Part One
The Newsman sighed contentedly, leaning back, enjoying the comfort of his beloved’s arms around him as he nestled in her lap. Just earlier this month they’d celebrated their one-year anniversary of being a couple, and now another celebration, of sorts: their first home viewing of “The Muppets.” As happy as Newsie had been participating in that film, and as excited and nervous as he’d been when they attended the New York premiere of the movie with numerous others of the Muppet extended clan, this put it all to shame. Nothing, he decided, nothing at all beat the experience of cuddling in one’s pajamas with one’s dearest and watching such an artistic triumph! True, he’d been in a few more scenes than what made it into the final edit, but now, having just viewed the film, they were about to watch the deleted scenes. He hoped the Strip-Mall Awards Show bit used the camera angle which showed his nose to best advantage.
Gina kissed him again, pressed the “Bonus Features” option, and resettled, dragging the bowl of spicy popcorn closer on the sofa. “This is perfect, Newsie. Your closeups in the telethon were sooo cute!”
He blushed, pleased. She’d said as much already tonight, but he could stand to hear it again. “Uh...really?”
“Really.” He luxuriated in another very long kiss. “Oh, look!” Gina broke away, leaving him dazed. She giggled. “Walter’s whistle is that loud?”
“It really is,” Newsie informed her. “He was always whistling down cabs for us when we left the studio. Very handy. Nice kid.”
They watched the scenes with a few chuckles, Newsie gently stroking Gina’s arm tucked over his waist. They reached the fake-awards scene. “Hey, there I...am,” Newsie said, faltering as he noticed none of the shots really showed him behind that silly table full of bowling trophies. “Oh...”
“Eh. Maybe the second-unit footage will show up on Youtube or something,” Gina reassured him, and stroked her fingers lightly through his hair.
He sighed, relaxing again. “You’re right. It’s egotistical of me to expect to be in focus in every shot.”
“Yeah, we don’t want you to start sounding like a certain pig...”
“Link’s hair isn’t all real,” Newsie murmured, grinning, and Gina laughed.
“Do I want to know how you know that?”
“Oh, it was perfectly innocent. We shared a trailer during the shoot...along with Strangepork, Sam, Lew...”
“Sounds crowded.”
“That’s an understatement,” he agreed. “It didn’t help when it became infested with Muppaphones trying to hide from Suggs.” He noticed the jail scene underway. “Oh! Oh, I was in this one...too...”
“I can tell it’s you back there,” Gina said, and smiled when he looked up at her unhappily.
“How? I’m practically hidden by jail bars in every shot.”
“Umm,” Gina licked her lips, uncertain how to tell him this. “Well, sweetie, your, um, profile, is very...distinctive.”
“Oh. It is?”
“I’d know you a mile off and surrounded by Muppets. Yep. And hey! There you are coming out of jail...love the tux.”
Newsie snuggled tight against her. He sighed. Well...at least some of the footage was preserved, even if it didn’t make it into the final production... “The arches! Oh, I had a lot of fun doing this one...”
They watched raptly as the full sequence of the arches opening played out, and Gina giggled at the chatter of the Muppets making their way cautiously down from the framing platform runs behind the pretty scenery. “Looks kind of scary,” Gina commented, knowing how much her Newsie hated heights.
“That’s actually sturdier than the real thing at the theatre.” He watched himself onscreen delivering a line of self-praise, feeling both elated and embarrassed. “They gave me such ridiculous lines...”
“I think it’s adorable.” Gina turned him toward her, giving him another long kiss. “I am so proud of you. Starring in a movie! It’s been, what, how many years?”
“Since Muppets Take Manhattan,” he mumbled, feeling somewhat bashful. “Uh...twenty-seven years.” And that one had only been a cameo. He gazed up at her, suddenly wondering again what she saw in him; didn’t she think him too old?
Reading that thought easily in his earnest brown eyes, Gina smiled, and kissed the tip of his nose. “You’re gorgeous. Stop it.”
“Gina,” he grumbled, embarrassed, but she wouldn’t let him pause for a pity party, instead attack-kissing, her hands roaming his face, his shoulders, lower... He broke away with a breathy laugh. “Okay! Okay! Uncle!”
Flushed and happy, they watched the rest of the special features, snickering at the blooper reel (Gina especially loved the chicken joke, giggling louder with every repetition of it by the hoboes), the screen test, and then exchanging more serious comments during the behind-the-scenes featurette. Finally, Newsie sat up and stretched, relaxed and feeling very much appreciated, only to see Gina’s frown. “What is it?”
She shook her head softly, and cued up the film’s end credits again. “Just wanted to check something.” Curious, he looked from her to the television and back while she read the scrolling names. “Huh...Newsie...” She rewound to the names of the principal Muppet actors. “Who’re these guys?” She indicated the names above some of the Muppets.
“Oh...those guys. Uh, I think their official title on-set was Nonfelted Handler-Liaisons,” Newsie said, squinting at the names. “I noticed them hanging around a lot, but they didn’t get in the way. They ran lines with the principal cast, noted script changes, and acted as go-betweens for us with the producers, and sometimes with the director.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Uh, not to sound disparaging, but Mr Bobin’s accent was kind of hard to comprehend sometimes, and having an interpreter around really helped.”
“It looks like they worked with several of your friends,” Gina noted. “Kermit, Miss Piggy, Fozzie, Gonzo...heck, even Rizzo and Pepe, and they had hardly any parts! Did you work with any of these handlers?”
“Er...yes. Steve. He’s worked with me before...he was my singing coach for that music video we all did.”
Gina suppressed a smile at the idea of Newsie trying to please a singing coach; although she loved his voice no matter what he was doing, he frankly possessed more enthusiasm than range... “Um, okay. So...why isn’t your name listed?”
“What?” He’d been so happy just viewing the film, all curled up with her, that he’d barely noticed the credits, paying more attention to the silliness on the left side of the screen and his own News Flash bits there. “What do you mean? They credit everyone! I think I saw a fern wrangler listed toward the end.”
Concerned, Gina played through the entire ending one more time; he watched in growing anxiety. “No...they didn’t list you. That’s really strange. I see Rizzo’s name and he didn’t even have a line!” She frowned at him. “Newsie, you deliver the last plot points in the movie! I think you deserve some credit here!”
“Whuh...I...” he stammered, stunned. “Play those again. Please.” Reluctantly, Gina did so; Newsie slid from her lap and planted himself right next to the large flatscreen, carefully reading. Nowhere did his name appear. Not his real name, not even his professional name. Nothing. “But...but...”
Gina bit back a sigh, seeing the hurt in his eyes when he turned again to her. “Newsie...look. Your friends wouldn’t snub you. I’m sure it’s just an oversight, okay?”
“They listed Marvin Suggs,” he muttered, upset. “Marvin Suggs!”
“Well...ask Kermit about it. I’m sure it was just an error. Maybe they can correct it on the next print run of the dvds.” She held her arms open to him, and gathered him in with a soft kiss. “They’ll fix it or I’ll know why!”
“Was...was my performance not good enough for a credit?” he wondered. “I...I did my best...you know I’m not really much of an actor; journalism has always been my primary focus...”
“Sweetie, your acting chops are beside the point. Tommy Wiseau has to be the worst actor, director, writer and producer working today and he still gets a certain amount of fame! The least the producers of this movie can give you is your spot in the list!”
Newsie was about to reply that it would indeed be worth more than his cut of the payroll, but thought it might sound ungenerous...and really, he’d enjoyed every second of the experience. Just being asked to join in for a big-screen project had been such an amazing surprise to him, he didn’t mind sharing a trailer, or having to find his own way back to New York after the film wrapped (guarding the fruit in the back of an open-air truck along I-40 in exchange for the ride wasn’t even the lowest point of that, but at least he arrived home in one piece). Actually getting a shot at a national audience again was thrilling, even if the writers had given him some preposterously silly things to say. But this...he hadn’t foreseen this at all. He stared up at the young woman tenderly stroking his hair. “Do you really think they just...they just forgot me?”
“Not you, my memorable journalist,” Gina told him, hugging tight. “However, I’m betting someone down the line forgot to give your name to whomever was compiling the credit roll. Did you notice you weren’t the only one?”
Newsie instantly felt ashamed; how could he be so selfish? “Uh...I wasn’t?”
“I saw Wayne and Wanda in a couple of scenes, and they weren’t listed either. Same for Link.”
“How could anyone have forgotten us?” Newsie asked, shaking his head.
“Look...talk to Kermit tomorrow, okay? Maybe he knows what happened. But if he doesn’t...” Gina gave him a dark look, and he gulped. “Make sure he knows now there was a mistake!”
Newsie nodded, but before he could spend any longer worrying about the implications of the oversight, Gina grabbed his arms. “Come to bed with me, or I’ll carry you,” she threatened.
He blushed. “Um. Ahem. Uh...I think I’ll just stay up a while longer and –“
She swooped him into the air with strong arms, plunking him against one shoulder as she strode down the hall. Newsie grinned, holding tight to her, enjoying the game. She made being short...well, fun. Once in the relative peace of the bedroom, Gina proceeded to tease and play with him, and he was able to disregard the unhappy discovery they’d just made for a while...but later, when his sleepy girl had at last drifted off, her arms around him, he lay still and wondered how he was going to bring this up with Kermit. He didn’t want to sound petulant about it...but, frog it, didn’t he deserve some sort of mention? He’d worked very hard...he’d even learned to tie a bowtie for that tuxedo! Newsie frowned.
Some essence of his unease must have transmitted to Gina, who was always sensitive to him. She murmured and shifted a bit in her sleep, and Newsie shut up all thought of tomorrow, doing his best to focus on right now and the lovely young woman who thought he was worth more than a few silly lines and a long ride home. He nuzzled his nose against her, and she sighed softly, pleasantly. Closing his eyes, Newsie did as she’d taught him months ago, imagining the two of them laying on a beach, the sound of the waves, a gull crying, the warmth of the sand, trying to relax enough to sleep...
A pelican landed next to him, staring. “Hey buddy...ain’t you that guy what got left off the credits in that movie with Kermit and Piggy?”
Startled, Newsie jerked awake. Gina mumbled and turned over, dislodging him; irritated with himself, he scrunched over to give her room to stretch out as she often preferred. Stop that! I’m sure nobody’s even noticed you were left...out... Great. That’s not helping. He sighed in annoyance, his mood sinking. Haven’t there been any other complaints? How many Muppets didn’t get a mention, anyway? It seemed like everyone was there when we were shooting... He recalled seeing Muppets he didn’t even know the names of, like that noisy chimp, or that long-haired dog who’d worked the phones for a few minutes of the telethon, quickly abandoning her seat for a pizza once Neil Patrick Harris had shown up. But she had a line...I thought the Hollywood rule was if you have a line, you get a credit?
“Aloysius,” Gina muttered low.
“What?”
“You’re thinking too loud. Hush. Get some sleep.”
“You can hear --?”
“Body language, cutie.”
He started to apologize, but she pulled him closer, snuggling him against her and kissing him silent. “Mmf...”
She saw he was still too awake, and over his guilty protests, did something else which left him incoherent and very, very sleepy finally. Gina smiled at him, seeing her Muppet’s weary eyes close at last. When he began lightly snoring, she sighed, turned his head away from her, and settled down beside him once more. That’s the only problem with sleeping with a Muppet, she thought; They’re so d—d high-energy.
Sleep crept into the room as a welcome guest, and quiet reigned until morning...mostly. Snoring through that long a nose could never be called completely quiet.
----------------
Backstage, there never seemed to be an opportune time to get the frog’s attention. The crisis du jour involved Robin somehow getting stuck in a goldfish bowl; Kermit firmly rejected Crazy Harry’s offer to get him out, corralled Lew Zealand to wrangle some slippery fish oil out of him, and meanwhile tried to keep the acts coming and going with a minimum amount of carnage to the stage itself. The Newsman waited, hovering around Kermit’s desk, but every time he began to approach, something else happened. Newsie ducked as Gonzo hurtled past overhead, whooping joyously, a contrail of green flames and charred confetti spiraling ever higher backstage until the daredevil crashed into the ceiling.
Kermit shook his head. “Yeesh. Beau, can you mop that up, please? Chickens! Chickens onstage now!”
A concerned Camilla hesitated by Gonzo until he raised his head, eyes rolling. “Bawwk?”
“Whoooo! Amelia Earheart, watch your back! The Great Gonzo is set to break the ocean-crossing record!” Gonzo cackled, trembled, and passed out.
“Dude’s gonna break somethin’, anyway,” Floyd Pepper chortled.
Camilla ran past to join her fowl friends onstage for a tail-shaking rendition of “Shake Your Groove Thing.” Kermit turned back to Robin. “How’s the fish oil working?”
“It tastes awful, Uncle Kermit! Do I really have to drink all of it?”
“Robin! You’re supposed to smear it on you, not drink it!”
Newsie hesitantly tapped his boss on the shoulder. “Uh...excuse me...Kermit?”
“Is there a News Flash?”
“Er, no. Um. I wanted to...to discuss something with you...”
“Okay, now just...wiggle out,” Kermit instructed his nephew. “Like that! There you go!”
“Uh...about the new movie...”
“Oh, it’s still in the planning stages,” Kermit told him, his attention more directed to Robin as the little frog wriggled bit by bit out of the narrow neck of the small bowl. “Good, Robin! Just go slow and don’t hurt yourself.”
“Planning sta...uh. No. Not the new new one...I mean the one we just did.”
“Oh, yeah. That report you gave on the dvd sales was great, just great! We really appreciate all the publicity we can get,” Kermit said, finally looking right at him. “It’s been pretty hectic with all the interviews, but things seem to really be going well! The writers are starting to gather ideas for the next film; I have a meeting next week with Nick, actually, to toss around some plotline possibilities.”
“That’s...that’s wonderful,” Newsie said, still unsure how to address this. “Uh...Kermit...were you aware that some of the Muppets weren’t credited in the film?”
“Weren’t credited? Newsman, I approved the list myself! Scooter double-checked it to make sure everyone who worked on the film was on it.” Kermit looked back at Robin, nodding when the froglet popped out of the bowl to applause by several nearby cast members. “Good, good...now go hit the showers. And don’t mention this to your Aunt Piggy, okay? She’ll kill me if she finds out we tried using her cold cream.”
“Ahem. Um, Kermit, I’m glad to hear that, but...er...nevertheless, a number of us didn’t get listed in the end credits...” Newsie fidgeted when Kermit stopped and stared perplexedly at him.
“That’s strange. Who was left off?”
“Er...Link Hogthrob, Wayne and Wanda, Dr Strangepork, Robin...” Newsie began, ticking the names off on his fingertips.
“Huh...well, look, Newsman, I don’t have time to deal with this right now, but I’ll see what I can find out, okay?” Kermit flashed a smile at him, then immediately turned to the chickens flapping offstage with a large Muppet fox in pursuit. “Hey! Reynard, I thought I threw you out last week for this same thing! Security!”
Newsie quickly moved out of the way as Bobo the bear came past like a furry freight train. “Hey! You can’t be back here! Move it or lose it, bub!” The flustered fox stumbled backward into the desk, knocking over Kermit’s coffee cup; hot liquid spattered Fozzie, who’d been heading onstage; he yelped and flailed his rubber chicken, accidentally swatting one of the real ones fluttering out of Bobo’s way...the chain reaction of chaos continued, but Newsie managed to get clear of it all, retreating to the stairs to observe from a safe distance.
He’s too busy to deal with this, Newsie realized, feeling sympathy for his boss. Well, isn’t top-notch investigative reporting MY job? He nodded to himself. He’d probe into this disturbing story himself, and report his findings to Kermit. That way, he’d not only find out where the blame for the mistake lay, but possibly find out how to correct it, which would give Kermit one less hassle...and he seemed to have his flippers full all the time with one thing or another.
“Move it, Newsgeek,” Piggy growled at him, swirling downstairs in a fluff of feather boas. “Allll right! Where’s Rowlf? We’re due on stage in thirty seconds and he’d better have that B-sharp key fixed!”
“Fear not, fair maiden; you will be most melodiously accompanied tonight by yours truly!” Dr Teeth grinned at her, trundling his electric organ out of the wings. Piggy stared at him.
“You’re what? Where’s Rowlf?”
“He had a little problem fixing the string to that indelibly unmelodious B-sharp,” Dr Teeth explained. “Last I saw him, he was caught in the piano wires callin’ for some bolt-cutters! Not to worry, my sweet swine; together we will serenade this crowd into sonorous slumber!”
“I can’t sing ‘Easy to Love’ to an organ!” Piggy protested, turning to her frog. “Kermie! Tell him that song won’t work with the kind of...music...he plays!”
Kermit turned briefly to her. “Look, Piggy, we go onstage with the instruments we have, not the instruments we want, okay? Sweetums! Sweetums, can you get these two out of here? Sheesh!”
The pig complained, the musician laughed, the chickens flapped and flopped everywhere, and a lumbering troll grabbed Bobo and the fox by the scruffs of their necks and carried them, still locked in a wrestling hold, out to the loading dock; Kermit tried to yell at them all at once, and something needed to go onstage fast before the audience left for the second time that night. Newsie shook his head, his jaw set firmly. No...Kermit had far too much to handle already. Newsie would track down this problem’s source himself!
Every reporter knows inside sources are the best resources...and the theatre’s second-in-command was the most resourceful resource for something like this. Newsie sought out Scooter, locating him running up from the green room lounge, clipboard glued to one hand and headset to one ear as usual. “Scooter, I need some information,” Newsie said, jogging to keep up with the fast-paced younger Muppet .
“Uh, gimme a sec, Newsie.” Popping his head into a dressing-room, the gofer shouted, “Two minutes, guys! Two minutes!” Shutting the door again, Scooter checked off an item on his clipboard, and nodded in satisfaction as a group of grimy hoboes filed out of the room and down the stairs; one of them stubbed out a chocolate cigar on the balustrade, leaving a stain which was quickly cleaned by the tongue of a hungry sheep. “Good, that’s that for a few minutes! What do you need?”
“Uh...well...I discovered that a number of us seem to have been left off the credits for the last film,” Newsie began. “Have...have you watched the dvd yet?”
“Sure, Sara and I watched it just last night! But I, uh, I wasn’t really paying attention to the credits,” Scooter admitted, blushing. Newsie realized with a start that he knew exactly why Scooter hadn’t noticed the error in the final credits...knowledge he himself wouldn’t have understood before this time last year.
“Er. Um. Right. Uh...was there...some decision made to leave people out?” he asked tentatively.
“No, absolutely not! We didn’t leave anyone out! Are you sure?”
“Very sure. I watched the end of the film another ten times this morning to check.”
“Well, if names didn’t show up after ten times, I guess they really were left out,” Beauregard chimed in, overhearing from his perch polishing one of the stair railings. “You’d think even if they missed the first two or three, they’d show up by ten!”
Scooter blinked at him, then turned back to Newsie. “Uh...right. Well, I’m sure it was just a mistake! Unfortunately, though, since the dvd is already out, I don’t know what could be done to correct it.” Noting the reporter’s crestfallen expression, he asked, “Who exactly wasn’t given credit?”
“Well, um, Link, and Strangepork, and Wayne and Wanda, and...er...me...”
“Geez, I’m really sorry about that, Newsman. Did you talk to Kermit?”
From below, both heard the crash of scenery, the protests of innocence from the hobo band, and one frog clearly working into a meltdown. “Hey stop that – you can’t go out – the curtain’s still up and – will all of you be quiet a minute so I can get them to shut up?”
“Uh...he seemed a little busy.”
“Yeah,” Scooter agreed. “Look, I have to go deal with the set strike...but hey, why don’t you call the producers? They might be able to help.”
“Thanks,” Newsie said as Scooter hastily scribbled a phone number for him. “That’s exactly what I needed!”
“Great! Good luck!” At the amphibian bellow of frustration from below, Scooter yelled, “Coming, Chief!” and ran down to the wing floor.
Newsie nodded, pleased. Of course! If there’s an issue with the movie, always start with the guys at the top! Aren’t they ultimately responsible for everything? He checked his watch; it would only be five-thirty in California. He managed to get out of the building without being hit by a crazed chicken or inadvertently clobbered by a massive bear and a lithe fox still thrashing on the loading dock. Gina was still at work, so he had a little time on his hands. Newsie walked a block to a coffeeshop he liked (they carried all the major daily papers out front), ordered an Irish coffee with no whiskey, and once settled, dialed the number Scooter had given him.
“Jason Segal’s phone. He’s occupied; can I take a message?” a brash male voice answered.
“Er...yes. This is the Muppet Newsman –“
“Oh, hey, Newsie. Nice ta hear from ya. Loved that fluff piece you did on my girl for Le Porque last month!”
Newsie placed the voice, surprised. “Uh...Marty? Aren’t you Miss Piggy’s agent?”
“I do have other clients, ya know, kid. But she’s one of the ones I handle personally. Just don’t repeat those exact words to Kermit, capiche?” The agent laughed, and before Newsie could decide if he was expected to laugh too, Marty continued, “So, you’re interested in doing a piece on the Seagull?”
“Uh...no. I mean yes, that would be terrific, but that’s not why I’m calling...umm...”
“Okay, now I’m curious; why are you calling?”
Newsie, in halting words and a tone he felt was too gruff, but was unable to clear his throat properly, explained the omission he and Gina had discovered. He didn’t mention his own name had been unlisted, thinking it would sound too whiny. “Er...so...how did this happen, and what can be done to correct it?” he asked.
Marty mulled it over with a low, thoughtful hmmmmmmm. “Well...I gotta tell you, I have no idea. I don’t know anything about the production side of the last film, Newsie; I was all about Piggy for that, but once she had her choice for costumers locked up, I was kinda out of that part of it; I just worked on the publicity from there. But Jason might be able to look into it. He really is occupied, though; went into the men’s room a few minutes ago. Come ta think of it, I better go make sure he’s okay. Wouldn’t want one of the camera-hacks to catch him in a bad situation, and he has had a coupla’a Harvey Wallbangers. We’re doing a cocktail meeting. He wants to work with Piggy again, but so far his schedule is pretty full...”
Interesting as that tidbit was, Newsie returned to his mission. “Uh, all right; could you please ask him to call me back as soon as he can? I’m very concerned about some of our cast here feeling snubbed...” Another angle occurred to him, and he added, “Or for the bad publicity which could arise from anyone thinking they were deliberately left off the credits and going to one of the Hollywood papers to complain about it!”
“Hmm. Good point. I’ll make sure he gets back to ya, okay kid?”
“Thanks, Marty.”
“Ciao, kid. Stay plaid. Looks good on you.”
Marty hung up, and Newsie held the phone a moment longer, startled and then pleased. Ha! Wait’ll I tell Rhonda! A Hollywood agent thinks my sports coats look good!
He hadn’t sat much longer at his streetside table, sipping his coffee and considering ordering another, when his phone rang. “Hello?”
“Newsie! Hey, buddy, what’s this I hear about names being left out of the credits?”
“Mr Segal! Uh – thank you for returning my call...”
“Dude, it’s Jason, please. So what’s going on?”
Briefly, nervous, Newsie outlined the problem. “Huh,” Jason said. “That’s just...weird. I mean, the whole point of the movie was to re-introduce the world to you guys; pretty hard to do if they don’t learn your names!”
“Right,” Newsie agreed, relieved. “So...uh...this wasn’t a decision you producers made, to list some Muppets but not others?”
“Dude, no! Everyone was supposed to get a credit! Look...I have no idea how this happened, but I’m very sorry. Please tell everyone who was left out that it was not intentional.”
“But...how can we fix it?”
He heard a deep sigh from the tall man. “Well, uh...I don’t think it can be, at this point. Uh...maybe you could talk to the big guys, the studio execs. Since I’m too busy with other projects right now they probably wouldn’t have much time for me, but – hey! You could call Nick and James. I bet they’d know something. Hang on, I’m actually gonna see them both tonight, so I’ll let them know you need some info, okay?”
“Okay,” Newsie agreed. “Er...thank you very much for this. I really appreciate it. I mean, I know everyone left out will really –“
“They left your name out,” Jason guessed. Newsie blushed, glad the other man couldn’t see it over the phone.
“Er...yes.” Feeling insecure again, Newsie asked, “Is...is it something I did wrong? I mean, even the Rowlf Moopet had a credit, and he hardly had anything to do! I...I know I’m not much of an actor...I mean, it’s not really my talent, but...”
“What? No! C’mon, buddy, you were great! You delivered all your lines with such, uh...such...”
Remembering advice Sam the Eagle had given him one night while running lines in their trailer, Newsie ventured, “Uh...gravity and solemn dignity?”
“Exactly what I was gonna say. Look, don’t worry about it, all right? I’ll ask the guys to help you out. Maybe...maybe they can fiddle with the digital copies of the movie, at least, so anyone watching it on an iFad will see all the names...or something. Okay?”
“Thank you. It...it was really an honor working with you,” Newsie said. Although he hadn’t had any scenes with the star, he’d been on-set for almost everything, eager to see and hear all he could, and Jason had always treated him as though he actually belonged there.
“Likewise, buddy. Take care.”
Newsie thanked him again, and hung up. He tasted his cold coffee, and sighed. Well, if they’re going to meet tonight, hopefully they’ll call tomorrow. I have no idea whom else I could ask about this. He shook his head. How could this have happened? He left a tip under his cup and walked the rest of the way home, trying to work up enough enthusiasm for dinner; he was supposed to be cooking tonight, but he had a feeling that if he attempted anything involved while in this frame of mind, the stove might catch fire. Glumly, he stopped at the nearest deli for cold cuts and bread. Even while he prepared sandwiches at home, a nagging worry wouldn’t leave him be: Jason’s such a nice guy...what if he’s just trying not to hurt my feelings? What if I really was left out on purpose? What if there’s someone who thought I didn’t deserve a credit, and he’s just trying to soften the blow for me?
Somehow, he wound up burning the sandwiches.
-------------
Kermit let out all his frustration in a long groan. He slowed, panting, and lay still, Piggy’s soft hands clutching him. “Oh...geez. I really needed that tonight. Thank you,” he murmured, kissing his wife.
“Always a pleasure, mon ami,” Piggy whispered, her own breath slowing gradually. “And I’m sorry I made such a fuss over the organ...it actually sounded quite nice in the end.”
“One of the few things that went right,” Kermit agreed. They lay entwined a while longer, gently kissing as their pulses slowed. Piggy glanced at the bedside clock, and Kermit realized if they lingered, they’d be caught in bed by the driver bringing the private champagne supper Piggy had ordered. After a week of flying cross-country to do promos and talk shows and film commercials and talk up potential sponsors for the next film already, both of them were exhausted and simply wanted some time together. Wryly, Kermit thought of the film’s ending joke about “Piggy staying out of the limelight;” they really did need some down time.
“Was the rest of it so awful?” Piggy murmured, stretching languorously while Kermit sat on the side of the bed to put on his robe and slippers.
“It was a pretty bad night, as shows go, yeah,” he sighed. “Those hoboes wrecked half the scenery, that fox got back in the theatre somehow, when I left Bobo was still fighting with him and it looked like they were stuck...” He shook his head. “You know, I just can’t figure out how exactly fire-twirling fits in with ‘The City of New Orleans’? A train crashing through the wall, now that wouldn’t have surprised me – but flame-twirling?” Remembering more, he added, “Oh – and the Newsman says that a few Muppets were left out of the credits for the movie. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about with the studio guys.”
Piggy sat up, donning her nicest pink satin negligee and matching robe, and absently brushed her hair into perfect place. “Who was left out? I bet it was Suggs.”
“No, I think Suggs was actually left in,” Kermit mused. “I can’t understand how that could have happened!”
“Neither can I,” Piggy muttered. “That guy’s a whacko.”
“Not Suggs, Piggy – I mean anyone not being credited for all the hard work they did! We all put in some long days, as you’ll recall.”
“Well, it’s done now, isn’t it?”
“I guess so...but it shouldn’t ever happen again!” Kermit’s jaw lifted, his resolve awakened. “You know what? I think I’ll just find out how it did happen so we can make sure the next film includes everyone!”
He located his cell phone and tapped one of the numbers in memory. “Kermie...the food will be here any minute,” Piggy chided softly.
“This’ll only take a sec.” The phone rang and rang, and finally went to voicemail. “Huh. James isn’t answering...well, maybe he’s out. Uh, hi, Nick! This is Kermit. Give me a call back when you can; I have something I need to ask you. Thanks.” Hanging up, he tried another number. That one rang three times, then clicked; muffled sounds came through the line, and then it went dead again. “Huh...must’ve dropped the call.” He tried again, but this time the voicemail picked up immediately. “Uh, hi, James, it’s Kermit. I...I have something I need to discuss with you when you have a minute. But, uh,” he added, glancing at Piggy, “Maybe tomorrow. Talk to you then.”
“All done?” Piggy asked sweetly.
“With you? Hardly,” Kermit teased, reaching for her.
When the doorbell rang, Kermit was just able to hit the intercom from where he lay. “Uh – just leave it on the stoop! I’ll be down in a minute!”
“Oh you will, will you?” Piggy growled, and with a chuckle he resumed what he’d been doing, much to her appreciation.
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James glared at his guest. “The pool? Really?”
The bespectacled man with a mop of dark hair shrugged, closing the sliding glass door to the patio. “We agreed no phones. That means none. Zero. Nadissimo.”
“Yeah, but that was a bit harsh,” Bret said, watching Bobin’s phone drift lazily down to the bottom of the pool.
Jason shrugged. “Left mine at home. Make him buy you another one, James. He’s just ticked that he didn’t get asked to work with the Muppets.”
Bret snickered, taking a seat at the poker table. “That’s ‘cause he didn’t win an Oscar.”
“I taught you everything you know,” Jermaine huffed. “Come on, mates. Whose deal is it? Just so you know,” he added, producing a strange little furry bird keychain from a pocket, “You all stand to lose a fortune tonight; I brought my lucky kiwi!”
Jason stared at that, then burst out laughing. He snatched the token up. “Really? This thing is your lucky charm?”
“Bret’s the lucky kiwi here,” James said, smiling. “He can afford to pay us all lots and lots from his songwriting war-chest.”
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” Bret scoffed, shuffling the deck as the others settled. “It’s all about talent. Five-card stud, threes wild.”
“Stud poker,” Jermaine said, with a wide smile. “Now that’s my kind of game.”
“Shut up and take back your stupid furry thing,” Jason giggled. “Oh, man, who dealt this mess?”
The jokes and the beer flowed concurrently. It was such a good time that Jason only remembered that he’d forgotten something hours later...and then fell into bed before he could recall what he’d forgot.
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