The exterior of the Mexican restaurant is covered in a vibrant mural depicting traditional religious iconography. 

As I take scout pictures, I notice something hidden in one corner: a likeness of Kermit the Frog. 

I go inside and see that behind the register, there are dozens of Kermit-related items: dolls, toys, keychains, a lunch box, a calendar, a Chia pet. 

I finish taking pictures of the interior, then thank the owner. As we walk out, I ask if he’s a big fan of Kermit and the Muppets. 

For a moment, it looks like he’s going to confirm this enthusiastically. Then, he motions for me to come closer. He lowers his voice as though he’s telling me a dark secret. 

“You know,” he says. “I just painted that on the front because I thought it was funny. But the customers? They love it. They think I love Kermit. And so they just keep bringing me this shit. Toys, posters, socks…” He waves his hand at the counter, his voice growing louder. “Much of it, I hide away but some, I have no choice but to display…” He trails off, exasperated.

He sighs. Composes himself. “I just don’t know what to do,” he says quietly, staring at the Kermit doll perched on his register.