As Christmas Eve morning dawned the next day in the city of Fieldton about fifty miles from where the theft had occurred, Alan Reiser sat in the den of his worn-down apartment reading the classified section of the newspaper. He shook his head sadly. No openings were available. Ever since the electrical company had decided three months ago to completely outsource its operations to the Far East, he'd been left in the lurch with no employment. He was starting to feel desperate inside; after all there was no way he could continue to scrape by with two children to support while his wife was out on the West Coast.

It was at this moment that the phone on the table next to his decaying armchair rang. Alan grabbed for the receiver; he'd been expecting the call since last night. "Hello?" he said into the receiver.

"Good morning and merry Christmas, dearest," came his wife's voice on the other end. Although she'd only been out in California working hard to try and help keep them afloat after he'd been laid off, seemed like forever to Alan—and their children—that she'd been gone. Unfortunately, she'd only been able to find low-end positions so far—barely enough to pay her airfare back, she'd told him softly over the phone one night when the children were asleep—and that wasn't helping the fact they were well behind on the rent and probably facing an eviction notice within the next thirty days. "So, are you still on schedule to get back her by tonight, Alicia?" he asked her.

"I'm at the airport now, honey," she told him, "I don't know if the plane'll be able to make it through, though; they're saying a snowstorm's headed your way."

"They are?" Alan frowned, "The forecasters all said clear this morning when I got up. You'll still try anyway? We were all going to drive to the airport in Boulderville to see you off the plane."

"I'll try, but if that's storm's really there, there's no guarantee you'd be going there for nothing," she said with a melancholy edge, "From what I saw, it looked like a really big storm."

"Is that Mom on?" came the still sleepy voice of their son Zachary, having entered the den still in his pajamas.

"Yep. You want to talk to her?" his father asked. Zachary nodded slowly and took the receiver. Alan stepped back and listened to mother and son discuss the holidays and what they'd have as presents for each other. There was no mistaking, though, the deep sadness etched on Zachary's face as he talked with Alicia; he'd been very close to his mother and had taken the fact she was going out west hard. Alan understood the pain, having lived through his own parents' divorce when he was twelve. But that had been far from the only problems in Zachary's life lately; two of his own friends had also moved away, and this combined with the absence of his mother had sent the formerly boisterous ten year old into a shell, spending most of his time in his room and doing none of the activities he once had. Alan was desperate to get him back out into the world and start living again, but didn't have the heart to try anything forceful.

"Right, we'll see you there, Mom," Zachary finished the conversation and hung up. He stared ahead into space. "Something's going to go wrong and we're not going to get to spend Christmas together," he said softly.

"Hey, don't worry about that yet, pal," Alan walked over and rubbed his son's hair, "No need to get upset before things happen."

"I just have this terrible feeling deep down that bad things will happen either to us or her," Zachary wasn't placated, "Everything else's gone wrong for us, no reason this won't either."

"Well now you're starting to think like a Fraggle," Alan told him, "They always get pessimistic in the bad times."

"What Fraggles? I've never seen any Fraggles," Zachary commented, shaking his head, "Everyone says they're just a myth little kids believe in. Have you ever actually seen a Fraggle, Dad?"

"No myself, no, but—"

"Then how do you know they always look on the bad side of things?" Zachary posed. Alan couldn't come up with an answer for this. The clock struck ten o'clock at this moment. "Well, looks like the time's almost upon us to get moving if we want to get to the airport in time," the man said, "Why don't you get all the presents for your mother together, and I'll go get your sister awake so we can get out on the road."

"I guess," Zachary went about gathering up the presents that were stacked in the corner of the den. Alan walked up the hallway to a door that was still closed. He gently opened it. His daughter lay asleep in her bed, snoring softly. She looked almost completely at peace, as if she didn't have a care in the world. But Alan knew nothing could be further from the truth, even if he hadn't told it to her. Ever since the hospital reports had came back last month, and the doctor had said—he couldn't even bear to think of it now—acute leukemia, discovered about three weeks late…

"Time to wake up, Christine," he said, gently shaking her. Christine awoke with a start. "Is it Christmas Eve yet?" she asked him.

"At last check it was," Alan pointed to the overcast but bright skies outside, "You'd better get dressed, we're going to need to be at the airport in an hour if we want to see Mommy home." His heart shuddered inside as he said this; if Zachary was right and something did go wrong, Alicia might never get another chance, if the disease had spread far enough…

"Is Mommy still coming back on time?" she asked him, stretching.

"So far, yes," he said, "I bet she's going to like that present you got her."

"I hope so," his daughter said.

"Well, I'll let you get ready, your brother and I will load up the car," he started to leave.

"Daddy, are you sure I'm all right to see her again?" Christine's question cut through the air, "I'm not contagious to her, am I?"

Alan stared hard into her worried eyes. He forced a smile. "No, it's not that bad," he said quickly, "Everything's going to be all right."

He rubbed her hair as well and walked out of the room, breaking up on the inside. "Here, I'll take that one," he told Zachary, who was struggling to lift a heavy present—a microwave, as Alicia had told him she could use one when she went back to California after the holidays, "No need to hurt yourself." He picked it up and carried it out into the hall, too preoccupied to notice the yellow newsman coming onto the television screen in his landlord's room up the hall, the door to which was wide open had he cared to look. "Here's a fast-breaking news flash," the Newsman was announcing as he ran up to his desk, accidentally tripping on and breaking something with a loud shattering of glass in the process, "The National Weather Service has issued a winter weather warning for the Tri-County area for the rest of the day. The edge of the snowstorm is expected to reach the area within the next two hours…" at this point a torrent of snow abruptly fell down on him. "If not sooner," he added with a grimace, wiping it out of his hair, "Motorists are warned to stay off the roadways at all times within the next twenty-four hours if they can help it."


"How much longer is this going to last?" Christine asked in a worried voice about a half hour later as they drove very slowly eastbound on Route 21 toward Boulderville—straight into what looked like the heart of the snowstorm. For without an advance warning of the system, they had driven right into almost total whiteout conditions.

"Oh, I'm sure this won't go on too much longer, probably just a squall," her father said as optimistically as he could. He gripped the wheel tightly with both hands and braked hard every chance he could get, for he could barely see five feet in front of him with the wind blowing heavy gusts of snow along the road.

"If so, this is the heaviest squall I've ever seen," Zachary was gripping the door handle nearest to him tightly as well, "I don't like to complain, Dad, but maybe we'd better pull over until this blows over."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Alan had to agree now, "I think we…"

It happened in a flash. One second there was the strident blare of a horn directly behind them. Alan failed to see the truck until it was almost right alongside him, barreling along at well over the speed limit. He had to swerve hard to avoid getting sideswiped, and found himself sliding out of control on black ice. "Hold on!" he yelled to his children in the back seat, bracing himself for a crash. While that thankfully didn't come, there was a lurch as they slid sideways into a ditch, just barely avoiding a rollover. For a few minutes the Reisers sat still, breathing heavily over what had just happened. "You guys all right back there?" Alan asked his children once he'd collected his bearings again.

"I think so," Christine was also taking deep breaths; fortunately, she and her brother looked unharmed. "Are we stuck, Dad?"

"One way to find out," Alan turned the key in the ignition again. Only now the engine wouldn't start. He pressed the key several times before it became perfectly clear the engine was now completely dead. "Perfect!" he groaned, slumping against the steering wheel, "It looks like we are stuck! We'll have to get a mechanic for this!"

"In this weather?" Zachary gestured at the windows, which were completely covered with snow already, "Who else is going to be out here in this?"

And then suddenly before anyone could answer, they all heard the sound of a large vehicle approaching. There was a squeal of brakes as it came to a stop alongside them. The next thing any of them knew, there was a knocking on the front window. "Hi ho," said a familiar voice, "You folks need some help?"

Alan rolled down the window to find himself staring through the falling snow at a green amphibious face. "Kermit?" he asked, surprised, "Kermit the frog from TV?"

"That's me," the frog said, "I'm glad someone still watches us. What seems to be the problem here?"

"Oh, engine died and we got run off the road," Alan told him, "You wouldn't by any chance be going near the airport in Boulderville?"

"The Boulderville airport's been shut down due to the storm, " the Great Gonzo stuck his head out of the window of the large bus with snow chains and snowplow that was parked nearby, "They just said so on the radio."

"Great, just great," Alan sighed in frustration, "Now what are we going to do? Our whole day was based around that airport being open!"

"Tell you what," Kermit proposed, "I know there's a garage and convenient shop about five miles up the road from here. How about we drop your car off there, and you can come wait with us until this storm blows over?"

"Where are you going?" Christine had rolled down her window as well despite the storm's ferocity.

"Fozzie's mother invited us all back to her place for Christmas, since we had so much fun the last time we were there," the frog told her, pointing to his bear colleague behind the bus's wheel, "In fact we've invited practically everyone I know to come this year. A couple more people sure aren't going to hurt."

Alan thought this over for a minute. "Are you sure your bus there can get there safely in this weather?" he had to ask.

"Well, good question," Kermit didn't look completely sure himself, "But we have come twenty miles so far. And if it's too bad, we can wait over at the garage until it clears."

"Hmm," Alan mused it over. "What do you guys say, should we take up the frog's offer?" he asked his children.

"It's a lot better than waiting here for this to stop," Zachary told him, "Besides, I've been wanting to collect these guys' autographs for a long time."

"Well then, let me be the first to help you there," Kermit produced a pencil and paper and signed out his name for Zachary, "Hop on board the bus, we'll get you hooked up. Hey you guys, give me a hand out here getting these people's car out of the ditch," he called into the bus.

There was a low murmur as several Muppets came off the bus dressed in heavy winter outfits. "Boy they're in deep," Floyd Pepper commented, staring at the Reisers' car in the ditch, "It's going to take us a while to get this unstuck."

"Not if us all eat snow," Animal began chowing down on the snowdrift around the car. His Electric Mayhem colleagues shrugged and started pushing on the rear bumper. "No complaints now, please guys," Kermit told several who were still grumbling, "We should be glad we're doing a good deed like this."

He started pushing along with the musicians. The Reisers climbed out of the car. "Take care of our presents in the back there, "Alan informed the frog, "They're meant for my wife."

"We'll take good care of them," Kermit gestured toward the back end of the bus, to which a large flatbed loaded with at least three dozen more presents was attached, "Take whatever seats available on board."

"Right," the family rushed toward the bus; anything to get out of the cold wind. "Fare is twenty-nine dollars a head," Fozzie greeted them once they were on board. Seeing the worried looks on their faces, he added, "Just joking. Ride's on us. Sit anywhere, like the frog said."

"You're still a terrible comedian off the stage too," Alan told the bear. He slid into a seat a few rows behind Fozzie, right next to Scooter, as it was. "Hi," the gofer greeted him, "You know, I think you're going to like Fozzie's mother. She always throws a great Christmas party."

"Well we can't stay long," Alan informed him, "We'll have to get to the Boulderville airport sometime today when it reopens. We promised my wife we'd be there. The kids have been waiting so long to see her."

"The old love at a distance, huh?" Scooter asked, "Well, I'm sure we can work out something. In the meantime, you're going to have lots of fun. We all are. I think this is going to be one of the best Christmases ever."