"I feel so small and useless. Ambiguous and clueless.

I just can't seem to get anything right…I feel so invisible tonight.

All the plastic Santas doing hula dances remind me that I don't belong.

All the fake snow falling and my friends not calling leave me nothing but this song.

On the most miserable Christmas of my life.

The most MISERABLE, HORRIBLE, OBNOXIOUS, INTOLERABLE Christmas…"

Gonzo paused in strumming his guitar, staring down at the floor of Bitterman Plaza. He was decent at improvising songs. Too bad they were too depressing for other people to enjoy. He wouldn't be getting any tips for it. Then again, he wasn't expecting to, given how he was pretty much playing for himself now.

Then, a familiar voice behind him said, "Hey, don't give up." The whatever turned his head to see the frog that had come up to him earlier, the one that drove his only customer away. "You just haven't found the right audience."

Gonzo looked away from him and sighed, "I'm so tired of scrounging." He strummed his guitar some more. "I had my chance."

Suddenly, the frog began to move to sit next to him on the bench, adding more lyrics to his song:

"If only I could go back and take another crack at.

All the things I left undone I'd do them right.

If I had my friends and family here tonight, I'd have the most wonderful Christmas of my life!"

Then, he looked towards Gonzo and the lights in the mall lit up brighter than they had before, and the frog sang on:

"Everyone matters. Everyone matters.

Even the smallest of the smallest can make the biggest dreams come true.

Everyone matters…"

"Everyone matters," Gonzo found himself echoing as the frog went on, "For worse or for better," and together they sang:

"We can change the world around us with everything we do."

The frog looked Gonzo in the eyes and sang, "Even you."

"Even me," Gonzo replied, hardly believing his own words.

"You and me," the frog finished.

Gonzo packed his guitar away and slung his rucksack on. When he looked back at the bench, he saw the frog was still sitting there, watching him. He thought for sure he'd have to go home soon, so why was he still hanging around?

Also, the frog looked at him differently than most people did. No with pity or disgust or annoyance, but with…respect? A knowledge of something? It was so hard to say since Gonzo had never received such a look before.

He looked at the frog and said, "Thanks pal…what was your name?"

"Kermit," the frog answered.

"Kermit," Gonzo repeated. "Well, have a great Christmas, Kermit." He picked up his guitar. "I'll see you around the mall sometime."

As he walked away, Gonzo thought he heard Kermit say, "So long, Gonzo. Merry Christmas."

Did he ever tell Kermit his name? No? Maybe? Oh well, it didn't matter. Gonzo just wanted to get home before it got too late.

Home for Gonzo was a bus terminal locker. He'd taken to living in one ever since he discovered them to be an option. They were small enough to hold him and very cheap, costing only a few quarters for a few days. A lot better than a cement mixer he chose to live in once (he had to ditch that home when he made the discovery that the cement mixer was still in use!).

Gonzo scanned the lockers until he found one that wasn't being used, where he dug into his pocket, pulling out a couple of quarters. He had enough of it. Thank whoever for that.

Gonzo deposited the coins into the slot and popped open the locker, then pulled his blanket from his rucksack. He wrapped up in his blanket a little, squatted down and shimmied into the locker. Once he determined he was comfortable, he shut his eyes and fell asleep.

He had this reoccurring dream every now and then; he'd be standing on a white-sanded beach at night. A lighthouse situated on a rock ledge was alight, casting its rotating light around the area, illuminating the coast and part of the sea.

Gonzo stood on shore, staring at the ocean as waves lightly splashed onto the sand. He looked around. All alone. Not even a hermit crab crawling across the terrain to acknowledge him. He sighed.

All alone. He hated being alone, but what could he do about it? Nobody wanted anything to do with a freak like him, not even other freaks! Except Kermit. Kermit the Frog. Kermit didn't mind having anything to do with him. Kermit was his friend…maybe? Gonzo would have to seek him out and ask.

Suddenly, something happened that hadn't happened in this dream before; a light flickered high in the sky, catching his attention. Was that a shooting star? Gonzo looked up and watched it, checking its movements. It wasn't moving across the sky, like shooting stars do, it was getting bigger, like it was moving towards him! He held his breath.

The bigger the light got, the more Gonzo noticed that it seemed to be attached to something, a giant flying object. A helicopter? No, it wasn't shaped like a helicopter. A UFO? No. Aliens don't exist…right?

The light shone directly onto him, and soon, he began to feel the heat of it on his face. Then, a voice said, "Wake up."

Gonzo frowned, "What?"

"I SAID WAKE UP!"

Gonzo startled awake, finding a flashlight shone in his eyes. He grimaced and covered his face with his blanket. "What do you want?" he grumbled.

"I want to know why you're sleeping in a locker, freak," a man's voice snapped. "It's illegal to occupy one like this."

Gonzo groaned, "And why do you care?"

"Because I'm a cop," the man stated.

Gonzo poked his head out from under his blanket and got a better look at the man holding the flashlight.

He was a tall human, with short, greased back hair, and wearing a typical beat cop uniform. A baton and gun were clipped to his belt. A nametag hung from his pocket that read "N. Holiday".

This could be trouble.

Fozzie stood in an alley, staring at the wallet he had taken from the frog he witnessed get tossed out of Club Dot. Kermit the Frog. Fozzie learned his name from his ID left inside.

The bear sighed. He had taken this wallet for nothing. It was practically empty, not even a moth to fly out to convey its emptiness. He had stolen an innocent frog's wallet for nothing.

He looked through the wallet, searching for any means to return it, such as an address card, but what first caught his eye was the photo holder attached inside. It was one of the long ones, that could hold multiple photos, eight max. Fozzie couldn't help but get a look at each picture:

The first depicted Kermit sitting in a red armchair with a little frog sitting on his knee. Him and his child? Maybe. Kermit would be upset to lose this photo.

The second depicted Kermit standing with a group of colorfully dressed people, holding musical instruments. The two that stuck out the most were the green man with the gold tooth and the monster manning the drums.

The third photo showed Kermit standing with a blue, hook-nosed creature next to a cannon, the creature wearing a colorful jumpsuit and holding a shiny helmet under his arm.

The fourth photo had Kermit standing by a grand piano, where a large brown dog seemed to be tapping away at the keys.

The fifth picture had Kermit standing with a young orange man who wore thick round glasses and a green jacket. Fozzie swore he'd seen that man around Club Dot, but he wasn't sure. He seemed very happy in this picture, while the man he was thinking about…wasn't.

The sixth photo had Kermit looking over the shoulder of a human man with a beard, both of them smiling. Fozzie wondered briefly how a frog could befriend a human before moving onto the next photo.

The seventh photo depicted Kermit standing with a lady pig with long blonde hair and big blue eyes, who was holding him close. His girlfriend or wife? Another photo Kermit probably missed.

The last photo made Fozzie's heart nearly stop: It showed Kermit standing with an orange-brown bear with a round pink nose, who wore a brown hat and a polka-dot tie. It was himself…but how? Fozzie had never known a Kermit the Frog until tonight! How did he have a picture of them together? Fozzie would remember a frog like Kermit. After all, who'd forget someone that nice?

Then again…Kermit knew Fozzie's name somehow. What could explain that? He looked through the wallet completely but couldn't find an address card. He'd never be able to return this. He'd never get answers.

Fozzie sighed and hid the wallet on his person. He couldn't worry about that now. He had things he had to do before the night was over.

He peered out of the alleyway he stood in, looking up and down the block. He soon spotted a man approaching, holding a briefcase in one hand and a phone in the other, which seemed to have all his attention. Good. This could be easy.

Fozzie hid in the alley until the man began to pass by, and soon crept out at a fast pace. If he got close enough and acted fast enough, he could get the man's wallet. Hopefully there'd be enough inside for a warm hotel room for the night.

Fozzie reached his paw out towards the man's back pocket, where he could make out the slight bulge of the wallet, and just when he was about to make the move, a loud police siren began to go off!

Fozzie whipped around to see a police car parked nearby. How did he not notice that? The man turned around too, wide-eyed and soon looked down at the bear who had his paw outstretched towards him.

"Hey!" he snapped. "Were you just about to rob me?!"

Fozzie looked up at the human, wincing. Yes, he wanted to say. And I'm sorry, he wanted to say too, but he couldn't use his voice.

Soon, he heard footsteps approach him from behind, and he looked back over, to see an officer standing there. He was a human man with curly brown hair and wore glasses.

He looked down at Fozzie and sighed, "Were you just about to pick-pocket this man?" He didn't sound angry like cops normally do; just disappointed.

Fozzie couldn't help but look down at the snowy sidewalk, "Yes, officer…"

"Book him!" the businessman snapped. "Punish him for this crime! He tried to humiliate me!"

The cop nodded, "Of course, sir." He looked back down at Fozzie and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, "I'm going to have to take you into custody, bear."

Fozzie put out his paws, saying weakly, "I know…I know."

It seemed that Kermit's wallet would be returned another way; by the police who arrested the thief. That was probably the only upside to this. Fozzie knew this day would come…but did it really have to happen on Christmas Eve?

Well, here's chapter one of my first fanfic on here in a while! I hope you all enjoy it!

Muppets are owned by Disney and It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie is owned by NBC.

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