Kermit exited his office, slightly renewed. The first person he met was Rolf.

"Rolf, I need your help," he began. "Listen, too much to explain. I need you to keep the crowd happy. Get out your piano, play them something, anything. Mozart, Star Wars, whatever you think of…but keep playing. Do you think you can go for about ten minutes?"

"Sure, Kerm," Rolf replied cheerfully. "Anything for you."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. I owe you one, Rolf."

"Stay cool, Kerm."

Kermit scuttled off to find Fozzie, while Rolf ran over to his dressing room, rolled his small piano through the door, grabbed some random music, and dashed onto the stage. He set up the piano at center stage, set the music on the holder, and moved downstage to address the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to The Muppet Show! We have some very special acts planned for you today…uh, it's sure to be a memorable show."

"It won't be if you don't hurry up!" Statler yelled from his box. The audience erupted into laughter.

"Thank you, thank you very much," Rolf muttered, then cleared his throat and continued. "So, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, let the show begin!"

A moment of awkward silence followed. Rolf nervously shifted his weight and glanced backstage for some help. Then, he decided to dive right in.

"Right. OK, for our first act, we'll be doing something a little interactive." Awkward silence followed again.

"Ahem, as you have probably guessed, it will involve a piano…"

"Is that the best line you can think of, dog?" A rowdy monkey in the audience screamed.

"Hey," Rolf said, grasping desperately for a hook for the audience. The fish sure weren't biting. "don't underestimate this set of keys, folks. She's got a few surprises left in her. Who's up for Name That Tune?"

A chorus of cheers shot from the audience. Rolf let out a barely audible sigh of relief, then returned to his piano. He pulled out a random sheet of music and began to play. Fifteen seconds later, he stopped.

"Now, who recognized that?"

The audience was silent.

"Oh, come on!" Rolf exclaimed cheerfully. "You don't know Three Sausages in Madrid? It's a classic. Here, I'll try another one."

Rolf coughed and played a few bars of another tune. Then, he turned to the audience. "Any guesses?"

When the audience was silent, he laughed nervously. "You guys don't know Artichoke Serenade?"

Everyone groaned. Rolf had a feeling his act wasn't going very well. Then, he had an idea.

"Obviously, we don't have the same taste in music!" he began shakily. "Here's an idea: how about you shout out a song, and I'll try to play it. You know, custom concert!"

The crowd, once again, erupted into cheers. Maybe they were really interested, or maybe they had just had enough of Rolf's food-oriented airs. Nevertheless, it gave Rolf a boost of confidence.

In his box, Waldorf had concocted a plan—something bound to keep the audience happy. He rose from his seat and yelled to Rolf:

"Play The Bumblebee!" His suggestion was followed by shouts of agreement.

If Rolf's face could've turned pale, this would have been the moment. He searched in vain for a proper excuse, but he felt he had to post some kind of protest, no matter how lame.

"Uh, I thought it was only for violin."

"Then get out your violin!" Waldorf called.

"But I don't even play violin!" Rolf screamed back.

"THEN WHAT ARE WE ARGUING ABOUT?" Statler shouted.

That seemed to close the argument. A resigned Rolf trudged over to the piano, cracked his knuckles, pulled out his sheet music, took a deep breath, and began to play. By the fourth measure, Rolf was playing every third note incorrectly. Luckily, he was playing so fast that it was hardly noticeable. Somehow, he speeded through the impossible piece. When he was finished, the audience erupted into shouts of, "More, more, more!"

Poor Rolf groaned. But he had made a promise…and there was no way he was going to let Kermit down. The crowd made him play the song four times. By the end of the fourth, his head was swimming, the notes were jumping off the page, and his fingers were numb. Just when he slid out of his seat and took a bow, supporting himself on his piano, Statler shouted out:

"Hey, dog. Why don't you put in some lyrics?"

And, with that, Rolf's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fainted at centre stage.