“A bear walks onstage,” he said, ignoring screams from the audience and scrambling security guards. The key to comedy, he’d learned, was to ignore your surroundings. Especially people yelling and throwing things.

“Fozzie?” Kermit asked, “Fozzie? What are you doing?”

”...where the frog who stabbed him in the back is giving an acceptance speech for an award he doesn’t deserve. ‘What are you doing?’ asks the frog. To which the bear replies…” (Pause, timing is everything.) ”’I’m pistoled off!’ Get it? ‘Pistoled’? Wokka wokka!”

The first shot spun Kermit The Frog backwards head over heels, red stuffing spiraling from his forehead, draping a stagehand who probably would have vomited if the same slug hadn’t punched him hard in the biceps.

Fozzie fired another shot into the limp frog; his third shot missed and embedded itself in the proscenium when he was tackled.

Someone yelled “Is there a doctor in the house?” which Fozzie thought was funny; it was the last thing he heard as fists rained down on his head.