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At last count, it takes four hours of rehearsals, thirty dollars in costumes, forty sheep and a big spotlight to put on a Christmas pageant at the Muppet Theatre. Give or take ten fireworks and twenty swordfish, depending on if Lew Zeland had been booked that night.
Kermit’s pretty excited as he counts the acts that’ll be performing this evening. There would be a sketch at Veterinary Hospital, Fozzie would do a brief routine about the twelve days of Christmas, Gonzo would juggle encyclopedias while tap-dancing on a bed of pine needles and humming O Tannenbaum, and they’d close on a stirring and meaningful nativity play, staring Piggy as Missus Claus, Robin as Santa, and featuring a host of sheep as reindeer. And best of all, tonight’s special guest star would be one of his idols, that stage and screen comedienne Miss Lucille Ball!
“Okay, places everybody!!! I need the Electric Mayhem ready to go after my opening! Has anyone checked on Ms. Ball?” Kermit skidded to a halt before the guest star’s room. There was, predictably, a line reaching out the door and down the hallway, and they were all chatting excitedly amongst each others, holding autograph books or glossies for Lucille Ball to sign. “Guys! GUYS! WE NEED TO GET BACK TO WORK! Don’t bother Ms. Ball when she’s trying to get ready, guys – I know you’re as excited as I am, but you don’t have to be rude.”
The crowd dispersed, grumbling the whole way. Only two people emerged from the dressing room - Statler and Waldorf – and as they passed Kermit as they headed by the stairwell they burst out, “Look, the frog’s trying to kill our livelihood!” said Statler
“Boo!” said Waldorf. “We’re the yellers in this town, frog!”
“I know I always have to be rude. It’s a condition I have.”
“What’s that?”
“I call it whocaresitis!”
“Good! It matches my nobodydoes flu!”
The two older men strolled away, chuckling at their private joke. “Sheesh. Who let those guys back here?” Kermit asked the milling crowd.
At that point a head of red hair peeped out the doorway. “Sorry, Mister the Frog. They’re old friends of mine from my RKO days. Are they causing any problems?” asked that familiar raspy voice that had comforted Kermit through many a hard time in his youth.
“I uh-I-uh..” stammered poor Kermit.
“Oh, I hope they didn’t! Statler and I used to cut quite a rug back when we were single and ready to mingle.” She sighed. “Then he’d complain about my dancing and Waldorf would say something about me being fine for a moose. And then they’d laugh.” She shook her head. “Strange guys. So is everything all right?”
“Oh yes!” Kermit immediately said. “We run a tight ship, Ms. Ball! You don’t have anything to worry about tonight! Just be sure to get enough rest!”
“Rest?! Who could rest in a joint like this?” asked Ms. Ball. “It’s the most exciting theatre I’ve played at in ages!”
Scooter rushed up to Kermit then, a look of total panic in his eyes. “Mister Frog! Can I speak to you!”
“Sure, Scooter! Excuse me, Ms. Ball!”
“Please,” she said lightly, “call me Lucille.”
“Oh!” if a frog could blush…. “Sure thing, Ms. Ball!”
He and Scooter walked off and downstairs, toward the stage door. Scooter was so nervous that he seemed almost to be vibrating.
“What’s going on, Scooter?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this Mr. Frog – but the sheep are revolting.”
Kermit face faulted. “Gee, Scooter, I didn’t think they looked all that bad at the audition.”
“No, I mean they’re rebelling!” And then he threw open the stage door to reveal a large group of sheep marching in two straight picket lines.
One had a megaphone, and he didn’t hesitate to use it. “What do we want?” one of them shouted.
“Hay!” they shouted
“When do we want it?”
“Now!”
Scooter shut the door before he could hear another word. “I bought as much of it as I could but they’re not budging!” said Scooter. “Now we’re out forty sheep for the manger scene!”
As if on cue, a blue ball of fur rushed up to them. “Can I do it!?” Gonzo cried enthusiastically. “I’d make a great sheep! It’s in my blood!”
“I didn’t know you had so many feelings about sheep, Gonzo.”
“Feelings? No, I once got a blood transfusion from a sheep!”
“Gonzo, even though it’s really kind of you to offer, we need real sheep for the number and I don’t think you could really…”
“I’ll go get my cotton suit!” Gonzo said. “I won’t let you down, Kermit.”
Kermit turned to Scooter as Gonzo zipped away from them. “Sometimes I wish he would.”
“Kermie!” sing-songed a voice from the top of the stairs, “can we have a tete a tete por favor?”
“Um…” Kermit’s stomach clenched. “Sure, Piggy!” He approached his girlfriend with all of the carefulness of an skater tip-toeing along on a wafer-thin icecap. “What’s wrong?”
“I noticed that there’s a wee little mistake in tonight’s billing. I know Ms Lucille Ball is an icon, but according to our agreement Moi always gets top billing.”
“Heh, I was…kind of hoping you wouldn’t notice that…”
“I noticed big time, buster,” Piggy growled.
“I’m sorry, Piggy,” Kermit said. “I had to do it! Otherwise she never would have agreed to come to the theatre!”
“Well, if Ms. Ball is too good to come to our little show without putting on a prima donna act then she can be the STAR of the evening! I quit!”
“But Piggy!”
“Talk to me when she outacts a bunch of tuna! THAT’S talent!” Piggy huffed, slamming the door to her dressing room.
***
Kermit was a nervous wreck by the time the curtain rose on opening night. The sheep were agitating outside, blocking the way of ticket buyers, all of whom were hoping to see Lucille Ball in a majestic nativity play for which he had no sheep. If Kermit had hair, he’d be pulling it out right now.
But thankfully things were going smoothly enough. The house was packed, if frustrated, and they responded well to his opening monologue, the Pigs in Space sketch (which had been carefully rewritten to place First Mate Piggy somewhere off-screen) in which Ms. Ball played a befanged alien. Next was a soft-shoe routine with Rolf playing piano to “Me and My Shadow.” Halfway through it, Scooter rushed up to Kermit – still dressed up like a shepherd for the final scene.
“MISTER FROG!” cried Scooter. “I can’t find our Wise Men!”
“What?!” Kermit said. “Have you tried the dressing rooms? The alley out back?!”
“Everywhere! Last time I saw them they said they were going to watch Fozzie’s routine!”
Kermit rushed toward the stage door. Outside the sheep were milling – with the addition of the three wise men.”
“GONZO, SWEETUMS, SAM, GET IN HERE!”
“Sorry, Kermit!” Gonzo said. “Whenever I see a parade I have to join in!”
“And I wanted to hear their labor grievances – they have a right to free speech and I thought I’d listen to them exercise it,” Sam said. Then he took a long look at Kermit. “Mister Frog, you seem a little…freaked out. Is it the holiday affluenza?”
“ME? I’M JUUST FINE!” Then Kermit asked Sweetums, “why were YOU with them?”
“I just didn’t want to be alone,” he admitted.
Kermit broke into a flailing panic. “WILL YOU ALL GET IN YOUR PLACE?! THE LAST SKETCH IS ALMOST READY TO START!”
“Mister Frog!” It was Lucille Ball, her number over, cuing a singing produce sketch on the main stage. Kermit pivoted in her direction.
“Hi Miss Ball,” he said, struggling to calm himself. “I was just having a quick chat with my crew!”
“The kind filled with yelling!” Gonzo said cheerfully.
“Fellas, could I talk to Mister Frog alone?” Lucille asked.
“Sure,” Gonzo said. “I need to practice pointing wisely with my crook!”
With that, the threesome took their place in the wings, and Kermit and Lucille were left alone. “Mister Frog, am I making you nervous?” she asked.
“No!” Kermit insisted. “I’m just a little sheepless…I mean sheepish,” he said.
Somehow, she knew exactly what to say. “Do you know what happened when I met Cecil B. DeMille for the first time?”
“No,” said Kermit.
“I took one step forward and tossed my cookies all over his shoes.” She smiled. “I understand what it’s like to be in awe of a big celebrity. You don’t have to worry if things go wrong, or if they aren’t perfect. Just be yourself, and people will like you anyway.”
“You mean you don’t mind if we don’t have any sheep for the nativity scene?” he asked.
“Is that what those protests are about?” she marched right over to the stage door and pulled it open, sending a gasp through the crowd.
“Lucille Ball!”
“If you guys come in and act in the show, I promise you’ll get as much hay as you need.”
“Hay? What hay,” the sheep with the megaphone declared. “Who needs hay? Lucille Ball is talking to us! Come on, guys!”
“Sometimes,” Lucy admitted to Kermit under the sound of tromping sheep hooves, “it helps when your name’s bigger than most.”
**
It turned out to be a perfectly lovely pageant, filled with the proper amount of pageantry and tender emotion. Kermit watched from the sidelines as Lucille narrated the story. Even the replacement he’d found for Piggy had worked out beautifully.
He smelled her perfume just before he heard an unsubtle fake cough as Piggy appeared behind him, dolled up in a red dress with white ermine trim – very Christmassy in a highly overstated way.
“Gee, I didn’t think you’d make it,” Kermit said.
“I wasn’t, but then the spirit of the holiday overwhelmed me and I thought that maybe a teensy weensy part of me wanted to see how you were getting along without me. It’s a really pretty play, Kermie, you did a good job.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Janice is a great Virgin Mary, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, swell,” Piggy pouted. But then, in the spirit of the holiday, she bit back her bitterness. “I am proud of you, my froggy prince.”
“That’s just what I needed to hear.”
And as Crazy Harry descended from on high with an electric star sizzling in his arms, a sense of serenity descended over the theater.