Tag Archives: musings

Who is Your Favorite Muppet?

“Who is your favorite Muppet?”

She looked up from the puzzle they were working on, a large version of The Great Muppet Caper movie poster. She had what looked like Gonzo’s nose in her hand.

“Come on, you don’t know this one?” she responded with a sly smile.

He laughed. “It’s probably Miss Piggy.”

She shifted in her seat. “Ew. Miss Piggy isn’t anyone’s favorite.”

“When we were little and played Muppets, we always made my cousin Miss Piggy because she would get mad.”

“You’re sick. Wait, how did you play Muppets?”

He laughed. “You can’t really. It was mostly just to piss her off. I don’t think we ever even really played. She usually ran off and told on us, and then we’d get yelled at and forget the game.”

She found the rest of Gonzo in the many little islands of puzzle they’d completed and pushed it into its spot.

“Victory!”

“Are you going to say that every time you get two pieces to fit?”

“Mhmm,” she said as she stuck her tongue out at him.

At that point, the record they were listening to stopped and he got up to flip it.

“I love you,” she said. He stopped and looked at her, wondering where that came from. “What? I do. Only you could get me to sit here and talk about Muppets while we put together a Muppet puzzle and listen to The Muppet Movie soundtrack on vinyl. Where did I find you?”

He laughed as he flipped the record, hit start and returned to his spot, picking up a loose piece and staring at the little islands again.

“You didn’t answer me. Where did I find you?”

“You didn’t answer me either about your favorite Muppet. You found me at a coffee shop. I was too adorable to resist. Now answer me.”

“No.”

He looked up from his work and started laughing.

“Answer!”

“NO!”

He put on his serious face and she looked away. Finally she answered.

“Miss Piggy.”

Heat Wave

“I appreciate you.”

She looked up from the magazine she was reading and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I do,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she closed her copy of Under the Radar and placed it next to her.

“I was just thinking,” I started, “this is so nice. We’re sitting here together, reading, me on one couch, you on the other, and I’m really…”

“Happy?”

“Yes.”

She smiled and moved over to my couch. “Anything else you’d like to say?”

“Mhmm. I adore you. These simple moments, it’s too hot to cuddle, what with the heat wave, and we can’t really do much, so we’re just sitting here, relaxing, not even really feeling the need to chat.”

“Well, until now. Now you’re talking.”

“True, but now you’re cuddling. And it’s 100+ degrees out.”

“It’s 99.”

“Not if you include the heat index.”

“What does that even mean, the heat index?”

“I love that you always call me out.”

“Hey, you do it too,” she said, sliding even closer and putting her arm around me.

“Dude. It’s too hot to cuddle.”

“It’s too hot to talk, too,” she said as she got up, went back to her couch and returned to her magazine .