We need the old Kermit: Full Edition

Chapter 8

Kermit got the call in the middle of the night. Detective Keene explained what had happened.

“So when can we get back in the theater?” Kermit asked.

“Not for a while,” Detective Keene said. “You have to understand, sir, we have to do a very thorough investigation. Heaven forbid, but this could become the murder of a police officer- a very serious charge.”

“I understand that,” Kermit said. “But when can we get back into the theater?”

“We need a week,” Detective Keene said.

Kermit swallowed hard. “A week?”

“At least,” Detective Keene said.

“Oh,” Kermit said. “Well, uh... thanks, Detective.”

There was a click at the other end and he hung up the phone. A week. They had one show left before opening night- one last chance for a profit to make the last minute purchases- and now they had to cancel it so the police could properly investigate. And it might take longer. What if they had to cancelUnder The Weeping Willow, too? They would be done for. They would have to file bankruptcy, and maybe even sell the theater. No pay cuts could change that. 

He wrote a note and taped it up on the bathroom door, where people were sure to see it. Then he walked back into his bedroom, leaving the door partway open, sat on his bed and looked out the window.

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The line to the bathroom was longer than usual. Robin waited patiently until only Rowlf was ahead of him. Then he saw the note. It was too high up for him to read, but he recognized his uncle’s signature at the bottom.

“What’s it say, Rowlf?” he asked.

“Dear friends,” Rowlf read aloud, “Last night the thief broke into the theater again. The good news is that a police officer kept the thief from taking anything. The bad news is the officer was almost killed in the process. He is still in critical condition, and he might not make it. The police have to do a very thorough investigation, so we can’t use the theater for at least a week. This means our last weekly show has to be cancelled. There’s a slight chance that we might also have to either cancel or post-pone Under the Weeping Willow. Between this and last night’s audience, there is a chance that we might have to sell the theater. We need more than pay cuts now. We need a miracle. Sincerely, Kermit the Frog.” Rowlf sighed. “It looks like your uncle needs some cheering up, Robin.” He looked down, but the frog was gone. “Robin?”

Robin stood in front of his uncle’s open door and looked inside. Kermit was sitting on his bed, looking out the window, where he had been all night. Robin walked in and quietly sat down next to him. “Uncle Kermit?” he said softly. 

Kermit didn’t look at him, or even flinch. “Robin,” he whispered.

Robin sat for a long time looking up at his uncle. Then Kermit’s stomach growled.

“Uncle Kermit, you should eat,” Robin said.

Kermit didn’t answer.

Robin hopped off the bed. “I’ll get you something to eat,” he said, and he hurried down to the kitchen.

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“And I bet he still won’t let anyone take a pay cut,” Clifford said as he buttered his toast. “He sure is being stubborn about that.”

“Yeah,” Fozzie said as he passed the syrup down the table. “He hasn’t cut anyone’s pay since last time we almost lost the theater.”

“Well that’s not entirely true,” Scooter said. “He hasn’t paid himself at all for weeks now.”

Robin listened carefully as he slipped around the kitchen, filling a tray twice as big as he was with food.

“Scooter? How much money do we need?” Miss Piggy asked.

“Well I’d have to check with the records, which are all at the theater,” Scooter said. “But if we add two nights worth of tickets to what we needed yesterday afternoon... I’d say we need at least four thousand dollars.”

“Wow,” Janice said. “Like, even if we combine all our pay, we don’t have that much money.”

“Yeah, but we could come up with it,” Floyd said.

“How?” Pepe said. “You can’t just pull de monies out of de air, hokay. If you could, I would have been rich a looooong time ago.”

“Of course not,” Dr. Teeth said. “But we can get money other ways.”

“Yeah, like a car wash!” Gonzo said.

“Or a bake sale,” Fozzie said.

“Or a yard sale,” Clifford said.

“Moi has some ugly jewelry that moi can pawn,” Miss Piggy said.

“Do you think Kermit would let us do that?” Gonzo asked.

“I don’t think he’ll be leaving his room much for a while,” Rowlf said. “He probably won’t even know we’re raising money.”

“The real question is whether or not he’d accept the money from us,” Pops said.

They all hesitated for a moment. Then Robin spoke up. “He doesn’t have to know it’s from us,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Gonzo asked.

“We could write a fan letter and put the money with it in the envelope,” Robin said.

“You mean, a fake letter?” Fozzie asked.

“That could work,” Rowlf said. “But who should write it?”

“Well I can’t,” Scooter said, “He already knows all my handwritings.” He glanced at Miss Piggy and reached for the jelly.

“I could write it,” Robin said.

They hesitated, and then agreed with a burst of voices.

“Well what are we waiting for?” Rowlf said. “Let’s start getting some money!”

Robin smiled and carried the try full of food upstairs.

Kermit hadn’t moved at all. Robin walked around the bed and faced his uncle.

“I brought you some food, Uncle Kermit,” he said. No response. He lifted the tray up a little higher and tried to wave it around a little. “It smells reallygood,” he said. “I bet it tastes good, too.” No response. Robin was getting worried. He pushed the tray into his uncle’s legs. “Uncle Kermit...” Finally Kermit looked down. He saw his nephew, struggling with a tray of food, begging him to eat. “Please, Uncle Kermit,” Robin said.

Kermit took the tray and set it on his bed. Robin hopped up and sat next to him, looking up at him expectantly. Kermit shook his head and laid down. “I don’t know what to do, Robin,” he said sadly.

Robin crawled over and sat next to his uncle’s head. “You still have to eat,” he said.

Kermit hesitated, and then nodded. “Okay,” he said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “I’ll eat.”

Robin sat with him to make sure he really did eat. Neither of them said anything. When the tray was empty, Robin picked it up, hopped off the bed, and started to leave the room. He stopped at the door and looked back in. Kermit was sitting on his bed with his feet tucked up in front of him, looking at the bookshelf instead of the window.

Robin wondered if that was an improvement.