying to his study.
“I didn’t know you and Martha were on a first-name basis,” Scooter murmured. “I would’ve thought, after that branded-poncho dispute a few years ago –“
“Scooter! Get in here!” Kermit snapped, grabbing his assistant’s jacket collar and dragging him off to help find the right phone numbers.
Piggy sighed, smoothing back her hair. Robin shut the front door behind him, eyes wide as he heard the happy commotion coming from the back of the house. “Huh...do we have company, Aunt Piggy?”
“Only about a houseful,” Piggy grumbled. “Listen, kiddo, I need you to step up here. Your uncle screwed up again, and now I have to entertain a bunch of little ones expecting a Halloween party!”
“We’re throwing a Halloween party? Cool!”
“Can you just go back there and start them playing Twenty Questions or something?” Piggy sighed. “Make the answers about pumpkins and ghosts or whatever. I need a minute to get changed.”
“Oh, you bet, Aunt Piggy!” Eagerly, Robin slung his school book satchel onto the ornate bench by the door, and hopped off to the family room. “Hey! Hi, guys! Elmo, Abby, long time no see!” A chorus of happy voices greeted him. Shaking her head, Piggy hurried upstairs to pick an outfit which would say ‘hostess’ without implying ‘June Cleaver,’ and to call one of the sweets-on-short-notice caterers she knew in town. She was confident Martha would come through for her on the decorations front; after all, their little spat over poncho design was really just for the tabloids, for fun...but she wasn’t going to tell anyone that.
She smiled, hearing a joyful burble of noise downstairs. She really didn’t mind a houseful of children, either...but she wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to make Kermit scramble to please her.
Let ‘em all wonder.
-------------------
Gina stood on the loading dock of the Muppet Theatre with her nervous Newsman. “So I thought...uh...maybe...maybe if everyone went in a group...” he ventured, giving her a shyly hopeful look above his thick-framed glasses.
Gina frowned. “Newsie...I don’t think that’s a good idea. You said yourself the whole place is crawling with monsters! It’s just too risky – for you and your friends. What if one of them was hurt? What would’ve happened if you hadn’t been able to get Rhonda to the hospital in time?” She crouched to gently caress his cheek, her gray eyes grave. “It’s too dangerous! Keep trying to get the Mayor involved – or if he won’t listen, go to our Congressional reps. Or the Chief of Police. Maybe your detective contact can get you an interview?”
Newsie scowled deeply. “Nobody’s listening to me! I can’t get any of them to take it seriously! And – and the forecast for tomorrow is rain! What if that’s the storm Aunt Ethel warned me about?”
Gina gave him a dubious look, though she continued stroking his long cheek. “Sweetie...did you see any evidence that she’d actually captured a monster for this supposed information?”
“No, but...”
“Look...maybe she was right. But rain in the forecast is hardly a terrible storm, and anyway, how could monsters affect the weather? Are there lightning trolls or something? Hail ogres?”
“I don’t think so,” Newsie admitted grudgingly. “But...”
“My Concerned Public Outcrier,” Gina murmured, drawing him close, “I adore you, and you have every reason to try and warn people...but you are not the Army, the Marines, or the Muppet Force, and taking out a nest of bad guys is not your job, okay?” She sighed, seeing his deeply unhappy expression. Fozzie, Link, and Strangepork climbed the stairs to the back door, waving as they passed; Gina gave them a smile in reply. Newsie was too depressed to even nod at them. “Please just let it go for now. The city is supposed to break down that wall to the underground stairway at the snack company in just a few days, right?”
“So they say,” Newsie grunted. “We are talking about local bureaucracy, remember.”
“True enough. Look...what you need is a legitimate news outlet backing you up again. I’m going to talk to that law firm about moving their discrimination case forward; they really seem to be dragging their feet. Has that Bland guy even called you back? His partner claimed not to know a thing!”
“His secretary says he hasn’t been in,” Newsie replied. Worried, he asked, “What if...what if something happened to him? His name was on the motion we sent to KRAK...Nofrisko owns the station...what if they got to him? What if he’s –“
“Newsie! This is not ‘Three Days of the Monster,’ okay? Look...soon as we can get you reinstated, you can present your report from a respectable news source, and people will take it seriously then!”
“Maybe,” Newsie mumbled, thinking of Blanke’s parting jab at him when he’d been tossed out of KRAK.
Gina coaxed him into a kiss. “Sweetie...we’ll try to get someone to pay attention who can actually go in there with enough clout to chase them all out, okay? But I do not want you chancing it again! Please,” she said, with another soft kiss, and Newsie’s shoulders slumped in resignation.
“I feel so...powerless,” he muttered. With a sigh, he embraced her. “Why won’t anyone believe me?”
Thinking of her conversation with Scott not so long ago, Gina suggested, “Well...um...until I started coming here to watch your show, I didn’t think monsters were real. I guess most people still think that way.”
“What?” Surprised, his eyes widened. “How could anyone deny the existence of things that creep and crawl and eat people? Didn’t we all have things under the bed as children?”
“Um,” Gina said, unsure how to answer.
Newsie gestured at Sweetums, who had lumbered out to the loading dock to muscle the dumpster out of the way for a delivery truck pulling in. “How could you take one look at – at things like him – and not give any credence to my report?”
Gina turned to watch the troll helping to unload jugs of water for the cooler; where a couple of Whatnots strained to lift even one of the ten-gallon jugs, Sweetums hoisted an entire pallet of them over his shoulder and strolled back into the theatre, singing wordlessly: “Dum de dum da dum-be-dum...”
Brushing her bangs out of her face, Gina tried to explain, “Well...Newsie...I’m not sure how to say this, but...um...most people have never seen a monster up close like this.”
He stared at her. “Really?”
She had to keep a smile from her lips. “Really. Most of us...uh, nonfelted people...don’t get the opportunity to be around furry things that actually talk. You grew up more...um...privileged than you realize.”
“Privileged!”
“So to speak.”
“Gina,” he huffed, “being around monsters is hardly an enviable state of affairs!”
He appeared so indignant that she couldn’t contain a giggle. Newsie looked hurt; immediately Gina sobered. “Sorry! Sweetie...please...just trust me on this. Let’s focus on getting you a legitimate platform to speak from again, and the rest should follow, okay?” He frowned; she took his jaw in both hands so he had to look into her eyes. “No underground expeditions. Please.”
Reluctantly, Newsie shrugged, saying nothing. Gina stood, patting his shoulder. “Come on. It’s almost time for you to check in. Let’s get you backstage so Scooter knows you’re here.”
He went with her inside, barely acknowledging the greetings directed his way. The above-average noise level should have warned him...but he tromped down the stairs lost in thought, and was unprepared for the sudden burst of orange-and-black confetti which exploded just above him. With a choked cry, he instinctively hit the deck – and almost tumbled down the stairs, Gina’s quick grab on his arm the only thing preventing a painful fall.
“Ernie! You’re not supposed to aim those at people! You could poke an eye out!”
A young orange Muppet in a pirate outfit ran up to Newsie, patting his shoulders, his arms, his face. “Gosh, I’m sorry, mister! Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Newsie muttered, taken aback. He shrugged free of the concerned pat-down, and looked in astonishment at the chaos reigning in the green room. Costumed youngsters romped among the regular Muppet cast, who seemed delighted at the company. “What...what’s going on?” He’d thought bring-your-fuzzie-to-work-day was sometime in the spring, and at any rate, this was a larger number of kids than he could recall seeing here at one time before...
“Hey, looks like the party pooper just met the party popper!” chortled Floyd. He grinned at Newsie’s scowl. “Come on, man, lighten up. Grab a party cracker. These things are too cool!”
“Pop-per! Pop-per!” Animal yelled, two English-style party crackers held above his head in both hands and another loosely rolling around in his mouth. “Aaaaaarrr!” He yanked the ends of the crackers and bit down at the same time; more confetti and some small hard candies scattered with a loud pop. A skinny red monster dressed as a ghost laughed, and gathered up the candy into his plastic pumpkin. Newsie stared around the room: everywhere he looked, children were playing with the adults, who seemed all too happy to abandon their last-minute rehearsals to join in. How is the show going to go off tonight with all this? Newsie wondered.
By the canteen, Gladys was fighting a losing battle trying to keep a cookie jar away from a round blue monster costumed as a baker; the Swedish Chef, thinking the creature actually was a fellow cook, was trying to discuss turducken deep-frying methods. “Soo yoo stuffen der duckie into der gobble-obble wit poorsley, ur coomin?”
“Ahhhhmm nom nom nom nom! – Sorry, me didn’t catch that last part...”
Link had ensconced himself at a table nearby, expounding on his act for the weekend in an effort to impress the fairy children gathered there. “Well, the number does have other pigs in it; as the star, you see, children, it is only fitting and generous of me to share the stage with some of them sometimes! Remember that, when you grow up, if you should happen to ever become half as famous as me: always be nice to those beneath you...”
“Beneath you? Can you actually fly with no wings?” wondered a stout little fairy boy dressed as an alligator, with floppy felt teeth surrounding his own large mouth.
Discomfited, Link said, “Well...uh...of course I can! I got my spaceship pilot’s license years ago, and it only took me thirty-eight tries!”
“Don’t listen to him,” Dr Strangepork advised the youngsters. “You kids understand the difference between real and make-believe, don’t you?”
“Oh, sure! Make-believe is when you pretend something that can’t really happen!”
“Goot, goot,” Strangepork sighed. “Now vill you please explain to this bratvurst-brain dat conzept?”
Gina hugged Newsie. “Looks like it’ll be a busy night. You have fun, sweetie; I’ll go grab a soda and find a seat. See you after the show.” She bent to leave a kiss on his nose. “I wish you a night free from falling cows. Love you.”
“Love you,” Newsie muttered back, and tried to make his way to his dressing-closet without being accosted by any more partiers. How was he going to have a serious discussion about distracting the monster guards in this environment? He’d brought the potential plan-of-infiltration he and Rhonda had drawn up today along, but – He winced. Gina didn’t want him going back down there. Anxious, he stopped in the middle of the chaos, his thoughts warring.
She’s worried for you, and rightly so! How can you even think of going behind her back?
But this is important! Deathly important! Every day that passes, those creeps are building their forces, plotting their plots, working to undermine the whole city...they have to be stopped!
Maybe the lawyers will have this settled in a day or two... Maybe the SWAT team can get into the tunnels on Tuesday, and bust all those monsters back to the beds they came out from under! Wait...maybe that’s not such a good idea either...
You can’t wait until Tuesday, he argued with himself. There’s something big coming, something horrible, and no one will listen, and the only way to uncover the whole plot is to get down there and see for yourself! How can you possibly pass up a story of this import?
But Gina...
You didn’t promise her you wouldn’t go, he thought. He began pacing, unconsciously rubbing the woven string-and-hair bracelet always on his left wrist, his protection charm from his beloved. No – that would still be unfair, to venture down there after she’s told you how worried she is! –But someone has to, and no one else is stepping up!
Dismayed, he looked around again. Happy, screeching children ran around the room, the Chef talked loudly with the monster eating everything off the grill, and Scooter tried to yell above the din for the band to take their places in the orchestra pit since the house would be opening in just a minute. Newsie frowned at the monsters, even though they all looked too young to be truly threatening, and all were dressed innocently as pirates or cowboys or ninja amphibians or something. (He wasn’t sure what the dark-caped blue guy with the moon on his chest was supposed to – wait, wasn’t that the lockmonster?) Oh, good grief...
The band filed past, laughing; Dr Teeth seemed content to allow the streamers trailing off his hat to remain there, giving him an even more wildly festive look than usual. On impulse, Newsie put a hand out to stop the bassist. “Floyd! I – uh – I need to talk to you about...about Animal.”
“About Animal?” Floyd Pepper blinked in surprise. “What did you need him for, to catch a falling stock price?” He rasped his typical laugh.
“No...to cause a distraction for some monsters,” Newsie replied. Floyd stared at him, unsure, and Newsie hurriedly continued, “There are monsters planning something awful in a secret base under the city! I have to find out what they’re doing, but it’s too heavily guarded for me to get in there without help...but if Animal could keep them busy, just for a few minutes –“
“Far out,” Janice murmured. “Like, totally double-oh-Muppet! Since when did you start a spy gig, Newsie?”
“Someone has to find out what they’re up to,” Newsie said, blushing; he shouldn’t even be talking about this...Gina would be very unhappy with him...
Floyd laughed again. “So you’re gonna sneak into the sewers and psych ‘em out with your dazzling personality?”
Annoyed, Newsie corrected, “No! I don’t want them to even know I’m there! Please, Floyd – can you just bring Animal to the old Statler Hotel tomor—“
“Statler!” Floyd cackled. “Man, last time Animal went anywhere near those old geezers, they dang near swallowed their dentures!”
“Hey, guys, upstairs! You need to be in the pit now!” Scooter ordered. Chuckling, the musicians headed up, ignoring Newsie’s anxious stammering.
“No – wait – I – I can’t –“
“Newsman, nice to see you back, but you know you didn’t have to be here,” Scooter said, clasping the taller Muppet’s shoulder a moment. “We’re all real sorry for your loss. Just try to take it easy, okay? We’re all here for you if you need us.”
“I...thank you,” Newsie said, swallowing back his fear enough to try again. “Actually, Scooter, there is something I –“
“Chickens! Chickens, you’re up first tonight! Sorry, Newsie, I gotta go check on the stagepigs and make sure they have the right set behind the curtain – last time I said falling leaves, they thought I said falling sheaves, and Sam’s Aesop story had corn piled all over it.” With an apologetic grimace, the gofer ran upstairs, leaving a very nervous Newsman fumbling for words among the rumpus.
How can I do this? This isn’t right – you shouldn’t even bring this stuff up! Gina’s right; what if anyone else gets hurt?
But if I don’t do this –EVERYONE might be hurt! Eaten! Frog knows what else!
No! It’s too dangerous to go back down there!
Seeing Kermit coming through, smiling at everyone but clearly in a hurry to grab a cup of water from the cooler and get back upstairs, Newsie pushed through the crowd to fall in step with his boss. “Kermit! I...I need to talk to you about –“
“Newsman! Hey, you know you didn’t have to come back to work yet. Are you all right?”
“Er...I’m all right. Um, I know you’re busy, but I really –“
“Look, if you don’t feel up to it yet, I completely understand,” Kermit said, putting his hand briefly on Newsie’s arm. “Piggy and I would like to send some flowers to the service, if that’s all right, on behalf of the theatre for you and your family...just let Scooter know when and where, okay?”
“Thank you,” Newsie said, touched, falling back a step, then hurriedly caught up as Kermit reached the stairs. “Kermit, about the monsters in the tunnels –“
“I saw your report. Listen, I really...I really hope there’s some other explanation, Newsman. But you keep investigating and let me know what you find, okay? I trust you,” Kermit said, giving Newsie a serious look, and then a smile. “Sorry about all the chaos tonight. We’ll let you know when there’s a News Flash; meanwhile, why not just try to relax, okay?”
“But...” Left behind as the frog took the stairs in three long hops, Newsie stared after him in dismay. “But...to keep investigating...I need your help...”
Nobody heard him. Everyone was too busy playing.
Grimly, he looked around once more. A large, very furry blueish monster with thick black eyebrows was laughing as he taunted a tiny lamb with a caramel apple on a stick, encouraging the young sheep in a genie costume to jump up for the treat. Innocent enough at a glance...but Newsie stared at that wide, seemingly black and endless mouth when the monster child laughed, and shuddered. If the monsters did overrun the city, what then? What of impressionable young critters then? Would they continue to sport with other Muppets freely and unthreateningly...or would something much darker be taught them?
Anxious, he felt around in his coat pocket until he found the small bottle Dr Honeydew and Beaker had given him. He hastened to his tiny dressing-room, ashamed to be seen popping pills, but once the door was shut behind him he swallowed three of them. Closing his eyes, leaning against the plain wooden wall, Newsie shivered. Going back underground was extraordinarily dangerous. Gina was right. Rhonda was right.
But letting the monsters go unchecked...that was even more dangerous, for everyone.
Unfortunately, everyone was too busy to listen to him. He crossed his arms tightly against his chest, frightened, waiting desperately for the pills to take effect. He heard the hairy blue monster boy chortling just outside his closet, and shuddered all over uncontrollably. Without the sight of playing children before him, the sound, reaching him isolated here in the dim little room, seemed ominous...like a deep, chill voice on the phone...laughing at him, laughing at his lack of influence, his lack of importance.
Newsie felt very small, very alone, and very threatened.
Nobody is going to help me, and Gina will be hurt...and I have to do this anyway.
He held in the sound of fear his tongue wanted to make, and squeezed his eyes shut, and waited, wishing for bravery.
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Sesame Street Season 55
Jim Henson Idea Man
Back to the Rock Season 2
Bear arrives on Disney+
Sam and Friends Book
Did she get something wrong during the day?
That's just a figure of speech.
Exactly.
You are all weirdos!