"But I'm telling you, I need to get back East as soon as possible!" a frustrated Alicia Reiser was screaming at the purple woman manning the Cross-American Airlines desk at LAX behind a nametag labeled HELLO MY NAME IS MILDRED, "I've waited all week for this flight, Mrs. Huxstetter, it just can't be cancelled!"

"Let me punch up the airport listings on the computer here," Mildred donned a boxing glove and punched the keyboard literally several times, "Ah yes, here we are, it says here all flights headed out over the Rockies are ordered grounded until further notice until the storms back East clear up."

"How about a rental car then?" Alicia proposed desperately, "I can drive back and maybe catch a train in Denver or somewhere. What have you got?"

"How about a compact?" Mildred proposed.

"If you've got it, sure, let me see it," Alicia told her.

"All right, here's the compact," Mildred held up a compact mirror. "Forget it, just forget it!" Alicia groaned, "I'll go find someone who can genuinely help me!"

"Your plane ticket'll expire if you fail to get on the plane a half hour before it eventually does take off," Mildred called after her. Alicia didn't pay attention. Her mind was racing with terrible thoughts. She knew the rest of the family had been so looking forward to seeing her again, and after months in business meeting after business meeting with no permanent job offer, she felt the same. She had felt reluctant to go out west at first, as had Alan, but they had agreed it was for the best to keep providing food for the children. Looking back now, she considered it a terrible decision; nothing had really been gained from it, and she missed everyone terribly. Now if only the fates would cooperate and give her a smooth ride back home.

"Psssssst," came a hissing voice from the bathrooms. Alicia turned to see Lefty standing there, gesturing for her to join him. Reluctantly she followed him into the ladies' room. "You know, you can't come in here," she told him once they were inside.

"I always come prepared," Lefty put a blond wig on his head. "Now, I see you've been having some trouble with Cross-American," he whispered, "Would you like to buy…" he stopped for a moment as another woman entered the bathroom, then started speaking again in a feminine falsetto, "…want to buy a plane ticket?"

"You've got one?" she was amazed.

"I've got it right here," Lefty opened his trench coat. Alicia frowned. "There's nothing in there, buster," she told him sternly.

"It's an invisible plane ticket," Lefty said. After the other woman had walked out of the bathroom, he returned to his normal voice. "For Christmas I'm offering a half off discount sale; it's yours for an invisible five dollars."

"Five dollars? And you call yourself an astute businessman?" Alicia was appalled, "Forget it, there's better offers in this airport that that!"

"OK, how about for an invisible quarter?" Lefty proposed. Alicia pulled his hat down over his eyes in disgust. "How about I call the invisible police on you?" she grumbled, "Go find someone else to pick on!"

"Invisible credit card?" Lefty continued trying to make a sale as she walked away, "Guaranteed zero percent invisible credit for six months. I except all non-existent brand names."

Again Alicia paid no attention. She trudged over to the Cross-American concourse and slumped down in a seat next to numerous other stranded travelers. Out the window, she could clearly make out airline crews walking away from their planes in anticipation of the eastern shutdown. The entire wing of the airport was quickly becoming a ghost town outside.

"Well, at least it can't get worse than this," she thought to herself, "I hope Alan and the kids aren't stranded themselves because of this."


"It's a night of laughter and excitement tonight on ABC, the Antediluvian Broadcasting Company," the announcer on the television announced over a shot of a pterodactyl airplane taking off, "First, on the movie of the week, just when they thought their travel problems were all over with…"

"We've left Kevin cave alone!" shrieked an ancient dinosaur on respiratory aid aboard the plane, "He's only seventy-three!" This was followed by a close-up of an equally old dinosaur with a hunched back and white beard slapping his hands to the side of his head and screaming. "And this time," the announcer continued, "It's really personal."

"You know, I never got why they decided to keep this going after part 5," Robbie remarked to everyone else gathered around the television, "There's really no reason to have made any more except to make the executives rich."

"Meanwhile, we're still going strong after six films and counting," Gonzo said with pride, "I think." On screen, two more even older dinosaurs in electric wheelchairs inched toward the stairs. "This time you're really dead meat, kid!" one of them hissed.

"I don't think so," "Kevin" called from the top of the stairs. He pressed a button on the railing, which set off land mines all throughout the lower level and blew the intruders sky high. "Yes!" he pumped his fist in excitement…only to go into a coughing fit and have to reach for a breathing mask. "It's Cave Alone 9: Cancun Holiday," the announcer said, "Then at nine, gather the kids for the Ask Mr. Lizard Holiday Special."

"Oh I've just been waiting all December to see this one!" Fozzie was excited to see the promo, in which Mr. Lizard had his latest "Timmy" standing before a Christmas tree with at least a million lights on it. "Hey Mr. Lizard, how much electricity is this tree generating?" the eager young dinosaur asked.

"You'll probably find out by sticking that metal rod you're holding into the outlet, Timmy," Mr. Lizard gestured to the outlet in the wall, which had at least twenty plugs inserted into it, "Just let me get behind these boxes here."

He ducked to safety. Timmy shoved the rod into the outlet—and within seconds was violently electrocuted as the whole wall short-circuited and exploded. Once the smoke had cleared, Mr. Lizard glanced at the wreckage around him, and then turned to the camera and announced, "We're going to need another Timmy!"

"And at ten, Edward R. Hero takes a closer look at corporate Pangaea and its blindsiding of the public come the holidays on 20,000,000/20,000,000," the announcer went on, "The fun starts here tonight at seven, only on ABC."

"It's easy to see why they're back up in the ratings again," Earl remarked, switching the channel to DNN, "It's really exciting television again, am I right, Roy?"

He turned to his friend, who was sound asleep on the couch and snoring loudly. "Oh well," Earl shrugged, "I guess a nice warm fire puts him to sleep. It's all part of being cold-blooded."

"Warm fire, Dad?" Charlene called from the fireplace, where, even though she was still wearing every one of her coats, she was still visibly shivering, "I'm still freezing my tail off in this place! Somebody crank the heat up in here!"

"We can't crank it up further or we'll burn half the wall down," Scooter told her, "Think you've got enough coats on?"

"I knew I should have sneaked onto the plane to Hawaii!" Charlene grumbled under her breath, "At least I could have found a cave with those Snupple-Up-whatever-they're-called and stayed warm!"

There was a loud strangled cry from the kitchen. Sam came running up, with the Baby hanging from his neck, attempting to strangle him with a yanked-off phone cord. "Mr. Sinclair, you have clearly done a pathetic job raising this child!" the eagle gasped between breaths, "He is malicious and thoroughly un-American!"

"Gotta love me!" the Baby chuckled, releasing the phone cord. "Gimme remote, Daddy, time for Smoo Show!" he pleaded Earl.

"There will be no watching the Smoo Show," Sam scolded the child, "The Smoo Show is immoral and a prime example of the degrading of values on television."

"You're a weirdo," the Baby told him. Sam looked like he was ready to scream. "Mrs. Sinclair, please, take this child back, I can stand him no longer!" he pleaded Fran as she bustled by.

"I'm busy," Fran told him, "And you're doing quite well with him so far. Why don't you take him for a skate on the pond?"

"You heard her, feather boy, gimme skates!" the Baby told Sam, who let out a low moan before trudging toward the door. "Earl, don't just sit there all night." Fran scolded her husband, "All of us need to pitch in to help here."

"I'm doing me part, Fran," Earl said in self-defense, "I'm making sure the couch here stays warm for anyone who wants to sit here later tonight."

"Yeah, that is the only thing someone with so much fat in your brain can do effectively, fat boy," Grandma Ethyl wisecracked as she zipped by in her wheelchair. Earl shot his mother-in-law an offended look. "All right, if you want me to do more, I could push down another tree in the woods back there for the front yard, make everyone so happy," he sighed in resignation.

"Do we really need to sacrifice even more trees, Dad?" Robbie asked him with concern, "I mean, just looking around on the way here, I can't even begin to guess how many trees were lost this month to be decorated in each house. If we keep knocking them down at this rate, soon we won't have any more trees left at all."

"The things they teach kids in schools these days," Earl whispered loudly to Kermit next to him on the sofa, "When I was his age there wasn't this huge backlash against tree pushing."

Before Kermit could answer, there was another knock on the door, followed by two more thumps. "Careful of the icy patch!" came another round of calls. "Now who could that be?" Clifford shrugged up on the band platform, where he and the Electric Mayhem were now taking a break, "Just about everyone I know's already here."

"Not everybody I know," Kermit strolled over to the door and opened it wide. "Jen, Kira, come on in," he told the Gelflings outside, "Where's everyone else that was coming with you?"

"They had to scratch," Jen told him, stretching his back from the fall, "The storm hit the Labyrinth before they could meet up with us."

"Now tell me how that's remotely possible," Rizzo remarked, taking the Gelflings' coats, "How can this storm hit there at the same time as here?"

"You're guess is as good as mine," Kira shrugged, "Have you got a place for us to put our Land striders for the night? We can't just leave them out in the storm."

"We've got just the place in fact, Kira; hey Thog," Kermit called as loud as he could toward the large blue monster at the edge of the parking lot, "Come put these Land striders in the barn when you've got the chance."

"I'd be honored to," Thog bounded over to the Land striders and waved for them to follow him toward the barn. The snow outside was almost up to the bottom of the farmhouse's door, and the skies above were still looking formidable. Kermit shrugged as he kicked some of the snow away. Fozzie was right; at least they were all going to be having a nice quiet evening all together. The only other person who would have made it all the more perfect was…

"Kermit, hey Kermit," Fozzie leaned in over the frog's shoulder, "Don't you think you're dragging the story along a little too much?"

"Dragging the story just by standing here and watching that old Hudson Hornet coming up the road," Kermit pointed at a black dot entering the parking lot and being directed into place by Doglion in Thog's absence.

"A hornet, aaaahhhhhh!" Fozzie hit the deck, "Go find a helmet for me! Preferably one under water!"

"Not that hornet, Fozzie, the Hudson Hornet," Kermit groaned, "As a licensed employee of the Walt Disney Company, you had the chance to go see Cars any time you wanted. Weren't you in the theater with us?"

"You mean I had a license for Cars?" Fozzie asked, laughing and wiggling his ears once he'd realized he made an inadvertent joke. "So, what I was saying, Kermit," he went on, "I think the script's starting to sag a little bit." He held up a green cardboard script entitled ANOTHER VERY MERRY MUPPET FAMILY CHRISTMAS STORY: FINAL SHOOTING SCRIPT BY BOB WRIGHT. "I mean really, Kermit," the bear went on, "for the last few chapters of this we've stumbled from one character to the next with nothing funny going on. It's time they should give me center stage; I'll 'em dead with my great holiday jokes."

"Well, that would define how the audience would think something was funny, to be honest, Fozzie," Kermit told him, "Uh, looks like this is last people I invited coming in right now. Fozzie, say hi to Yorick, Harry the Hipster, Mushmellon, Moldy Hay, and all the other members of Jim's first troupe when I first joined him fresh out of the swamp. That's right, you all go inside here and just be careful of the…."

The frog's old performing troupe all became the latest victims of the icy patch. Kermit shook his head in dismay. "Never mind," he mumbled, helping Moldy Hay to his feet, "Dinner's almost done in the ballroom."

"Tell me you cooked up some chicken," Yorick chattered his teeth eagerly, "I love roast chicken."

"Noop," the Chef stuck his head out a nearby door, "Wir didn't mentone any chickenen dinner. Oonlesss…."

His gaze immediately fell on Camilla nearby. "Oh no you don't!" Gonzo shouted, jumping between the Chef and the chicken, "And you're not to harm any other chickens here tonight either! That's my terms!"

"Drat!" Yorick grumbled, "Oh well, as long as there's shrimp…"

"Shrimpen?" the Chef mused. It was at that moment that Pepe strolled into the living room. "Has anyone seen my snowflake sweater?" he called out to anyone who cared to listen, "I thought I left it in the front…what? Don't look at me like that, OK!?"

For the Chef was now looking at the prawn strangely. "Cummen to papparn," he announced, drawing a meat cleaver and running toward Pepe. "Help, police, lawyer!" Pepe shrieked as he ran for his life. Kermit shook his head. "Well anyway," he told the new arrivals, "In the meantime you'll find some hot chocolate on the table here in the den."

"No there isn't, there's nothing here but empty cups!" Icky Gunk protested, "Looks like some dinosaur took it; I can make out her claw marks right here."

"Say no more," Kermit trudged wearily into the living room. "Charlene, those hot chocolates were for all of us!" he upbraided the Sinclair's daughter, who was downing several cups of the drink as he spoke.

"You should know it isn't easy to stay warm when you're cold-blooded!" Charlene protested, leaning her back almost right up against the fireplace, "I need as much of these hot chocolates every chance I get! Tell Mom and the others in the kitchen we need more."

"We can't; we cooked up all the excess food for dinner and snacks," Kermit informed her, "If you really want it that bad, I could try to arrange a trip into town for some more, but only if the snow holds off."

"And while you're there, arrange an overnight flight to Jamaica for one," Charlene told him, "Because as I may have said, I can't stand any more of this freezing cold weather!"

"That and how many other things?" Robbie smirked behind his sister, ignorant of the fact he too was dressed in at least three coats inside the house.

"Hey don't you butt into this conversation, Rob!" Charlene threatened him. She brushed by him, wrapped her five fur coats tightly around herself, all the while muttering, "Maybe if I stood by the furnace down in the basement…" Kermit shook his head. "I hope she's not going to ruin all the holiday cheer by complaining about the cold," he confided in Robbie.

"Fat chance, she was up in arms the moment we left town and everything got abruptly colder," Robbie told him, "I thought it would be great to observe a colder Christmas for a change, though. Spike's right to a point, I'll tell you; snow is intrinsically beautiful. Now if we dinosaurs could just get past the fact that, like Charlene pointed out, we're all cold-blooded, we could try and have a cold-weather Christmas one of these years—as long as it doesn't throw the ecosystem out of balance."

"If you guys don't throw yourself down the extinction hole, you'd make a great elder some day, Robbie," Kermit commended him, "Come on, I think dinner's almost ready."

"But Kermit!" Fozzie ran frantically after the frog, "We haven't discussed changing a couple of my scenes yet!"


"And then we turned left," Larry turned the truck to the right—backwards. They had driven backwards since they'd left the Bitterman Tower parking garage, to the detriment of the few drivers still on the road, in an effect to retrace their steps and recover the Baseball Diamond. "And then we swerved to avoid the ditch," he did just that, "And then I chewed Weasel out for saying I drove like his stepmother," he made obtuse shouts at the Weasel, "And then I glanced out the rearview mirror and realized…we're lost."

"We didn't say that the first time over, Larry," the Snake told him.

"No, I mean, just now, we're lost," Larry said glumly.

"Maybe we could try Hare Krishna?" the Lizard unexpectedly suggested. Growling, Chuck kicked his associate in the shin. "Stay out of this!" the bear snarled, "OK, where should we have turned?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Larry yelled at him in frustration, "Every single sign out here's covered in a foot of snow!"

"All right, let's not panic," the Weasel held up his hand, "Maybe if we go forward a little bit we'll be able to go back again."

"But if we go back, then we won't be able to go forward," Bo told him.

"On the other hand," the Weasel countered, "Going back to go back means we can go forward—unless we have to go back to go forward, and then backing back will mean forward progress…."

"SHUT UUUUUUPPPPPPPP!" Larry screamed in his face, "You've got me completely confused!" He took several deep breaths to calm himself down, then said, "OK, we'll go up to those crossroads up there and go left."

"Right," Bo nodded.

"No, I said left!" Larry couldn't take much more of this.

"I know, right," Bo told him.

"LEFT!"

"Right."

Larry let out an aggravated growl and accelerated forward. He spun the truck sharply to the left…and found it toppling hard into a ditch. "Well, it looks like not going right was wrong," the Pop-Eyed Catfish remarked.

"Let's face it, we'll never get that diamond back!" the Snake lamented, lifting its tail to its face.

"We're not dead yet," Larry dialed his cell phone, "There's nothing that says we can't call a tow truck."

"But I don't want any toes!" the Lizard protested, immediately regretting this as everyone started whaling away at him.


"Well, I'll tell you that was one of the best meals I've had in a long time," Alan told Kermit as they walked out the farmhouse's back door toward the barn. The storm had completely subsided for a moment, and the sun could be made out setting in the west through some breaks in the clouds.

"And again, sorry that Cookie Monster got carried away and ate all your appetizers," Kermit apologized for the third time, "I guess he hasn't eaten all day; that's really the only times he goes nuts at the table that badly. Anyway, I'm glad you liked dinner. You really did a great job putting it together for all of us."

"I aim to please," the man said, stumbling briefly in a hole covered up by the snow. "Hmm, could this be another Fraggle hole?" he glanced down at it.

"Uh, no, doesn't look like this one is," Kermit shook his head after giving the hole a good looking over, "But you never know where a Fraggle hole will pop up. In fact, it was during Christmas one year that I first stumbled onto one," he told the man, "It was my first Christmas alone in the swamp after the rest of my family moved on to other ponds and lakes in the area. I was just swimming around listlessly, wishing I could spend the holidays with someone, and then I noticed a strange hole in the side of an old oak in the middle of the swamp that hadn't been there before. I got curious and went inside it, and lo and behold, ran smack into Gobo's Uncle Matt, back when he was Gobo's age. He got panicked at first and nearly caused a cave-in, but when I made it clear I meant him no harm and asked if I'd be willing to spend the holidays with him, he eagerly had me come further into the Rock with him to celebrate the Festival of the Bells with him."

"And how did that go?"

"It was rather enlightening, seeing another culture celebrate the season, and be just as joyful about it-well, except for Matt's Uncle Gobo when Matt kept accidentally belting him in the head with his own bell during the ceremony. But certainly it was good to be in the company of others for Christmas, and when I finally went back to the swamp, I wanted to repay the Fraggles in some way for their hospitality. Flash forward several years to when Jim was looking for a show that might bring some peace to the world. I remembered that experience, pitched him the idea that maybe the Fraggles could be the key to the concept, and went about looking for another Fraggle hole. As fate had it, I found it inside Mr. Crystal's workshop right after he and Sprocket moved in when I visited him about an electric fly catcher, went in, got their permission to be on the show-although they clearly had no idea what TV was-and arranged for hidden video cameras to be set up in the Rock to cover everyday life there. And clearly it worked out for the better in the long run. And all because a Christmas wish came true."

A nostalgic look grew over the frog's face. "I remember Christmas dinner for years, Jim would always make me have more than I wanted. He said the season was the one time we could take pleasure in eating what we want-after we'd taken care to feed those who need it first, of course. Boy were those the days. I remember this one Christmas morning after they'd all opened their presents," he went on, "Cheryl put on this princess outfit she'd gotten and got me to play the King of Eight with her. She did each one of the princesses while I handled the King. She didn't tell me that she and Lisa were conspiring to hit me with the giant 8 marker instead of Brian, who was playing the messenger. Once I regained consciousness, I made a whole long speech about how I didn't like things going off script. I was pretty upset at the time, but I can laugh about it now. Those were the moments, when his kids were all young, that you wish could last forever."

"Yeah, you always do like to hang on to the innocent times," Alan shook his head, missing his own childhood dearly, "That's why I feel guilty that Zachary and Christine can't have enough fun with me out of work. I try and do what I can with them, but I keep feeling it's not enough, that they'll never be happy under my watch."

Giddy laughter came from inside the barn. "Well, I've found there's always something that'll make a child happy, and it can happen when we least expect it," Kermit said, opening the doors. The barn was filled already with numerous sheep, chickens, pigs, and other animals. The stalls on the left side of the building had been hastily converted into makeshift rooms for the large monsters who had been, Alan had learned from Emily, unable to get rooms of their own do to the small size of the rooms Biff and Sully had built. Indeed, at this moment Sweetums was in one of them, reading the newspaper. And in the one on the far right, the Reiser children were resting on the back on a laying-down Snuffleupagus, listening to Fozzie telling some of his jokes. "So here's another one I'm going to open with the next time we go on the air," the bear said, leaning against a pile of hay bales, "Why was the lime afraid of the letter S? Because he didn't want to get s-limed! Wokka wokka wokka, aren't I funny!?"

"You still are!" Christine was breaking completely up with laughter, although apart from her brother, few others in the barn were. "I think you still need a little practice, Fozzie," Kermit told him.

"Oh," Fozzie quickly suppressed a disappointed look, "Well, I was just telling the kids how I would come back here when I was their age and practice being a top-flight comedian, so that one day I'd been the best one in the world."

"And you've still got a long way to go, bud," T.R. Rooster chuckled from the rafters. Fozzie gave the rooster an insulted look.

"OK, I've got a couple of announcements to make, guys," Kermit announced around the barn, "First off, I checked the kitchen, and we are officially out of food, so Buster, Leroy," he told the horse and donkey lying in the hay nearby, "Once we finish the first couple of carols, we'll need you guys to take us into town."

"I could take you," Snuffleupagus raised his snuffle.

"Well, I know you could, Snuffleupagus, but I think most people would tend to want to call the army and demand some shock and awe if they saw you walking up the street, even in a snowstorm," Kermit informed him, "And second, since the weather's going to be clear for a little while, we're going to have a hockey match out on the river, so if any of you wants to join in, Bob's taking names in the den for the next ten minutes or so."

He started to walk out. Alan helped his children up off Snuffleupagus. "That sounds like fun, want to do it?" he asked them.

"Not really," Zachary shook his head.

"And sit around watching everyone else have fun?" his father had to ask him, "I'll be playing with you."

"He's got a point there, Zachary," Snuffleupagus hauled himself to his feet, "It would be a shame to let life completely pass you by. Go on out and have some fun. Trust me, it'll be worth it."