The Case of the Missing Remote
by Linda Schwartz

Peter opened his eyes to a fuzzy haze. His brain tried to piece together his current situation. As the fog began to clear he found he was lying in his bed. He slowly remembered he'd dragged himself home after a grueling twelve-hour shift. He'd gotten as far as his bed before complete exhaustion forced him to plop down on the soft mattress and fall into a deep sleep.

He turned his head and looked at the clock. The numbers, which were illuminated in a deep blue, read 7:00 PM. Peter yawned, stretched, and slowly sat up. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he got up and wandered into the bathroom. He didn't have any plans aside from watching the hockey game on TV.

Peter walked up to the kitchen and fixed himself a sandwich, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and carried them to the living room. He placed the food on the coffee table and sat back on the couch.

"Ah," he moaned as he got comfortable.

He reached over to the end table and his fingers closed around empty space.  

"What the... Where is it?" Peter jumped off the couch, pulled off the cushions and knelt on the floor under the couch. Not finding any trace, he scanned around the room.

"Damn it, where did I put that thing." He walked over to the bookcase and checked the shelves. A knock on the door interrupted his search.  

Peter opened the door. "Kermit what are you doing here?"

 "Is that anyway to greet a friend bearing gifts?" he answered, holding up the six pack of beer and the pizza box, displaying them to Peter. "I thought we could watch the game together, but I can always go make Blake's evening a living hell instead."  

"No, it's okay, Kermit, come on in. I can use the company." Peter took the beer and brought it into the kitchen, while Kermit put the pizza on the dining room table.  

"Peter, did a hurricane come through your apartment?" Kermit's gaze swept the room and he noticed the condition of the disheveled couch.  

"Why do you ask that, Kermit?" Peter joined him in the living room. "Oh," Peter saw the couch cushions he'd tossed on the floor.  

"I'm looking for the remote. It's gotta be around here somewhere."

"The remote? Is that what this is all about?" Kermit asked incredulously.  

"Yeah, help me find it. I know I had it last night. At least I think I did" Peter went into his bedroom.  

"Think you did, you mean you don't know?"

"I was pretty tired last night, I'm lucky I found my way home." Peter rummaged around his bedroom. His search was interrupted when he heard the TV click on. He rushed from the room.  

"Kermit! You found it!" He had a hopeful look on his face.

"No, I just used a little geek ingenuity." Kermit demonstrated by pushing the on and off button. The TV clicked off and back on.  

Peter rolled his eyes. "I could've done that."

"Then why didn't you?" Kermit moved the couch cushions back. "Or have you become one of those lazy couch potatoes? Look Peter, forget the remote. Let's just kick back and enjoy the game." Kermit sat down, he looked at Peter, and patted the empty space next to him. Peter relented and grabbed a beer and joined him.  

The Carlsburg Sonics game was intense; it was tied up by the end of the first period. There had already been two brawls, a penalty for high-sticking, and one of the players had to be carried off on a stretcher. He suffered a concussion when he was checked into the boards. In other words, it was a good game.

They were having a great time.

"The Sonics are going to beat the Devils 6-3."  

"Oh? Do you have money wagered on the outcome?" Peter asked him.

"Never, I don't need to get into that crap. I've been down that road already."

"You, Kermit? I can't see you being a wild gambler."

"That was in my past, Peter. Something I'd like to keep that way." Kermit lowered his sunglasses and glared at Peter to emphasize his point.

"Okay, Kermit, chill out. I won't give away any trade secrets." Peter relaxed a bit when Kermit put his shades back into place.  

It was between periods and Kermit decided he wanted another cold one.

"I'm getting another beer, want anything while I'm there, Peter?"

"Yeah, Kermit, thanks. I'd like another brew."  

Kermit climbed the steps leading to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. He leaned in and reached for two bottles when something caught his eye.

"Oh my gawd," he rolled his eyes and closed the door. He took a plate out of the cabinet and then joined Peter in the living room.

"Here you go, Peter." Kermit put one of the bottles in front of him. "I thought you might want a snack to go with it."  

"Sure," Peter's attention was riveted to the TV as the second period got underway. He reached over and picked up what was on the plate.

"What the..." Peter looked at the item in his hand. He noticed he was holding the errant remote. "Kermit," he straightened his body on the couch. "The remote, where did you find it?"

"In a very unusual spot. The refrigerator, it was sitting right next to the cartons of leftover Chinese food." Kermit sat down on the club chair and stared at Peter. He was waiting for an explanation as to how a remote got into the refrigerator in the first place. "Well?"

Kermit joined Peter on the couch.

"Well what?" he said tersely.

"How does a TV remote end up in a fridge?"  

"I told you, I was out of it last night. I supposed you've never lost or misplaced anything?" Peter looked at his friend.

"Nope, never happened. I can't afford to in my business." He arrogantly stated.

"Right," Peter skeptically replied, his attention returned to the game. About an hour later the hockey game ended.  

"Yes! The Sonics won." Peter beamed happily. They had lost their past two games. This game was important if they had a chance to make it to the playoffs.  

"It was a great game, Peter, but I better hit the road. Work tomorrow, remember?"

"Yeah, thanks for coming over, Kermit."

He walked Kermit to the door and they said their good-byes.  

Kermit got off the elevator at the parking level where the corvair was parked. He was looking forward to going home and getting on his computer. He'd been trying to crack a code that would allow him access to a certain area of the CIA database that wasn't allowing him in.  

"Oh damn!" Kermit's voice echoed in the garage as he stood by his car. "Where the hell are my keys?"  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter was cleaning up. He took the empty beer bottles and put them into the recycling container in the kitchen. He was tired and was heading for bed. He was turning out the lights when he noticed something shining under the light from the lamp on the end table which was next to the sofa.  

Kermit's car keys. Peter smiled as he picked up the keys.  

"So much for never forgetting things, ex-merc." He heard a knock on the door. Peter opened it and fought hard not to laugh at the indignant look that greeted him. Kermit saw the keys in Peter's left hand and unceremoniously grabbed them.

"If I hear about this incident at the precinct I'll be forced to end your existence," he barked at Peter.  

"Okay, Kermit, I'll keep your secret if you'll keep mine."  

Kermit turned and stormed off, "see you tomorrow, Peter. Goodnight." He muttered as he left.  

Peter closed the door and broke out laughing. His friend never ceased to amaze him. He turned out the lights, stripped down to his underwear, and slid into bed.

End