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It's The Thought That Counts

Summary:

It's time for the annual Muppet Theatre Secret Santa. YAAAAY!

Notes:

As tradition, here is my annual muppet fic for the holidays. Hope you all enjoy!

Work Text:

The annual Muppet Theatre holiday party was in full swing. Floyd had assured Kermit repeatedly that Animal would not break the chandelier this year. In response, Kermit had coincidentally arranged for an artful display of decorative pillows directly below the chandelier.

 

Pausing only long enough to help Rizzo haul Pepe out of the punch bowl, he went up to the front of the room where the tall stack of presents lay.

 

“Alright, everyone,” he called out. “It's time for our annual Secret Santa! Yaaaaay!”

 

Scooter began to hand out the gifts from the pile.

 

“Remember,” Kermit said in his best dad tone. “Everyone tried their best and it’s the thought that counts.”

 

“We know what thoughts count for around here - and I still want my penny back!” Statler shouted as he and Waldorf laughed together.

 

Kermit shook his head and Scooter bustled over to Uncle Deadly.

 

“Here you go,” he said.

 

Uncle Deadly sighed deeply. “Must I? Every year I am burdened with the obligation of accepting yet another horrific sweater from a witless gifter, condemned to moulder in the darkest depths of my closet.”

 

Scooter shrugged. “Well, must be a small sweater this time because it’s a pretty small box.”

 

Uncle Deadly turned and felt a spark of curiosity. He took the wrapped package and eyed it carefully. “Well, it would be best not to get one's hopes up. Safe behind the veil of secrecy, the gifter might have chosen an ugly tie-’

 

“If you'd take one second to actually read the tag, you would see that this gift is from moi,” Miss Piggy cut in as she adjusted her green and red boa.

 

Uncle Deadly narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t certain if that was a reassurance or not, given Piggy’s temper at times. Granted, her wrath was rarely aimed at him; they had oddly learned how to tolerate each other over the years.

 

So, he took the risk and tore off the paper. He discovered a box and inside it a small bottle.

 

Blinking in disbelief, he held it up to the light, shaking the liquid substance inside. “A vial of hemlock?”

 

Piggy grinned. “Look at the inscription.”

 

“For a slight too great to go unavenged.” Uncle Deadly wiped away a tear as he clasped the vial to his chest. “Oh, Piggy, you shouldn’t have.”

 

“I thought you would appreciate this over a tasteless sweater. And let that be a warning to anyone thinking of making ME wear one of those things-”

 

“Your taste is, as ever, impeccable,” Uncle Deadly said. “Thank you, Piggy."

 

Scooter blinked at the vial. “Um, why do you need poison?”

 

“Ah, ever-inquisitive Scooter,” said Uncle Deadly, “I am afraid that that is a secret to be known by three only when two have...passed.”

 

Scooter gulped as Kermit moved over to Piggy.

 

“Here, Piggy, this is yours.”

 

“Merci,” Piggy said as she took it and grinned at him. “I don’t suppose you were my Secret Santa and got me those diamond earrings I wanted? Or perhaps, a yacht~?”

 

Kermit cleared his throat. “Uh, no, not this time.”

 

Piggy pouted as she unwrapped the gift. “Oh, it’s a feathered hat.”

 

She looked it over. It was her favourite shade of purple with two white feathers peaking out from the ribbon from the back.

 

“Well, it’s not fashion of the year,” Miss Piggy muttered, “but it’s actually quite nice.” She paused to read the tag. “Thank you….CAMILLA!”

 

The chicken perked up as she moved over and proudly placed a wing over her chest.

 

“Cluck! Cluck!”

 

“Oh, you picked them yourself, that's magnifique,” Piggy paused. “Wait, from a store or from you?”

 

Kermit didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as he continued to hand out presents.

 

“Rizzo, here you go,” he said as he gave the rat a cookie tin.

 

“Yes, yes, YES!” Rizzo said as he removed the lid. “Christmas cookies. Best time of year for free food!”

 

“It’s from me,” Fozzie said. “My ma’s favorite ginger cookie recipe.”

 

“Well, gingerly give her my thanks,” Rizzio said he began to chow down.

 

“But it’s not just that,” Fozzie said as he pointed to a small card taped to the inside of the lid.

 

Rizzo blinked, hoping it was a gift card for even more food, but saw it was a note written in Fozzie’s handwriting.

 

“A free comedy show card?”

 

“I’m giving you an hour of jokes!” Fozzie said. “All done by yours truly.”

 

Rizzo looked at the card and back at Fozzie. “Any chance you got a return receipt?”

 

“Ah, speaking of gifts,” Kermit quickly cut in and handed Fozzie an envelope with a bow. “Here’s yours.”

 

“Oh, thanks,” Fozzie said as he tore it open a gift certificate. “What is this?”

 

Kermit looked over. “I believe it’s a ticket to a comedians-only spa resort.”

 

Fozzie gasped. “No way! 'Live And Love For Those With Laughs'?! I’ve heard of them and always wanted to go, but it’s way too expensive.” He looked over the envelope. “Who gave this to me?”

 

“Sorry, Fozzie,” Kermit said. “The gifter wanted to remain anonymous, same as anyone who picked out an ugly sweater.”

 

“What?” Fozzie said. “But how do I thank them?! Ma raised this bear to always give his thanks!”

 

Waldorf called out from behind the croquembouche. “The best thanks might be getting some better jokes from the comedians - or maybe a new career!”

 

“I think,” Kermit said as he cut in, “that the best way to be thankful is to just have a good time. Also, they said the ticket was for two. You could take your mom with you.”

 

Fozzie sighed. “I guess…oh, right, it's in the Caribbean! Ma can finally get to use those surfing lessons! I gotta go call her.”

 

Kermit waited for Fozzie to be out of earshot before turning to Statler and Waldorf.

 

“Are you two really sure you don’t want to tell Fozzie it’s from you two?” he asked.

 

“Of course we're sure. We've got our reputation to think of,” Statler replied.

 

“Also, it's our way of giving Emily a nice present too,” Waldorf replied. “That old bear can be stubborn about getting expensive gifts.”

 

“Well, here’s your gifts and they’re from me,” Kermit replied. “Two tickets to that new mystery play I know you wanted to see, with seats in one of the boxes.”

 

“Thanks, Frog,” said Statler.

 

“But it’ll never be beat our favourite mystery,” interjected Woldorf.

 

Kermit frowned. “What’s that?”

 

“Why we keep coming to your show,” both men replied in unison and laughed.

 

Kermit shook his head. He handed out a few more gifts to the Electric Mayhem, mostly anonymous ugly sweaters, but including a box of fireworks for Animal from Bunsen and Beaker...he made a mental note to check the fire extinguishers later. He then paused as he pulled out a fish shaped wrapped gift.

 

“It’s from me to Lew,” Gonzo called as he held the peanut butter jar he got from Rowlf. “Just toss it to him!”

 

“Alright,” Kermit said. “Lew, your gift! Heads up!”

 

He threw it and Lew Zealand caught it effortlessly. He tore off the wrapping and gasped.

 

“A new flying fish! Thanks, Gonzo! How did you know?!”

 

“I just have a knack for these things!” Gonzo replied proudly.

 

Kermit went back to the gift giving and handed out more gifts, then it came to the last two gifts.

 

“Rowlf, here’s yours,” he said as he gave a bone with a red bow. “It’s from the Swedish Chef. Since he’s visiting family in Sweden this year, he wanted me to tell you…well, I think he was saying he's sorry he couldn’t think of something more original.”

 

“I’m not complaining, it’s a classic gift,” Rowlf said as he began to chew on it. “I’ll send him a thank you letter.”

 

Kermit looked into the bag and picked up the last gift...Oh! It was for him.

 

“It’s from me, Uncle Kermit,” Robin said as he turned the toy plane that Uncle Deadly had gotten him.

 

“Oh, thank you, Robin,” Kermit said as he gently untied the ribbon and opened the box. He pulled out a small mug with lettering on it. “Best Uncle.”

 

“Do you like it?” Robin asked. “I tried to paint some rainbows on it for a special connection.”

 

“It’s perfect,” he said as he gave his nephew a hug. “Merry Christmas, Robin.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Kermit.”

 

“Okay, everyone,” Lloyd called out. “Animal’s going to try out his new fireworks. Let's take this party outside!”

 

“I'll be right behind you,” Kermit said as he safely put his mug back into its box. He made his way over to the fire extinguishers, and leaned on one with a smile. “Another good year for the Muppet Theatre.”

 

Then he called the fire department.

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