Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

[Ruahnna]

It was dark and quite late when Kermit inserted his key into the lock of the sprawling Spanish-style home he and Piggy had bought shortly after
the studio had offered him a corner office. “At least,” he though dismally, “she hasn’t changed the locks.” Piggy’s meteoric rise to super-stardom had furnished any luxuries not already existing in the property. It was an inviting, comfortable, stylish and altogether homey place. Kermit thought—not for the first time—that he saw the inside of it far too little and far too infrequently to suit him. These thoughts were not far from his mind, but they weren’t foremost.
Foremost, of course, was the shameful way he had treated Piggy that afternoon. When take after take had failed to produce the film they’d needed, he’d degenerated into the sort of autocratic, grouchy, dictatorial perfectionist he’d always despised. With far more dignity than he’d expected—or shown himself—Piggy had simply excused herself and gone to her trailer. When she’d finally left for home, Kermit couldn’t say, but he remembered with chagrin the way she had nailed her performance every single take. Regardless of technical difficulties, the flubbed lines of others, her own fatigue and in spite of—rather than because of his guidance—she’d turned in a stellar performance every time the film had rolled. Piggy could take her place among the notable divas of any generation—grandstanding with the best of them--but when the situation called for it, she could act. And, he admitted, she had been professional, unlike a certain frog he could mention. The memory made his cheeks burn with shame.
The house was dimly lit. Kermit had almost concluded that Piggy had gone upstairs to bed when he saw the ambient light from the den. A small table had been pulled up cozily next to the plushy recliner, and on it sat an untouched mug of hot chocolate. The light of the lamp revealed Piggy nestled into the curve of the chair. Her eyes were closed, her honeyed locks were pulled up on top of her head with a clip and she was swathed in some sort of caftan-like garment that covered her from chin to toes. In sleep, her profile was soft, unguarded. Overwhelmed with tenderness, Kermit knelt in front of her. Some ingrained awareness of his proximity made her stir, her eyelids flutter open.
“Kermie?” Her voice was muffled, clouded with sleep.
“Yes, Piggy,” he answered softly. “It’s me.”
She seemed to rouse herself, looking down at her husband cautiously. Her mouth opened, but she closed it without comment, her eyes searching his face. Kermit saw the uncertainty, acknowledging it with pain.
“Honey—“ Kermit began, but something she had read there on his face—contrition, apology, need--had moved her. Piggy leaned forward and kissed him without preamble, her lips velvety-soft over his. Kermit stood suddenly, lips still locked with hers and swept Piggy up in his arms.
“Kermie—you shouldn’t,” she began automatically. “You’ll hurt yourself.” Men are, from time to time, permitted small, complimentary lies in the pursuit of l’amour--thank goodness.
“Nonsense, Darling,” Kermit murmured, smiling at her. “You’re light as a feather.” With the weight of guilt off his shoulders, he could have lifted a Buick (which was, perhaps, just as well) and carried it across the country. Or, at the very least, to the couch.
At the edge of the overstuffed divan, Kermit lowered her to her feet, but did not loosen his hold on her. He pressed a kiss into her hair and felt her hands tighten on his shirtfront, leaning into his embrace. He pulled back ever-so-slightly and Piggy looked at him, her eyes dark with wonder and longing. It was all the encouragement Kermit needed and he tightened his arms around her. Her arms had crept to his shoulders, and now one soft hand was caressing the nape of his neck. Somehow, his shirt had escaped from his trousers, and her other satiny hand was slipping up his back. Kermit shifted his hold on her, and the silk robe she wore made a papery sigh, molding to him like a second skin with static electricity. He tried to pull it free and received a fat sparky zap, making him yelp and Piggy giggle.
“What is this thing you’re wearing,” he demanded grumpily. “This isn’t like you at all.”
Piggy laughed softly, her voice low and teasing.
“It’s a muumuu, Kermie.”
“Well it certainly doesn’t look like….” He trailed off as Piggy slipped the robe from her shoulders, revealing a sweet but rather skimpy negligee. “There’s my girl,” he said with satisfaction. “I can always count on you Piggy.”
Piggy grew still in his arms and her gaze on him was intent. Kermit could feel the muffled beating of her heart against his ribcage, liked the warm solid feel of her in his arms.
“You can, you know,” Piggy said at last. “You always can.”
There was a moment then, when something timeless and important hung between them—all the things said and unsaid, felt, sensed, known—then Piggy nestled up against him and pressed her face into his neck.
“I do know,” Kermit said fervently. “I promise—I do.”
For the last time, Kermit pulled away, but just enough to see her face.
“I haven’t been taking good care of you, Piggy,” he said softly. “That’s going to change.”
Her face softened and she looked at him solemnly. The trust in her eyes made him want to be a better frog. Starting now.

[ReneeLouvier]

Oh wow....*melts into a pool of sweetness*....I love this.

[Ruahnna]

A Lucky Frog

Kermit adjusted his tie before the dresser mirror, straightening his collar a little in the process. Although clothes are always optional for frogs, Kermit enjoyed dressing up once in a while, and he wanted to look his professional best today. With a final twist of his conservative tie, Kermit turned. The little blue light on the nightstand clock-radio told Kermit that it was four-thirty in the morning. He bent down and brushed a feather-light kiss across Piggy’s unfurrowed brow before turning to go. Her eyes opened and
she smiled up at Kermit sleepily.
“What time is it?” she asked, her eyes automatically straying toward the clock. “Do I have an early call?”
“It’s early yet,” Kermit murmured, “and you don’t have an early call. In fact, you have the morning off. I’ll send the limo around for you at lunchtime.”
“But Kermie—” Piggy protested, but Kermit shushed her.
“We’ll go to Robertos.” He watched her eyes light up.
“Oooh! Really?”
“Promise.” Kermit bent to kiss her briefly—just briefly—before he headed for an early morning at the studio. He had the best of intentions—truly the best—of making a subsequent dash for the door and moving a mound of paperwork before his friends arrived on the set. The best of intentions….


Kermit was only slightly disheveled when he arrived on the set the next morning. His attempt to steal away without waking Piggy had been less than successful, and she had convinced him to linger with little effort. When he had finally managed to escape, he had left the house a happier—if slightly more rumpled—frog.
He opened the day of filming with an apology to the cast and crew for his crankiness the day before and was rewarded for his humility by the grateful and forgiving faces of his friends and colleagues. “What a great bunch of guys,” Kermit thought, humbled by the outpouring of support. “I am one lucky frog.” By mid-morning, they were well ahead of schedule and plowing along with an energy and joie de vie that had not been felt on the set in a long time. He had the distinct pleasure of sending everyone off for lunch early and strolled toward the front gate to meet Piggy’s limousine. Checking his watch, Kermit punched in Piggy’s private cell phone, but no sooner had he confirmed her arrival inside the studio gates than his phone beeped annoyingly. Scowling at the number flashing on his screen, he let out a hearty sigh.
“Piggy,” he said, “I’ve got to take this call, but I’ll meet you inside the restaurant.”
A pause.
“No, honey—five minutes—no more.”
Another pause.
“Yes. I promise.”
Yet another, longer pause.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Be right there.”

True to form, Piggy made a sensational entrance at Roberto’s. Her summer dress was everything a summer dress should be—feminine, breezy and revealing of just enough firm tan skin to make old men and young boys sigh. Piggy’s face was shaded becomingly by a painted straw hat and her sunglasses shaded her violet eyes. Eschewing the flatter, more sensible summer sandals that young women now affected, Piggy’s strappy high heels—appearing first out of the limo door—were tall enough to give a window-cleaner a nosebleed. She walked with careful nonchalance up to the door, where a valet with more brass on his jacket than a five-star general opened the door with a flourish. He was rewarded with a slight lowering of the sunglasses, and a smile that had made lesser men faint at twenty paces. Fifteen minutes later, he was still a little wobbly on his feet.
“First time, Joe?’ his older partner asked.
“Yeah, Marty,” Joe answered weakly. “I know she used to come here a lot—back when they were dating, but I’ve never seen her, you know, up close before.”
“Yeah,” Marty mused. “Miss Piggy and Mr. Frog used to be regulars, but I haven’t seen ‘em in, well, it’s been a while. Glad to see her back.”
“So where’s, you know, Mr. Frog these days?”
“Busy, I hear.”
Joe sighed. “Lucky frog.”
Marty chuckled. “No—I meant busy working. He’s some sort of big shot at the studio now—corner office and all that. But he’s a real regular guy, though. I remember--”
Marty’s reminiscences were cut short by the arrived of two closely spaced luxury cars. Joe took the first and, after calling discreetly for backup, Marty slipped behind the wheel of a fully loaded Lexus and wheeled it expertly into the parking garage. He did not notice a short, trench-coated character with a much-worn notebook slip between the highly polished glass doors, and it was a genuine shame he did not. Marty knew how to deal with riff-raff like that, and would have taken great pleasure in doing so. And if he had, a great deal of heartache all around would have been avoided.
Shortly after the retreating trenchcoat had disappeared inside, Kermit ran breathlessly up to the door, tucking his tie back into his coat. A very young man, his valet coat impeccable, held the door for him.
“Where’s Marty?” Kermit asked. “Still here, I hope?”
The young man nodded quickly. “Marty’s still here—keeping everything the way it ought to be at Roberto’s. He ought to be back in about—“ A cuff was shot and a watch consulted. “Oh. I’m sorry, sir. You just missed him. His shift ended a few minutes ago.”

[Leyla]

NYARRGGGHHH!!!! That scream you just heard... right through the walls? That was me... sorry.

Ruahnna! Oh my goodness!!! I come here and see not one, but two bits of story, the first melting me into a puddle with your typical efficiency, and the second dragging me in and then promising pain! Aiieee! Have I proclaimed my undying respect and affection yet today? I haven't? Well, the flowers and an autographed photo of our favorite couple are on their way.

There's so much I like about this I don't know where to start. You know, I admire your courage. why? Well, 'cause frankly, I completely adoring reading and imagining the scenes, so emotionally perfect, that you pull off so effortlessly, but even if I were actually capable of producing writing of that quality I could never share it, just because of the emotional impact.

I feel like Gonzo after he's been hit with a steam roller, flattened and fabulous.

I don't really know if I had any part in inspiring this, but I may just have to post more stories that you don't like if this is the treat I get in return. "Kermie's Girl" probably has absolutely nothing to do with Gonzo's line to Piggy in my last bit of writing, but I'm still thrilled with the inadvertant connection. And ushy-gushy! That's offcially replaced my favorite adjective.

Okay, I'm just raving now. Deep breath... don't be weird... that's better. I know you're gonna break my heart, I know it, but you like happy endings even more than I do, so it's gonna be okay! Right? Right?!

Whoosh... breathing. Good. Loved Kermit's good intentions and Piggy's easy derailment of said intentions. Loved the phrase "happier- if slightly more rumpled- frog".
Can't stop smiling when I think of "He was rewarded with a slight lowering of the sunglasses, and a smile that had made lesser men faint at twenty paces. Fifteen minutes later, he was still a little wobbly on his feet."

Loved the valets,honestly love the trouble that's coming, even as I dread it. Loved Kermit's making up (out?:o ) with Piggy in the first story, especially her electic muumuu, and fell completely to pieces at the "you can count on me" moment. Oh, and the 'sweet' negligee which still has me humming 'Somebody's getting married'. I am always thrilled with the way you describe Piggy's diva grandstanding without leaving out her actual talent and professionalism.

I should stop raving. I should. One more thing, love the tender, unguarded moment before Piggy wakes up. Loved it.

[Ruahnna]

I have to confess--this was the first Muppet thing I wrote, and I wrote it, well, a few years ago. Most of my other stories have stemmed from this story, this premise--that Kermit sortof wakes up one day and realizes that he's too busy persuing fame and the almighty dollar to actually enjoy the dream he's helped create. Glad you guys are liking them. And yes, Leyla--my working title for this story was just "Kermit" (shockingly original, I know), but when I reread your story today, it had to be "Kermie's Girl." Working on editing the next section--posting soon!

[Ruahnna]

When Kermit joined Piggy at their customary table in the private dining room, every cook in the kitchen was standing in rapt attention behind Roberto, who hovered over Piggy in a paroxysm of delight.
“Ah Miss Piggy,” he exulted, opening her silk napkin with a flourish. “The little lady with the bellisimo appetite!”
Spying Kermit, Roberto advanced on him, embraced him, kissed him on both cheeks and fell—weeping—into his arms. Kermit patted his back a little awkwardly.
“Wow, Roberto—great to see you. It’s been, uh, well I guess it’s been a little longer than I thought. It’s great to, um, see you.“
Roberto pulled himself together with effort. “Is enough!” he said, taking off his chef’s hat and wiping his tears with it. As though by unseen elves, the damp hat was removed from Roberto’s clasped hands and a freshly-laundered, perfectly poufed, pristine white hat appeared on his head. “I make something special!” he announced, and strode toward the kitchen. Soundlessly, with perfect precision, the junior chefs fell in behind him. Though they were too well-disciplined to chatter, the air of suppressed excitement made itself felt.
Kermit gazed across the table at Miss Piggy and was rewarded when her eyes met his warmly, intently, and she smiled just for him. Kermit had withstood thousands of such smiles, but he was not unaffected. He reached across the table and took her hand.
“You look wonderful, Piggy.”
“You are sweet to say so, Kermie.” They smiled at each other, remembering, then Piggy withdrew her hand, a little flustered.
“Filming went well this morning?” she asked.
“Yes—we’re doing great. Everything’s ready for this afternoon’s shoot.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to it.”
It was funny, making small talk with the frog she’d been married to for several years now (by anyone’s count), but they were suddenly aware of each other in a way that they hadn’t been the day before, tuned to each other in a way that only the other could hear. If the food had been any less superb—if the chef had been anyone other than Roberto—neither would have noticed what they ate. Kermit only had to leave the table twice to deal with business, but returned almost immediately, and one of those intervals was amply filled when Randy Travis peeked mischievously into the room and waved at Piggy. Piggy laughed and motioned him over, and they had just about two minutes of “well what are you doing here” conversation before Kermit rejoined them, and a white-jacketed waiter arrived and shooed Randy away with deep disapproval. Peeking into the private dining room—though common practice—was strongly discouraged at Roberto’s.
Distracted though she might have been by Kermit’s attentiveness, Piggy did enough justice to the food to send Roberto into transports of rapture. Kermit had needed little coaxing to eat himself into a happily uncomfortable state. Roberto was beside himself with joy and led them, weeping again, to the door and their waiting limo, pressing a dignified carry-out box with two enormous pieces of coconut cream pie on them despite their protests. Backed up by a row of solemn but proud junior chefs, he waved until their limo had completely disappeared from sight.
Afternoon filming zipped along at a frantic pace, but it was a vastly different sort of frantic than they’d experienced the day before. Kermit seemed to be everywhere—consulting, advising, supporting, suggesting—and the cast and crew jumped happily at every chance to prove themselves. Why—with this sort of energy, they might just film all night!

[Ruahnna]

“Look, Piggy—it’s us!” They were comfortably ensconced on the big brass day bed in the den, munching popcorn and flipping idly thought the channels. True to his word, Kermit had sent the cast and crew home by 8 p.m., handed Piggy into the studio limo and—to her complete astonishment—climbed in after her. Secretly delighted but openly dubious, Piggy kept expecting Kermit to casually mention a dinner appointment or a late-night meeting, or to press a party attendance upon her. She watched him from under lowered lashes as he’d used the limo phone to order Chinese delivered to their home. He placed the phone back on its receiver and leaned back against the luxurious leather, smiling at Piggy and reaching for her hand. Caught off guard, she smiled back at him, returning the pressure of his hand.
Once home, he’d shooed her off to change into comfy clothes while he ferried the food into the den and opened a bottle of wine. Changing quickly into shorts and a polo himself, he trotted back to the kitchen, emerging triumphantly with a large, buttery bowl of popcorn just as Piggy stepped off the landing. She was wearing an oversized purple tee-shirt, white leggings and pink powder-puff scuffs, and her hair was clipped up on top of her ears with a clip that spelled out “princess” in rhinestones.
Perhaps it was the outfit—the combination of brashness and whimsy—or maybe it was the uncertainty lurking in her eyes, but for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Kermit was overcome with tenderness. He shifted the bowl of popcorn under one arm and reached for her hand. After the slightest of hesitations, Piggy had put her hand in his and let him lead her back to the dimness of the den.
Now, she looked at the screen and let out a little bleat of dismay. It was—indeed—them, some few years earlier. It was always strange to happen upon oneself on television like this, cavorting to some half-remembered script, immortalized on the screen. In this particular incarnation, they were on the soundstage that had been converted into a Caribbean island replete with pirates, a herd of wild swine and innumerable and improbable others.
“Oh—I’d forgotten about that awful headdress.”
“What awful headdress? You looked stunning.”
“Of course Moi looked stunning,” she sniffed. “It’s just a wee bit harder when wardrobe is so unreasonable.”
“Well I thought you looked incredible,” Kermit said firmly. “That outfit made you look exotic.”
Piggy perked up at once. “Exotic?”
“Um hum. And alluring,” Kermit assured her. For a moment, Piggy stared.
“He’s good,” she growled to nobody in particular. “You’ve got to admit
he’s good.”
Kermit beamed at her and snuggled closer, one hand landing casually on her soft, rounded thigh. His hand was warm and buttery. Piggy pushed the hand away but did not put any distance between them. When they returned to watching the screen in companionable silence, Kermit’s hand slipped back onto her thigh.
“Ohh—there’s my big scene,” Piggy cooed, watching as she passionately defended her frog to dastardly pirates. On screen, Tim Curry, playing the pirate Long John Silver, kissed her soundly. “I’d forgotten about that part,” Piggy said demurely, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
“That hardly seems likely,” Kermit huffed with remembered ire. “You did almost 20 takes,”
“Twenty-three,” she said sweetly. “It was not Moi’s fault that Timmie kept flubbing his lines.”
It was true. Although he had appeared contrite, the handsome young actor had not seemed to mind kissing Piggy several, several times while the rest of his lines seemed to evaporate from his head. Take after take, the scene remained uncaptured on film. Kermit had been genuinely annoyed when they’d finally gotten an acceptable take and stopped for lunch, and Piggy had not done much to salve his pique. She had been scintillating that day, Kermit remembered fondly, and the atmosphere on the set had been highly charged because of it. The unexpected and ostensibly unwanted attention from her costar and Kermit’s rather obvious jealously had left her flustered and a little giggly. She had fled back to her trailer to prepare for the afternoon shoot.
Kermit had gotten his own back after lunch, however, when the time had come for their big scene together. The duet had gone extremely well, and Kermit had played to the romantic overtones of the scene, gazing at her soulfully while he crooned and made delicious little designs on her hand that no one could see. (“Much like the delicious little designs that Piggy is so deliberately ignoring now,” Kermit thought with smug satisfaction.”)
He could tell Piggy was responding to his voice and his touch, but the cameras were rolling and she was no more free to flee from his proximity than she had been to escape her other costar’s eager kisses—less even, given the nature of the scene. The rope that appeared to be holding Piggy aloft snapped. Now Kermit was clasping her ankles firmly. His deft little hands made scorching little patterns that were driving Piggy wild—he had reason to know that her ankles were very sensitive—but she was powerless to stop him without betraying her discomfiture.
One of the cameras began to malfunction. Filming stopped while the technicians swarmed over the set.
Piggy twisted around and shot Kermit a murderous look. “Stop this instant,” she hissed.
“Why?” Kermit asked with infuriating impudence. “I was under the impression that you liked—“
“Never mind what I like you—you—“
“And the view from here is so, um…exotic,” he said softly, pitched for her ears only. “And alluring.”
“What?”
“I see London, I see France—“ Kermit sing-songed. “I see leopard-print—“
Piggy let out a muffled howl and clutched ineffectively at her skirt, but Kermit’s view was unimpeded. Before she could respond the camera had been coaxed back into service. She played the rest of the scene with grim determination, and waited with supreme self-control while they unhooked the harness that held her. Resisting the urge to slap away the helpful hands restoring her costume to rights, Piggy thanked them sweetly and made for her trailer with as much haste as dignity would allow. The door had only just shut when it opened again.
Kermit stood framed in the doorway, an appealing lopsided smile on this face. “Piggy, “ he began tenderly, holding out his arms.
The next moment found him flat on the floor where he had dived to avoid the many objects flying toward him. While she tossed everything within arm’s reach, she kept up a steady stream of ladylike insults aimed at amphibians in general, frogs in particular and Kermit Himself. When she had run out of steam and invective, Kermit got carefully to his feet and approached her.
“Piggy….”
She threw her headdress at him. He caught it and set it aside.
“You stay away from me you—you—frog!” she panted, but Kermit was unfazed.
“Sweetheart,” he began, his voice low and pleading.
“Don’t you sweetheart me, you awful, terrible—“
He was beside her in an instant. Piggy gasped and backed away. Though spacious, the trailer left little room for maneuvering. Piggy flattened herself against the wall, but Kermit reached out and tugged her into his arms with surprising strength. She huffed and puffed but there was no where to go, and Kermit’s arms molded her closer gently.
“Don’t be mad, Piggy,” Kermit said softly. “You know I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me.” He snuggled closer.
“Don’t you even think about--” Piggy began, but Kermit’s kiss silenced her effectively. His lips were gentle over hers, seeking—rather than demanding—a response. For a moment, her passion warred with her pique. Passion won out and, with a little sigh, Piggy melted against him. Gradually, his kiss deepened, becoming more insistent. Piggy clung to him, returning his hungry kiss with all the pent-up ardor the afternoon had yielded, which was much more than enough to push them both over the edge. The set closed down outside and the cast and crew wandered away while Kermit did his gentlemanly best to fulfill every single promise his teasing hands had implied.

They watched the scene in silence, but the room seemed somehow closer and warmer than before. “It’s not fair,“ Piggy murmured ruefully. “Everyone thinks you’re so nice.”
“I am nice,” Kermit said guilelessly, looking up at her. A hint of mischief played around his eyes, but he remained solemn.
Piggy looked at him levelly. The hand was back on her thigh. “That’s nice,” she said noncommittally.
Kermit leaned closer, slipping his arms around her waist.
“How about this?” he murmured, whispering sweet, incendiary nothings into one soft, pink ear. A deeper blush crept up her cheeks.
“Better,” she whispered, and lowered her gaze. She did not trust herself to look at him.
With a little tug, Kermit leaned back against the cushions and pulled her unresisting form into his arms. “And this?”
Piggy sighed, abandoning all pretense of disinterest. She answered his slow kiss with deliberateness, savoring the luxury of time alone with her frog.
“It’ll do,” she teased, then let out a gasp as Kermit set out to prove how very nice he could be.

[Leyla]

Ah, and you've melted me into a puddle yet again. I spend more time in mush form lately, wow.

I love the whole restaurant staff, particularly Roberto, and their rapture at Piggy's "bellisimo" appetite. Too funny! I love how visually you write. I've never had a minute of trouble picturing the scenes you describe.

Liked Randy Travis peeking in, even as it fills me with dread. I mean, this whole thing was so sweet and happy and romantic, and yet, it's all going to go horribly wrong! I'm worried!

Back to the happy stuff... loved Piggy's outfit... I always love Piggy's outfits, right down to the Princess hair clip. I find Piggy's uncertainty about Kermit actually spending time with her without having to go to work very touching.

I think the whole scene, with them curled up together, watching MTI basically sums up everything I like about your writing. It's so homey, so lovely.

Piggy's reaction to her headdress is priceless as are Kermit's reassurances... exotic and alluring, which ends up being brilliant foreshadowing for the scene from the film. I laughed so hard tears ran down my face. "I see London, I see France..." Oh, that's wonderful! I love it when Kermit is all teasing like this. Loved the fight and it's ushy-gushy resolution. Really liked Piggy's protest that everyone thinks Kermit is so nice. That was really funny.

Still love all the kissy-kissy action. It's so cuddly!

[froggiegirl18]

oooo I love this story too. I can also picture what is going on as I read. I too loved them watching MTI together.ooo I can't wait to read the next chapter.Amazing job! I love your style of writing!:) :) :)

[Ruahnna]

Weekend mornings were sometimes a little more leisurely at the "the Frogs" than the usual chaos on mornings where getting to the studio was necessary. Kermit came downstairs to the savory smell of brewing coffee and made his way to the kitchen after a quick stop-off for the morning paper. Sneaking up behind Piggy, he pressed a kiss against her cheek and settled down to read the morning paper with a steaming cup of java. Without being asked, he passed over the advertisements, and Piggy perused them in a desultory manner until Kermit let out a small grunt of surprise.
“Piggy—you made the cover of the celebrity section.”
Piggy looked up, surprised but not shocked to find herself the center of attention.
“What is it this time?’ she asked. “Is it that charity auction?”
“Um, er, no….” Kermit, reading slowly, was suddenly debating the wisdom of having mentioned it, and Piggy knew her frog to well too not read his mood. Her ears perked up and she straightened in her chair.
“Show me,” she demanded. Kermit passed the paper over without comment.
Piggy’s face was a study in confusion, disbelief and then hurt. She looked up at Kermit, stuptified, and then looked down at the picture and caption again.
“But I—I don’t understand—“ she began, obviously flustered. “That’s me, but I don’t know what—Oh!’ She covered her mouth with her hands.
“Piggy?” He reached for her hand. “What is it?”
“Yesterday—when you went out to take that call.”
“At Roberto’s?” She passed the paper over to him, nodding, and he looked at the picture more closely. Although photographers were not allowed in that fine eating establishment, the décor was undoubtedly Roberto’s private room, and there wasn’t a Hollywood notable who wouldn’t have known it. But it wasn’t the décor or having herself photographed in that tony eatery that had upset her—it was the fact that she was obviously leaning forward to accept a kiss from Randy Travis, and Kermit was nowhere to be seen. She looked at Kermit miserably, then dropped her eyes to read the caption again.
“Is Miss Piggy, currently filming for Rainbow productions, contemplating a new dish? Although publicists for Mr. Travis insist the two are “just friends,” this reporter thinks a private little nosh for two seems to imply more. We’ll keep you posted!”
After the third reading, Piggy finally dragged her eyes to the byline, letting out a little shriek of fury.
“That—that ridiculous little scum-monger!” she said venomously. “Kermit—it’s him—Fleet Scribbler!’
“Scribbler?! What’s he doing in a reputable newspaper?”
“I don’t know,” Piggy said, her anger deflating into dismay. “I guess—I guess the picture seemed too good to pass up.” She looked up suddenly, her eyes meeting Kermit’s. “Kermit, I’m so sorry—I mean, I didn’t—I wouldn’t—it was just….” Her lower lip began to tremble and Kermit pushed back his chair and came to put his arms around her.
“It’s okay, Honey,” he said with a laugh. “I was there—remember? I know what happened.” He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “I know you, Piggy.”
“But the paper—people will think—“
“Actually,” Kermit said dryly, letting his snarky side out on a short leash, “most people won’t, but I don’t care about that. I care about you.”
“Oh, Kermie-“
“Shhh—c’mon, get dressed. Let’s go for a drive—get out of town. We’ll take a picnic.”
Piggy lifted her face. “Really?”
“Really. C’mon—spit spot, Missy.” He shooed her up the stairs, making her giggle with a pat on the bum. But after she left, Kermit’s smile faded, and his face became more grim. He wanted to get her out of the house before the phone started ringing.

[Leyla]

Ah, done all the craziness, now to sit back and enjoy another lovely addition to your story.

Okay, I have to start with the end... Kermit insists. His reaction is absolutely perfect. He wants to protect her! I mean, that's just so Kermity of him. I love that frog. I think I actually swooned about eight times during this scene. Wow, that last line though, is just... well, it packs a huge emotional punch. I'm so caught up in what's going to happen... I'm so worried about both of them, poor darlings. Ah, I'm hooked, Ruahnna.


“Actually,” Kermit said dryly, letting his snarky side out on a short leash, “most people won’t, but I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

And.... melt! I love Kermit's snarky side! (And the word snarky. You have a great vocabulary, makes this so much fun to read.) Then, of course you pull out the, "I don't care about that, I care about you" thing which is just so sweet and romantic. If I didn't already think Kermit and Piggy were meant for eachother, this would convince me a dozen times over.


She looked up suddenly, her eyes meeting Kermit’s. “Kermit, I’m so sorry—I mean, I didn’t—I wouldn’t—it was just….” Her lower lip began to tremble and Kermit pushed back his chair and came to put his arms around her.

Of course Piggy would never betray her frog... she's only got eyes for him, flirting for to cause jealousy notwithstanding. Her reaction here is dead on too. I mean, boy would it hurt to be accused of something like that, especially in public. Poor "Frogs".

Alright, so getting back to the beginning, I still love your homey scenes of their blissful married life. It's got this warmth about it that touches me. It's getting harder and harder for me not to picture them as happily married.

“Piggy—you made the cover of the celebrity section.”
Piggy looked up, surprised but not shocked to find herself the center of attention.

Not dismayed about it either, I'd wager, until of course, she finds out what it's about. Oh, why do I have the feeling it's not going to end there? Oh, right, I've read your other stories... do you believe in happy endings? :concern:

I can't wait to read more of this... and I think I'm gonna go back and do some rereading. Wonderful writing, Ruahnna... positively addictive.

[Ruahnna]

Funny how often this happens, Kermit thought idly. Piggy and I try to steal away for a little couple time and end up with a whole menagerie along for the ride. Their picnic for two had turned into a full-scale party, with half the cast and crew along. Resigned, Kermit stopped the bus long enough to send Rizzo and Gonzo on a food-procuring expedition, and the whole lot of them had staked out a shady hillside near a stream. A fierce game of boys-against-girls football was unfolding before them—much to Sam the Eagle’s chagrin—and Statler and Waldorf were playing a cut-throat game of horse-shoes amidst complaints about their lumbago. Now—stuffed to the gills (which had not actually worked for quite some years now) and drowsy from the sun, Kermit felt himself beginning to relax. A few days earlier, he’d felt disconnected from Piggy, from his crew and cast mates—from his life, it seemed--and now he felt blissfully content. If it hadn’t been for that stupid reporter--
With an effort, Kermit pushed the thought away, and found a happy place again. It was not hard, seeing as how he was currently in one.
“I have a profound sense of déjà vu,” Kermit said wryly, smiling up at his wife. He was stretched out on the picnic blanket, his head cushioned on Piggy’s lap. If this had been a movie, Piggy would have been wearing some diaphanous dress, her face shaded by a summer hat. Instead, she was wearing a little white skort and a red halter top. Her hair was twisted up in a cross between a bun and a pony-tail, and little escaping tendrils framed her face. She was drawing little designs on the smooth skin of his head with lazy fingers, and let out a low chuckle and leaned down to kiss him.
“Too late to complain,” she scolded. “You’ve already used it for story fodder.”
It was true. It had happened so often during their courtship—if the series of starts, stops and bone-jarring jolts their relationship had experienced could be called a courtship—that Kermit had finally included it in one of their scripts. It was the second movie they’d made together, and by that time their professional, public and private lives were so completely intertwined that it was sometimes impossible for him to separate them. Playing opposite Piggy and side by side with Fozzie were roles he was meant for, and couldn’t improve upon. Add to that the support and camaraderie of his friends and the creative charge you only got from working with people who genuinely understand you—it had been his highest calling. How could he have forgotten that?
“What?” Piggy said, seeing the dismay cloud his features. She peered at him and her eyes—even upside-down—mirrored genuine concern.
“Nothing,” Kermit said gently. “I was just thinking—remembering.”
“Good remembering or bad remembering?”
“Good,” he said firmly. “I was just thinking about the old days at the theatre.”
“Good old days indeed.”
“Yes.” He sat up, turning to face her. “Do you remember the time you got so angry with my about the big number that you gave me a karate chop that nearly knocked the stuffing out of me?”
“Moi?” Piggy murmured, her eyes wide. Good grief, she was good, Kermit thought. Any jury in the world would have bought it.
“Yes, you,” Kermit insisted. “You darn near put me in the clinic!”
“Which time?” Piggy murmured, but she began to smile.
“Aha!” Kermit cried, “You do remember!”
Piggy feigned thoughtfulness. “Was that before or after you tried to fire me—for the fourth time?”
“Don’t change the subject on me,” Kermit began, but he was smiling. He leaned forward, thinking about a kiss.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Piggy sighed, and leaned forward to meet him.
Their smooching was rudely interrupted by the arrival of a football, which narrowly missed the potato salad. Laughing, Kermit scooped up the football and got up, pulling Piggy to her feet. The look he gave her was full of challenge.
“Up for a little game of tackle?’ he teased.
Piggy gave him a look. “Anytime, frog,” she said saucily, and went to join the girls team.

What a great day, Kermit would think later. What an almost idyllic day. If only they'd know then what was coming. If only they'd know then what to watch for. If only they’d known then what they knew later….

[TogetherAgain]

Oh how DARE you! ...Oh, hi, um... Yes, I've been reading and loving this and meaning to reply and just sort of... haven't... sorry. Anyway, how DARE you end a chapter with a line like that! Ohhhhhhhhhhh now I'm just DYING to know what they're going to find out!! PLEASE post soon before I go even more insane than I already am!!

Of course the rest of this chapter is absolutely awesome. I love how the attempted couple-time turned into everybody- reminds me of Great Muppet Caper. And then you went and mentioned The Great Muppet Caper! And my favorite scene, too! Oh my gosh, Ruahnna, I positively glomp you for that!

And, by the way, I love the rest of the story, too! It really sticks in my head. Just today, I was reciting Muppet Treasure Island- oh don't look at me like that, I've had it memorized for years- with some of my friends, or rather for some of my friends, and I got to the scene you mentioned them watching, and I just kept thinking about twenty-three takes of the kiss... <giggles> And that's not the only scene that sticks, either, the whole dang thing just keeps running around in my head, almost as much as my own story does! (And believe me, that's saying a LOT.) Keep it up, this is fantasticabulous!

MORE PLEASE!!!!!!!!

[Leyla]

Ooh, hurrah! You've got to love a good muppet menagerie scene. It sounds like so much fun! Though I can just picture Kermit and Piggy trying to get away from everyone on their honeymoon... say, that gives me an idea... well, later, later. Time to rave!

I have to question Kermit's wisdom in sending Rizzo on a food-procuring mission. I have no doubt he's preternaturally good at find food, I'm just not confident that anyone else would get any of it... perhaps that's Gonzo's job, guarding found food from Rizzo. It's a good thing he's such a daredevil. The football game sounds like it would be great fun to watch, especially with Sam hovering around, and it amuses me no end that somehow or another, even Statler and Waldorf tagged along. I would also love to see them horseshoeing.

I enjoyed the rather topical musings on the connections between their personal lives and the movies, and I'm driving myself crazy trying to figure out if you a referencing a specific scene that came of the story fodder. I mean, I'm immediately reminded of Pigggy's fantasy "Never Before, Never Again, but that's the first movie, so perhaps it's the bike riding scene in GMC. I don't know, but hey, I'm having fun trying to figure it out.

I gotta go put in a muppet movie now.

I like that it's now Piggy's turn to be making little designs on Kermit instead of the other way 'round. I love your emphasis of that theme with Kermit rediscovering all that he's been missing around him, it's such an important, stop and smell the roses idea and it counterpoints nicely with the trouble
a-brewin'.

Speaking of which, even with this peaceful, happy, escapist scene, you've managed to keep all that dramatic tension up. I feel like a violin string tightened a little too much... but in a good way.


“Good old days indeed.”
“Yes.” He sat up, turning to face her. “Do you remember the time you got so angry with my about the big number that you gave me a karate chop that nearly knocked the stuffing out of me?”
“Moi?” Piggy murmured, her eyes wide. Good grief, she was good, Kermit thought. Any jury in the world would have bought it.
“Yes, you,” Kermit insisted. “You darn near put me in the clinic!”
“Which time?” Piggy murmured, but she began to smile.
“Aha!” Kermit cried, “You do remember!”
Piggy feigned thoughtfulness. “Was that before or after you tried to fire me—for the fourth time?”


Heehee, this was great! Funny and just so relationshippy. I love the frog/pig banter. It's such fun! It's also interesting to consider how they look back on all the violent confrontations they've had over the years, and how they handle those memories.

An idyllic day... the calm before the storm. Am I the only one who wants to tell them to stay in the happy place and tackle eachother for a while more?

Great job, comme toujours, Ruahnna. I'm looking forward to more!

[Ruahnna]

Ooh--I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it! (Kissy, kissy!) Next installment to post soon!

[ReneeLouvier]

That last line is completely intriguing!! I can't WAIT to see what happens next!!

*giggles* Maybe little figs perhaps? :)

[Ruahnna]

In had been more than a month since Fleet Scribbler’s insidious little insinuation had garnered anyone’s interest, and life at Rainbow Productions had settled in to as close to normal as it ever would. Kermit found he liked going to work again—found new energy and new ideas forming at an alarming rate. The cast was buzzing, the tech crew was unparalleled in anticipating his needs, and Kermit realized with some chagrin--and not for the first time—that it was his emotional equilibrium that set the tone for the others. Gonzo would have said—had said on many occasions—when the pig ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy, but that was not strictly true. In actuality, it was the frog, not the pig, to whom everyone looked for direction and reassurance. Although Kermit had always been more than willing to let Piggy take the fall for the grumpiness he exhibited amidst the behind-the-scenes chaos, he was only beginning to realize that she may have assumed that role intentionally and willingly, forming a buffer between him and all the people and things constantly clamoring for his attention.
The picnic was a distant memory—the photograph in the newspaper merely a miniscule blip on the fast-fading horizon of Hollywood’s microscopic attention span. True, there were moments when the “The Frogs” would enter a restaurant or a party and there would be a slight comma in the conversation, but Kermit and Piggy had little time to think about it, and even less time to worry about it. The past few weeks of filming had been incredible. Working together all day, often within touching distance, Kermit found his eyes searching for her whenever there was a lull. Feeling his gaze, Piggy would turn and their eyes would meet, making them both remember, and blush.
Most days, they could meet for a few stolen kisses between scenes. On good days, there might be enough time and privacy to sneak into Piggy’s trailer or his office for a little between-scene snuggling—provided they didn’t muss Piggy’s make-up. On one incredible day, Piggy had been merciless. She always managed to be adjusting her stockings or stretching luxuriously when his gaze fell on her. To make matters worse, she was never alone. Try as he might, it seemed impossible to have a private moment with her. When he’d knocked on her trailer door (with a sheaf of inconsequential script changes in his hand), she’d opened the door in delight and surprise—whether real or imagined he could not say—then ushered him into a room full of chattering ladies from makeup and wardrobe. She’d kissed him on the cheek (to giggles) and introduced him around like a stranger. Powerless to resist, he had found himself crammed around a tiny table eating cucumber and chocolate sandwiches, petit fours and balancing a cup of tea. Wedged in next to Piggy, with the heat of her leg reaching him through the flannel of his trousers, Kermit stewed in exquisite misery—especially when her sly little hand sneaked down to pat him on the knee. He could barely see through the hormone-induced haze when the interminable tea was over. As the last of the ladies had gushed their way out the door, Piggy had turned to him at last, closed the door with a deft turn of her ankle and fallen on him like a ton of bricks.
Before an indecent interval had passed, Piggy had sent him stumbling out into the light, snuggled into a state of near-asphyxiation and totally, completely and thoroughly kissed. Smiling sweetly at his befuddled state, Piggy shut the trailer door firmly behind him and began preparing for her next scene while Kermit tried to remember who he was and what it was he was supposed to be doing. He’d sailed through the rest of the day barely aware of his surroundings, but it hardly seemed to matter. For the rest of the day’s shoot, Piggy was literally unstoppable, with all her appeal harnessed and put into play on film. But when no one was looking, she shot Kermit longing looks that promised much more than stolen kisses. Just before she’d stepped into the limo waiting to carry her home, Piggy had reached out and taken the two ends of his unknotted tie between her hands, pulled him to her and given him the most chaste, most impossibly demure kiss he had ever known her to give, but her big blue eyes bored into his and he saw there all he needed to see. “I’ll wait up for you,” she’d whispered, and stepped into the car.
At last the day of filming was over, the dailies reviewed, the never-ending paperwork signed, sealed and delivered. “All right, Piggy,” Kermit thought with a smile. “I’m all yours.” He hoped he was up to the challenge.

It was impulse, really, that caused Piggy to stop on Rodeo Drive on the way home. She felt restless, strung with some incredible energy, and she knew if might be hours before Kermit came home, so when the driver slowed and stopped at the red light, Piggy tapped on the glass and pointed. He pulled over and she got out.
The boutiques here were marvelous, really, if you had lots of money, and Piggy window-shopped happily, day-dreaming and looking at things that would have been marvelous if you’d been going to a cowboy-spaceman-masquerade, or dinner with the Pope and Motley Crew at the same time. It was time, already, to begin thinking about the Oscars, and she stepped into a minute shop—barely six-by-ten and very exclusive—to get a better look at some of the gowns displayed in the tall windows. No door bell jingled—the shop was too discreet for that—but a salesperson appeared like magic from the back. Thoreau threw his hands up in delight, breaking into a wide smile.
“Darling!” he called, “Piggy, darling!” He practically ran over to kiss her on her two plump cheeks and accept her giggling busses in return. At length, he held her back from him, surveying her with a professional eye. “You’re wearing your hair different now,” he said thoughtfully. “And a little lighter, I think—very nice, very nice.” He leaned forward and gave the rest of her a thorough once-over. “And someone’s been working out, I think.”
Piggy turned so that her assets were out of Thoreau line of view and gave him a stern look. “Dancing, mostly,” she said firmly. “And a little football.”
Thoreau let out a little shriek. “Football—you mustn’t! This temple,”—he swept his hand out, skimming her side—“should not be playing football!”
Piggy ignored him and moved away from his hand, looking at the exclusive selection of glittering gowns. With a dramatic sign, Thoreau came to her side and began to point out the special features of each dress—this one had hand-beading done by monks, this one had enough internal support to give Kate Moss a cross-your-heart figure, this one…. In retrospect, it was possible—likely even--that someone else slipped unnoticed into the little store about this time. And it was a darn shame that the clothes racks were so tightly packed, and that the doorbell was too discreet to chime. After a moment, Thoreau paused in his recital, realizing that Piggy wasn’t listening to a word. He looked at her thoughtfully, taking in the distracted air, the dreaminess in her expression, and air of deep contentment.
“Piggy!” he accused. “You’re in love!”
Miss Piggy snapped to as though he’d slapped her on the rump. She stepped back and gave him an astonished look. “Of course Moi is in love. Moi is happily married—as you well know.”
Thoreau pursed his lips, looking unsatisfied. “Oh yes—Mr. Kermit the Frog, the love of your life.” Thoreau had never felt that anyone--frog or not--was good enough for Piggy.
Piggy glared at him, even took a step toward him. “He is the love of my life, and Moi is the love of his life and don’t you dare say—“
“Calm down, calm down,” Thoreau said placatingly. “I wasn’t trying to start an argument. It’s just, well Piggy, I’ve never seen you look like this before.”
Piggy blushed and looked down. How to explain? How to say that she’d fallen in love with Kermit all over again during the past two months—had become more happy than she had ever imagined. She fidgeted, struggling for words and was surprised to find her eyes moist, her voice choked with tears. After a moment, Thoreau stepped forward and put his arms around her gently.
“It’s okay, darling,” Thoreau said, patting her comfortingly on the back. “Don’t mind me--I’m just a big ninny. Come in the back and have a cup of tea and we’ll find you something nice to take home.”
The next half hour found Piggy pouring out her extreme happiness with Kermit as well as her lingering hurt and upset over the misleading photograph in the newspaper over strong sweet tea and cookies half-dipped in dark chocolate. Thoreau sighed, commiserated and managed to find her something absolutely wicked from the secret cachet of French lingerie in the back. “A little something for both of you,” he had insisted, wrapping it up in tissue paper which appeared considerably more substantial than that item it enclosed. “A very little,” he added mischievously, and laughed out loud when Piggy flushed scarlet.
“You are sweet to listen, Thoreau.”
“I’m just glad you’re happy, darling,” Thoreau said sincerely. “Everybody knows a good man is hard to find.”
Piggy let Thoreau kiss her cheeks and hand her into the limousine. He enjoyed watching her lift her knees daintily into the car, then leaned down, smiling at her radiant face.
“Remember me at Oscar time, darling,” he said, then shut the door and sent her on her way.

Later that evening, even as Kermit and Piggy reveled in their time alone together, someone in town was writing a story, someone whose interest in notoriaty exceeded their interest in the truth. The best lies—or the worst, depending on your point of view—were the ones that were closest to the truth, only veering at the last minute from the gospel. It was true that one of Piggy’s long-time clothiers had seen and commented on the fact that she seemed blissfully in love. It was also true that she left said clothier with new lingerie, although how this information was acquired is unclear even now. And it was also true that Kermit had worked very late that night before coming home. The sum of the whole, however, is usually not the simple sum of the parts—although, in the wrong hands, it can certainly be made to look that way.

[Leyla]

Ooh, wow, this is great, Ruahnna! Your stories are just so snuggly!

"insidious little insinuation" Lovely phrase that.

So they made it through that first smarmy little article, that's good, but there's more nastiness coming, oh dear!

I really enjoyed how Kermit's mood has such a strong effect on everyone else, especially when compared to Piggy's mood.
when the pig ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy
Heehee, love that!

The idea that Piggy runs interference for Kermit, taking the blame for his grumpiness on purpose is just such a noble, sweet idea. They're so good for each other in your stories, I love it!

All the lovely doviness is just as heartwarming as it was when I first read "Can't help loving". Your account of Piggy's merciless day was hilarious. It's so much fun the way they tease each other. Kermit's befuddled state afterwards was very, very funny! I also liked Piggy's chaste kiss when her eyes were anything but. Great writing!

It's really fun to see Piggy in her own element as she's shopping, although I'm going to start worrying about her whenever she's in public alone now, it gets her into trouble!

Piggy's falling in love with Kermit all over again was so sweet and romantic, and the moist eyes were very touching. Me thinks she's noticed Kermit's distraction over the years, even if it's only in retrospect, and it's probably such a weight off her mind that he's himself again.

I liked Thoreau's protectiveness towards Piggy, and that last paragraph gave me chills! Oh, poor Kermit and Piggy. That Fleet Scribbler outta be erm... I can't think of something cruel yet muppety, but it shouldn't be fun that's for sure! Very nice description of the effects of spin on true events.

Great job, Ruahnna! Still captivating, as always!
Leyla

[redBoobergurl]

WOWOWOWOW!

Ok, I just started reading this today and I read the whole thing and it's incredible! You paint such a detailed picture and I'm loving all this Kermit/Piggy mushy stuff and the suspense you keep teasing us with about someone who's out there trying to ruin it all for them! Gosh, this is just fantastic! I'm definately tuning in from here on out! Great job!

[Ruahnna]

It was early, early in the morning when Kermit’s cell phone began to beep. It took him a moment to orient himself, then launch out of bed and begin the frantic search for the source of the annoying noise. He finally found it—still clipped to his trousers—in the clothing which had been strewn hastily around the room the night before. He jerked it open at the last minute, stammering a sleepy hello.
“Kermit—thank goodness!” It was Gonzo, but he sounded more relieved than Kermit could account for. “Where are you?”
“I’m home, Gonzo.” In bed, Gonzo.
“Oh—then where’s Piggy?” Kermit was about to tell him it was none of his business but the oddness of the situation caused him to pause, then answer.
“She’s here, Gonzo—we’re both here.”
There was a silence on the other end of the phone, then Gonzo let out a shaky sigh. ‘I’m glad,” he said fervently. “I’m so glad.”
“Gonzo—are you okay?” Kermit asked. He stifled a yawn, scratching his head. “Is—is everybody okay?”
Again, that odd pause. “Everybody’s fine,” Gonzo said slowly. “Um—are you sitting down?”
“No Gonzo—I’m not.” I’m freezing my tushie off here in the stairs—talking to a lunatic.
“Maybe you better sit down.”
“Why—what is it? Are you in jail?”
“What? No—I’m fine. Okay—are you sitting?”
“Gonzo—tell me!”
Gonzo told him, and Kermit sat. He sat for a long moment, staring at the phone. Dimly, he could hear Rizzo’s voice in the background.
“Is he still there? Did he pass out?”
“Kermit? Are you—are you there, buddy?”
Kermit put the phone back up to his ear, but mechanically, like a man in a dream. “I’m here,” he said hollowly.
“Look—Rizzo and I are coming over. I’m going to try to get Scooter, too. Have you heard from Marty?”
“No,” Kermit said softly. “No, not yet.”
“Call him before he calls you.”
“I—I will.”
“You don’t sound so good, Kermit—will you be okay until we get there?”
“Sure,” Kermit said faintly. At least, he heard himself answer, and Gonzo seemed satisfied.
“Is Piggy up yet?
“No,” Kermit answered, but at the same moment a soft voice behind him said “Yes.” She looked at him, her face pale.
“Is everyone okay? Is someone hurt?”
“No—not exactly.”
“Piggy’s up,” Kermit heard the phone say in Rizzo’s voice. “Can’t you drive any faster?”
Kermit looked up at Piggy and reached for her hand. She took it, clinging to him, and let him pull her down beside him on the stairs.
“I’m hanging up now, Gonzo,” Kermit said quietly, and let the phone fall shut. He reached out and took Piggy’s other hand, looking at her face.
“There’s been another story,” Kermit said as gently as he could.
Piggy’s face, already pale, blanched white.
“A—a story?”
“Yes.”
“About—about us?”
“Not exactly.” He looked away for a moment, overwhelmed by the pain and fear in her eyes. “Apparently, someone overheard part of your conversation with Thoreau yesterday. It…it sortof got taken out of context.”
“Oh…oh no. Kermit, I—“ Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away. She held herself together for a moment, then her hands flew to her eyes and her shoulders began to shake. Kermit scooted over behind her and wrapped his arms around her.
“Please, Piggy, don’t cry.”
He would have sat there longer—he would have sat there forever—his arms around his girl but the house phone began to ring. Piggy waved him away and he went to answer it, picking it up as though it might bite him.
“H-hello? Kermit the Frog here.” His shoulders slumped suddenly in relief. “Marty—yes, we heard. No—we didn’t know, it wasn’t the sort of thing we—“ He paused for a moment, listening. “That’d be great, Marty. See if you can find out who—what? You’re kidding? Oh. Right. No—we won’t. No—I think it’s best if we just—what? Sure. Sure thing, Marty. Call me, won’t you?” He hung up, but the doorbell was already ringing.

It was a good thing they’d come when they did, because by six a.m. the front lawn outside the gate was full of tabloid reporters and thrill-seekers. Scooter had scuttled in the back door—bringing Fozzie with him—and he had secured all the window-blinds with his usual efficiency. Rizzo had made some exceptionally strong coffee and a mound of French toast which nobody ate. Piggy had dressed and put on a little lipstick, but her face was without color, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Everyone was extremely solicitous of her (Fozzie sat and patted her hands for long moments, not speaking, just comforting.) which Kermit appreciated, but every time she looked at him her eyes filled with tears and it set off a fresh bout of weeping. If he could have gotten his hands on the man responsible, he wasn’t sure what would have happened.
Filming was a bust that day, but there was still a lot to do. Within an hour, Scooter and Gonzo had contacted everyone with some version of the truth and communicated a definite return to the schedule the following day. Yes, everyone would get paid for the day. Yes—it was okay to borrow something from wardrobe, Pepe. No, the office would not be open until tomorrow.
By mid-morning, the shock of it had worn off. The article had been examined from every angle—it was damning, no doubt about it—but it would be tomorrow’s fish-wrapper. Today’s, Kermit thought grimly, if I have any say in the matter. Where’s Lew Zealand when you really need him? Piggy even managed a wan smile when Rizzo asked if she was cooking lunch. She kissed him absently on top of the head, and Rizzo laughed and put on an apron.
Marty came over and they mapped out a plan. Until this little episode blew over, Piggy was not to take a step unattended. Someone would call for her in the limo every morning—Hilda, maybe, or Wanda-someone unimpeachable. And after that, it was Kermit’s job to make sure that the set was secure and that she was not left in gossip’s way.
“Eh, Kermit,” Marty said resignedly. “I’ve been at this a while. You see some real meanness in this business.” Almost as one, they glanced toward Piggy’s figure peeking surreptitiously out the window. “Don’t know who’d want to hurt this little lady. She’s a real keeper.” He gave Kermit a look, weighing his next words carefully. “This can’t be much of a picnic for you.”
Kermit let out a short laugh. “No,” he said firmly. “Not much.”
“But you know—you know, don'tcha—Piggy would rather die than hurt you.”
Kermit looked up in surprise. Marty was pragmatic, not much given to sentiment, but he had been fiercely loyal to Piggy through everything. Kermit had realized long ago that Marty’s attachment to Piggy was based as much on friendship and genuine affection as it was on good business sense, but he had never really known until now that Marty was his friend, too.
“I know, Marty,” he said simply. “But thanks.”
Marty stood at last. “Look,” he said firmly. “I’m gonna go out there and give ‘em what for, get ‘em off your lawn. Tomorrow, you go to work like nothing’s happened. This will blow over—you’ll see. You and Piggy are gonna be just fine.”
Kermit had never wanted to believe anything more.

[redBoobergurl]

Whoa. This is getting intense! I just feel so bad for them, everything was getting better and then someone's out there causing trouble and making up stories! Anyway, I'm really enjoying this and I'm looking forward to more!

[Ruahnna]

Time heals all wounds, and work is a great panacea. They’d made it through the first awkward week, and reporters no longer stood on the front lawn simply to watch them go to work and come home. There had been a few “follow-up” articles in various tabloids, but most of them were simple rehashes, and none of them contained any new information. There was one rather lengthy article that chronicled the ups and downs of their rather public courtship, but it actually served to illustrate more effectively than any statement from them could do that—despite everything--they were not willing to live without each other. Kermit suspected that Marty had something to do with that article, and it cheered him a little to think that they were using their opponent’s weapons to their own advantage.
Piggy had managed to convert her hurt into indignation, and what energy she didn’t channel into her work she used to bank the home fires. Kermit rather guiltily enjoyed her impassioned efforts to convince him of her fierce loyalty and did his best to respond in kind. He was determined to put a buffer between her and anyone who would try to hurt her. His own hurt he stuffed into some largely inaccessible place, tried to ignore it and pretended it didn’t exist.
Although they had done as Marty suggested, going about their business as though nothing had happened, some things about their schedules had changed. Piggy rarely left the studio until he did, which meant late nights for her, but Kermit found her presence on the set after filming a great comfort, if an equal distraction. She now came to watch the dailies with him, something she usually chose not to do. Like many actresses, Piggy was her own worst critic, and she counted more on her own in-the-heat-of-the-moment sense of whether or not a scene had worked that on what she saw on the screen. On more than one occasion, sitting in the darkness with his arm around her, Kermit had succumbed to temptation and they necked like giggling teenagers until the lights came back on—even if that meant they had to rewind and watch again.
There were other changes, some which boded well, and some they did not know how to interpret. Piggy began to get calls for magazine interviews. If she felt comfortable, she took them, but she never went without Kermit, whose presence sometimes seemed to fluster the interviewers. Their movie, which had not even wrapped yet, began to get what Hollywood so euphemistically called “good buzz.” Men in dark suits—backers, investors and assorted other parasites—often came on the set now, and though Kermit would have liked to send them packing, he was powerless to keep them out. Depending on her mood and her shrewd judgment, Piggy either accepted them with excellent manners and did her best to charm them, or did phenomenal diva grandstanding, making them flee in terror. Whatever she did, they seemed to like, and came back for more. Every day seemed to bring a flood of small gift-wrapped packages, but Piggy never opened them. They were dispersed among the ladies on the set or thrown away. Marty once again took over screening her mail, which usually included at least a couple of desperate proposals a week.
While no new articles appeared, hints and insinuations about the status of their marriage abounded in every newspaper and gossip rag. Piggy’s name—whether stated or implied--became linked with many of the popular males of the day—including a few that were scandalously younger than her. “Oh, please,” she complained to Kermit one Saturday, when it had been impossible to go out because of the flock of reporters on the front lawn. “If I’d wanted to go out with children, I’d have had some.” It was as close as she had managed to come to laughing about it.
Kermit watched the changes with an odd mixture of pride and suspicion. Although Piggy had clamped down a veneer of outward calm, even the tiniest hint of a mention that she might be less-than-happily married could cause her face to set in stony silence, send her into a tirade or off a crying jag. Kermit’s one attempt to make light of the articles himself did not go well.
Sitting in his office with the remains of lunch spread around them, Kermit skimmed the mail, tossing most of it directly into the trash can. There was an industry newspaper in his box and he frowned, but picked it up cautiously and began reading. Most of it was actual news, and he tried not to turn to the gossip column, but fear and dread finally blocked out everything else on the page and he gave it up and turned to the last inside page. Piggy seemed to sense his preoccupation and turned to face him.
“Read it to me,” she said quietly, but her voice was calm.
“Nothing so far,” Kermit said, hastily looking through the article. He had just begun to breathe again when he spied the following:
“Once an exclusive property of Rainbow Productions, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Miss Piggy belongs to the world, and not just one studio. One can only wonder what her Svengali-like husband thinks of Miss Piggy’s renewed popularity…”
He read it to her, then looked up from the paper and smiled. “He thinks it’s great!”
Piggy looked up from the mirror where she’d been clipping up her hair, her face unhappy. “Oh, Kermie—how could they even think….”
Kermit smiled indulgently. “Who cares what they think, Sweetheart? It doesn’t matter what the tabloid’s say—I’ve got the girl.”
Piggy bit her lower lip and pinned up another curl, then she turned on him again, almost savagely. “I can understand that they’d think it of me—I just don’t understand how they could think it about you!”
Kermit was dismayed to see that her eyes were full of unshed tears. He stood up, reaching for her and, with a small sob, she fell into his open arms. Kermit stroked her back and held her.
“Piggy,” he said softly, “Don’t let those vultures upset you.” He set her back from him so he could see her face. “It’s not worth it.”
“But it’s so—so mean! They don’t know anything about you—how wonderful you are! They don’t know anything about us! I would never, ever—“ Her eyes filled with tears again, and nothing Kermit said or did could stem them. He simply held her till she was all cried out, then cupped her face gently in his hands and began to kiss her tears away. Blindly, she turned to him and her lips met his urgently, seeking solace in his embrace. Comfort melted into passion, frustration gave way to desire, and finally, lost in Kermit’s arms, Piggy found her center again. Although Kermit continued to follow the fictionalized descent of their relationship, from that point forward he was careful that no tabloids crossed the threshold of their sanctuary.

Today was a bad day, Kermit thought wearily, but it was over now and they could just go home. To his surprise, Piggy met him at the limo with a small suitcase, her eyes almost fever-bright.
“Piggy—what…?” For one awful second, Kermit’s heart plummeted, then Piggy threw her arms around his neck and kissed—kissed him with bells on—only pulling back at last to look into his eyes.
“We’re going to Las Vegas,” she had said, and her eyes begged for his approval. “I want to get away—I want to be away, with you.”
Kermit’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “I didn’t pack.”
Her face was close to his, her arms tight around his neck. “You won’t need anything.”
He eyed the small valise doubtfully. “Is that—is that all you’re taking?” he asked.
“Yes,” Piggy said firmly. “That’s all.”
Kermit smiled, his heart soaring. That boded very well. He kissed her once more, for luck, and away they went.

[Ruahnna]

Every now and again, Lady Luck is kind, and when she is kind in Las Vegas, she is kind indeed. By happy accident, Piggy and Kermit managed both to elude the paparazzi and to have themselves photographed on one of their few forays out of their suite, holding hands and looking at over-priced jewelry in the casino store. Although they had been unaware of being photographed, seeing themselves in the paper this time brought a wave of relief and pleasure, and a little squeal of delight from Piggy, who insisted they celebrate. Gonzo, Fozzie and Scooter all called Kermit to ask him if he saw the news, but Kermit was otherwise occupied when the their calls came in, and he reviewed them later by voicemail. Piggy had received her own call from Marty, who praised her both for her luck and for having had her good side photographed. It was a happier frog and pig who returned to the studio on Monday, and for a couple of weeks, the nay-sayers were forced to print only lovey-dovey snippets about them or find other targets to make miserable.
Although she still did not venture forth alone, and she still stayed at the studio until he was done for the day, Piggy had lost the air of cool detachment she had affected and regained most of her former gloss and glory. When they had filmed the much-anticipated dance number for which they had all been preparing, Kermit had to close down the set to keep out gawkers. Once again, Kermit felt himself to be a lucky frog.
The morning shoot had gone extremely well. Kermit sat back in his director’s chair with a small “Hmm” of satisfaction.
“Oh Kermie,” Piggy said sweetly. She stood in front of him and slightly to the side, her eyes downcast in respectful deference. Kermit was not fooled for one minute, but he watched her with interest. Piggy was not above using her considerable charms to sway him professionally, and he had reason both to applaud her attempts and to rue them. “I was hoping I could ask one teensy-weensy little question about the script.” She batted her eyelashes at him. The explicitness of her flirtatiousness did nothing to alleviate its charm. Kermit’s heart gave a familiar lurch and he braced himself before responding.
“All right, Piggy,” Kermit said finally, having dispatched the flock of earnest underlings at last. “What can I do for you?”
Her dark lashes fluttered upwards and their eyes met for the briefest of instants—his teasing, hers full of challenge—then the look was veiled.
“Um, I was hoping we could discuss the script on page 243.”
Inwardly, Kermit signed. Piggy was unhappy about the resolution of the fight scene, and Kermit knew from past experience that she could lobby with single-minded dedication for changes she felt were important. She had been unhappy with the way this scene had transferred to film, and her displeasure had been obvious when they’d viewed it earlier in the week.
“Okay, Piggy,” he said, careful to keep his voice neutral. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Um—okay—here,” Piggy began, thrusting the pages unto his hands and coming to stand beside him. “See—right there where Janice is pinning the bad guy to the wall.”
“Um hum,” Kermit muttered, scanning the description of the action quickly. “Okay.”
“Well, Moi thinks that this would be more effective if the bad guy was pinned to the wall by Moi instead of Janice. After all, Moi is the leader of Fozzie’s Angels and the bad guy did kidnap Moi’s puppy.”
She faced him triumphantly.
“Well, when we were discussing this scene in the writers meeting I think the thinking was that the bad guy was so thoroughly defeated that even the least expert fighter in the group could pin him.”
He watched Piggy process this and then thoughtfully reject it. “No,” she said firmly. “Janice could not knock him down like that. It has to be Moi.”
“But Piggy, don’t you think—“
“I know I’m right about this. Janice is the wrong one to do this—we need her to be breaking into the computers and opening the hangar door.” She pointed again, leaning close, and—whether by design or accident Kermit could not say—brushed against his shoulder. It was like being zapped for a second by a powerful electric current. For a moment, Kermit could not remember what he had been about to say. He caught his breath and turned just enough to see her face out of the corner of his eyes. Her face was set in a stubborn, pouty line, and it was obvious she was unaware of the effect her proximity was having on him. For a moment, Kermit considered unilateral surrender. If she could have this effect on him without even trying, what chance did he have to withstand a determined assault? He swallowed and dragged his eyes back to the script.
“Um, let me think about it this afternoon, Piggy.”
Misreading his hesitation, Piggy flared up. “I’m not grandstanding!” she cried. At the flash of anger in her eyes, he reached out and clasped her hand firmly, holding it between his own. “I’m not putting you off, Piggy. I just need a chance to think about it.” He smiled at her--the sweet, unaffected smile that always moved her--and looked into her eyes. “Preferably when you’re not so close to me that I can’t concentrate.”
Piggy flushed, slightly embarrassed but very pleased by his open admission of befuddlement, but Piggy the actress regarded him gravely for a moment. “I would never take anything away from Janice or Camilla or the picture. I just believe this is the right conclusion to the story.”
“Then I’ll consider your request seriously—this afternoon.” He met her professionalism with his own, then an impish look stole over his face. “But if you’d like to make an appointment to lobby for anything else….”
“You’d just better hope I don’t,” Piggy growled, but her eyes were warm. She stepped back and looked at him for a moment, then turned and walked back to her trailer. Kermit could have sworn she knew he was watching, and the sweet little sashay in her walk was just for his benefit.

“Um, Mr. Kermit, sir,” Janice said nervously.
Kermit looked up from his clipboard in surprise. It had been a long time indeed since anyone he worked with had felt the need to call him ‘sir,’ and Janice seemed one of the less likely candidates.
“Yes, Janice?” he said, putting the clipboard away and devoting his attention to the lithe, blond woman standing in front of him. Her long-time boyfriend and band-mate, Floyd, stood back from their conversation, but near enough to offer moral support.
Janice shot Floyd a pleading look. “Can’t you, like, tell him what we were talking about?” she asked.
“Nope,” Floyd said firmly, but he smiled at her with great affection. “You’re the bomb, Babe—and now you’re the star. You gotta talk to the green man yourself if you want to get respect.”
“Go ahead, Janice,” Kermit suggested gently, and Floyd felt a great surge of appreciation and respect. The little green dude’s got a great way with people, he thought. He’ll do the right thing.
“Yeah, c’mon, Sugar—tell him,” Floyd said in an encouraging way, patting her affectionately. Janice smiled at him gratefully and some of her nervousness abated.
“Well, like, I’m really, totally buzzed to be acting in this movie,” Janice said, “cuz, like, I know how many other actresses wanted the part.”
“Well, Janice,” Kermit said seriously, hoping to put her at ease. “We never really considered anyone else for this role—this part was written for you.”
“Oh, like, wow!” Janice said, clearly surprised. “That’s like, so, amazing.”
“Not at all,” Kermit said. “I should have told you, but we all assumed you knew. What did you want to ask me?”
“Well, like, I’m just totally not sure about the fight scene,” Janice said nervously. “I mean, like, the scene in the bar where we’re dancing, like, in those little outfits—“
“Yeah—I like that scene,” Floyd said with gusto.
“That’s like, more my speed, but, you know, fighting is like, not really me.”
“I thought the dailies were okay,” Kermit said, but in truth, the scene had not built to conclusion the way he had hoped. “Is there something specific you’d like me to change?”
“Well, like the part where I pin the bad guy is so totally negative and everything. I mean, I know he’s the bad guy, but, you know, I’m like not really the aggressive type.”
Kermit bravely resisted the urge to look at Floyd, whom he could tell was giving him a look that said, plainly, “Oh, no?” Watching their partners in this movie had forged a peculiar bond between Kermit, Floyd and Gonzo, but Kermit refused to be baited. He was the director here, not just Piggy’s lover and husband, and he owed Janice the respect of his attention.
“What could we do to make that scene work better for you?” he asked.
Janice looked thoughtful, twirling her hair around her finger.
“Like, couldn’t Piggy pin the bad guy while I’m hacking into the computers to open the hangar door? She is like, soooo into the fighting thing.”
Inwardly, Kermit sighed. It was the right thing to do—he had probably known all along that Piggy was right, but he couldn’t swear to his motivation for not rectifying the situation earlier. Had he been too stubborn to give in and admit Piggy had been right? Or had he simply been enjoying her subtle and not-so-subtle ploys to show him the error of his ways?
“That’s a good idea, Janice,” Kermit said. “Let me work on the script tonight and we’ll try to reshoot tomorrow while everybody’s still fresh.”
“Like, thanks, Mr. Kermit,” Janice said, her generous mouth smiling at him. “I’m, like, totally buzzed to be working with you.” She turned and, taking Floyd’s hand, walked out toward the parking lot.

Flowers or candy? Kermit wondered? Jewelry? All three? He would have to admit his folly tonight, and Piggy was not above demanding her due. Maybe, he thought desperately, if I just blurt it out the second I get home… In the end, it was chocolates and carnations, and what he hoped was a suitably humble expression when he crossed the threshold that evening. Piggy had preceded him home today for the first time in a long time, but instead of a quiet house, with Piggy reading or soaking, Kermit found the door opened by an alluring vision in a wisp of a hostess gown. No muu-muu tonight, Kermit thought. Something savory and spicy was wafting to his taste buds, making him realize how hungry he was. It was obvious that Piggy had an evening of all-out campaigning planned.
Oh, well, Kermit thought, surrendering his hat and himself to the evening. She’ll find out tomorrow.

Kermit cleared his throat, wondering how to phrase this. He had anticipated an impassioned crusade from her this evening, but he had been woefully under-prepared for the overpowering full frontal assault Piggy has so cunningly engineered, wreaking havoc with his senses and leaving him with little breath for argument. If she’d asked him for anything now, he could not refuse her, for this sweet, docile-appearing pig had given everything she had to the cause.
He lay still for a moment longer, enjoying the sweet press of Piggy’s form where they were intertwined on the big leather couch. Despite the fact that Piggy did not cook—at all—she had managed to have all his favorites, and the shoo-fly pie for dessert had very nearly finished him off. Luckily, Piggy had been concerned enough about his health to arrange for him to work off some of his dinner in a satisfactorily energetic way. Sated, content on every level, Kermit took a moment to bask in the glory of being Kermit the Frog.
“I have to tell you something, Piggy,” Kermit murmured at last. Piggy stirred but did not raise her head from his shoulder.
“I’m listening.”
How to begin…. “Um, I’ve been thinking over those script changes we talked about earlier.”
“Hmm?” Piggy sounded drowsy and relaxed, but Kermit was positive one of her velvety ears had perked up against his neck.
“You were right, Piggy. I should have had you taking the lead in the fight scene instead of Janice. We’re going to reshoot it the way you want.”
Piggy was silent, but she continued tracing little designs on his chest with her fingers, making his skin hum with pleasure. At last she spoke.
“I’m glad.”
“Good. Me too.”
There was another languid pause in conversation but Piggy’s warm little hands continued their maddening dance.
“Anything in particular make you change your mind?” she asked sweetly.
Kermit let out a short bark of laughter, then pulled her more firmly into his arms and kissed her. He was smiling when he ended the kiss, but his expression was stern as he looked down into her eyes.
“Everything you do to me drives me crazy,” he began. “I think I must be the luckiest frog on the entire planet because I’ve got you to come home to, but I want you to know that that’s not why I changed the script.”
“No?” Piggy’s voice was teasing, but there was something stirring in her eyes, something wistful that moved him in ways he couldn’t explain.
Kermit shook his head slowly, then leaned forward and kissed her mouth gently, in no hurry to pull back.
“I changed it because Piggy the Actress was right.”
She looked at him for a moment, her eyes filling with tears.
“Because you’re an incredible, talented pig with excellent instincts for what will make her characters believable.”
Her lower lip began to tremble. Kermit wanted to kiss it again, but he restrained himself for a moment longer.
“Because you’re an actress that any director would be thrilled to be working with. I’m privileged to be working with you, Honey, and I want you to know I know it.”
“Oh, Kermie.”
And when Kermit finally bent to her, he found that—for the second time that day—he was completely wrong. Piggy had not even begun to give him everything it was in her power to offer.

[Ruahnna]

Whew--I think I'm done for the day. Don't like to end things on a negative note.
How'm I doing? Anybody bored or scandalized? I'm walking a fine line here....

[Leyla]

Ooh, I'm so happy I don't even know where to begin! Two new parts to rave about!

What an emotional roller coaster this story is turning out to be! I'm gonna miss it when I'm gone! It's just so... wow.

I'm really liking Marty, like I enjoy all the characters that are floating in and around Piggy and Kermit's life. Oh, it's just so amazing how they just cling to each other all the tighter when the world keeps trying to pull them apart. Somehow you manage to write heartbreaking and heartwarming stuff at the same time Ruahnna, and it's simply overwhelming.


It was early, early in the morning when Kermit’s cell phone began to beep. It took him a moment to orient himself, then launch out of bed and begin the frantic search for the source of the annoying noise. He finally found it—still clipped to his trousers—in the clothing which had been strewn hastily around the room the night before. He jerked it open at the last minute, stammering a sleepy hello.


So they had a nice night, I see. I liked picturing Kermit scurrying around like that trying to find the elusive phone. It's so nice how all their friends banded together around them. So much love there.


“Kermit—thank goodness!” It was Gonzo, but he sounded more relieved than Kermit could account for. “Where are you?”
“I’m home, Gonzo.” In bed, Gonzo.


Gonzo either stayed up very late or got up very early, and given his odd ways, neither would surprise me. It's sweet how desperate he was to warn them. I can just picture him trying to get Rizzo up for their mission of mercy, presuming they're still roommates in your story.
Anyway, all through this I felt this enormous sense of dread.


“No Gonzo—I’m not.” I’m freezing my tushie off here in the stairs—talking to a lunatic.
“Maybe you better sit down.”
“Why—what is it? Are you in jail?”


Oh, I love grumpy morning Kermit and the conclusions he's jumping to. I wonder how many times Gonzo's called him from jail!
Kermits reaction to the news made me feel the same sense of horror. Oh, what they have to go through!


“Is Piggy up yet?
“No,” Kermit answered, but at the same moment a soft voice behind him said “Yes.” She looked at him, her face pale.
“Is everyone okay? Is someone hurt?”

Oh, and the first thing she asks is about someone else... my heart hurts.
I'm not usually a fanfic cryer, but ooh, when Piggy started to cry she almos took me with her. Poor thing!

I think I'm gonna develop a serious antipathy towards the media by the end of this story. Useless gawkers... just horrible! On a happier note, Scooter's getting the blinds, Rizzo's cooking and Fozzie's comforting was just so sweet and loving. I love when the Muppets are being familial.


If he could have gotten his hands on the man responsible, he wasn’t sure what would have happened.


Ooh, scary thought from Kermit. Don't mess with the pig's frog's pig! By which I mean if Kermit got in over his head trying to defend her, they'd have to deal with her defending him. Hi-Ya!

Marty's plan for protecting Piggy's reputation is rather chilling in its necesscity. Have I said that I like him yet? 'cause I really do. I like that he really cares about them, both of them, and this:


“But you know—you know, don'tcha—Piggy would rather die than hurt you.”


makes me get all teary. She's gotta be so afraid that Kermit might start to believe all the slander. I worried about Kermit too, it's not good to bury his own hurt. Might spell trouble.


Kermit had never wanted to believe anything more.

That's great writing, right there. What a last line. It's hopeful... but not entirely hopeful. He wants to believe it'll be okay, but he doesn't entirely, and neither do I which has got me all tensed up, in a good suspenseful kind of way.

I have to go to my volunteer work shortly so I'll have to review the rest of it later, but amazing job Ruahnna, consistantly amazing.

Leyla

[Leyla]

Oh my goodness, you ziffled me with another part. Fun!

I'm glad you left off on a happier note, Ru, so I can wait with a smile rather than being all fretful.

I like your description of the more positive article and using their oppnent's weapons to help them. I wouldn't reading that article actually; it sounds like it would be an interesting read. :)

Again, I find Kermit and Piggy's trying to protect eachother very, very touching, and all of that culminates very nicely when Piggy says she can't believe people would think so lowly of him.

I really like the look you give us on Piggy as an actress, her approach to her profession and the pride she takes in it. You set things up very well and your description of Piggy and Kermit watching the dailies leads perfectly into the whole chapter "Piggy the Actress." It's also really wonderful to see Kermit having and admitting his respect for her rather than him getting charmed into letting her have her own way because she can, or because she's grandstanding. I find myself respecting Kermit more as well.


Depending on her mood and her shrewd judgment, Piggy either accepted them with excellent manners and did her best to charm them, or did phenomenal diva grandstanding, making them flee in terror.

Ooh, I love that! It's so funny, and so... Piggy. I also liked the proposals she gets in the mail. Hilarious!


“If I’d wanted to go out with children, I’d have had some.” It was as close as she had managed to come to laughing about it.

Heehee, I like that too... and of course it also makes me curious if Kermit and Piggy decided not to have kids, decided to put it off for a while, or simply couldn't have kids. What an odd genetic mishmash that would be.

So after the funny stuff that lightens the mood, you swing once again into reminding us that all is not well. Another dip on the coaster. I think I'm running out of words to tell you how much I'm enjoying this, but boy, I really am. Poor Piggy and Kermit, it's just so sad what they're going through, and right when they should be happiest too!

Loved the spur of the moment trip to Vegas, and Kermit's pleased reaction to how little Piggy packed.


Piggy had received her own call from Marty, who praised her both for her luck and for having had her good side photographed.


That's very funny. I still like Marty.

Piggy's simpering up to Kermit never fails to amuse me and Kermit's reactions are just priceless.


For a moment, Kermit considered unilateral surrender. If she could have this effect on him
without even trying, what chance did he have to withstand a determined assault?


None at all, Kermie, just give in. You know you want to.

The whole scene with Janice and Floyd is just so much fun, and I love that they're doing a Charlie's Angels film. Now you can sue, Ru, if they ever actually do do one. ;) I like Janice's dialogue. She's such a valley girl.


It was obvious that Piggy had an evening of all-out campaigning planned.
Oh, well, Kermit thought, surrendering his hat and himself to the evening. She’ll find out tomorrow.

Oh, that's so, so devious of him! Oh my gosh I love that part. Shame on him though.


Sated, content on every level, Kermit took a moment to bask in the glory of being Kermit the Frog.

Great line!


“I changed it because Piggy the Actress was right.”
She looked at him for a moment, her eyes filling with tears.


Oh, darn it. I went and melted again!
I love this story... I just really, really love this story. Hugs!

[redBoobergurl]

Wow! Two more great chapters! I'm really enjoying this story and I don't think you're walking a fine line and I'm not bored or scandalized. I'm really hooked! It's so dramatic and romantic and I really like it! I like that you have them shooting a version of Charlie's Angels, I think that's neat! Anyway, keep on writing, I'm really enjoying this!

[Ruahnna]

Oh good--I'm gearing up for the next installment, but I've been shang-hai'd by another bit. Posting soon!

[Leyla]

Yay for shang-haiing!

[Ruahnna]

“Hey, Piggy—we got an invitation to cover a show in Vegas during the holidays. You want to do it?”
It was the week before Thanksgiving, and everyone was looking forward to the abbreviated schedule the following week, but it made this week positively frantic. Kermit was walking so fast that Scooter had to trot to keep up. This was nothing new. With a skill born of much practice, Scooter could shuffle papers, juggle appointments and appease personalities at light speed, making him invaluable as an assistant. Kermit leaned on him as comfortably as a third leg, knowing Scooter wouldn’t let him down.
“I know it’s not a lot of notice but—what? Speak up, Sweetheart—I can’t hear you.” Very distinctly in the background, Kermit heard Thoreau say, “Piggy—put the phone down now. I am trying to mark this hemline and you are ruining--” Piggy murmured something that sounded sweet but Thoreau broke off muttering immediately.
“Well, you know some of the guys are taking off for Christmas, so we’re closing down the set and we’ll have a few weeks to-- Um, let’s see, Fozzie wants to come and, um Gonzo. Clifford said he’ll come, and I think the band is up. I think we can get up enough for a decent revue.”
“Don’t forget to tell her Rowlf will come if she needs him,” Scooter whispered, consulting his hand-held. “She may want a piano player.”
“Couple to three weeks,” Kermit was answering. “Yes, I know it’d mean being away from home at Christmas, but they’ve promised to put us up at the casino. Rowlf said he’d come, too. We could—what?”
He stopped so suddenly that Scooter would have crashed into him—should have crashed into him—but veered around him expertly.
“Yes—in the penthouse,” Kermit said, exchanging big smiles with Scooter. “You’re sure?” A bigger smile. “Great—thanks, Honey—I think it’ll be fun, too. Love you.” He closed the little phone.
“Call and tell them it’s a go,” Kermit said to Scooter, sighing with relief. “Tell everybody I want to see them on Soundstage A after lunch for a quick meeting. And can you make arrangements with the hotel for Animal to—“
“Already on it, Boss,” Scooter said, cradling his phone against his ear while he jabbed numbers into his handheld. He’d managed to take notes on Kermit’s phone conversation, check air fares the 2nd week in December and get Kermit’s signature on two pieces of paper while they walked (ran) to Kermit’s office, where Scooter left him to go to the sound booth.
Mentally, Kermit was thinking through the logistics of pulling together a revue with a scant two handfuls of people, and feeling pretty comfortable. In truth, part of him was thrilled. What a great creative break for all of them. Movies were wonderful, but you didn’t get live feedback from a movie. Nothing could replace the feel that you were—against all odds—connecting with your audience, not only making them happy, but seeing that happiness on faces seated near you. What a rush this was going to be, going back to their roots. He sank into the depths of his desk chair with a deep sigh. And, he thought grimly, getting out of town wouldn’t be half bad, either.
In the absence of anything new to report, the rumor mill had fallen into a grudging ceasefire. Piggy granted interviews to those interviewers she trusted or to whom she could dictate terms—and those terms always included a protective hedge around her marriage and her man. There were pictures of the the Frogs eating out, going to parties, arriving on the set for work. There were even occasional pictures from the set, which was ostensibly closed to unauthorized visitors, but since Kermit wasn’t the last word on who was and who was not authorized, he could do little but fume and threaten. Janice had even complained about being dogged by reporters who followed her home, but Floyd had dealt with that annoyance rather handily himself—with a little help from Animal. That problem, at least, had not reappeared.
Piggy had been totally on-target at work, but there were times when Kermit looked up and met her eyes only to find worry mingled with bemusement and passion in their blue depths. He knew she worried about him—about the effect this ordeal was having on him—and he did everything he could think of to show her that it was not bothering him. But no amount of creative lying on Kermit’s part would convince Piggy—Piggy who loved him with every fiber of her being—that he was unaffected.
Even before he had been willing to admit that he didn’t want a future without Piggy in it, the specter of jealousy had reared its ugly head more than once in their relationship, casting doubt on his indifference and his intentions, and giving Piggy hope that he was not as unmoved as he appeared. In that regard, his jealous nature had served him well, but now it buzzed almost constantly in his head, undermining the substructure of his life. It was not, Kermit told himself firmly, that he ever doubted Piggy’s unwavering affection, and yet…and yet…. Some small part of Kermit the Frog still found it hard to live comfortably in his skin—to live with the success and happiness that had seemed to fall on him out of the sky, to live with the extreme good fortune of making a living by making others happy--surrounded by friends and family—and to have found a love too stubborn to give up on his hesitant, undemonstrative nature until she broke through to the tender, passionate frog beneath. There were times, Kermit had to admit, that it all seemed too wonderful, too perfect, to be real, to be bona fide, to last.
With a sharp shake of his head, Kermit pushed the pesky thoughts away. He was being ridiculous. His life wasn’t a pie-in-the-sky dream! It was backed up by hard work and hope—buoyed by the effort and affection of his friends. Maybe he just needed a break. Maybe they all did. And, hey--Vegas had been kind to him and Piggy earlier this year, Kermit mused, giving them a respite from the daily grind and putting the the Frogs back into the public eye in a positive light. A working Christmas didn’t bother any of them—they’d worked Christmases before. Maybe—just maybe--Christmas in Vegas was what they all needed.

[Ruahnna]

I'm baaack! Been wrestling with the timeline for a couple of weeks now--got it under control--so I'm hot on the trail again. (Now I'm stuck with a time conflict in "A Pig out of Water." *sigh* Never a dull moment--thank goodness!)

[The Flying Sheep]

I Love This Story!

[TogetherAgain]

Ruahnna, I've gotta tell you something. After spending about twelve hours yesterday cramped-up in a very over-packed car, and not getting a good night's sleep for three nights straight, and wanting nothing more than to come home and just sleep... Well, instead of sleeping, I came on Muppet Central, and read that chapter, and boy, am I glad I did. It was exactly what I needed. I would have said so last night, but, well... I did need sleep, too. Now then, let me find a few good lines that I particularly enjoyed reading...

Kermit was walking so fast that Scooter had to trot to keep up. This was nothing new. With a skill born of much practice, Scooter could shuffle papers, juggle appointments and appease personalities at light speed, making him invaluable as an assistant. Kermit leaned on him as comfortably as a third leg, knowing Scooter wouldn’t let him down.
I love this description, and it's perfectly accurate. Scooter as a third leg- a very perfect picture.

Very distinctly in the background, Kermit heard Thoreau say, “Piggy—put the phone down now. I am trying to mark this hemline and you are ruining--” Piggy murmured something that sounded sweet but Thoreau broke off muttering immediately.
Mm, it makes me wonder what she said to him! But I can hear it so perfectly, I don't care that I don't know. It's just so... her-ish. I almost pity Thoreau, but I know he can handle it.

He stopped so suddenly that Scooter would have crashed into him—should have crashed into him—but veered around him expertly.
Just sort of connect this with how I feel about that first quote... I really love how you describe Scooter here.

“Already on it, Boss,” Scooter said, cradling his phone against his ear while he jabbed numbers into his handheld. He’d managed to take notes on Kermit’s phone conversation, check air fares the 2nd week in December and get Kermit’s signature on two pieces of paper while they walked (ran) to Kermit’s office, where Scooter left him to go to the sound booth.
Mm... Ditto.

He knew she worried about him—about the effect this ordeal was having on him—and he did everything he could think of to show her that it was not bothering him. But no amount of creative lying on Kermit’s part would convince Piggy—Piggy who loved him with every fiber of her being—that he was unaffected.
Even before he had been willing to admit that he didn’t want a future without Piggy in it, the specter of jealousy had reared its ugly head more than once in their relationship, casting doubt on his indifference and his intentions, and giving Piggy hope that he was not as unmoved as he appeared. In that regard, his jealous nature had served him well, but now it buzzed almost constantly in his head, undermining the substructure of his life. It was not, Kermit told himself firmly, that he ever doubted Piggy’s unwavering affection, and yet…and yet…. Some small part of Kermit the Frog still found it hard to live comfortably in his skin—to live with the success and happiness that had seemed to fall on him out of the sky, to live with the extreme good fortune of making a living by making others happy--surrounded by friends and family—and to have found a love too stubborn to give up on his hesitant, undemonstrative nature until she broke through to the tender, passionate frog beneath. There were times, Kermit had to admit, that it all seemed too wonderful, too perfect, to be real, to be bona fide, to last.
BIG QUOTE! I just LOVE this. It's so... so... Ooh, I just love it when Kermit's so doubtful like this! It just... ooh... It just makes him so real somehow, I don't know... I don't know if that's really saying what I mean, but I just- I love this! This is REALLY the part that I just could not get enough of last night. And it's so well done... I love it.

Maybe—just maybe--Christmas in Vegas was what they all needed.
And it ends on a hopeful note! That's Kermit the Frog, folks, ending on a hopeful note. But now I am SO confused, I don't know if that line is reassuring me that it's okay or warning me that something's going to go wrong. I think it's doing both. I love it! Oh, more please, Ruahnna, MORE PLEASE!

And ach, those darned time-lines! I've been struggling with one myself over in Flippersteps, and I'll be wrestling something fierce when I get to part two of the series... So I completely understand how frustrating it can be. Good luck with "A Pig out of Water," and I'm looking forward to more of this (or that) soon!

[Ruahnna]

To everyone--thanks so for the feedback! It's sustaining me in a very busy time and I appreciate all of you "silent readers" as well. God bless you, every one.

Scooter as a third leg- a very perfect picture.
I really like Scooter a lot--in fact, I'm pretty sure I dated him when I was in high school.... Seriously, he's grown so much from his younger days as a gopher (I just about dropped my teeth when he was trying pick-up lines on the chorus girls in IAVMMC!), and I can easily picture him as the perfect assistant--patient, detail-oriented, unfazed by celebrity, and able to manipulate the technology that I'll just bet eludes Kermit at times. As the company has grown, Kermit would need someone capable to keep him on track and manage the details.

Mm, it makes me wonder what she said to him! But I can hear it so perfectly, I don't care that I don't know. It's just so... her-ish. I almost pity Thoreau, but I know he can handle it.
Yes--I'd like to know exactly what she said to him--I'd like to use it myself! Actually, Thoreau is going to handle things just fine--and there are a few surprises in store for him, as well.

BIG QUOTE! I just LOVE this. It's so... so... Ooh, I just love it when Kermit's so doubtful like this! It just... ooh... It just makes him so real somehow, I don't know... I don't know if that's really saying what I mean, but I just- I love this! This is REALLY the part that I just could not get enough of last night. And it's so well done... I love it.
And it ends on a hopeful note! That's Kermit the Frog, folks, ending on a hopeful note. But now I am SO confused, I don't know if that line is reassuring me that it's okay or warning me that something's going to go wrong. I think it's doing both.
When the days is over and everyone else goes home to quiet dreams, Kermit stands alone under all the responsibility for making the Dream they share--and everyone else's personal dreams--come true. That's an enormous responsibility, one that scares him and makes him worried about his ability to deliver because,at heart, Kermit is a very modest, very humble frog. That aloneness is one of the reasons that I want him to have Piggy to come home to. No one will ever love Kermit the way she does, or drive him as crazy, but Kermit needs both that craziness and that love in his life to sustain him and remind him that he is NOT, after all, alone. He has what he needs--what many people long for their whole lives--a family of friends who would do anything for him.
Having said that, you must know that my story will have a happy ending--HAS TO HAVE a happy ending, but not without a few bumps along the way. Coming up soon--we're going to VEGAS!
(Sorry--got kindof deep in here. I'll start bailing....)

[Ruahnna]

“Let me get this straight,” Howard said. “You want me to come to Vegas to help with the show. At Christmastime. So, instead of spending a quiet Christmas at home, you want me to come to Vegas where it’s loud and bright and noisy and crowded? Are you kidding?” He leaned forward—suddenly and unexpectedly—and kissed Kermit noisily on both cheeks. “I wouldn’t miss it!”
“Oh good,” Kermit said, a little rattled at being so enthusiastically smooched by the choreographer. Others lined up after the meeting to say they could come, or couldn’t, or hoped to and would let him know asap. Kermit sent them on to Scooter, who was charting people, props, transportation and accommodations. Later, Kermit sat down with Scooter to go over the list, and was not unhappy with what he saw.
“We have enough to do a really good show,” Kermit said, “and the folks that want to go home for Christmas can still do that. We’ll round everybody up after New Years and get back to filming.” He looked the list over a couple of times—flipping pages back and forth, then a frown settled over his features.
“Scooter, there’s one name on here I was hoping to see that I don’t.”
“Who’s that, Boss?”
Kermit looked up. “You, Scooter.”
“Sir?” The young man seemed surprised, then looked away.
“I was hoping you’d come, sing a song in the show, have Christmas with Piggy and me and the gang.” Kermit knew that Scooter had no parents to go home to, and was surprised not to see his name on the list for Vegas.
Scooter looked uncomfortable for a moment, his cheeks flushed pink. If Piggy had been there, she would have known, would have seen, would have scolded Kermit for his lack of insight. Since she wasn’t, Scooter had to pierce the veil on his own. “Um, I, uh, sortof, um had plans for Christmas. Sortof,” he mumbled.
“Oh.” The light eventually dawned for Kermit, and he cleared his throat noisily while he tried to figure out what to say. “Well that’s great, Scooter,” he said at last. “I didn’t think—I mean, um, I didn’t realize that you, um, that is….” He trailed off uncomfortably. “I hope you have a great time with, uh, with—“
“Sara,” Scooter whispered.
“With Sara,” Kermit said. “I hope you have a wonderful Christmas with Sara.”
“And her parents,” Scooter said quickly. “We’re supposed to spend Christmas at her parents’ place.”
Kermit smiled. He’d gotten so used to Scooter being eternally entangled with studio business that he’d forgotten what it was like to be young and single, trying to balance a social life. “Well, nobody deserves a vacation more than you do, Scooter.”
Scooter looked up, blushing again, but this time from pleasure at the unexpected compliment. “Thanks, Boss,” he said gratefully. “I hope you don’t—I mean, will you be okay without me in Vegas? I’ve made all the arrangements and everything. I just hadn’t gotten up the nerve to, um, I mean I hadn’t gotten around to telling you that I had made other plans. I didn’t know we were going to have anything going, so—“
Kermit reached out and patted Scooter on the arm. “I’ll be fine,” Kermit said firmly. “We’ll miss you, but we’ll manage. I’m glad you’re taking some time off.” He was rewarded when Scooter heaved a sigh of obvious relief and stood, heading for the door. “So,” Kermit began, “is Sara that cute little redhead I’ve seen you around with?”
Scooter nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and fled out into the hall.

“You hadn’t noticed?” Piggy said later that evening as they were cozied up on the loveseat in the den looking over the list of cast-members who planned to attend.
“No—I guess not,” Kermit said. “I mean, I knew he had a girl-friend—at least, I think I knew that.”
“Cute redhead—named Sara,” Piggy supplied and was rewarded with a surprised look from Kermit. Sheesh, she thought, don’t men notice anything?
“That’s right,” Kermit said, mystified.
“And they’re going to spend Christmas with her family?”
“Yes—Scooter said they were going to spend it with her parents.”
“Good. Scooter needs to get out more—I’m glad he’s going to spend some time away with, um, family.” She gave him a thoughtful look. “We won’t see your family at Thanksgiving or Christmas this year—that okay with you?”
Kermit shrugged. “Winter does not show the swamp at it’s best,” he said matter-of-factly, and Piggy began to giggle.
“What? What’s funny?” Kermit demanded.
“I don’t know,” Piggy said truthfully, trying to stem her mirth. “You are. Nothing. Everything.” She put her hand over her mouth, attempting to hide her smile, but was unsuccessful. Kermit’s confusion only added fuel to the fire, and she clapped both hands over her mouth and fell back onto the couch. “I’m sorry,” she began, as tears began to leak out of her eyes, “but it just seemed so—oh!”
Of a sudden, Kermit joined her, stretching out beside her on the comfy couch, his arms slipping around her familiarly. He pressed a kiss against the curve of her jaw, snuggling against her. Piggy stopped giggling long enough to let out a soft sigh, then turned and caught his next kiss on her lips.
“Nice,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” Kermit agreed lazily.
“So—you okay about not seeing your family?”
“It’s fine,” Kermit said. “Sure, I miss everybody—especially Robin—but it’s a little overwhelming to be home during the holidays.” He pulled back and regarded her slyly. “Why?” he asked. “You hankering for the swamp this year.”
“No,” Piggy said carefully. “It’s just….“
“I miss Robin,” Kermit said suddenly. “I like it when he stays with us.”
“Me, too. Why don’t we ask your brother if he can come?”
“For Thanksgiving?”
“Sure—or Christmas. Or both.”
“Really? Both?” Kermit regarded her suspiciously. “That’s a long time.”
“So—let’s ask them.”
“Now?” Kermit protested, cuddling a little closer.
“Hey,” Piggy protested. “I’m just trying to be accommodating.”
Kermit gave her a openly speculative look that started her giggling again, but made her heart go pitter-pat as well. “That’s not what I meant,” she protested.
But not too much.

[ReneeLouvier]

*squeals and hug Ru tightly* Ah! This is an great chapter, as all of them are! Yay! I'm in the story! I can't help it, I love it when the story's are great anyways...then we get the oblique reference. I was so ready to see Scooter in Vegas, then he's spending Christmas with me and my family! Too cute!! *hugs again*

[TogetherAgain]

ROBIN!!!!!!!!! Robin's coming! Oh happy happy joy joy! ...Or, at least, they're going to ask if he can come. Which is just as good, if you ask me. ROBIN! (In case you haven't noticed, he's my favorite. You have made me very happy.)

So good to see that Piggy likes having Robin stay with them, too. Oh, gosh, I'm so happy now!

And Scooter, very nice, he's got a love life. (I guess I should be getting used to that on this forum, shouldn't I?)

Methinks this is exactly what I needed before heading off to take the SAT today. So thank you, very much.

MORE PLEASE!

Edit: Just thought I should announce that Renee ziffled me.

[Ruahnna]

*squeals and hug Ru tightly* Ah! This is an great chapter, as all of them are! Yay! I'm in the story! I can't help it, I love it when the story's are great anyways...then we get the oblique reference. I was so ready to see Scooter in Vegas, then he's spending Christmas with me and my family! Too cute!! *hugs again*

Stay tuned, Sara--you may get to see Vegas after all....

ROBIN!!!!!!!!! Robin's coming! Oh happy happy joy joy! ...Or, at least, they're going to ask if he can come. Which is just as good, if you ask me. ROBIN! (In case you haven't noticed, he's my favorite. You have made me very happy.)So good to see that Piggy likes having Robin stay with them, too. Oh, gosh, I'm so happy now!

Of course he's coming--would I lead you on? (tries to look innocent--fails miserably) No--wait, don't answer that. Just wait until you see what happens when he does!
Good luck on your test!

[ReneeLouvier]

Stay tuned, Sara--you may get to see Vegas after all.... Eee! Awesome!! I can't wait for the next chapter, Ru!!

[The Count]

Well... Having gotten past the first part... This story is definitely picking up steam. I'm skipping over some of the more "mature" moments, but I know that's part of what you intended as part of the driving force for the narrative. There are other parts I've liked, and we're all awaiting for more soon or whenever you can post it.

[Ruahnna]

Well... Having gotten past the first part... This story is definitely picking up steam. I'm skipping over some of the more "mature" moments, but I know that's part of what you intended as part of the driving force for the narrative. There are other parts I've liked, and we're all awaiting for more soon or whenever you can post it.

Oh--so sorry, Count, dear. I guess the "mature" moments are not everyone's cup of tea. (I've tried to keep them pretty PG.) I did warn that this story was, well, ushy-gushy, but it does have a storyline and I've tried to stay true to the character of the, um characters. Hopefully, there will be enough plot and enough ushy-gushy to satisfy everyone without overwhelming anyone. (Hopefully.) :concern:

[The Count]

Well, to tell the truth... Though I'm skipping over that stuff like I said... It has been fairly well-balanced throughout so far. And like I said, I understand that such an affair is central to the story's overall development. Just keep writing the way you've done so far and it'l be OK.

[Morgan Clueless]

As a lurker-turned-member, I've been reading this story, and I really like it so far. Lots of detail, emotional parts (I can't think of any other word except "parts"), and--of course--development in the characters! :flirt:

Anyways, keep up the good work, Ruhanna!

[Ruahnna]

Thanks, guys--hugs all around. I'm having a great time with my some of my favorite characters in the whole world.

[The Count]

Waiting patiently for an update... No, really I am.
Sorry if I stole your line Lisa, would you like it back?

[Ruahnna]

After a family consult, everyone had concluded that it was better for Robin to be home for Thanksgiving, but to come as soon after the holiday as the traffic died down. It was Wednesday of the week after Thanksgiving, and Kermit, Fozzie and Sweetums were waiting anxiously for any sign of Robin at the teeming airport.
“I’m really glad Robin flew in before we left for Vegas,” Kermit said, craning his neck worriedly. “The Vegas airport is way too crowded.” He stood up on his tippy-toes. “Do you see him, Sweetums?”
“Not yet,” Sweetums said. “But I’m a-lookin.’”
And getting some very odd looks himself, Kermit wagered.
“Anything on your side, Fozzie?”
“No, no, no….” Fozzie said, counting off the passengers.
“Let me know if you see him,” Kermit interrupted. He craned his neck hopefully, searching for a small, green familiar figure.
They had a few more moments of suspense before Sweetums—who had the definite advantage of height—let out a great whoop (woot?) of triumph and slogged through the crowd to pluck Robin out of the midst of them.
“Sir!” a red-vested stewardess complained. “This young, um, man is meeting someone. You can’t just—“ She spied Kermit and smiled. “Hello, Mr. the Frog,” she said warmly. “I believe your expected passenger has arrived.”
“Thanks,” Kermit said gratefully. “Thanks a whole lot.” He leaned in, dropping his voice. “Was he okay on the plane?”
“Uncle Kermit!” Robin protested from atop Sweetums' shoulders, but the stewardess smiled and nodded.
“Ate like a, um, horse—slept like a log. No problems at all, sir.”
“Thank you,” Kermit said again. “Thanks so much.”
After stretching up to both give and receive a kiss from his nephew, Kermit steered their little party toward the luggage conveyers.
“Hey Uncle Kermit—can I ride on the conveyor belt and travel in the cargo hold on the way home?”
“Um, no, Robin—it’s not safe.”
“But you did it,” Robin protested.
Kermit looked at him in consternation. “I did?”
“He’s right,” Fozzie said solemnly. “We did that once.”
“What? Oh! Fozzie, that was a movie. Robin—that was just a movie—we didn’t actually ride in the cargo hold of an actual airplane.”
“Oh,” Robin said, clearly disappointed. “But you used a parachute,” he added hopefully.
“Well, yes,” Kermit admitted. “That part really happened.”
“I can’t always keep track,” Fozzie murmured.
“Oh,” Robin said again, thinking hard. “Could I do that?”
“Um, maybe sometime, Robin, but right now we’ve got to get your luggage. Everybody’s anxious to see you—we’ve got your room all ready.”
“Did Aunt Piggy bake some of those cookies I like?”
Kermit and Fozzie exchanged looks. “Well,” Kermit hedged, “I think I did see some of those cookies at the house.”
“Yippee!” Robin said. “Can I jump on the bed in my room? Can I swim in the pool tonight? Do I have to take a bath if I go swimming? Can I keep a cookie under my pillow in case I get hungry in the middle of the night. Is there still a night-light in my room, because I’m too old for a night-light now.”
“My head hurts,” Fozzie whispered, and Kermit grunted happily in response.
They were at the luggage carousel now, and Robin—with a bird’s eye (er, frog's eye) view—pointed his luggage out the second it appeared. Sweetums swooped in, gathered it in one huge hand and they were heading for home.
Sitting in the back of the car, Kermit put his arm around Robin, who alternated between leaning against his uncle and craning to look out the window and commenting on absolutely everything he saw. Bemused, Kermit smiled. It was easy to forget how high-energy Robin could be.
The travel took its toll, however, and Robin was fast asleep by the time they reached home. Although tempted to carry him in and put him right to bed, Kermit did not wish to be awakened at two in the morning by a refreshed and re-energized little frog. Gently, he shook Robin awake and, after a few sleepy moments, Robin vaulted out of the car and into Piggy’s waiting arms for a split-second hug before bounding in the door. While Sweetums put the car away, Kermit, Piggy and Fozzie trailed into the house.
Robin could be heard clearly from his first-floor bedroom, commenting on the new television set in his room, the view from his window, the bounciness of his bed and the amount of closet space he had. Kermit smiled. It was easy to forget the wonder of everyday things when you were constantly surrounded by them, but Robin always reveled in his time away from the swamp. Like his uncle, there was more than a dash of wanderlust in his makeup, and he enjoyed taking in every new experience that came his way.
“Francois is putting the finishing touches on dinner,” Piggy said. “I’ll go make sure everything is ready.”
“We’ll wash up,” Kermit said, corralling Robin and steering him toward the sink. “C’mon, Fozzie,” Kermit said.
Fozzie looked up hopefully. “Oh—I wasn’t going to stay….” He began, his eyes wistful, but Kermit grabbed his arm and pulled him after him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Fozzie,” Kermit said sternly. “Of course you’re staying. You’re family.”
“And families have to stick together—no matter what!” Robin piped up.
“Yeah,” Kermit said firmly. “No matter what.”

[The Count]

Now that was a good chapter. And I'm sure Lisa will tell you so as soon as she comes in and reads it. When that'll be, well, not sure if I'm the person to ask about that.

Robin's energy and amazement comes through like a little green light in the dark... Helps ease the tension of the story's true intent what with Fleet bedeviling Kermit and mostly Piggy with his investigative making up of the news.
And insisting that Fozzie stay for dinner cause he's family... And family sticks together no matter what.
A really nice ending to the chapter.

[redBoobergurl]

Gosh I love this story! I was finally able to catch up after being gone for a week. I just love how you're building the storyline and delving into the personal lives of the Muppets. It's highly entertaining and I look forward to when you update!

[TogetherAgain]

<whispers>

Pst. I am not here. If anyone asks- you did not see me! I did not sneak onto my parent's computer to use their internet to come and read this and tell you that this chapter is FANTASTICABULOUS! <looks around. Whispers> Nor did I shout just now. Anyway. Robin's here! Yay! And all his energy, and the confusion about whether or not Kermit and Fozzie rode in cargo (They don't serve food in ninth class... twelve dollars and you don't even get a meal! <giggles>) and all of Robin's energy and Sweetums swooping in, and did I mention Robin's energy? And his enthusiasm, and... Oh it makes me happy!!!

But remember, I am not here, and I did not say any of this.

MORE PLEASE!

<whispers> You didn't hear that. You're going to listen to it, but you didn't hear it. Understand? Oh good. Because I don't. I'll see you when I'm really here. Auf Wiedersehen! ...Oh, and Count, yes I would like my line back, please, although I must compliment your use of it... <vanishes>

[The Count]

Well... Since you're not here I rully can't give it back.
Unless we get more story... Or unless someone starts reading and posting in another sort of story I got...

[The Flying Sheep]

All together now:

Awh.....................

[The Count]

Um... Could we please have some more of this story?

[Ruahnna]

“Okay, people—listen up!” Kermit called over the murmur of many voices. “We’ve still got a couple of weeks of filming to do before we break for the holidays. I know some of you are looking forward to some time off, and some of you are looking forward to our revue in Las Vegas, but we need to be sensitive to each other and stay focused on what we’re doing in the moment.”
Everyone had fallen silent, all eyes turned attentively to Kermit.
“I want to tell you how much I appreciate everyone’s hard work so far on the film. I know we’ve had a few problems with the media—“ Kermit’s cheeks flushed a little pink, but he kept going. “—but the movie’s getting some positive attention and I think we need to stay focused on making the best movie we can. I know I can count on you all.” As if appearing out of thin air, Robin popped into the air and landed nonchalantly on Kermit’s shoulder. Kermit, who was used to it, hardly reacted, but several people on the front row stepped back in surprise, and others were heard to laugh or comment. “Oh—and Robin’s going to be with us for the next little while. Say hi, Robin!”
“Hi!” Robin called cheerily, waving enthusiastically.
“Hey there, kid—looking bouncy!”
“Good heavens, he’s grown hasn’t he? Hasn’t he grown, George?”
“Hiya short stuff!”
“Oh, like he’s so cute and everything, really….”
“Robin—hey! Look down!”
Kermit smiled as everyone welcomed Robin back into the fold. Robin’s sunny disposition and seemingly endless enthusiasm were having a positive effect on everything. Kermit felt…optimistic, and it was an almost unfamiliar feeling after the past several weeks. It buoyed him and made him feel content. Maybe the worst was over, Kermit thought firmly. Things were bound to start looking up.

“Rizzo,” Piggy said, eyeing the little rat suspiciously. “Is that one of the cookies I had made up special for Robin?”
“Yeah,” Rizzo said cheerfully. “And boy, are they great. I love chocolate chips.”
Piggy opened her mouth to speak, shut it carefully, then tried again. “Rizzo—those aren’t chocolate chips.”
“S’okay,” Rizzo said, munching happily. “I like raisins, too.”
Fozzie had come up during this last and he shot Piggy an alarmed look, but Piggy merely shrugged and let Rizzo go without further comment.
“You’re not—you’re not going to tell him?”
“Nope,” Piggy said firmly. “And neither are you.” She took Fozzie’s arm and steered him toward the dressing rooms. “Fozzie, are you sure you want to cover for Scooter during the holiday break? It’s a lot of work keeping up with everything.”
“Oh, sure,” Fozzie said. “Piece of cake.”
“Never say ‘piece of cake” in the labyrinth,” Piggy murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Piggy said, smiling and shaking off the thought. “It was sweet of you to volunteer.”
“Scooter has everything very well organized,” Fozzie said confidently. “I’ve got everything I need right here on my clipboard.”
Piggy looked down at the notebook in Fozzie’s hands. “Um, Fozzie—that’s not a clipboard. That a writing tablet.”
Fozzie looked down in alarm, gulped, then looked around frantically. “Hoo, boy,” he said, flustered. “Hmm—gotta go! Now where did I--?”
Oddly enough, the conversation reassured Piggy. Things are getting back to normal around here, she thought hopefully. Maybe the worst is over.

[The Count]

Yaey for the new chapter! Hmmm, wonder what those cookies are made of... Well, they can't be any worse than Aunt Cali Reaper's...
Robin bringing so much optimism back to the set... Yaey!
Would recommend you do away with the m-dashes and go with commas though, and separate each character's lines when they speak... I've been able to keep up with who's speaking, but it helps flow better.

In any case, it's a good addition to see the Muppets getting back to normal. Maybe the worst is over now. But that can't be, or else there'd be no more story. There is more story, fright? If so, please post it when you've got it ready.

[TogetherAgain]

YAY! <Giggles> I think I figured out what's in those cookies... <giggles>
I love how Robin brings this air of optimism to the set, and glad that things seem to be "getting back to normal." Well, as normal as they ever are with the Muppets... But the repetition of the idea makes me think that maybe we're getting a little cocky... which makes me think that we're going to be cut down to size... which makes me uncertain, and eager to see what's next! ...And then I wonder if I'm reading too much into it... Which makes me even MORE eager to see what's next!

MORE PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[The Count]

Hmmm... Wonders if there's more to this tale, and when it'll get posted.
*Wraps fingers on armchair while waiting.

[The Count]

*Using poking stick borrowed from Nicole. Poke-poke-poke. Nag-nag-nag. Come on, don't you want to post more story? You'll feel much better.
Now, if you'll hexcuse me... *Leaves to prod next author on list.

[green stuff]

Haha! I love your reference to the Labyrinth. Very funny!

[Leyla]

Ah, Ruahnna, I do miss you, your stories and your opinions about the pig and the frog. It's taken me way too long to review this, so I do apologize. Here's hoping you'll come out of hiding soon, with or without an update.

I'm really interested in what's going to happen in Vegas. It was kind to them once, but will it be again?


“I know it’s not a lot of notice but—what? Speak up, Sweetheart—I can’t hear you.” Very distinctly in the background, Kermit heard Thoreau say, “Piggy—put the phone down now. I am trying to mark this hemline and you are ruining--” Piggy murmured something that sounded sweet but Thoreau broke off muttering immediately.

Ah, you gotta love Piggy when she's being sweetly threatening. Never get between her and her frog.

I loved your description of Scooter as Kermit's third leg, and of course the reference to Sara's stories was wonderful.


Janice had even complained about being dogged by reporters who followed her home, but Floyd had dealt with that annoyance rather handily himself—with a little help from Animal. That problem, at least, had not reappeared.


See, now that was great thinking. It's almost a pity that Piggy hasn't been within arms length of Fleet. She send him packing... and flying, and proper thing that.


He knew she worried about him—about the effect this ordeal was having on him—and he did everything he could think of to show her that it was not bothering him. But no amount of creative lying on Kermit’s part would convince Piggy—Piggy who loved him with every fiber of her being—that he was unaffected.


Sigh... I love the two of them together. Lots of people don't I guess, but gee, when they're happy, they're such a great team. I'm growing in anxiety about the effect all of this is having on them. I'm worried that Kermit will start to believe all those lies. He is a jealous frog and when you hear something often enough, even when it's not true you can start to believe it.
Beautiful, intriguing writing.

I love that your brought Robin into the story, and that Piggy wanted to see him too. Again, I'm all curious to see where you're going with him in the story. He's such a cute little frog. I love his friendship with Sweetums too, who is the muppet monster that used to terrify me as a child. Not the other ones, who are actually mean sometimes, but the nicest one, go figure.

"Ate like a horse, slept like a log" Very cute description of Robin.


“Not yet,” Sweetums said. “But I’m a-lookin.’”
And getting some very odd looks himself, Kermit wagered.


Heh, I really like that a lot, both Kermit's thought and "a-lookin". Very funny.
Robin's questions and explorations are very endearing and I also like the references to the Great Muppet Caper, which of course ties into A Pig out of Water, which I also love.


“Well, yes,” Kermit admitted. “That part really happened.”
“I can’t always keep track,” Fozzie murmured.

Great Fozzie line.

Piggy's non-baking is really fun characterization (and of course, Rizzo's "raisins" was great fun too.)

Great work, as per usual, and I'm really looking forward to the continuation!

Leyla

[The Count]

As are we all around here...

*Prods Ru with nagging stick gently... After all, we want more story, but I don't want to get on my new boss's bad side... *Hint, hint, we're waiting for you over at MopFam also Catherine.

[christyb]

*grabs my nagging stick* Make that two of us...but seeing as Mother is going to work undercover for the Magic school...I shouldn't get on her bad side either. To the story though, it's great and I can't wait to see what happens. I'd say more, but it'd redundant to what has been said. :) Sooooo when are we getting more?

[The Count]

Dunno... Maybe we need to go on a mission to shanghai Catherine and keep her locked in a writing room of her own?

[christyb]

*dangles keys* She's free to use it. :)

[The Count]

Well... What I thought is she's been in there too long, and needs to be let out... If she has more story to post, that is.

Don't you Ru? *Stands ready with poking/nagging stick, along with Christy and her own stick at the door.

[Ruahnna]

“I told you,” the dark-suited man was saying to Gonzo. “The frog’s got vision. He’s not afraid to buck the system.”
“You’re telling me! I mean, go figure,” Gonzo was saying. “Who but Kermit would have cast me as a weird little man who likes to hang out with good-looking women?”
Rizzo looked up from his peanut butter and banana sandwich and gave the man a what-are-you-going-to-do look, but said nothing. The man shrugged minutely, and they continued toward the commissary.
“Good scene, Gonzo,” Kermit called from the director’s chair. Gonzo looked up, amazed that Kermit had even noticed him passing by. As usual, Kermit was a small green figure surrounded by a cluster of people all wanting his undivided attention. And, as usual, they were all getting it—one person at a time. Waving his companions ahead, Gonzo waited until Kermit had dispatched a handful of hopefuls and turned to him.
“Thanks, Kermit. I think it went well, too.”
“Oh, good.” He smiled at Gonzo, his eyes tired. “We’re staying on target, knock wood.” Five slim green fingers rapped the arm of his director’s chair for luck.
“Four more days,” Gonzo said, “and then we’re off to Sin City!”
“Um…yeah,” Kermit murmured, and tried not to think what sort of trouble Gonzo could get into in Las Vegas. Or Rizzo. Or Floyd. Or Animal. Or-- He shut the stream of worry off with a shake of his head. “Other than the fact that Piggy’s planning on taking half her wardrobe, I think we’re going to be ready.”
“Show shaping up?”
“Yeah—it really is.” Kermit sounded suddenly animated, the fatigue that had been clouding his voice slipping away. “Do you know what you’re going to do for the first half of the show? I’ve still got you down as undecided.”
“As a matter of fact, I have.” Gonzo looked carefully up the hall and down before leaning in and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m planning on walking a tightrope while gargling a glass of milk and balancing a bowl of fresh fruit on my nose.” He looked at Kermit triumphantly while the stunned amphibian tried to think of something appropriate to say (or perhaps keep himself from saying what seemed appropriate).
“Sounds, um, nutritional,” Kermit said. It did not really fit in with the general theme of the show, but, where Gonzo was concerned, it rarely mattered. Whatever spectacle his furry blue friend managed to make of himself, people usually paid to see it. “Is there—is there anything you’ll need that we should tell the casino about?” Or warn them about, Kermit added silently.
“No—I’m bringing all my own equipment, and Scooter’s already arranged to have it shipped.”
“Good, good—and you’re still on for what we discussed for the second half?”
“Sure.”
Kermit looked toward the lunch room longingly, but then looked back toward his office and sighed. So much to do, so much to do. Gonzo shanghai'd him expertly by the arm, pulling him after him toward the commissary.
“C’mon,” Gonzo said. “A frog’s gotta eat. I’ll buy you a sandwich and a cup of coffee.”

Rowlf pulled up next to the curb and stopped, but he kept the car idling as he turned to his passenger. “Sure you don’t need any help with your baggage?”
Scooter smiled. “No, I’ve just got the carry-on.” Wonderingly, Scooter fingered the two one-hundred-dollar bills that Kermit had pressed on him—over his protests—before he left the studio. “Thanks, Rowlf, for driving me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“But—“
“No, really,” Rowlf said. “Don’t mention it—I didn’t sign out the company car.”
Scooter opened his mouth to lecture on the evils of improper use of company property, but shut it with a sudden gleeful thought. Not my problem, Scooter realized, elated. At least, not this week. He stepped out of the car but lingered on the curb.
“You guys have a nice time in Sin City.”
“Hard not to,” Rowlf said amiably. “Should be a blast. You have a nice time with your lady friend.”
Scooter nodded absently, too preoccupied to blush. “Will Kermit be—I mean, you guys will be fine without me.” He did not sound convincing, even to himself.
“Scooter.” Rowlf put a big warm paw on the young man’s arm. “Have a nice vacation. Me and the rest of the gang—we’ll look out for Kermit.”
“And Piggy,” Scooter added automatically.
Rowlf smiled. “Sure—her too, but Piggy does a pretty good job of taking care of herself.”
They laughed softly together, but they were both thinking the same thing. Some things can’t be karate-chopped.
“Guess I should go.”
“Guess so. Have a nice time.”
Scooter nodded solemnly, then turned and set his face toward the big glass windows. Everybody will be fine, he told himself. They’re together, right? What can go wrong?

“And this just came in over the fax,” the trench-coated figure said significantly. “They’ve shut down the filming for a month to do the Vegas show.”
“A month! He gives them a month off for Christmas?”
“Yep. He’s a regular philanthropist.”
“Good thing you don’t have to spell that.” That last said with a nasty sneer.
“Doesn’t matter,” he shot back. “Our readers couldn’t read it if I did.”
They glared at each other for a moment, then the dark-suited figure behind the desk waved the air as if to dispel a bad smell.
“So—what’s our angle on this?”
Scribbled smirked and handed over his ever-present notebook, where the bare bones of a story were sketched out. His smirk deepened as a rich chuckle escaped his collaborator.
“Clever. Clever boy, Scribbler. Not quite wrong, but not quite right, either.” The notebook was handed back, and the meeting became more businesslike.
“We’ll have to time this carefully. Who’s covering the Vegas show? We’re bound to get something, um, newsworthy out of that.”
“Um, I was actually thinking of going, you know, myself.”
The person behind the desk gave him a hard stare. “You must be racking up a lot of frequent-flyer miles, Scribbler.”
He shrugged, elaborately casual. “What do you care? You’re getting what you want. What’s it to you who does it?”
The dark-suited figure behind the desk steepled long nervous fingers. “I don’t know--yet. But I know this is personal.”
“Look who’s talking!” he retorted, but the figure behind the desk only smiled.
“There’s something here you’re not telling me, Scribbler. And when I find out—”
I’ll be working for another newspaper, Scribbler thought savagely. A better one, maybe even— Instead he said, “Hey—I’m doing the job, okay?”
“Just make sure you do. We’ve got a lot of newspapers to sell.”

“Okay—listen up guys,” Kermit said, consulting the list. “Gonzo—you and Fozzie and Rizzo can take Room 403, right next to me and Piggy. Floyd—you and Dr. Teeth are bunking together with Animal. Room 405. Hey—everybody pay attention! Robin—stay close to me or Piggy, okay? Lots of weird people here. Johnny, Sal—you’re bunking with Clifford in 409. Pick up your keys, everybody, and get unpacked. Short rehearsal at 5:00 before we break for supper!
“Janice—you’re with Camilla in 402. Hey Janice—tell the girls from the chorus line that they’re next to you in 404, okay?”
“Like, fer sure.”
“Howard, you’re in 406.”
“How come Howard gets his own room?” Fozzie asked.
Gonzo steered him toward the elevator. “I’ll explain it when you’re older,” he said vaguely. “Oh look—there goes Ray Romano!”
“Where? Where?” Fozzie asked, swiveling his head even as Rizzo helped bustle him toward their room.
Rowlf came up. “Hey Kermit,” he said amiably. “Where you want me?”
Kermit looked at the list. “Looks like you’re rooming with Zoot and Lips in 407—that going to work for you?”
Rowlf smiled. “We’ll be the laid-back musician suite,” he said with a laugh. “That’ll suit me fine.”
Piggy came up as Rowlf walked himself to the elevator, eyes sparkling with excitement. She clasped Robin’s hand firmly as the little frog stared around the brightly lit casino in awe.
“Ooh, Kermie—the stage area is very nice, and the dressing rooms are wonderful! Are you all done?”
Kermit looked around, surprised to find himself bereft of people needing direction, and smiled at Piggy and his nephew. “I guess so—everybody’s gone to unpack and get ready for rehearsal, then we’ll all go to supper.”
He reached out and took Robin’s other hand. “Come on, guys—lets go find our room.”

Scooter was sure he’d met at least a million different guest stars at airports, but it was still a little daunting to step off the plane into the crowded, noisy stream of harried passengers and hope that he’d hook up with Sara. I’d have brought a sign, he thought nervously, a nice big one that said—
He blinked in surprise, his eyes glued to a large poster board that said, “Wanted—Scooter!” in huge neon letters. Waving happily on the other side of the sign was Sara, who made her way through the pressing throng and threw her arms around him.
“You’re here—you’re here!” she cried. “I can’t believe you’re actually here!”
“Me either,” Scooter said, his arms closing tightly around her waist. For days, he’d dreamed that some unforeseen emergency had kept him from his vacation. One particularly vivid dream had Animal chasing down the plane as it lifted off, his jaws clamped firmly on the landing gear. Dreams and nightmares aside, Scooter felt positively light-headed to be here—or maybe that was just seeing Sara again.
A sudden thought shook him, and he looked around nervously, pulling free from Sara’s embrace. “Are—are your parents here?”
Sara laughed, a musical sound.
“No—I told them not to scare you to death at the airport. They’re waiting for us at home. Mom’s making dinner. Dad’s probably watching the news—he’s a real news junkie. I told them I’d pick you up and we’d come home.” She eyes Scooter’s carry-on. “Is that all your luggage?”
“Yep.”
Sara gave him a mock frown. “Doesn’t look like much room for presents in there,” she teased.
Scooter gave her a look, his mouth quirking slightly.
“Well,” he said lightly, “you’re present didn’t take up much room.”
For a moment, Sara just stared, and the noisy, crowded airport seemed to dim and fade while they stared at each other. “Oh,” she said softly. “Oh.”
Scooter leaned in quickly and kissed her on the mouth, then pulled back and grinned. “C’mon,” he said. “I’m ready to meet your folks.”

[The Count]

Yaey!!! Scream it from the mountaintops to the dorm rooftops... Neeeeew chapter!
And what's more... Ruahnna's back!!

Loved how you transported the Muppets to Vegas.
The meeting between Scribbler and his boss, a bit chilling.
The details, and Sara and Scooter...
It's all great... Though I'd do away with the "m-'s" and try to make it clearer who's speaking...
But all in all, a great chapter and I hope it doesn't take you as long to post the next. Now I hope to see you over in the dorms and MopFamdom soon.

[Leyla]

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You're back! Squee! What fun! And with a great new part and everything!

I loved all the organizational chaos and their arrival in Vegas. Like the Count I got chills during the sneaky scary meeting. Ooh, my goodness, it's personal! Wowsers! I'm so intrigued, and I was already intrigued. Love the scene with Scooter, although... uh oh, dad's a news freak? Not good news there!

Love Gonzo being Gonzo, and Rowlf and Scooter's Piggy can take care of her self... mostly interaction. Pity she can't karate chop all of there problems away, although hey, it makes for a better story.

Oh, and this line:

“How come Howard gets his own room?” Fozzie asked.
Gonzo steered him toward the elevator. “I’ll explain it when you’re older,” he said vaguely. “Oh look—there goes Ray Romano!”


Very cute and funny, with a touch of that sweet Fozzie characterization. He's such a young fellow sometimes... most times. Love that innocence.

As usual, Kermit was a small green figure surrounded by a cluster of people all wanting his undivided attention. And, as usual, they were all getting it—one person at a time.

What a sweet character line that is. As usual I find your characterizations, and comments on the characters very apt and charming. I find myself nodding and agreeing, or going, gee, I never thought of that, and that's great fun for me.

Thanks for coming back Ru! Missed you (and not just your stories)

[christyb]

Woohhooooo! More story! Fabulous. Where to start where to start. I loved the feeling you brought forth in this little segment. First you start off gettting us all comfy and giving the air that everything is all right...then we see Fleet Scribbler. Just a taste that all isn't well quite yet throughout the whole chapter. Superb job!

[Ruahnna]

The backstage areas were clean, roomy and well-kept, and all of the props and costumes Scooter had arranged to have shipped had arrived safely. Not everything was where it belonged, however, but this was taken in stride as the cast-members surged toward the dressing rooms to find their assigned place. Piggy, of course, had her own dressing room, and the musicians had a special area with extra sound-proofing. The Mayhem’s musical instruments had been carefully unpacked and various boxes containing Gonzo’s equipment were stacked neatly backstage.
Everyone crowded around the dressing room roster, which was posted on the bulletin board near the little kitchenette.
“Hey!” Rizzo said indignantly. “Somebody put me in the girls' dressing room!”
Several pairs of wistful eyes turned in his direction.
“Congratulations,” Rowlf said at last.
Rizzo gave him a look of annoyance which was gradually replaced with a look of dawning comprehension. “Hey!” Rizzo said again. “I’m in the girls' dressing room.” He picked up his bag and marched through the door.
For a moment, it looked as though his bold move was going to be successful, then the room behind the door erupted into a series of shrieks, gasps and squeals. The door opened and Rizzo was propelled unceremoniously through the door.
“Hey!” Rizzo fumed. “My stuff’s in there.”
The door opened a crack and the duffle sailed out, smacking him expertly in the chest. With a gasp, Rizzo fell over. “Thank you,” he squeaked.
“You okay, Rizzo?” Rowlf said, helping the reeling rat to his unsteady feet.
“Oh, sure,” Rizzo said. “I should have known that wasn’t going to work.”
“Worth a try, though,” said Rowlf philosophically.
“Oh, yeah,” Rizzo said, casting a longing look toward the closed door. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“C’mon people!” Kermit was calling over the din. “Scooter! Can’t you—“ Kermit stopped, suddenly remembering that Scooter wasn’t there. “Fozzie—Fozzie, where are you?”
Fozzie emerged from backstage with difficulty. His headset was dangling lop-sidedly, held on with what appeared to be a sequined sash from one of Piggy’s old gowns. Several papers were threatening to escape from his clipboard, but he gripped the mass with fierce determination.
“Here, Kermit.” He gave Kermit a weak smile and gave an unconvincing thumbs-up sign. “Everything is hunky-dory back stage.”
Inwardly, Kermit sighed. Willing Fozzie certainly was, but it would take more than one earnest comedian to replace Scooter. He smiled at Fozzie in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.
“Great, Fozzie—tell the Electric Mayhem they’re on.”
Fozzie consulted his clipboard, muttered something to himself and disappeared backstage again. Miraculously, the curtain actually opened a few moments later to reveal the band in all their glittering glory. After a few seconds of silent consultation, Dr. Teeth bobbed his head while his hands hovered over the keyboard.
“And a-one, and a-two, and a—
Bup bup bup bup Shake it up baby now! Shake it up baby!
Twist and shout! Twist and shout!
Come on come on come on come on baby now! Come on baby!
Come on and work it on out! Work it on out, ooh!
Well work it on out! Work it on out!
You know you look so good! Look so good!
You know you've got me goin' now! Got me goin'!
Just like I knew you would! Like I knew you would!
Well shake it up baby now! Shake it up baby!
Twist and shout! Twist and shout!
Come on come on come on come on baby now! Come on baby!
Come on and work it on out! Work it on out, ooh!
You know you'll twist a little girl! Twist a little girl!
You know you twist so fine! Twist so fine!
Come on and twist a little closer now! Twist a little closer!
And let me know you're mine! Let me know you're mine!
Aaah, aaah, aaah, aaaaahhhhhh…
Well shake it up baby now! Shake it up baby!
Twist and shout! Twist and shout!
Come on come on come on come on baby now! Come on baby!
Come on and work it on out! Work it on out, ooh!
You know you'll twist a little girl! Twist a little girl!
You know you twist so fine! Twist so fine!
Come on and twist a little closer now! Twist a little closer!
And let me know you're mine! Let me know you're mine!
Well shake it shake it shake it baby now Shake it up baby!
Well shake it shake it shake it baby now Shake it up baby!
Well shake it shake it shake it baby now Shake it up baby!
Aaah, aaah, aaah, aaaaahhhhhh…”

“Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!” yelled Animal, banging his drums set with wild abandon. The other band members smiled indulgently, nodding to each other with satisfaction.
“Hey Animal,” Floyd said at last, “save some for later, alright? We’re going to go eat in a few.”
Animal left off chewing on his cymbal, his eyebrows lifting at the thought of supper.
“That was great, guys,” Kermit said. “Really terrific sound for the first half.” He looked at the clipboard in his hands and spoke into his headset. “Um…is Gonzo ready?”
There was a burst of static, making Kermit wince, then Fozzie’s voice came through loud and clear. “I can’t find Gonzo,” Fozzie said. “Last time I saw him he was climbing the—“ Without warning, Gonzo went swinging Tarzan-style across the stage, clinging to a cable. His eyes were wide with exhilaration and he shouted “Yippee!” when he reached center stage before disappearing out the other side of the stage.
“Um, Kermit—Gonzo’s not ready.”
Kermit looked back at his clipboard.
“Okay,” he said calmly. “How about the Dream Girls bit? Can we run that one?”
More static, but Kermit was ready for it. Then Fozzie said, “Yes sir. Dream Girls coming up, but we need someone to spot for Gonzo until he, um, gets down.” Kermit heard the sound of cast members being herded toward the stage, and hopped up to take his place on stage. “Hey Dr. Teeth—can you cover for Gonzo in this song? You’ll be with Camilla, okay? Howard—give us a look from the back, won’t you?” Kermit called, but the choreographer was already heading towards the back of the auditorium. He picked a spot near the back and stood with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for the music to begin.
Piggy joined him center stage, followed by Camilla and a couple of other girls from the chorus. Gradually, everyone paired up and found their mark, but Clifford remained standing on his lonesome.
“Hey!” Clifford said indignantly. “Story of my life—everybody’s got a girl but me.”
Janice came rushing out apologetically, still trying to buckle her character shoes. “Sorry,” she said, “Like, some of my stuff wasn’t in my dressing room, and I really want to try this with my new shoes.”
Clifford grinned at her. “Just don’t leave me out here dreaming alone,” he teased, then subsided after a hard look from Piggy. “It’s cool,” he said, nonplused, and Kermit looked toward the sound booth.
“Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream,” began Kermit.
“Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream,” Clifford joined in, his lower voice blending nicely with Kermit’s.
“When I want you in my arms, when I want you and all your charms, whenever I want you, all I have to do is drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream.” While the men sang, the women danced. As each singer joined the song, his individual muse came to life, dancing, reaching, coming close but staying oh-so-out-of-reach.
To the side of the stage, Floyd and Rowlf had their heads together. “Not a bad take on an old tune,” said Floyd generously.
“Yeah--we could do a lot worse than the Everly Brothers,” Rowlf added. Floyd gave him a look.
“Man, we have done a lot worse than the Everly Brothers!” He chuckled heartily at his own joke, but kept a gimlet eye on Clifford, who was paired with Janice for this number. Filming this latest movie had really been a good experience for Janice, and Floyd was really proud to see her doing more with the acting side of her talents. She’d also gotten a chance to show off her dancing talent, which Floyd could attest was first-rate. Still, he felt an irrational surge of jealousy every time Janice reached out to almost stroke Clifford’s cheek. It was decidedly uncool to make your woman think you don’t trust her, so Floyd kept his arms clamped tightly over his chest and made determined small talk with Rowlf.
“When I feel blue in the night, and I need you to hold me tight, whenever I want you, all I have to do is Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam,”crooned Dr. Teeth, filling in for Gonzo. All the men joined in on the chorus.
“I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine anytime night or day. Only trouble is, gee whiz, I’m dreamin’ my life away.”
Dancing near him, Piggy did her best to discombobulate her partner, shooting him smoky looks or actually running a teasing hand across his cheek while he sang. Kermit ignored her determinedly. Although they sometimes took playful pleasure in faking each other out on stage, Kermit felt he was proof against anything Piggy might do to him during this song. But the next time Piggy floated by, Kermit goosed her surreptitiously, making her startle. When she turned to him with fire in her eye, Kermit winked at her, and she found it impossible to stay mad at him.
“I need you so that I could die. I love you so and that is why whenever I want you, all I have to do is drea-ea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream drea-ea-ea-ea-eam.”

While Fozzie did his anxious best to fill in for Scooter, Scooter had no worries of his own at the moment. He had been introduced to Sara’s parents, fed until he thought he’d pop and was looking with great anticipation toward an evening curled up in front of the fireplace with Sara’s shining head resting on his shoulder. Despite his momentary nervousness at the airport, Scooter had felt completely comfortable with Sara’s folks. They’d been warm and welcoming, treating him more like family than a guest.
“That’s me,” Scooter thought with satisfaction. “Like family.” He smiled at Sara as she toyed with the rest of her apple crumble until she felt his gaze on her and looked up.
“What?” she said, blushing.
Scooter smiled and reached across the table to take her hand. “Nothing,” he said. “Just happy to be here.”
“Good.” She looked over her shoulder furtively to make sure her mother was still in the kitchen, then leaned forward and whispered, “They like you!”
“How can you tell?” Scooter asked, amused.
“Dad actually missed the news on the hour for you, and Mom gave you the biggest bowl of crumble.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you like me?”
“Scooter!”
“Well, do you?” Scooter teased.
For answer, Sara leaned further over the table and kissed Scooter, hard, on the mouth, but quickly, so that by the time her mother turned to put the dishes away, Sara was sitting back playing with her fork again and Scooter was sitting with a stuptified expression on his face.
“Scooter?” Sara’s mother asked, looking at him with some concern. “Do you need anything else?”
Scooter found his voice again, and dared not look at Sara. “Yes ma’am, I mean, no ma’am. I have everything I need right here.”

“Great practice, everybody,” Kermit was saying. “Everybody go to supper and enjoy the evening. We’ll hit it tomorrow morning until we get it right, then take a break in the middle of the day before dress rehearsal tomorrow night. If you have any equipment issues, see Fozzie. If you have any choreography issues, see Howard, yada, yada, okay, folks? Everybody got it?”
Everybody did.
Piggy, back in what passed for street clothes, came up and took his hand, smiling at him. “Good practice, mon capitan,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him fondly on the cheek.
“Yeah,” Kermit said happily. “I thought so, too. Let’s go backstage and rescue Sal from Robin and go out for dinner, what say?”
“Sounds lovely,” Piggy agreed. Her eyes were shining with pride and affection. He looks happy, she thought with a sigh. Relaxed and happy. Even her vamping on stage had failed to rattle him. That gave here a moment’s pause, but she brushed it aside with a sly smile. If Kermit was going to be thick-skinned, she’d just have to try a little harder to get under his skin. And Piggy loved nothing better than a challenge.
Several moments after everyone had left the auditorium, a lone blue figure swung out over the stage, clinging to a cable and whooping with joy. ‘Wah-hoo!” he yelled exuberantly. “This is the life!”

If Piggy hadn’t insisted on powdering her nose before they went to supper, she might not even have seen it, but some things are as predictable as the sun rising in the morning and the tide coming in. Satisfied with the result of her ministrations, Piggy had stepped back from the vanity table and started toward Robin’s bedroom when her eyes fell on the very corner of the folded newspaper laying on the bedspread. Her eyes zeroed in immediately on a rather distinctive flipper and she snatched the newspaper up anxiously and looked at the photograph.
It was Kermit, all right, and Piggy skimmed the caption, “Beleaguered CEO/President of Rainbow Productions Kermit the Frog (shown above left) rumored to be having difficulty with the studio’s latest film. Film mogul seeks solace for faltering love life in new Vegas show.”
“Oh no,” Piggy said softly. “Oh, Kermit, they can’t be—they just can’t be….” She trailed off, reading the article itself.
“Amidst a ballyhoo of controversy regarding the on and off-screen lives of two of tinsel-town’s most notable characters, Rainbow Production’s “Fozzie’s Angels” has stopped production. No word yet on when production for the greatly anticipated Miss Piggy vehicle is scheduled to start back up, but word is the movie is sizzling. Rumors about the solidarity of the company, however—and the marriage—of it’s CEO/President Kermit the Frog and sensational stage and screen diva Miss Piggy have abounded since early fall, when the more than bootylicious actress was caught making time with more than one Hollywood hunk. Is it possible Mr. the Frog has more on his plate than he can handle? One has to wonder if this is the beginning of the Rainbow’s end….”
With surprising violence, Piggy shredded the entire section of the newspaper into miniscule pieces before grinding them into the carpet.
“Aunt Piggy?”
Piggy whirled, startled by Robin’s sudden appearance.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, um, I was just, um…—making confetti!” she finished triumphantly. It wasn’t a great lie, but it was the best she’d been able to manufacture on short notice.
Robin looked at her curiously. “What’s confetti? What do you do with it?”
“Oh. It’s little pieces of paper. You throw it around at parties.”
“How come?”
“Because, um, because it…it looks festive, dear.”
“What’s festive?”
“Um, pretty.”
Robin still looked baffled, but Piggy had a momentary inspiration. “Do you remember the parade that Aunt Piggy hosted? When she got to be on TV and introduce all the floats and things?”
“Oh—yeah! You taped it and I watched it on the video player.”
“That’s right. And do you remember that some of the floats had little pieces of paper and streamers and things that floated down as they went past?”
“Oh—I remember!” He looked at the tattered pieces of newspaper on the floor. “But it was lots of different colors.”
“Well, um, yes—but I didn’t have different colors.”
“Oh.” Robin reached down and picked up a handful of the shredded newspaper and tossed it experimentally in the air over his head. The individual pieces showered down around him like snowflakes.
“Wow—that is pretty, Aunt Piggy.” He tossed another two handfuls in the air and twirled in the midst of it. “Look at me—I’m twirling in the confetti!”
“Wonderful, sweetheart.” Inwardly, Piggy let out a whoosh or relief, followed almost immediately by a sudden surge of anger. I will not let this touch him, she thought fiercely. I will not!
“Hey, Aunt Piggy?”
“What, Honey?”
“What’s confetti made of?”
Piggy took a deep steadying breath. “Trash,” she said sweetly, when she had control of her voice again. “Nothing but trash.”

“Hey, Sara—come quick. Better bring Mr. Grosse with you!” Sara’s father’s voice boomed at them from the family room. Sara and Scooter exchanged startled looks, then hastened in to see what the matter was. Standing with Sara, looking over the back of her father’s recliner, Scooter went rigid. Sara felt his hand tighten convulsively on hers, and when she peered at him in concern, all the color appeared to have leaked from his face. He looked shaky, and Sara pulled him after her by sheer force of will and made his sit down on the loveseat.
“—and one inside source at the studio confirmed that filming has stopped on ‘Fozzie’s Angels.’ The studio didn’t return our phone calls, but the latest word is that Kermit the Frog, CEO and President of Rainbow Productions—seen here at the Pediatric Aids benefit last month—is planning to open a Las Vegas show sometime soon.”
Scooter stared at the screen in horror as they flashed up a picture of Kermit. Piggy had attended with him, was in fact just to his left in the picture they were using, but had been deliberately cropped out to give the impression that Kermit had attended alone. He listened to the rest of the buxom blonde’s bubbly comments about the entertainment world, but the original story was not repeated.
“That’s your boss, right?” Sara’s father said, his face concerned.
Scooter nodded numbly. “That’s—that’s him, but that’s not what….” He trailed off, shaking his head as if to make the whole thing disappear. “But…but I sent out press releases. I made sure that all the studio offices knew…inside source? Don’t know who that would—“ He caught himself babbling and stopped. “Um, yes sir,” he said with difficulty. “That’s Kermit, my boss. I—I’m sorry, but I need to make a couple of phone calls.” He flipped open his cell phone only to find that the battery was low. In the hazy pleasure of the afternoon, he’d forgotten to charge it. “Um—can I borrow your phone, sir?”
“Of course,” Sara’s mother said anxiously. Scooter could tell from their kind and worried faces that Sara had told them something about the difficulty Rainbow Productions had been having with the press the past few months. He hoped they’d understand, hoped Sara would understand. With a sigh, Scooter pulled out his handheld and began dialing.

[The Count]

Oosh! Yes, made up sound word.

Greatness abounds here in this chapter.
The practice in Vegas...
"Twist And Shout", was that the Beatles' version or the original by the Eisley Brothers?
"Dream, Dream, Dream" by the Everly Brothers.
And how the couples were put together... Nice to see Janice getting some limelight in the show.
But where's Skeeter? Applauding you for continuing the little fictional coupling between Scooter and Sara, and you'd get more points if Skeeter was at least present for her fictional dreadlocked amour.
But I like that Janice's getting a bit of the spotlight.

That was a rully comfy-cozy home scene with Scooter at the Vines' household...
And points to you for having Fozzie in the role of backstage assistant, moreso for using "hunky-dory" in his speech. That takes me back to the Muppet Show I remember.

And then the scene in Piggy's room... The tabloid reporter's still on the rampage... And confetti being made out of trash, I whole-heartedly agree.
Tenderness there with Piggy explaining things to Robin... Do I detect a reference in that parade explanation?

And even Scooter's affected by the news report, though he made sure to send out press releases...
Great chapter, keep it going, we can take it.

[ReneeLouvier]

*faints*

Wow....you actually got my parents right on the spot....I'm a little weirded-out. In a good way of course! ;)

I really LOVE this story! The intrigue...and...Howard getting his own room. *busts out laughing* That's just so funny. I really like the character of Howard.

[The Count]

Then here's some education for you Sara...

Howard, performed by Brain Henson... Started out on Muppets Tonight, his full name, Howard Tubman.
His schtick on the UK spot featuring him and his faithful butler Carter, was that Howard was immensely fat and treasured/devoured his weight in fine foods like Yorkshire pudding and a Washington's Birthday rumcake locked away in his safe.
In the Very Merry Muppets Christmas movie, he was turned into a backstage character for the main cast, in charge of the choreography for some of the musical numbers. And Ru's done a great job bringing him into this story.

But enough muffining... *Hands Catherine a muffin, more story please?

[christyb]

What a pleasant surprise! Tis a good way to begin er...wait it's mid afternoon...ummm...continue a Monday. :) Fabulous, but oh man that press release! Poor Kermit and Piggy.

[Ruahnna]

Thanks for the muffin--I'm ravishing, um, no wait, I'm...(looks blank)famished! That's it--famished! (muttering to self) I've got to stop spending so much time with the diva pig....

[redBoobergurl]

I haven't had a chance to read this for awhile, but I got caught up today and I must say Ru, you've still got me captivated! This latest chapter was fantastic! I feel so bad for Scooter making frantic phone calls at the end when all he's trying to do is meet his girlfriend's family and the scene with Kermit and Clifford singing Dream was quite nice. I also liked the jealousy that Floyd had over Janice dancing with Clifford. Really some unbelievably good writing! I can't wait to read more now that I'm caught up!

[Leyla]

Yippee! Well, loved this part, Ru! Not that that should surprise! It's such a pleasure to read your writing. I've consistantly loved your stories since first I laid my tired little eyes on them.

Probably my favorite part of this was the scene with Piggy and Robin. It was all, "Oh no! Piggy saw it first this time!" and "boo! Evil Fleet badness!" and then "Oh, poor little Robin! Don't let this sort of this get to him!" and finally, "yay! confetti!".

Hmm... well, I'm rather tired and making little sense. I liked Piggy's apt treatment of that nasty article and her determination to protect Robin. Also, you write those nasty articles very well. I can't imagine it's particularly easy to be mean to the Muppets.

The bit with Rizzo and the girl's dressingroom was very cute.


Fozzie emerged from backstage with difficulty. His headset was dangling lop-sidedly, held on with what appeared to be a sequined sash from one of Piggy’s old gowns. Several papers were threatening to escape from his clipboard, but he gripped the mass with fierce determination.


This was positively adorable of Fozzie. Though I occasionally overlook him in favour of the Pig and the Frog, my fondness for him is growing by leaps and bounds thanks to character moments like this.

Gonzo's running wild was a lot of fun, and again, great character writing. He's so crazy!


“Um, Kermit—Gonzo’s not ready.”
Kermit looked back at his clipboard.
“Okay,” he said calmly.


Gonzo's entrance is of course made perfect by the non-reaction here.

The dreaming song was great, with the jealousy and Piggy trying to get a rise out of Kermit, only to have him turn the tables. Lots of fun there!

Scooter and Sara's scene was great, and tied him right with the growing news problem. I like that he's still connected to the action even though he's far away.



“Sounds lovely,” Piggy agreed. Her eyes were shining with pride and affection. He looks happy, she thought with a sigh. Relaxed and happy. Even her vamping on stage had failed to rattle him. That gave here a moment’s pause, but she brushed it aside with a sly smile. If Kermit was going to be thick-skinned, she’d just have to try a little harder to get under his skin. And Piggy loved nothing better than a challenge.

I probably don't have to explain why I liked this!

Robin still looked baffled, but Piggy had a momentary inspiration. “Do you remember the parade that Aunt Piggy hosted? When she got to be on TV and introduce all the floats and things?”
“Oh—yeah! You taped it and I watched it on the video player.”

Heh, I liked that Piggy was the one who taped it! Still her own biggest promoter!


“What’s confetti made of?”
Piggy took a deep steadying breath. “Trash,” she said sweetly, when she had control of her voice again. “Nothing but trash.”


Bravo!

All in all, another great installment! I'm looking forward to the next one!

Leyla

[Ruahnna]

“Sweetheart? You almost ready? I could eat a—“
“Coming!” Piggy said quickly, suddenly aware of how long she’d been back in the bedroom. She surveyed the confetti-strewn room in dismay, then took Robin firmly by the hand and pulled him after her toward the living room of their suite. “C’mon, Robin—we’ve got to get some food in your Uncle before he starts chewing the furniture.” She kept her voice light, but an adult would have noticed the strain in her tone, the anxiety in her eyes. Robin, however, was not an adult, and he laughed appreciatively at Piggy’s feeble joke.
“Hey Uncle Kermit!” Robin called as they emerged from the bedroom. “Guess what Aunt Piggy did?”
Piggy felt the blood drain out of her face, then surge back into her cheeks. Oh no, she thought. Not now, not yet. Please, please, please—
“Aunt Piggy said you were going to start chewing the furniture—like Animal!”
Kermit chuckled and eyed the comfy loveseat with comic interest. “Hum—that loveseat looks very appetizing…” Robin giggled again as Kermit cut his eyes toward Piggy. “And there’s something else that looks appetizing,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. Piggy smiled and clasped his hand tightly in return, so relieved that Robin hadn’t made explanations necessary yet that she was fairly successful in hiding her angst.
“Vous are too kind,” she said breathlessly and swept out the door with two adoring men in her wake.

Scooter reached out and took Sara’s hands, squeezed them tightly between his own.
“Sara, I’m really sorry. I know we were supposed to spend Christmas together but—“
“It’s okay,” Sara said gently. “I know your boss needs you right now.”
“It’s just, I mean—“
“You have to go.” Sara smiled and returned the pressure on Scooter’s hands.
Scooter nodded. “I have to go,” he said fervently. “I have to.”
“I know. I understand.”
“I hope so,” Scooter said earnestly. “It’s not just my job, Sara. Kermit’s not just my boss, and those people I work with—well, they aren’t just the people I work with. They’re, um, we’re sortof family,” he said, hoping some of this made sense.
Sara leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. She looked at him solemnly, but her eyes were merry. “I know that too. And I do understand.”
Relief washed over his features. “Really?” he asked. “Really and for true?”
“Really and for true.”
Scooter might have said something more, but found his lips answering hers as she kissed him gently but with definite warmth. At last, Sara sat back and sighed.
“I just wish there was something I could do.”
“That was a good start,” Scooter murmured, gazing at her. Sara smiled, blushing a little, and made as if to stand, but Scooter’s next words caused her to stop where she was.
“You could come, too.” Scooter blinked, hardly able to believe he’d said that last out loud.
Sara looked at him for a moment, not sure she’d heard correctly. “Come—come with you? To Las Vegas?”
“Yeah. I mean—you can stay with Janice and Camilla or some of the chorus girls.”
“Chorus girls?” Sara teased. “You didn’t tell me you worked with chorus girls.”
“Well, um,” Scooter stammered, “Some of them aren’t exactly um, girls, um, I mean, one of them is a pig and….” Scooter knew he was babbling but couldn’t seem to stop himself. Sara handled the problem herself, cupping his face in her hand and smiling into his eyes to let him know she was kidding. He subsided, but looked at her earnestly. “Do you think—I mean, will your parents, um, be okay with this? It’s Christmas and everything. I don’t want to do anything that will make them—“
“Let’s ask,” Sara said simply. “The most they can say is ‘no.’”



“Look, I said I was sorry, Honey,” Gonzo said for what seemed like the one-hundredth time. “I just lost track of time while I was, um, while I was…”
Camilla made a couple of rude “Bawk Begawks” that Rizzo needed no translation to understand. He did his best not to snicker as Camilla made a few other observations that, again, needed no translation to be perfectly understood.
“But—“ Gonzo interjected at one point, but subsided immediately under a flail of “buc buc bucs” that had Rizzo staring fixedly at the floor. If he hadn’t been afraid to leave Gonzo alone with Camilla, Rizzo would have slunk away to find supper on his own. As it was, he had practically exhausted his repertoire of carpet-observing and toe-stubbing when Camilla sailed past him in a regal huff and left a rather forlorn Gonzo staring after her. After a moment, Gonzo sighed and turned to his patient friend.
“So,” he said matter-of-factly. “All-you-can-eat buffet?”
“I’m your man,” Rizzo agreed heartily, and they made for the supper line.
They had only just left the salad bar when Rizzo let out a yelp.
“Sorry,” Gonzo muttered. “I’m trying not to step on your—“
“Not me, dummy,” Rizzo said urgently. “Look—look over there!”
It was hard to say for certain without seeing faces, but from the back the two figures ahead of them bore a remarkable resemblance to Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and his meek assistant Beaker, this despite the fact that they were both attired in shockingly bright Hawaiian shirts..
“What the hey….” Gonzo said absently. “I thought they were supposed to be at some wacky inventors convention.”
“Mad scientists, more like,” Rizzo muttered under his breath. They made their way with their laden trays to where the two men were sitting, angling to catch a glimpse of their faces.
“No really, Beaker,” Bunsen was saying, holding out a forkful of something to the man seated across from him. “Go ahead and taste it. I’m sure it’s perfectly—“
“It is you!” Rizzo said, startling Dr. Honeydew so much that he dropped his fork. Beaker looked visibly relaxed and let out a soft “Mee Meep” of relief, gesturing for Gonzo and Rizzo to join them. Rizzo sat down and tucked in with relish.
“Gonzo! Rizzo! What are you doing here?” Dr. Honeydew said. While arguably brilliant in his own field (I said arguably, okay?), Bunsen Honeydew was well known for having no clue about what was going on around him. Despite the fact that preparations for the Vegas show had been going on for well over a month, it was doubtful that any of it had penetrated to his rather dense grey matter.
“Mee Meep MeeMo Mo,” Beaker said earnestly, and Bunsen gave him a look of surprise.
“A Las Vegas show—really, Beakie? I don’t think I heard that.”
“Yeah,” Gonzo said. “We’re going to be performing at The Palace for the next few weeks. What about you guys? I thought you were going to that inventors convention in—where was it, Denver?”
“Something like that,” Bunsen muttered.
“So what are you guys doing here?” Rizzo said around a mouthful of salad. “Convention over already?”
“Oh yes,” Honeydew said vaguely. “Something to do with the implosion of the lab display room.”
“Meep meep meep meep meep meep meep,” Beaker said with a hard look at his companion.
Honeydew sniffed. “I’ve told you for the last time, Beaker, that I turned that Bunsen burner off.” He turned his back on Beaker with finality. “So—how’s the show going? You don’t, um, you don’t need any help, do you?” he said wistfully.
“Fozzie’s filling in for Scooter,” Gonzo said levelly. He and the scientist looked at each other for a long moment.
“I’ll get my things,” Honeydew said. He turned to Beaker. “Come along, Beaker. We’re moving into the Palace.”

“C’mon—we’re going to have to run to make our next connection.”
Scooter grasped Sara’s hand firmly and they ran, carry-ons banging against their legs as they loped awkwardly toward their gate.
“Keep going,” Scooter urged as the stitch in Sara’s side threatened to become an outright tear. “We’re going to make it.”
“We’d better,” rasped Sara, then put all her breath power into gaining the gate. They arrived just as the steward was getting ready to close the door. He gave them a sharp look, but Scooter thrust their tickets in his face and he sighed and let them pass. Moments later, Sara found herself settled comfortably in first class.
“How’d you rate us first class?” she asked.
“Skillful negotiating.”
Sara just looked at him, and Scooter smiled.
“Okay--they were the only seats available and I traded in about a gajillion frequent flyer miles to get them.”
“As long as you got them.” Sara pulled her hair up off of her damp neck and twisted it into a loose bun which she tried unsuccessfully to secure with a pencil. “Have you called him to tell him we’re coming?”
“Nope—I didn’t want to give him an ETA until I was sure.”
“When will you be sure?”
Scooter looked sheepish. “When we land.”

“Kermie?” Piggy’s voice was soft. She didn’t want to wake Kermit, but she wanted to know if he was still awake.
“I’m awake,” Kermit said, and Piggy knew instantly that Kermit had been doing exactly the same thing she’d been doing—lying awake and wondering if she was awake, too.
Piggy propped herself up on one elbow and looked at her husband while Kermit did the same. He smiled at her.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“No,” Piggy said quietly. “I need to—“
“Piggy, I have to tell you—“
They stopped, looking at each other. Piggy read it in his eyes.
“You saw the article.”
Kermit let out a groan. “Which one?” he muttered.
“Oh, Kermie. I…I didn’t want it to ruin our holiday.” She looked in the direction of Robin’s room. “I didn’t want Robin to….”
“No.” Kermit shot her a look. “He told me about the confetti. I have to say, you get points for creativity.”
“I didn’t have a lot to work with,” Piggy said, her cheeks coloring. “When did you find out?”
“Just before supper, when you came up here to powder your nose. You?”
“About the same time. I tried to call Marty but his phone—“ She stopped, suddenly realizing. “He was talking to you.”
“Yep.”
Piggy reached out and touched Kermit’s face. “I’m so sorry.”
Kermit took her hand, kissing the palm. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. I wish—“
“C’mere,” Kermit said gently. He pulled Piggy into his arms and kissed her. For a few moments, Piggy forgot about being angry, forgot about being sad, forgot everything but the safety and comfort of Kermit’s embrace. “That’s what matters,” Kermit murmured some moments later. “Not what people say. Not what people think. Just you and me, Piggy—that’s what matters.”
“Oh, Kermie….”
“And if anyone says any different, fooey on ‘em,” Kermit said firmly. In spite of everything, or maybe because of it, Piggy began to smile.
“Fooey on ‘em,” Piggy agreed. She snuggled up against him, her head drooping sleepily to Kermit’s shoulder. As long as they were together, everything would be okay.

It was 8:00 the following morning. The big stage was currently empty except for the director, who was checking and rechecking some of his notes.
“Mr. the Frog?”
Kermit turned to meet one of the blue-coated casino employees standing politely.
“Please—call me Kermit,” he said. “How can I help you?”
“Well actually, sir, I hope I’ll be helping you.” He smiled with what looked like genuine fondness at a stocky, middle-aged mole with a no-nonsense squint and sensible shoes. “This is Mabel, and while you’re staying with us at the Palace she’s been assigned to take care of your group. Anything you need in the way of food service, you let Mabel know and she’ll handle it.”
“Wow—this is so nice,” Kermit said, stunned by the hotel’s thoughtfulness. He smiled and held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mabel,” Kermit said. “We sure appreciate the help!”
“No problem, doll,” Mabel said easily. She gave his hand a firm shake. “I’m gonna take good care of you while you’re here. You got any special food requests, you let me know. We got carryout from any of our restaurants and a special-order cook that I’d marry in a flat second if he didn’t have a cute wife and 13 kids.” She looked Kermit up and down. “I’m guessing you don’t order much off the menu, and I hear you got a lady pig here that’s knows her food groups.”
Kermit nodded dumbly, impressed by her insight and frank nature. “Um, that’s right.”
“Got anyone here who knows their way around a kitchen?”
“You called?” Rizzo said, appearing at Kermit’s elbow as if conjured. Still bereft of a dressing room assignment, he’d moved into the kitchenette and had been wandering the hall checking out everyone else’s accommodations. He looked at Mabel speculatively. “You askin’ for a food expert?”
“Sure thing, short stuff. You think you can tell me what everybody here likes to eat?”
“Positively,” Rizzo said. “And you won’t believe half of what I tell you.”
Mabel laughed. “Honey, I raised 147 kids. Nothin’ you tell me is gonna blow my socks off.” She smiled and nodded to Kermit, dismissing him, then jerked her head at the little kitchenette. “C’mon in the kitchen and talk to Mabel. I brought some Danishes and we’ll make coffee. What’s your name, son?” She trundled off, with an ecstatic Rizzo in her wake.

“Uncle Kermit—do I have to sing this song?”
Kermit looked at Robin in surprise. “Well, no—of course not, Robin. But you usually like to be in the show—“
“Oh, I want to be in the show,” Robin said. “I just—I wanted to sing another song, instead.”
Kermit put his hands on his hips in what he hoped was a parental, or at least directorial, pose and gave Robin a stern look.
“I believe we had this conversation once before….”
Robin made a face. “Oh, that. That was a long time ago.” He assumed an air of sophistication that had Kermit’s mouth trying to quirk into a smile. “I’m much more mature now.”
“Oh, I see,” Kermit said.
Piggy, who was sitting at the piano next to Rowlf so they could run some lyrics with new accompaniment, turned her face away to hide her bemusement. Once she had her countenance under control again, she stood up and joined the two amphibians.
“Um—what song did you want to sing, Robin?”
Robin looked over at Rowlf nervously. Rowlf winked and nodded, and started to tickle the ivories with practiced ease. Robin took a deep breath and began.
“Somewhere over the rainbow way up high,” Robin sang, “there’s a place that I heard of once in a lullaby.” The number was perfect for him, his voice still as fresh and clear as a mountain stream. Kermit sighed, delighted, and stepped back to let Robin have the stage all to himself.
“Somewhere over the rainbow,” Robin continued, his voice achingly sweet. For reasons Kermit couldn’t quite explain, he felt a lump in his throat and the bright sting of tears in his eyes.
Piggy slipped her hand inside Kermit’s, clasping it tightly while they listened.
“Oh, Kermie,” Piggy whispered. “It couldn’t be more wonderful.”
“Yes,” Kermit agreed. “It’s just perfect.”

That’s funny, Fozzie thought to himself. I don’t remember that package being here yesterday. Maybe Scooter mailed something he forgot. He picked it up, shook it, and thought he heard a sound like air leaving a balloon. With a shrug, he untied the string and pulled away the brown paper. He was reaching to open the flap when the box began to jerk in his hands. Fozzie dropped it like a hot potato and covered his face with his hat in a protective gesture that was entirely reflexive. To his relief and considerable astonishment, Pepe the king prawn emerged from the somewhat travel-worn box and glared at Fozzie.
“H’okay—firs’ chou shake me, then chou drop me, h’okay?” He pointed irritably at the brown wrapper. “Is says here ‘Handle gently,” can chou not read?”
“Well, what are you doing in there, anyway?” Fozzie shot back, beginning to be annoyed.
“Is long story,” Pepe began, and Fozzie turned away, but Pepe climbed out of the box and grasped Fozzie firmly by the arm. “I make it short, h’okay? Thees woman, she say she wants me, but… Okay, she does not say it, but it is there, si, in her eyes. When I get there, she is more interested in cocktail that in cocktails, si? So I say to myself, ‘Pepe—chou must leave before you are served as an entrée, si? So, I mails myself to chou. Well, not to chou the bear but to chou Muppets. Where is the green man?”
“Green man?” Fozzie said. “Oh—he’s on stage.”
“H’okay,” Pepe said, cha-cha-cha-ing down the hall. Fozzie watched him go.
“I’m not sure this is better than a bomb,” Fozzie mutter, then turned back to the task at hand.

“Okay guys—from the top this time.” Kermit took his place with the other guys on one side of the stage and Piggy struck an aloof pose on the other end. She was wearing a dark brown wig with a long, bouncy ponytail tied up in a violet bow and a purple poodle skirt with a cute little appliqué that looked like Foo Foo on it. Lace edges peeked out when she moved, for underneath were yards and yards of crinoline, and her white angora sweater had a fashionably fifties-ish beaded collar. On her feet were turned-down bobby socks and black-and-white saddle oxfords.
The men were wearing white tees and boot cut jeans, and the hair style of the day—for those who had hair—was a DA. At a sign from Kermit, Gonzo, Rizzo and Clifford began to “bom bom bom” very softly, setting the tempo for this a cappella number. After a moment, Kermit stepped forward, gazing at Piggy’s unattainable form on the far end of the stage and began to sing in a clear, earnest voice.
“One fine day you’ll look at me, and you will know our love was meant to be—One fine day, you’re gonna want me for your guy.”
The guys chimed in with shooby-dooby do wahs, fanning out behind Kermit in choreographed moves while Howard watched critically from the audience.
Piggy didn’t acknowledge the heartfelt crooning going on behind her. She looked out over the rows of now-empty seat, seemingly indifferent to and unaware of the young man who sang so longingly near by.
“Those arms I long for,” Kermit sang, “will open wide, and you’ll be proud to have me by your side—One fine day, you’re gonna want me for your guy.”
More shooby-doobying, with Clifford deep bass voice anchoring the careful blend of voices.
“Though I know you’re the kind of girl who only wants to run around,” Kermit began. “I’ll keep waiting and—“ He faltered, looking panicked and blank. “Cue, please,” he called. Fozzie who, God bless him, was trying really hard, flipped pages helplessly and gave Kermit back a pretty fair imitation of his own blank and distressed look.
“It’s okay, Fozzie,” Kermit said quietly. “I can’t seem to keep my mind on what I’m doing today.” He looked at his back-up group apologetically. “I’m sorry guys—can we take a break? I need to take a few minutes to get my head on straight.” He left them standing in a huddle and walked, not toward the crowded dressing rooms, but out the back of the auditorium.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Howard said testily. “Try to look a little less wooden on stage, okay? This is an upbeat piece—lots of energy.” He snapped his fingers, setting a peppier tempo. “Like this,” he said, “One, two, three and—“ He put them through their paces vocally and cleaned up the choreography in a couple of places.
Piggy stood where she had been and watched Kermit exit, her features pale and thoughtful. Fozzie came up behind her.
“I’m sorry,” he said miserably. “Was that—was that my fault, too?”
“No,” Piggy said quietly, reaching to pat his hand in a comforting manner. “It’s not anything you need to fix.” She turned and smiled wanly at the anxious bear. “Here,” she said, her voice brisk. “Let me help you with that clipboard.”

[The Count]

Another good installment...

"One Fine Day" by The Chiffons, turned around from a guy's POV... Nice.
Especially how you described the costuming.

Loved the parts with Scooter and Sara, especially how they narrowly made their first-class flight.

Bunsen and Beaker, and then Pepe... Good inclusions.
And you got Pepe's speech pretty much with his few lines... Though I believe it's more like "ju" than "choo" whenever he says "you".
And he refers to the frog as "Kermin" for future reference.

The part where Robin wants to sing another song... Got that from the Bernadette Peters episode didn't you?
Cleverly done.

Rully some good stuff here, even Camilla chewing Gonzo out for missing the dance number's rehearsal.
Post more when you get the chance... Please.

[redBoobergurl]

Pretty much ditto to everything Ed said. I enjoyed this chapter quite a bit, especially the part with Robin, it was so sweet. I'm looking forward to reading more!

[ReneeLouvier]

Oh wow!!! I love this latest chapter!!!! ...and I get to go to Vegas!!!! YAY!!!! What's a little strange, is I'm definately not one for running actually. XD Which made that stitch in my side perfect sense!!! *laughing so hard now*

I just simply loved it! More please, Ru!?

[Leyla]

Aw, there was so much sweetness in this update, and a lot of different flavours of sweetness, if you follow me.

I love how kidish Robin is in this. He's such a smart little guy I sometimes forget he's so young. Kermit's reaction to the "chewing the furniture" is simply adorable. I feel like cuddling him. So I will! (Pulls out recently purchased Kermit and Piggy dolls and lets loose with the cuddling.) You carry the tension very well through this chapter.

I continue to like Scooter and Sara's interaction and Im looking forward to seeing them in Vegas. I particularly liked Scooter's not calling Kermit until the plane lands. I don't imagine Kermit's invaluable assistant takes anything for granted, given that the Muppet show was probably the inspiration for Murphy's Law.

Relief washed over his features. “Really?” he asked. “Really and for true?”
“Really and for true.”


Liked that dialogue! The chorus girl comments were funny. (Just exactly which female chorus girl pig was Scooter talking about anyway? Annie sue? 'Cause I'm reasonably sure Piggy wouldn't appreciate such a moniker.)

Gonzo's getting chewed out by Camilla was very funny. I've always wondered if anyone could keep that maniac in line. Rizzo was great too, especially his enthusiasm for the all you can eat buffet.

I was very surprised, and amused by Bunsen and Beaker's appearance. Loved the Hawaiian shirts and the implication of Bunsen caused trouble at their convention.

Kermit and Piggy's conversation was artfully done. I love that they both found out about the latest article at the same time, meaning that Kermit was covering too, and like Piggy, we didn't even know it. Great writing.

“And if anyone says any different, fooey on ‘em,” Kermit said firmly. In spite of everything, or maybe because of it, Piggy began to smile.
“Fooey on ‘em,” Piggy agreed. She snuggled up against him, her head drooping sleepily to Kermit’s shoulder. As long as they were together, everything would be okay.

Oh, that is so awww-inspiring. Fooey on 'em indeed! All of this reassurance is quite poignant because we already know it's going to get worse!

I like Mabel, she seems interesting and I like her assessment of Kermit and Piggy and her instant bonding with Rizzo. The way to that rat's heart is definately through his stomach, not that I'm implying romance there at all.

Robin's song was pure sweetness and made me all wistful.

Pepe's arrival had me all alarmed, and then of course it was very funny. I loved Fozzie covering his face with his hat... again, so sweet! Somehow I'm not surprised that they couldn't escape to Vegas without Pepe along!

As always, I loved the costume you put Piggy in, but oh! what an unfortunate choice of song given what's going on! Yikes, the lyrics! Poor Kermit and Piggy... and poor Fozzie for thinking he'd done something wrong.


“Cue, please,” he called. Fozzie who, God bless him, was trying really hard, flipped pages helplessly and gave Kermit back a pretty fair imitation of his own blank and distressed look.

Ah, that's brilliantly written. I like the phrasing there.

Ooh, I'm just so worried about the frog right now! I mean, all this rumour business is obviously getting to him. I must know what happens next!

Leyla

[ReneeLouvier]

I just simply can't wait for more Ru!!

[Ruahnna]

Don't have to, dear! Here comes a big chunk of story! (Hope I'm not freaking you out, writing you into the story this way, because if you thought running through the airport was fun, just wait and see what you get to do next!)

[Ruahnna]

“Need any help?”
At the sound of Scooter’s voice, Fozzie turned, dropped everything in his hands and ran to embrace Scooter in a crushing bear hug.
“Scooter! Oh, Scooter—I am so glad you’re here, I could kiss you!”
Scooter set his glasses back on his nose and patted Fozzie in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “That’s okay, Fozzie,” he said dryly. “I brought my own.”
Despite herself, Sara blushed.
“Kermit out front?” Scooter asked.
“Yes,” Fozzie said. “They’re running ‘One Fine Day.’”
“Hmmm,” Scooter thought. “Didn’t hear it on the way in.” He reclaimed his clipboard and his headset and waded into the mayhem backstage. In considerably less than a half-hour, all the equipment, costumes and people were where they actually belonged. While this was going on, Sara trailed along in Scooter’s wake, occasionally providing assistance but mostly just trying to stay out of the way. Fascinated, she tried to take it all in. A movie studio might be a world apart, but backstage at a theatre was an entirely different universe. Even at rehearsal there was a sense of urgency and immediacy that made you want to move, to join in. Watching Scooter in his natural element made Sara swell with pride, and she marveled again at finding herself here, in Vegas, with Scooter Grosse. As if sensing her thoughts, the young man turned and smiled at her.
“You doing okay?”
“I’m doing great. It fun to watch you work.”
Scooter straightened and leaned in close. His voice was husky-soft and teasing. “If you think this is fun, you should watch me play!” He leaned in to kiss her—would have succeeded, too—if Rizzo had not barreled through at that moment with his hanging rack of clothes.
“I’m moving out of the kitchen,” Rizzo said sulkily. “Happy now?”
Sara and Scooter grinned at each other over the top of the irate rat.
“Yeah,” Scooter said. “I am.”

Since “One Fine Day” was stalled out, Gonzo had decided to make another attempt at his milk-gargling, tight-rope-walking, fruit-balancing act.
“Is my cape on straight?” Gonzo asked. Rizzo gave him a critical eye over his Portabella mushroom and feta-cheese wrap. Although he had left the kitchen for one of the men’s dressing rooms, Mabel had seen that he had not left it empty-handed.
“Little to the left, maybe,” Rizzo said, and his friend tugged obediently on the shoulder. “That’s good,” Rizzo said around a mouthful of tomato, mushroom and cheese. “Don’t forget your goggles.”
“Right,” Gonzo said, slipping them over his eyes and fastening them securely. “Wish me luck.”
“Break a leg or something, won’t you?” Rizzo said gruffly, just a little worried about the feasibility of this latest stunt. At that precise moment, Camilla walked by, gave Gonzo a disdainful look and made a suggestion of her own before stalking off.
“Still mad at you, I see,” Rizzo said.
“Yep,” Gonzo admitted. “But you notice she came by to get a look at my legs in tights.”

Scooter had had his back thumped so many times he felt like he was going to cough up a hairball, and his grown-up, professional hairstyle was disheveled from so many hands ruffling it in affection. “It’s like a family reunion,” Sara thought to herself, “except there’s no Aunt Edna to pinch his cheeks.” She had a sudden wicked thought but managed to get a hold of herself before she acted on it. As a result of the halo effect, Sara was racking up several hugs herself, and she could have sworn Pepe had patted her on the fanny before she was able to extricate herself. Sara only laughed, but Scooter gave the little crustation a look that sent him scurrying in the opposite direction.
Fozzie had been absolutely ecstatic about Scooter’s unexpected arrival, for although he had done a remarkable job under the circumstances, organization was not his forte.
“This is so wonderful,” he said to anyone who would listen. “Now the only thing I have to worry about is my act.”
Floyd opened his mouth to say something but Janice stuffed the end of her granola bar into his mouth at that precise moment. Floyd swallowed what he’d been about to say along with the granola.
“Be nice,” Janice said, touching Floyd’s cheek to take the sting out of her words. Floyd finished chewing and gave her an innocent look that didn’t fool her for an instant.
“Hey now, Babe,” he said. “You know me—I’m always nice.”

Rowlf came over and stood near Piggy. Since Kermit had left almost twenty minutes ago, Piggy had not stopped staring after him.
“Kermit will shake this off. He’ll be back when he’s cleared his head,” Rowlf offered, hoping it was true.
“I hate this,” Piggy said, her hands balling into fists. “I hate what this is doing to him.”
“Been a tough time on the little fellow,” Rowlf agreed.
Piggy nodded without looking at him.
“Too bad there’s not a way to turn these lyrics back the way they were.”
Piggy turned and stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you know this is an ol’ Chiffon song, right? Carole King wrote this—she wrote a lot of great stuff--and the Chiffons took it to number one.”
Piggy looked thoughtful. “I didn’t know that,” she confessed. “I knew the song because we put this version together for one of the shows and never used it. Kermit thought it would play well here. But the original was sung by a girl’s group?”
“Yeah—back in the heyday of the girl’s groups.” He paused a moment and scratched behind one ear. “Um, I guess I mean ladies, I guess—“
Rowlf broke off when Piggy turned to him suddenly, her eyes alight with some burning determination. “Rowlf—can you find me the original lyrics?”
“Well, sure,” he said. “Probably get Scooter to pull them up on Wiki or something.”
“Scooter? Is Scooter here?”
“Yeah—showed up a little while ago with that cute little girlfriend of his.”
“Oh.” Her voice softened. “I’m so glad he’s here. Look, Rowlf, get those lyrics for me, won’t you?” Piggy pleaded. Rowlf started to obey, but Piggy caught his shoulder, turned him back around and kissed him warmly on the cheek.
“What was that for?” Rowlf asked, astounded.
“For knowing everything there is to know about music,” she said simply, and hurried off in the other direction.
Dumbfounded, Rowlf stood there and rubbed his cheek for a moment. “That was surprisingly nice,” he said to himself, then sighed. “No doubt about it—I have got to get out more.”

“Scooter!” Piggy called. “Scooter, where are you?”
“Here I am, Miss Piggy!” Scooter called, backing out of the musician’s room with a box of costumes that needed to be unpacked.
Piggy hastened over to where he stood and afforded him a split-second smile of such relief and pleasure that Scooter felt himself blush.
“Scooter, I want to borrow your jacket.”
“Ma’am?” Scooter looked confused. “Borrow my jacket? The green and yellow one?”
“Yes—just for a minute. I want to try something. Do you have it with you?”
“Um—somewhere around here, I guess. I took it off while I was moving boxes. Want me to go get it?”
“Please,” Piggy said, looking nervously around. “And hurry.”

A few minutes later found Piggy and Howard having a heated discussion.
“I’m not wearing that, that thing,” Howard insisted. “I’ll be your stand-in but I’m not wearing that—“
Piggy leaned forward and looked Howard in the eye. “Put it on and get your show-stepping butt up on the stage before I karate chop you into next week,” she growled. Fear and defiance warred on Howard’s face for a moment. “Please,” Piggy said, her blue eyes wide. “I need your help, Howard.” Grumbling, Howard donned Scooter’s jacket and mounted the stage. Piggy had already memorized the subtle changes in the lyrics she’d heard Kermit sing in rehearsals, and they had time to run the revisited choreography a couple of times with the do-wop back-up singers. By the time Kermit reappeared in the door of the auditorium, looking weary but a little less distracted, they were ready for him.
“Kermie,” Piggy said sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him. “While you were gone I talked to Howard and the boys about making some teensy-weensy little changes to the song.”
“Sell it, sister,” Rizzo muttered appreciatively, watching Piggy in action.
Kermit looked in surprise at Howard, who was wearing what looked like Scooter’s green and yellow jacket.
“Just watch,” Piggy demanded. “Howard’s going to stand in for you—just imagine that this is a letterman’s jacket, okay?”
After a quick nod from Piggy and a minute to get their tempo set, the boys began their a cappella accompaniment, crooning and moving to the music. Although Gonzo still wore his stunt costume, he had at least removed the hood, goggles and cape.
“One fine day you’ll look at me, and you will know our love was meant to be—One fine day, you’re gonna want me for your girl.”
“Shooby-dooby-dooby-dooby-do-wah-wah. Shooby-dooby-dooby-dooby-do-wah-wah.”
Piggy looked longingly at Howard who, playing the subject of Piggy’s song, went about his merry way without a thought for the love-struck girl pouring her heart out behind him.
“Those arms I long for,” Piggy sang, with an ache so palpable your wanted to cry, “will open wide, and you’ll be proud to have me by your side—One fine day, you’re gonna want me for your girl.”
More shooby-doobying, while the guys cast longing looks at Piggy, who only had eyes for Howard.
“Though I know you’re the kind of guy who only wants to run around,” Piggy sang soulfully. “I’ll keep waiting and—someday Darling, you’ll come to me when you want to settle down! “
Kermit began to smile. Not much of a stretch for her emotionally, Kermit thought, remembering their fitful courtship, but when Piggy got something down, it stayed that way. Halfway through the song, Kermit stepped into Howard’s place, mimicking the choreography he’d seen so far. Howard shucked the offending jacket with alacrity and left the stage to go watch from the back of the auditorium, a critical frown on his face.
Now Piggy had tapped Kermit peremptorily on the shoulder, demanding his attention. He turned, feigning surprise and giving Piggy a comic once-over while she crooned.
“One fine day we'll meet once more, and then you'll want the love you threw away before--One fine day, you're gonna want me for your girl.”
They adlibbed the rest of the choreography, with Piggy vamping and Kermit--in the role of heartbreaker—allowing himself to be persuaded by her attention.
Afterward, Howard had fussed and fumed and fretted, but the group on stage paid him no mind. They didn’t need anyone to tell them they were on the right track now; they knew they’d hit gold, and they planned keep panning.

“I like it, Piggy,” Kermit was saying. “I like the guys following you while you’re following me.”
“Seems like old times,” she quipped, her arms still around his neck from the finale.
“It’s like déjà vu all over again,” Gonzo murmured, and everyone laughed.
“What made you think of it, Piggy?”
Piggy undraped herself from Kermit’s neck, avoiding his eye. “It was really Rowlf’s idea,” she hedged. “Rowlf knows all about the girls groups and their music.”
“Under the category: know thine enemy,” Rowlf joked, and once more, everyone chuckled.
“Can we—can we do the whole thing through a couple of times for me, guys?” Kermit asked. “Just to get the feel of it?”
“S’alright,” Rizzo chimed in.
“I could dance in these tights all day,” Gonzo said.
“For you, Kerm--no problemo,” Clifford said, slicking back his duck tail. “Besides--I could get used to this look.”

After they were satisfied with the progress on “One Fine Day,” Kermit walked off-stage to find Scooter standing in the wings, wearing a headset and grinning from ear to ear. Kermit walked up and stopped in front of his trusted assistant, finally putting a hand on Scooter’s arm.
“Thanks,” Kermit said simply. “Thanks for coming.”
Scooter looked down quickly, eyes stinging, and covered expertly by thrusting his clipboard under Kermit’s nose.
“I’ve got everybody’s stuff in their dressing rooms. Gonzo’s all set to go with his number now.”
“Good. Cue Gonzo, then.”
Scooter smiled. “Sure thing, Boss.”

“Hey Kermit—Johnny’s ready to rehearse his song,” said Sal, walking through the backstage area. The rest of the cast and crew had seen little of Johnny and Sal since they’d arrived as Johnny wandered the casinos on the strip and caught up with old acquaintances. But with the show opening tomorrow night, Kermit had insisted that Johnny show up and run through his songs.
“Has he decided what he’s doing?” Kermit asked, a pen poised over his program notes.
“Johnny’s singing ‘My Way.’”
Kermit looked at him.
“It’s great! It’s revolutionary.” A beat. “It’s the only song he knows all the words to.”
Kermit sighed. “All right, then—but, hey! What about his number for the second half? We’re counting on him to do ‘Christmas All Over the World.’”
“I got it covered,” Sal said earnestly. “I got cue cards. Johnny’s gonna read the lyrics off ‘em if he’s forgets.”
Kermit almost said “Johnny can read?” but managed not to. Sal took exception to criticism of his hero, and it was too much bother to engage him on the subject. Still, the snarky little thought cheered Kermit as he penciled in “My Way” on the program.
“Hey Scooter?” Kermit said into the headset.
“Yeah, Boss.”
“Johnny’s ready to sing.”
Kermit heard Scooter sigh. “Let me guess—‘My Way,’ right?”
“Right.”
Another sigh. “I’ll go tell Rowlf.”
Kermit turned to find Pepe the king prawn practically underfoot.
“Pepe—what are you doing here?”
“Well, I heard ju needed help with the show, si? So I say to myself, ‘Pepe, ju must go—ju must go and be wit’ Kermin and jour friends in their hour of need, h’okay.”
Kermit looked at him for a moment.
“So, can ju like, make with the salaries thing, now that Pepe is here?”
“Well, gosh, Pepe,” Kermit said, moving toward the backstage at the brisk pace so that the little prawn had to trot to keep up. “We usually reserve salaries for contributing members of the cast and crew.”
Pepe rolled his eyes and looked as modest as he was able. “H’okay,” he said. “Hi will do it. Pepe will dance in jour Vegas show.”
Kermit stopped outside Piggy’s dressing room and looked at him again. “I was thinking more along the lines of stage hand.”
“You wound me.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Hi am insulted. Hi am—h’okay, h’okay, I am taking it.”
“Good—report to Scooter. He’ll put you to work.”
After Pepe had skulked off, Kermit knocked on Piggy’s dressing room door.
“I’m changing!”
“Um, Piggy, it’s me.”
“Entre vous!”
Kermit opened the door and stuck his head in. “Can we get together on our duet in about twenty minutes.”
“Yes, Mon capitan,” Piggy called, blowing him a kissy-kissy. “I’ll meet you at the piano.”
Kermit pulled the door shut and headed back for the auditorium. Suddenly, everything looked brighter than it had this morning. Sheepishly, Kermit smiled. No matter what lemons life seemed to throw them, they just kept on cranking out lemonade. The show was going to be good, he thought happily. The show was going to be great.
There was a loud crash from the stage area, and a succession of squashy thumps. Kermit heaved a sigh and went to see what was left of Gonzo’s act.

“No one I know calls me at home,” Thoreau answered his phone on the fourth ring, The annoyance in his voice was unmistakable. Piggy had a qualm—a momentary qualm—before plunging ahead.
“Thoreau?”
“Piggy? Piggy, darling!”
Piggy let out a shaky sigh of relief. “Yes—it’s me. I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Where are you? I thought you were in Vegas for Christmas.” His tone made it sound as though Felising your Navidad more than fifteen miles from Rodeo Drive was high treason.
“I am, Thoreau. We’re all here and, and—I-need-you-to-come-please-come-please-please-please!”
“Sweetie—of course I’ll come. What’s the problem?”
“We’ve had some, um, cast changes and some, um, er, unexpected arrivals and I just need someone who appreciates how important it is that I look good—um, that WE look good.”
“Say no more, honey—I always keep a bag packed. Ticket at the counter for me?”
Piggy looked to Scooter anxiously, who nodded without looking up from his handheld. “At the desk,” he mouthed.
“At the desk,” Piggy repeated.
“First class?” he asked sharply. “You know how I hate—“
Scooter looked up, indignant, and gave Piggy a look. “Do I look like an amateur?” Piggy heard him mutter. She smiled into the phone. “Of course,” she said sweetly. “And we’ll send a car.”

The fruit had been cleared from the stage, and Gonzo was being examined rather superfluously by Dr. Honeydew. Since the furry blue performance artist was sitting up and talking, Kermit took his word that he was fine.
“Cue the comedian!” Kermit called.
“Does he mean Fozzie?” Rizzo asked, and Gonzo gave him a withering look. “Just go get me a fresh gallon of milk, will ya?” As Rizzo trotted off, muttering, Gonzo called. “Two percent—don’t forget! I’m watching my figure!”
“Cue the comedian!” Kermit said again, but as so often happened at dress rehearsal, no one was actually listening to the director. Scooter had been temporarily commandeered by Piggy so, with a sigh, he hopped down from his chair and went to find the errant funny-man himself. Kermit found him backstage, one hand over his face and the other crushing his pork-pie hat nervously.
“Oh no!” Fozzie moaned. “Oh no, oh no!”
“What’s the matter?” Kermit asked, immediately concerned. “What’s wrong, Fozzie?”
“They’re—they’re here!”
“Who’s here?”
“You know--them—the one’s who are always out to get me!”
Kermit looked around nervously. He did not like the direction this conversation was taking. He wished desperately for someone else to come along, but years of married life had taught him that it is usually safe to repeat what someone hysterical says to you, if only to ensure that you heard them right.
“Um, the ones who are always out to get you?”
Fozzie looked up, relieved that Kermit understood. “Yes!” he said earnestly. “I thought I had gotten away from them, but they’re here.”
Kermit was genuinely alarmed now. He put one hand on Fozzie arm, squeezing it firmly to make sure he had his friend’s attention. “Fozzie—I won’t let anyone get you, but I’m not sure what we’re talking about here.”
“Them!” Fozzie panted. He grabbed Kermit by his skinny little shoulders and shook him. “Those—those guys! Those old guys from the balcony! They’re here!”
“Here in Vegas?” Kermit asked, just to be sure, while his teeth stopped rattling.
“Here at our hotel! I saw them in the café—they’re coming to the show tomorrow!”
Kermit scrunched up his face, dismayed but still a little skeptical.
“Fozzie—are you sure it’s them? A lot of old people come to Vegas and—“
“It’s them! I know it’s them!”
“You mean Statler and Waldorf?”
“That’s right! And—“ He paused for dramatic effect. “They brought their wives!”
“Oh.” Kermit digested this bit of unwelcome news resignedly. Hecklers were the bane of any performer's existence, but these particular gentlemen had made it practically a crusade to heckle Kermit and his merry band of thespians. Never the most secure of entertainers, Fozzie had gotten more than his fair share of attention from the balcony barnacles. He sighed, then grasped Fozzie by the shoulders.
“Well, look, Fozzie—you don’t need to be worried about those guys.”
“I—I don’t?”
“No—you’ve got a great act for the show. You’re really going to wow them.”
Fozzie’s voice was very small.
“Really?”
“Really—and besides, you already know the worst these fellows can do. Better the devil you know—“
“They brought a devil with them?” Fozzie wailed.
“No—no—it’s just an expression.” He caught Fozzie’s gaze again, making him look him in the eyes. “You’re going to be fine, Fozzie. I believe in you, and I’m gonna be right back here cheering for you, no matter what those guys do.”
“Oh, Kermit,” Fozzie said, wilting a little as the nervousness leaked out of him. “I’ll—I’ll do my best.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to it. Now get out there and knock ‘em dead.”
“If only….” Fozzie muttered, but he crammed his hat back on his head with new vigor and strode out on the stage. Kermit watched him go, hoping for the best.
Once Fozzie was safely on-stage, Kermit waggled a finger at Mabel, who trundled over obediently.
“Hey Mabel,” Kermit said, “I was hoping you could do a little undercover work for me.”
Mabel gave him an affronted look that made him blush right down to his webbed toes and begin to stammer out an apology, then she smiled at him and patted him on the back.
“Go on,” she said. “I’m just yanking yer chain. Whatcha need, honey?”
“Um—could you check out a couple of guys at the hotel. Fozzie thinks a couple of our hecklers have come all the way from home to heckle him. He saw them in the café.”
“Fozzie—that’s the bear with the hat, right?”
“Right. He’s worried about his stand-up act.”
“Can’t blame the guy,” Mabel murmured, but she cocked her head at Kermit attentively. “Who are these bozos?:
“Um, two older gentlemen. They’re names are Statler and Waldorf and, er, Fozzie thinks they came with their wives. One of them has, um, white hair and a little mustache, and the other one has dark hair and doesn’t have a mustache.”
“Lucky for her,” Mabel said with a wink, but waved off Kermit’s explanations. “Got it, got it, honey—let Mabel see what she can do for you.”

[Ruahnna]

I'm so glad you're enjoying it, guys. I am having SO much fun!
Kudos to Ed for seeing where I've been trying to go with "One Fine Day." I've had that last written for about a month, but couldn't get there. This story is going to be HUGE when it's finally done.
But I have to admit I am dismayed by my sad little post count. Maybe I could get credit for making such BIG posts....you think? Okay, okay. Skulks off to help Pepe be a stage hand....

[The Count]

Oy... So much to get through...
First off... Let me say something I unforgiveably forgot from my last post...
Mabel the Mole? She's a good addition to the Muppet ensamble. Like how she womanhandles the kitchenette. And since this is Vegas, not the actual Muppet Theater, I can understand you bringing in a new character to take over both the Swedish Chef's and Gladys the Cafeteria Lady's jobs.
Add to that your little reactions with Rizzo, being won over by this mole's TLC given nothin' says lovin' like somethin' from the oven.

Now then, for this chapter...
Heh, glad to see there was a bit of a change with the musical number for One Fine Day.
Liked how Scooter was being greeted by everyone, and hopefully Kermit'll get to use his gofer's jacket in the show.
Like they say on this show I watch/like... Don't touch the hair!
And Sara's helping out backstage too.

Pepe's dialogue is better now. Though I believe it should be "celeries" instead of "salaries", but is hokay, hokay?
And I like how he quickly accepted the job under Scooter's command to get his moneys.

The dialogue with Fozzie and Kermit was vintage frog and bear.
Fozzie grabbing Kermit by his skinny shoulders and shaking him violently...
And then how you refer to the hecklers as balcony barnacles... Brilliant.
But wives? They both have hives? To my knowledge, the only one who has a wife is Waldorf. Her name is Astoria, performed by Steve Whitmire in the Dizzy Galespie TMS episode... She just so happens to be Statler's sister as well.

Other than that, I'm rully enjoying this and I await more as soon as you can get it posted.

[The Count]

Hey... At least you're at 219. And that's a milestone, for you, and you should be proud.

Don't worry... Just find some threads that talk about subjects you know and can contribute... Either that, or get back to your character in MopFam. Trust me, your post total will rise with how convaluted we can get there.

LMK if you need any help.

[Ruahnna]

LMK if you need any help.

Ooh, ooh! Don't tempt me! I might write you into the story! You wanna go to Vegas, Edvard, darlink? Anybody else wanna go? I'm working on an idea....

[The Count]

Hmmm... Almost tempted to take you up on that offer... If you can find a suitable girl, Muppet human or bat or cat or ghost or...
But don't worry about it, just keep going with the story as is, it's turning out vonderfully well.

I'm sure you can figure out where to take this story next without any help from us... Unless you truly do need it.
Looking forward to whatever's next.

[Leyla]

Ooh, ooh! Don't tempt me! I might write you into the story! You wanna go to Vegas, Edvard, darlink? Anybody else wanna go? I'm working on an idea....


*Waves hands frantically* Ooh! Ooh, me me!! I've never been in a story before... erm, well, I mean, you don't have to put me in there. It sure wouldn't break my heart or ruin the story for me if you didn't... but it would be kinda neat.

Love this update, Ru, and I'll review when I've woken myself up.

*Slinks off for tea.*

[redBoobergurl]

Another fantastic installment! I really love how the scene with One Fine Day turned out. It was great! I also really loved Rowlf's involvement with all of that (I'm a huge Rowlf fan). I feel bad for Fozzie, poor guy can't escape those old men no matter where he goes! Anyway, it's fantastic as I said before and I can't wait to read more.

[Leyla]

Well, that took much longer than I expected!

All the Scooter greetings were lovely. I love Fozzie's desperate gratitude when he shows up unexpectedly. There's a lot of contrast in how everyone greets him and I really enjoyed that. Fozzie is all worked up, Piggy robs him of his jacket (for good cause) and Kermit is very quiet about it. Great! I also enjoyed Sara's presence, particularly this line:

kiss[/I] you!”
Scooter set his glasses back on his nose and patted Fozzie in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “That’s okay, Fozzie,” he said dryly. “I brought my own.”


I liked Scooter's running Rizzo out of the kitchen right away too. That rat knows just where not to be doesn't he?

Gonzo and Camilla's feud continues to be hilarious and I like gonzo's insouciance here:

“Still mad at you, I see,” Rizzo said.
“Yep,” Gonzo admitted. “But you notice she came by to get a look at my legs in tights.”


“It’s like a family reunion,” Sara thought to herself, “except there’s no Aunt Edna to pinch his cheeks.” She had a sudden wicked thought but managed to get a hold of herself before she acted on it.


Ooh, Sara, you sly gal! ;)


“Hey now, Babe,” he said. “You know me—I’m always nice.”


...uh huh. Sure thing Floyd, whatever you say.

I'm very fond of Rowlf and I like the way he often plays wiser, older brother with the other muppets. His conversation with Piggy was very sweet and this:

Rowlf started to obey, but Piggy caught his shoulder, turned him back around and kissed him warmly on the cheek.
“What was that for?” Rowlf asked, astounded.
“For knowing everything there is to know about music,” she said simply, and hurried off in the other direction.
Dumbfounded, Rowlf stood there and rubbed his cheek for a moment. “That was surprisingly nice,” he said to himself, then sighed. “No doubt about it—I have got to get out more.”

was just wonderful. Weren't we trying to set Rowlf up with Denise somewhere? ;) Ah, I miss Rowlf.

Great turnaround of the song. It just fixes all that unhappy tension and reflects kermit and Piggy's actual relationship better. Howard was hilarious, and it's always fun to see Piggy intimidate/manipulate people into getting what she wants... or what her frog needs.


“Sell it, sister,” Rizzo muttered appreciatively, watching Piggy in action.


I'm not sure when this happened, but I've developed a real affection for Rizzo and Piggy having a respect/friendship with each other. I'm in the midst of writing such a scene, so it's kind of funny seeing him supporting her here.


Kermit began to smile. Not much of a stretch for her emotionally, Kermit thought, remembering their fitful courtship, but when Piggy got something down, it stayed that way.


Aww...

Now Piggy had tapped Kermit peremptorily on the shoulder, demanding his attention. He turned, feigning surprise and giving Piggy a comic once-over while she crooned.


Heehee, I can really picture that!


“Under the category: know thine enemy,” Rowlf joked, and once more, everyone chuckled.

Great line!

Johnny and Sal were very funny.

Kermit almost said “Johnny can read?” but managed not to.

Ha, that's hilarious. "Why can't Johnny read?" by Sal.
Pepe was great too. Just to chime in with my own two cents, I think you made the right choice by spelling it "salaries", since we all know how Pepe speaks, and "celeries" could be confusing. Just my opinion however.
There was a loud crash from the stage area, and a succession of squashy thumps. Kermit heaved a sigh and went to see what was left of Gonzo’s act.

Oh! and I was so surprised by the return of Thoreau! He's such a funny character. That niggling insecurity Piggy has comes out beautifully in this scene and works as a balance to Kermit's previously addressed insecurities. Ah, you've done such a great job of letting all the tension get to them, and show itself in subtle ways. Bravo!

Scooter's offense at the suggested maligning of his professional go-fering was very cute too! Great characterization throughout!

Fozzie and Kermit have such a great relationship, and Fozzie's panic about Statler and Waldorf was wonderful. You wrote the scene very vividly, and I had no trouble picturing it at all. Kermit's experience in dealing with hysterical (and crazy) people certainly pays off. (And that little dig at Piggy was quite funny.)

I don't believe they ever said Statler didn't have a wife... we just haven't met her. So I would say you can feel free to introduce us to her.

Kermit's reassurance was very touching... and funny:

Fozzie’s voice was very small.
“Really?”
“Really—and besides, you already know the worst these fellows can do. Better the devil you know—“
“They brought a devil with them?” Fozzie wailed.
“No—no—it’s just an expression.” He caught Fozzie’s gaze again, making him look him in the eyes. “You’re going to be fine, Fozzie. I believe in you, and I’m gonna be right back here cheering for you, no matter what those guys do.”


Mabel can yank Kermit's chain without saying a word. She is indeed a worthy addition to the muppet family.

[Java]

Oh wow, I've loved these last chapters. I'd say more but I have to catch up every where else and work on putting more detail into my story...

Later!

[The Count]

*With Ernie-like mannerism... Gee, I sure hope this story gets updated soon. Sure looking forward to some more story. Hmmm, think I'll go see if ol' buddy Bert's awake before going to sleep.

[TogetherAgain]

All right. To put it briefly: I'm back, I'm caught up, I love it. MORE PLEASE!

[Ruahnna]

Rowlf barreled through the end of A Christmas Song, his paws flying over the white and black keys. After the last note had died away, Piggy looked at Kermit unhappily.
“Kermit, I don’t think this is working.”
Kermit frowned. “Me either,” he admitted. He looked at Piggy dismally. “What are we doing wrong?”
“I don’t think it’s us,” Piggy said, suddenly serious. “I don’t think it’s the song, either. I think the song is just not, I don’t know, us.”
Kermit shuffled music. “What about Merry Christmas Darling?”
“That’s really more of a solo,” Piggy said.
"What she said," Rowlf echoed.
“Yeah. Um, what about Winter Wonderland.”
“Too hokey,” Piggy said immediately. “We need something with a little more, um, attitude.”
“Attitude, attitude,” muttered Rowlf, shuffling through a box of sheet music. “I may have something here.” He found what he’d been digging for and handed it over.
“Christmas with the Brat Pack?” Kermit said, somewhat surprised.
“Yeah. It’s a good collection. I got it for Johnny, but that was just the one song.” Rowlf took the book back and flipped pages, then handed the book open back to Piggy. “Look at that one—that more what you’re looking for?”
Piggy was mouthing the words, beating a tempo with her hand on her thigh. “Ooh,” she squealed. “I know this song—it’s from that movie—“
“Neptune’s Daughter,” Rowlf supplied.
“That’s it—that’s the one!”
Kermit came and looked over Piggy’s shoulder. “Oh, right—I know this one.”
Kermit and Piggy looked at each other, smiling as though sharing a secret. Piggy shook herself a little and turned to Rowlf. “Kermit bought that movie for me a long time ago for Christmas. Esther Williams is in it, and there’s a water ballet.”
“Oh, gotcha,” Rowlf said, finally let in on the secret. “Want to try it?”
“Sure.”
“All right.”
Rowlf went perfectly still, his hands poised over the piano keys, then launched into an intro that seemed to require more piano keys than were on a regular piano, but Piggy and Kermit just smiled, and jumped into the music when it rolled past.
“I really can't stay,” Piggy sang.
“Baby it's cold outside,” Kermit joined in.
“I've got to go away,”
“But, Baby it's cold outside.”
“This evening has been—“
“Um….” Rowlf trailed off, his nimble fingers stilling on the keys. “Um, can I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“Sure, Rowlf.”
“Keep in mind this is just the dog talking here, okay, so if you don’t like it, you don’t have to—“
“Rowlf.” Kermit’s voice was firm. “Tell us what’s on your mind.”
“Flip it.”
“Beg pardon?” said Piggy.
“Reverse it, like we did this morning. Kermit, you be the one trying to leave and Piggy, well….” Rowlf smiled at here. “You know what to do, doncha?”
Piggy gave him a look but she was blushing prettily. When Rowlf ran the intro and Kermit said his first stammering lines, Piggy came on strong and sultry. If Rowlf had been wearing a collar, it would have gotten tight.

“I really can't stay - Baby it's cold outside
I've got to go away – But, Baby it's cold outside
This evening has been - Been hoping that you'd drop in
So very nice - I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice My mother will start to worry – So handsome, what's your hurry
My father will be pacing the floor - Listen to the fireplace roar
So really I'd better scurry – Sweetie-pie, please don't hurry
well maybe just a half a drink more - Put some music on while I pour

The neighbors might think - Baby, it's bad out there
Say, what's in this drink - No cabs to be had out there
I wish I knew how - Your eyes are like starlight now
To break this spell - I'll take your hat, you sure looks swell
I ought to say no, no, no, ma’am - Mind if I come and hold your hand At least I'm gonna say that I tried - What's the sense in hurting my pride
I really can't stay - Baby don't hold out
Ahh, but it's cold outside,” they sang together.

Piggy’s arms were around his neck now, and although he was supposed to be trying to extricate himself, his arms had settled familiarly around her hips.
“Gosh,” Kermit thought suddenly. “She smells great.” He didn’t know if it was perfume, shampoo or just plain soap-and-water, but Piggy smelled delectable. He tried to keep his mind on what he was singing.

I simply must go - Baby, it's cold outside
The answer is no - Ooh baby, it's cold outside
This welcome has been - I'm lucky that you dropped in
So nice and warm -- Look out the window at that storm
My sister will be suspicious - My, your lips look so delicious
My brother will be there at the door - Waves upon a tropical shore
My maiden aunt's mind is vicious - Gosh your lips look delicious
Well maybe just a half a drink more - Never such a blizzard before

I've got to go home - Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there
Say, lend me your coat - It's up to your knees out there
You've really been grand - Your eyes are like starlight now
But don't you see - How can you do this thing to me
There's bound to be talk tomorrow - Making my life long sorrow
At least there will be plenty implied - If you caught pneumonia and died
I really can't stay - Get over that old out
Ahh, but it's cold outside

Baby it's cold outside.”

“Now, wasn’t that nice?” Rowlf said.
“Um, very nice,” Kermit said foggily.
“Uh huh,” Piggy said, her voice soft.
“Anybody need me to run anything again?”
Nobody answered him, and Rowlf swung around on the piano stool. Piggy and Kermit had gotten into the spirit of the song and Kermit had, if anything, pulled Piggy more firmly into his embrace. As often happens with piano players, Rowlf felt himself to be superfluous after the song was over. The singers were gazing at each other dreamily as Rowlf coughed, gathered up his papers noisily and made for the door.
“Um, Rowlf?”
Kermit’s voice stopped him and he half-turned, but Kermit didn’t look at him as he spoke.
“Yeah Kermit?”
“Will you tell Scooter to send everybody on a lunch break? I have…something important I need to take care of.”
“Oh, sure. Sure thing, Kermit.” He paused at the door. “How ‘bout I take Robin with me for a sandwich or something? Then we can run through his song for the second half a coupla times. Haven’t gotten to see the kid much this trip.”
“That would be great,” Kermit said. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Rowlf said, careful not to smile until he was all the way out in the hall with the door locked behind him. He met Scooter coming down the hallway from the kitchenette.
“Hey, Scooter,” Rowlf called. “Kermit asked me to tell you to send everybody to lunch.”
“Okay,” said Scooter, thinking that a little grub wouldn’t be half bad about now. He couldn’t say for certain, but he was pretty sure that the last thing he’d had to eat some of Sara’s Mom’s apple crumble the night before. “Um, where is Kermit?”
Rowlf kept his voice carefully neutral. “I left him and Piggy in the music room. They’re, um, working on something.”
“Oh, good,” said Scooter. “I’ll bet it’s their duet for the second half.”
“Something like that,” Rowlf said vaguely, then smiled. “Best leave ‘em to it.”

“You folks look like you’re from out of town,” said Mabel, putting four bowls of cold tomato and basil soup in front of the diners. She plopped down a basket filled with hot, thick-crusted rolls in the middle of the table and poured glasses of iced tea all around.
“We from out of this century,” quipped the shorter of the two gentlemen, and they both laughed uproariously. This show of wit was greeting with strained tolerance by the two women, who shot Mabel a pleading look of embarrassment.
“So’s my wardrobe,” the good-natured mole shot back. The men chortled appreciatively and the women looked relieved. “So, what brings you folks to the Palace. Come to play for some high stakes?”
“The only thing I gamble on is round trip tickets,” said the taller, thinner man with the obviously dyed dark hair. Again, both men laughed heartily while the women looked at each other miserably. Mabel shot them a sympathetic look and winked at Astoria Waldorf. Normally, this sort of cheek from a waitress would have garnered a frosty look, but this show of compassion was warmly received instead. The women were obviously out of their element.
“So, not a gambling crowd,” mused Mabel. “What else has the Palace got that you folks like?”
“Um, it’s free,” said the first man.
Mabel gave them a look. “The bosses that be must be losing their collective marbles. I never known ‘em to give anything away for free.”
“It was this raffle, see,” continued the first man. “One afternoon I was home and I got a call asking me to answer some questions about amphibians in show business.” He looked at his companion with raised eyebrows. “Couldn’t think of very many,” he muttered. “There’s that one that sells insurance and, um, one that sings Ragtime Gal and—“
“Um, Waldorf?”
“Yes, Statler.”
“You’re babbling, you old coot. If you keep on like this, the soup’s going to get hot.”
“Oh, sorry,” Waldorf muttered. “Next thing I know, I get a call saying how I was the lucky winner of a random drawing of all the people polled and, well, here we are on an all-expenses-paid trip to Las Vegas.”
“Well, ain’t that somethin’ else,” said Mabel. “Whatcha gonna do while you’re here?”
“Oh, shop, relax,” said one of the women quickly. “Just take it easy.”
“See some shows,” the men said. “We’re looking forward to doing a little, um, audience interaction with the performers.” The women looked pained, but resigned.
“Oh, we got some great shows here! We got a musician, we got a great trio of Elvis impersonators-God rest his soul--and we got a new variety act just this week.”
“As long as you don’t have any bears,” said the second man.
“Just one,” said Mabel with a big smile, heading back toward the kitchen. Inwardly, she sighed. It looked like the bear in the hat was right—trouble had come for a visit.

Kermit had only managed to claim about three soul-stirring smooches before he felt Piggy pulling away.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Where are you going?”
Piggy sighed and ran her hand lightly around his neck and down the curve of his cheek.
“What do you mean where am I going?” she said. “I heard you tell Rowlf you had something important to take care of.”
There was a surprised silence and then Kermit let out a chuckle and pulled Piggy back into his arms. He was laughing as he kissed her again.
“What?” she said, compliant but utterly bewildered.
Kermit pressed a kiss against her neck and snuggled in until his mouth was close to one of her velvety pink ears.
“Piggy, Honey,” Kermit murmured, completely amused. “You’re the important thing I need to take care of.”
“Oh,” Piggy said, suddenly comprehending, then, “Oh! Ooooh, mon capitan….”

“Okay, ladies,” Howard said. “That was possibly the worst example of synchronized dancing I’ve ever seen.” He turned away from them as though the sight of them was unbearable and pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a crushing headache (which he probably did.)
If he’d hoped to intimidate them by his criticism, he failed miserably. The four young women cut each other sly glances and giggled.
“Well at least,” whispered Amy Lu, “he didn’t call us clod-hoppers this time.” They all giggled again.
As if sensing their merriment, Howard turned around quickly, only to find them all looking at him like honor roll school girls, their gazes demure and respectful of his authority.
“This is it,” thought Sally Ann. “This is the time when I burst out laughing right in front of the ol’ dear and he tattles on me to Kermit.” Despite her fears, however, she clamped on to her composure long enough for the diatribe to end and for Howard to send them backstage to start over.
“Well he isn’t crying,” said Gloria Jean, ever the optimist. “He’s usually crying by this time.”
They all made clucking sounds of what might have been sympathy but could have been mirth.
“If I have to do this same ol’ kick routine one more time, I might cry,” muttered Laura May. Gloria Jean patted her on the back sympathetically and walked with her to the other side of the stage while she gave the other girls significant looks and mouthed “boyfriend problems.” The other girls made little “ohs” of silent concern and took their place in the wings on the other side.
“I’m waiting,” Howard called testily. “And a one-two-three-four—”
With a giggle and a big smile on her face, Sally Ann high-kicked her way onto to stage with Amy Lu, meeting Gloria Jean and Laura May in the center of the stage. By the time they were eight stanzas into the song, Laura May couldn’t even remember the name of her errant boyfriend, twirling and kicking with the other girls to the music that played in their heads while Howard beat out a relentless tempo with his hand tapping his hip.
“This is the life!” thought Amy Lu as she whirled by. “Clodhopper or not, I’m a showgirl in Las Vegas! And tomorrow night, I am one-hundred percent officially a Vegas show girl!”

“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night,” Robin sang soulfully. Although initially skeptical about singing this song, the positive reaction of almost every member of the cast had won the little frog over and he now sang with gusto and just enough child-like faith that every adult in wanted to snatch him up and pinch his cute little cheeks.
Luckily for Robin, he and Rowlf were alone now just off stage near the piano. They had opted for one of Mabel’s sack lunches which had been available in the little kitchenette at noontime and, having been thoroughly fed and watered, Rowlf walked himself, Robin and Animal around the block for a little exercise before escaping into the coolth of the casino. Once Animal had been returned to the care of Floyd and Janice, they had settled into the serious business of practice.
Halfway through the song, Gonzo and Rizzo wandered backstage and each one sat on one of the brightly colored cubes used in Dream Girls, which were stored until they ran the song again.
“Nice pipes, kid,” said Rizzo when Robin has finished. “You’re doing a great job on your breathing. You been working on it?”
“Yeah,” Robin said, trying to be airy about it but thrilled that someone had noticed. “I’ve been working on my breath control like Uncle Kermit taught me.”
“How’s the guitar coming?” Gonzo asked.
Robin sighed and looked downcast. “It’s so big,” he said dejectedly. “I can’t really get a grip on it yet.” He looked up, eyes brightening. “But I’m doing really well on the ukulele!”
Gonzo patted Robin on the back.
“Glad to here it pal—you’re going to be my competition in no time.”

“So, Babe—you got everything you need?”
Janice smiled and handed over the last third of her vegetarian pita wrap to Floyd as they sat on the hotel patio. “I am, like, stuffed and this sparkling mineral water is like, so refreshing in this heat.” She patted her completely flat abdomen ruefully. “Want to finish my veggie-wrap for me?”
Floyd was considering it, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. Animal swallowed it in one big gulp, making Floyd count his fingers twice to be sure they were still there.
“Veggie! Veggie!”
“Hey now, Animal,” Floyd said mildly. “Watch my string fingers.”
“Where did Lips get to?” Janice asked. “I thought he was, like, going to come with us.”
Floyd leaned over and put his arm around Janice’s shoulder. “What I want to know,” he said smoothly, “is where your lips got to? Heh heh heh.”
“Oh, Honeybunch,” said Janice. “You are so, like, romantic.” They managed one very reassuring kiss before Animal began to strain on his leash again.
“Okay, okay,” Floyd said. “I’ll take you around the block again.”
As Janice disappeared into the air conditioning, Floyd hummed a little to himself and started the long hot walk around the block again. Walking Animal had been an excuse earlier to sight-see, and Floyd looked with interest at the places they were passing. Tattoo parlors, clubs and more clubs, casinos and more casinos and the occasional unexpected place of business. Floyd stopped in front of one little steepled building and stared at the neon guitar over it’s double doors with something akin to awe.
“The Hard Rock Chapel of Eternal Jams,” Floyd Pepper read off the sign out front. “I have just got to show this place to Janice.”

It was quiet in the music room. The piano was silent, the instruments mute and there was only the occasional rustle of noise from the two figures cozied up against the far wall. Piggy’s head rested on Kermit’s shoulder, her arms tight around his middle, and one of Kermit’s hands played with the softly curling locks of Piggy’s hair that framed her face.
“Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re really mine,” Kermit murmured.
Piggy stirred but did not lift her head from his chest. “Oh yeah? Well, you better get used to it, buster, cause you’re stuck with me.”
Kermit laughed, brushing the hair back from her face with gentle fingers.
“When I lived in the swamp, I used to talk to a star,” Kermit said softly.
Piggy lifted her head and looked at him. “Your muse,” she said, remembering everything he’d told her.
“Yeah. Talking to a star was one thing, but I never tried to touch one.” He reached out and cupped her face in one strong, slim hand. “I never dreamed I’d be holding one.”
“Oh, Kermie,” Piggy said, and there were tears in her eyes and in her voice.
“I mean, I’m just a frog that can sing and dance a little.”
Piggy smiled. “You can play the banjo, too.”
Kermit smiled back. “Oh—is that why you married me?”
Piggy leaned forward and kissed him. “Among other things,” she murmured.
“Yeah, but you didn’t know about those other things until we got married,” he teased. He tensed, laughing, expecting her to smack him for being fresh, but instead she reached out and traced his face much like he had recently touched hers.
“I knew it would be like this with you,” she said solemnly. “Even before I knew you loved me, I knew you would be like this.” She looked at him, willing him to understand everything she was saying. “That’s why I never wanted anyone else. That’s my no one else will ever do.”
“Sweetheart,” Kermit said, overcome with tenderness. “Piggy, Honey.” He bent to her and kissed her, holding her close enough to feel the quickened thud-thud of her heart against his side. “You’re the only muse I’m ever going to need.” He held her for a moment, then set her back from him and smiled.
“Hungry?’
“Starving,” Piggy admitted. “Breakfast is a prehistoric memory.”
Kermit stood and held out his hand to help Piggy up. She smoothed the skirt of her dress and touched her hair into place, then smiled at him shyly.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Lead and I’ll follow.”

[Ruahnna]

Editorial notes (I really try to resist the urge stage direct but sometimes I just can't help myself.)
If you've never heard "Baby It's Cold Outside," (words & music by Frank Loesser) you need to know that the second phrase in italics is sung/spoken over the top of the previous nonitalicized line. It's like two people having a conversation--just not the SAME conversation. Just didn't wan't people to be confused. Also, I had to have Piggy ad-lib/change some of Mr. Loesser's lines so we could flip the boy/girl stuff, so apologies for tampering with a masterpiece.

Also, a million apologies for simply making up names for the four chorus girls that I used in my story. I'm sure they have names and I'm sure somebody on this board knows what they are, but I'm already drowning in detail and I'm trying to reign in my compulsive side a little or I will never get these nice muppets out of Vegas.

I am not going to apologize for the mushy content of the previous post. I have attempted to be tasteful and discreet. If you don't like those parts, skip 'em. I warned you it was an ushy-gushy post to begin with, now didn't I?

This wasn't where I planned to end it, but it's where I had to stop for a bit. Coming attractions include a new Dream Girl (now who could THAT be?), the arrival of Thoreau, what Honeydew is helping Kermit with and OPENING NIGHT!!!! YEA!!! Also, there will be familiar faces both old and new--some welcome, some not.

[The Count]

Frankly...

Heard "Baby, It's Cold Outside" but that was back in December and not too often.
Got no qualms with you changing the boy references in the song to girl references or viceversa, do that all the time myself when singing a like song from the classic rock & roll I listen to.
If you mean the Chorus Girls from your story are meant to be the ones from TMS, then it's OK you gave them these names. They're not really known by individual names, just merely by their group name.
And I've come to admire how you handle the ushy-gushiness. Not my bag, but you do handle it in a way that's become respectable and a hallmark of your writing style.

Now then, as far as this segment...
Really really liked how you chopped into bits, giving a bit a spotlight to different Muppets.

The song with Kermit and Piggy, and Rowlf.
Statler and Waldorf in the diner...
Mabel's reactions...
Rowlf and Robin practicing a song together...
Floyd and Janice and Animal... The Hard Rock Chapel of Eternal Jams, hee, wait till MrsPepper sees that.
And then Kermit just talking to Piggy about his star and muse...
It's all really great so far, waiting for whoever shows up at Opening Night.

[Leyla]

but someone has to rave like a maniac at the ushy-gushy scenes. I think I've really found my niche here: Raving at the ushy-gushy writers. Mmm...

You know, I'm all giggly and happy and worked up so it's a little difficult to not dissolve into crazy nonsense syllables of joy. C'mon brain, don't fail me now!

Um... yay? Yeah, I think that's more or less the thought. Yay! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!! Whoopee!!!!!!!!!!!!
(okay, I'm better now. Really.)

I love your using Baby it's cold outside! Piggy sang that once before you know, with Rudolf Nureyev... in a sauna, in towels. It's a fun scene. I like that Rowlf suggested flipping it again, knowing that Piggy would know what to do with her lines.

On a completely unrelated muffiny note, I also recently saw the whole of the
Loretta Swit episode, where Kermit fires Piggy and they spend most of the time arguing. It has the most drop down, knock you over hilarious fight between the two of them I've ever seen (without a karate chop too) where they start with fairly cutting, clever sort of lines and gradually fall apart until by the end of the scene they're just making taunting noises at each other. All the while Scooter is in the background reacting. Oh, it's funny.

Um... where was I?

“Christmas with the Brat Pack?” Kermit said, somewhat surprised.
“Yeah. It’s a good collection. I got it for Johnny, but that was just the one song.”

Tee hee! I really liked that dig at Johnny. Yay for the reference to your other story there and the water ballet.


Piggy gave him a look but she was blushing prettily. When Rowlf ran the intro and Kermit said his first stammering lines, Piggy came on strong and sultry. If Rowlf had been wearing a collar, it would have gotten tight.

If no one else likes that line, I love it! Lovely description, and lovey dovey fun just abound in your writing. I love when they get all romantic with eachother, and I especially like it when one or both gets all dreamy and hazy.


Rowlf kept his voice carefully neutral. “I left him and Piggy in the music room. They’re, um, working on something.”
“Oh, good,” said Scooter. “I’ll bet it’s their duet for the second half.”
“Something like that,” Rowlf said vaguely, then smiled. “Best leave ‘em to it.”

Good man, er, dog, Rowlf! It's so incredibly sweet that he picks up on Kermit's hinting... and Piggy doesn't!! I was so surprised. Tsk, tsk. He has been neglecting her (before this story) if she didn't figure that out. Piggy's smart, or at least, I've always thought so. Anyway, I like that confusion 'cause it works out very very well in the end.

I'll just drag myself bodily away from the mush to comment on the other parts, which I also liked muchly. I loved meeting Statler and Waldorf and their wives, and their interaction with Mabel was great. Lots of great jokes here, and some at their own expense which I've always liked about them.

Oh yes, and I am very very suspicious about that odd little raffle they won. Very suspicious. (and deliciously intrigued). On another side note, I have always loved the Ragtime Gal frog. Liked the reference to the Elvis trio too.


“Piggy, Honey,” Kermit murmured, completely amused. “You’re the important thing I need to take care of.”

I've reallly already raved about this but, what the hey. Squeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!

The interaction with Howard and the dancers was a lot of fun. I enjoyed (schadenfreude here) their mocking of his mannerisms and treatment of them. He's really not my favorite character... and possibly my least favorite muppet, but I'm feeling a certain fondness for him in your writing.
I really liked the sorta old fashioned two names you gave to the girls. I enjoyed their created names and personalities.

“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night,” Robin sang soulfully.

Okay, everyone, say it with me: awwwwww! I like Robin's frustration with being too cute for words. Robin and a ukulele... is adorable.

I enjoyed the Floyd, Janice, Animal trio, especially Floyd counting his fingers and the Jam Chapel as well as this line:

“Oh, Honeybunch,” said Janice. “You are so, like, romantic.”

...and it's back to the cuddles! Whee!! Nobody does these peaceful romantic Pig/Frog moments like you do, Ru, though I also love Lisa's Frog/Pig peaceful moments. Different flavours, both awesome!

“Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re really mine,” Kermit murmured.
Piggy stirred but did not lift her head from his chest. “Oh yeah? Well, you better get used to it, buster, cause you’re stuck with me.”

Sigh... that's beautiful... and Piggy cuts the treacle. Perfect.

“Oh, Kermie,” Piggy said, and there were tears in her eyes and in her voice. I like that description.

Piggy leaned forward and kissed him. “Among other things,” she murmured.
“Yeah, but you didn’t know about those other things until we got married,” he teased. He tensed, laughing, expecting her to smack him for being fresh, but instead she reached out and traced his face much like he had recently touched hers.
“I knew it would be like this with you,” she said solemnly. “Even before I knew you loved me, I knew you would be like this.” She looked at him, willing him to understand everything she was saying. “That’s why I never wanted anyone else. That’s my no one else will ever do.”

Whoo. What to say about that! Everytime I think you've gotten me into as melty a state as is humanly possible, you write something like this and I find a whole new level. I just have to say... and how to say this delicately... um, I like that um, their weren't any pit stops before the altar. Very honourable Frog and Pig. Is good. (blushes furiously) Piggy's just knowing before, even before she knew he loved her back, how things would be between them is perhaps the best explanation of her complete devotion, persistance and obsession with Kermit I've encountered.

Sigh... this was lovely Ru.

[TogetherAgain]

Can I just... ditto everything Leyla said? Because honestly, she pretty much took the words right out of my mouth... er... fingers?... Um... anyway.

MORE PLEASE!

[redBoobergurl]

I loved it! I loved the scene with Baby It's Cold Outside! It was great! I can't wait to read more! Bring on the mush!

[Ruahnna]

How perfectly silly of me. I left out the segment with Dr. Honeydew and Kermit last time. S'okay, s'alright, but here it is, along with a few more unexpected twists....

[Ruahnna]

Scooter poked his head around the doorway of the kitchen.
“I know, Honey,” Mabel was saying, ladling soup into a sipping bowl for Beaker. “It’s the same wherever you go.”
Beaker sighed and nodded. “Mee mee Mo Mee Mo Mo Meep.”
Mabel stopped and put a hand on her ample hip. “Now, I have to tell you, Doll, that’s a new one on me,” she said, clearly surprised. “I never heard tell of a union that allowed—“
“Mee meep mo maw meep.”
“You’re funnin’ me!” said Mabel, flabbergasted. “Well if I were you, I’d march right up to that—“ The sight of Scooter staring at her with slack-jawed amazement caused her to stop in mid-sentence and look a question at him.
“You need somethin’ Honey?”
“Um, er, I, um….”
Mabel smiled at him quizzically. “Beg pardon, Honey?”
Scooter shook his head to clear it. “Um, I don’t mean to be, um, nosy or anything, but were you just, um—“ he looked at Beaker apologetically, but Beaker just stared at him. “Were you talking to Beaker just now?”
“Sure, Doll,” she said, beginning to smile. “Whatsa matter—don’t you talk to Beaker? He’s a nice kid.”
“Well, sure, I mean, we all, I mean, most of us, um—“
“Spit it out, Honey—we’ll sort it out later.”
“Can you—can you understand Beaker?”
Beaker rolled his eyes and sighed elaborately, but Mabel just smiled. “Sure. Why—can’t you?”
Again, Scooter looked apologetically at Beaker, who sniffed at him and began to sip his soup with enthusiasm. “Well, er, that is, um, we can usually figure out what he’s saying but, um, Dr. Honeydew is the only one who knows what Beaker actually says.”
Mabel fixed him with a look. “I seriously doubt Dr. Honeydew tells you what Beaker actually says to him or you’d know that….” She collected herself with an effort. “Are you tellin’ me that not one of you folks can understand him?”
Um…yes?” Scooter suggested meekly.
Mabel sighed and patted Beaker on the back. “I cannot believe that in this whole crowd of pigs and frogs and, um, a bear and a rat and a chicken and, um, whatever Gonzo is that you ain’t got no one speaks guinea pig.”
If Scooter had been puzzled before, he looked positively flummoxed now. “Guinea pig?” he said faintly.
Now it was Mabel’s turn to roll her eyes and sigh with exasperation. “Of course. Whatsa matter with you people? Sure, he’s got a bit of an accent, but that’s to be expected under the circumstances.” Scooter looked so discombobulated that her naturally sympathetic nature revived itself. “My fifty-third daughter, oy, was such a rebel. Tried to get her to date some nice moles from town but nothin’ would do but for her to run off with Armand, this big hulking Guinea pig from the Midwest. My mother like to died, I tell you, but who drives down to Florida every year and brings her back for the summer I’d like to ask you but good ol’ Army and that pistol of a daughter of mine. Been married 15 years now and raised a coupla housefuls of decent kids.”
Scooter had been following this with some difficulty, and now he shook himself again and looked at Mabel with new respect and some awe.
“I didn’t, um, we didn’t realize...” he said lamely. He looked at Beaker and smiled, then immediately switched into efficiency mode. “I’ll try to get a Guinea pig to English dictionary, Beaker,” he said earnestly.
“Me moop moo,” Beaker suggested.
Scooter looked to Mabel expectantly.
“Try Google,” she translated, and smiled at him. “Although I’d have said try Amazon dot com first.”
Beaker drained his soup, hugged Mabel gratefully, and walked with excessive dignity to the door. Mabel watched him go fondly, then turned to Scooter.
“Now—what was it you came in here for, Honey?”
Scooter looked blank for a moment. “I was…I was—oh!” He looked sheepish. “I came by to see if you had anymore of those lemon bars.”
“Sure thing.” Mabel walked over to the cabinet and picked up a battered tin covered in peach blossoms. “Take ‘em with you,” she said. “Just be sure and leave my tin here when they're gone. Can’t fill it back up if you don’t leave it.”
“Thanks, Mabel. Sure will.” Scooter pulled out a lemon bar as he rounded the doorway and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. “Hmm,” he thought as the gooey tarty sweetness dissolved on his tongue. “I guess you learn something new every day.”

Kermit looked around somewhat furtively before approaching Bunsen Honeydew. He and Piggy had lunched on soup, sandwiches and cookies in the cozy little kitchenette with Fozzie and Camilla. But now that Piggy had gone to change and wait for Thoreau to arrive, Kermit had a rather private errand to run.
“Hey, um, Dr. Honeydew, I was wondering if you could help me with something?”
Honeydew looked astonished, then thrilled. Behind him, Beaker looked up in alarm and began an elaborate arm-waving routine, trying to signal something to Kermit. With considerable effort, Kermit ignored him.
“Why, of course, Kermit—I’d be delighted to be of assistance. What would you like me to do? I have a new version of the gorilla detector that should be—“
“Oh, thanks, Dr. Honeydew, but I had something more along the lines of a prank in mind.”
“A prank,” Honeydew repeated, beginning to be intrigued. “What kind of prank? I have some transforming elixirs here that—“
“Oh—heh, heh, um, no, that won’t be necessary.”
“Oh.” Honeydew was clearly disappointed, but Beaker was so relieved (not to mention exhausted from all the arm-waving) that he fainted dead away. Both of them turned as he thumped to the floor.
“Poor Beakie,” said Honeydew sadly. “The excitement must be too much for him. Now, you were saying…?”
“Yeah,” Kermit began, putting an arm around the scientist’s shoulders. “Here’s what I had in mind….”

“Oh, Darling,” Thoreau cried, grasping Piggy’s shoulders and kissing her twice on each cheek. “It was actually a relief to get your call. Business is brutal this time of year—too many starlets who are trying to look like a cross between Mae West—God rest her voluptuous soul—and one of Santa’s little elves. Hideous. And all of them wanting to be fit within an inch of their lives.” He eyed her red silk pantsuit approvingly, acknowledging the red leather Roman-style sandals with a purse of his lips. “You are definitely a site for sore eyes!
“Uncle Thoreau is here now. Tell me what’s going on and we’ll make all of your little fashion goblins go away.” He linked arms with Piggy and they strolled through the casino while Piggy filled him in on everything that had happened since she’d last seen him.
“Oh, I know Honey,” Thoreau said, and anger flashed in his dark eyes. “I saw those awful reports. How anyone can believe anything they print is beyond me.” He sniffed, and then cut his eyes toward Piggy carefully. “How is that frog of yours coping? Are you two okay? This isn’t causing problems between you, is it?” He put his hand on her arm.
Piggy was quiet for a moment, and then she smiled wanly and covered Thoreau’s hand with her own. “We’re fine, Thoreau. Kermit knows how I feel. He says he doesn’t care about those stupid articles.”
“But?” Thoreau prompted, reading the nuances of her mood expertly.
“But I know it does bother him.” She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “I don’t know what else to do, short of having a make-out session on stage!”
“Well,” Thoreau said dryly, “that would certainly sell tickets, but I don’t think that’s the answer we’re looking for.” He became more businesslike. “Let’s take a look at your wardrobe. I may need to make a few phone calls, so we’d better not dawdle.”

Fleet Scribbler leaned back in his uncomfortable airplane seat and tipped his dingy hat over his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, but at least he could close his gritty eyes and pretend he wasn’t a scum-sucking parasite all the time.
I’m not a parasite, he thought with dark humor. I just work as one. The feeble joke didn’t cheer him, and he shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position. His notebook was poking him persistently in the back. With a sigh, Scribbler pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, staring blearily at the information he’d got from the rocket scientist at the reservations desk of the Palace. He glanced at his watch automatically, factoring in the time change. He ought to have time to strategize and get a little shut-eye, he rationalized, since he already had a pretty good idea of what he was going to do. A pretty awful idea, whatever was left of his conscience prompted him. Scribbler shrugged it off irritably. Not my fault, he thought angrily. Just doing my job. Exactly what that job consisted of currently depressed him beyond words, but the reason he found himself in this position made him flush with sudden anger. Shouldn’t have done that to me, he thought furiously. I was a nice guy! The was made him squirm.
A stewardess walked by and stopped, her attention attracted by his furrowed brow. “Is there anything I can get you that would make you more comfortable, sir?” she asked.
Scribble started to wisecrack, but held his tongue in check. “No,” he said resignedly. “I’ll just feel better when this is over.”

“Now you know I’m not a costume designer per se,” Thoreau cautioned Piggy, whip-stitching a white feather boa to the hem of Piggy’s red satin dress. “I make real clothes.”
Piggy’s silence was eloquent as she regarded him levelly.
“Oh, all right,” he said, flushing with pleasure. “I make fantasy clothes for real people, how’s that?”
“Closer to the truth,” Piggy murmured. Thoreau sniffed and continued what he’d been about to say.
“I won’t outfit your chorus girls or make tacky little matching outfits for singing groups.” He sat back on his heels and looked up at her seriously. “I can make the costumes you’ve already got look better--no offense to Hilda, who does a very lovely Henson stitch by the way—and I can make some suggestions about fit.” He smiled suddenly, his eyes fond. “And I can make you, wonderful you look fabulous in anything. Will that do?”
“That will be wonderful,” sighed Piggy. Her trust in Thoreau was implicit.
“Oh, and about that letterman’s jacket,” Thoreau continued, a spool of thread tucked under his chin. “I brought some things but I want to actually see the number before I commit myself, because—“
There was a knock on Piggy’s dressing room door.
“Entre vous,” Piggy called, but she knew better than to move when Thoreau was fitting her.
“Piggy, we need you to run Dream Girls again. Kermit wants Scooter to join the ensemble and—“ He stopped abruptly, spying Thoreau for the first time. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have barged in if I’d know you had company.” Self-consciously, Howard touched his hair.
Piggy blinked in surprise, then recovered quickly. “Not at all,” she said smoothly, stepping down from the fitting stool. “We were almost finished.” She looked from Howard to Thoreau quizzically as they regarded each other like two recalcitrant kindergarten students on the first day of school. “Haven’t I—don’t you—haven’t I ever introduced you two?”
Two blond heads shook, and Piggy let out a little gasp of surprise.
“Silly me!” She came over and took Howard’s arm.
“Howard, this is Moi’s very dear friend Thoreau. Thoreau, this is moi’s very dear friend, Howard Tubman.” She turned to Thoreau, her eyes bright with mischief. “Howard is our chorographer. He’s been working this show, but I’m sure you’ve seen some of his work before.”
To her astonishment, Thoreau held out his hand like a civil human being. “Any friend of Piggy’s,” he said graciously, but then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“You’re not the one who choreographed Muppet Follies, are you?”
“Guilty,” Howard said, and Piggy had to clench her teeth to keep her mouth from dropping open as the terse dance coach blushed and stubbed his toe in the carpet.
Thoreau turned to Piggy with a little gasp, then looked back at Howard.
“Shut up! I saw that—what, twelve times, wasn’t it, Piggy?”
“Something like that,” Piggy agreed, but suddenly no one in the room was paying any attention to her. She found herself oddly okay with that.
“Oh, go on,” Howard said, flustered but clearly pleased.
Piggy went and slipped her arm through Thoreau’s. “Thoreau has come to help us with some of our little wardrobe issues.” She beamed at him affectionately. “He’s very good—he’s been dressing Moi for, um…” She coughed delicately. “Well, for some time now.” She looked at Howard significantly. “Thoreau made my dress for the Oscars last year.”
Thoreau looked at his feet modestly, but couldn’t help adding. “And her SAG awards dress.”
“Oh. My. God,” Howard exclaimed. “That dress was brilliant! Everyone said so!”
“You’re too kind!”
Piggy linked her free arm with Howard’s, moving both men toward the door.
“Um, Howard?”
“Yes, dear?” Howard answered automatically, not looking at her.
“Give me a sec to change for Dream Girls, won’t you? It’ll take me about ten minutes, ‘kay?” Her blue eyes were wide, utterly guileless. “Maybe you could help Thoreau get settled? Find Mabel and get him a cup of tea and a cookie.”
“Anything for you, love,” said Howard, and walked out the door with Thoreau.

“Oh no, no, no,” Sara said, “I don’t think—“
“Good!” said Scooter. He turned and beamed at Kermit, giving a big thumbs up. “She’ll be a natural,” he said firmly while Sara stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Scooter grabbed her hand and pulled her with him toward his mark. He sat on the brightly-colored cube that Kermit had added to the set for him. Clifford was upstage from him with a purple cube to sit on, and Kermit was downstage and to his right. Gonzo’s blue cube was in front of him and to the left.
“Are you crazy?” Sara hissed. “There is no way I’m going to….”
A pair of incredibly soft hands closed over her shoulders and Sara turned and found herself face to face with Miss Piggy.
“Hi, Sweetie,” said the stage and screen diva. “Come with me. We’re gonna teach you the choreography.”
Sara gulped, but it was surprisingly difficult to say no to those big blue eyes.
“Okay,” she said meekly, and got up and followed. She paused once at the edge of the stage to shoot Scooter one final desperate look. Scooter waved merrily and did not intervene.
“Throwing Sara to the, um, wolves?” Kermit said, smiling at Scooter.
“Yep!” He looked at Kermit earnestly. “She can do this, Kermit—I know she can. I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize—“
“Relax,” said Kermit. “I’m not worried. Piggy’s got it covered now.”
One by one the other men joined them on stage and the band picked up their instruments. Although they had originally planned for Rowlf to accompany this number, it had been concluded that a bigger sound was needed. The Electric Mayhem was always happy to provide a big sound, and had agreed readily.
“Okay, fellas—last time until the ladies come back, so let’s really work the vocals.” He got nods all around and turned to Dr. Teeth. “Any time you’re ready, Doc.”
“That would be any time at all,” said Dr. Teeth. “And a one, and a two and—“”

[ReneeLouvier]

I can't dance! And you throw me to the wolves of the chorus girls! I can't wait to see how I do. I guess I'd be dancing with Scooter, huh?

Please, don't make me hang too long. Also...this is going to be a wonderful b-day present. [I'm turning 20, on 08/06!!]

[The Count]

There's so much here to go over and hug...

Beaker and Mabel... First of all, clever to have Mabel understand what Beaker says in his Meep-language as guinea pig speak.
But really and truly, I want to applaud you. This is probably one of the few times I can remember when someone new, outside of the regular Muppet core (either you yourself or Mabel) that has had Beaker's speak be normal speak but in Meep-language instead of explaining it away as foul language being meeped out.
Huge points to you for that.

Mmm, lemon bars. Mom makes some really good ones.
Good opening scene with Beaker and Scooter, two of Richard's main characters.
Points to you for using "flummoxed" when refering to Scooter as he saw Mabel understood Beaker's Meep-speech. Ah, memories of the Grinch grinching the Cat in the Hat.

Bunsen and Kermit going over this prank... Intrigued to find out.
Also, nice nod with the new gorilla detector... And Beaker falling over after being exhausted from arm-waving. Reminds me of the troubles I've had with his figure and that gorilla detector.

Piggy and Thorough talking about his handiwork with the wardrobe issues...
Another nice nod to the Muppet lore, with a mention of Hilda's Henson stitching...
Piggy introducing Thorough to Howard, well done.
And of course... Sara being thrown to the wolves of the chorus girls... Though maybe for comical purposes, I kinda thought the line would be:
Sara: Throwing me to the wolves?
Scooter: No, the pigs.
And you show how Piggy can command a situation when she puts her mind to it.

Also, a good brief glimpse of Fleet jetting off wherever he's going, whether to catch the show or to report to his superior with the news of having spied Piggy and Thorough together once more.

Rully enjoying this Ru, post more when you can. Looking forward to see just who shows up in Vegas.

[TogetherAgain]

Oh where to begin? Loved the Beaker conversation, and curious about Kermit's prank, and Thoreau and Howard talking, but what's really standing out to me is that glimpse of the remains of Scribbler's concience! Very intriguing, very interesting, incredibly well done, and just plain amazing!

MORE PLEASE!

Oh, and I love this part:

“Now you know I’m not a costume designer per se,” Thoreau cautioned Piggy, whip-stitching a white feather boa to the hem of Piggy’s red satin dress. “I make real clothes.”
Piggy’s silence was eloquent as she regarded him levelly.
“Oh, all right,” he said, flushing with pleasure. “I make fantasy clothes for real people, how’s that?”
“Closer to the truth,” Piggy murmured.
I LOVE that!

MORE PLEASE!

Wait I said that already... oh well.

[Leyla]

Whee! Another great update, Ruahnna!

I loved Beaker speaking guinea pig and you really sold it by having Mabel being so astonished that no one else knew it! (As far as Bunsen is concerned, Guinea Pig would definately be a useful language to pick up!)
Poor, hilarious beaker. Loved the word, flummoxed. It's not used often enough in my opinion. Mabel's family story was very cute.

I'm just fascinated by the idea of Kermit instigating a prank with the collaboration of Dr. Honeydew. I've been thinking about it, and I've come to the conclusion that not only do I have no idea what the prank may be, I have no idea about the target. It's terribly intriguing and makes me giggle however, so I'm very much looking forward to the payoff! (You know, I just had a thought about the possible target... hmm...)

Behind him, Beaker looked up in alarm and began an elaborate arm-waving routine, trying to signal something to Kermit. With considerable effort, Kermit ignored him.

You made me laugh out loud with that one. I can just picture that. Very muppety moment there.

Yay! Thoreau's is back... he and Howard were just hilarious. I liked Thoreau's complaining about starlets and his approval of Piggy's physique. His concern for her and Kermit was very sweet, and I'm glad she can talk to him about her worries.

Wow... about Fleet. I don't know if this is what you were going for, but I am positively terrified for the underhanded activities headed in the Muppets direction which give that heart-hardened reporter's conscience a turn. That section also made him much more three dimensional and less of a carbon copy bad guy... not that he really was before. I hope I'm making sense. He used to be a nice guy! Shocker, that... and your hints about something making him the way he is... well, he's positively sympathetic now. Great character writing here.

Lisa already quoted the fantasy clothes for real people line, so let me just say ditto to that.

-no offense to Hilda, who does a very lovely Henson stitch by the way—and I can make some suggestions about fit.” He smiled suddenly, his eyes fond. “And I can make you, wonderful you look fabulous in anything. Will that do?”
Oh! The Henson stitch! What a lovely reference! (And great line by Thoreau.)

“Something like that,” Piggy agreed, but suddenly no one in the room was paying any attention to her. She found herself oddly okay with that.

Very funny!

I love Sara getting roped into the Dream Girl's sketch, it's great. I can't wait to see her dance! I like her nervously finding herself in Piggy's care and Kermit's trust that Piggy can handle it.


Although they had originally planned for Rowlf to accompany this number, it had been concluded that a bigger sound was needed. The Electric Mayhem was always happy to provide a big sound, and had agreed readily. I liked that description of the band.

Another great chapter, Ru... I'm still hooked!

[The Count]

Hey Leyla... Before Lisa beats me to it, though it is "her" saying...
Why make sense when it's more profitable to make dollars?

And we're all hooked, hoping for another chapter soon. Intrigued to know if some people we know of from that sleepy yet quaint hamlet known as Hensonville will show up for the Christmas performance in Vegas.

[Ruahnna]

Opening night coming up, um, tonight. Um, or at least before I turn in, which could be after midnight.

[Leyla]

This is turning out to be a very good fanfic day for me. Yes, indeedy. It's also eliminated any chance of me getting to bed early. (Lousy Atlantic time zone)

That wasn't going to happen anyway, however.

[ReneeLouvier]

Yes...please!!! I want to see....how badly I did. XD

[The Count]

Just so long as it gets posted ASAP Cath... Rully looking forward to Opening Night, if some more people/friends from Hensonville made it to Vegas... And just what Lady Luck or Lady Love might hold in store for them there.

[TogetherAgain]

This is turning out to be a very good fanfic day for me. Yes, indeedy. It's also eliminated any chance of me getting to bed early.
Getting to bed early? Oh really, Leyla... don't even THINK about trying it... I know from experience, days like today, there's no way to gorge yourself on freshly-posted-fanfic and go to bed early. Unless you can read in your sleep.

[Leyla]

A girl can dream, Lisa...

[The Count]

Sleep? Lisa, you actually know what "sleep" is? Thought you gave that up for some fanfictional fasting or some such.

And of course you can read in your sleep... Do it every night myself, when I happen to have perfect vision. Just only that I can read in my sleep, not actually read something that's on the screen or printed when sleeping... Or awake for that matter.
Eh... At this point... Why make sense when I can make dollars instead.

[Leyla]

I hate being so far East. It's almost 2AM here.

*Props eyelids open with sticks.*

I also complain way too much. (Blushes sheepishly) Sah-ree!

[The Count]

Well... If it's not up by now, then it'll be here tomorrow... Er, later today.
There's some room on the dorms' common room's couch if you want to crash there for a while Leyla. Though the dorms are really for the residents, we can have some visitors there from time to time.

Who knows, maybe after the coming anniversary shake-up you'll want to join, your call though.

[Ruahnna]

Fozzie had been more than elated to shed his backstage responsibilities once Scooter had come to the rescue, but force of habit and the still-remembered adrenaline rush he’d received when Pepe had arrived made him stop some ten feet away from the big cardboard box that had appeared as if by magic backstage. He looked around, but there was no one else in sight.
“Scooter?” he called. “Pepe?”
“Si, si,” Pepe answered, hauling a laden dolly toward Piggy’s dressing room. “What? Hi am working, hokay?” He strained, all fours arms bulging with effort but barely moving the heavy load.
“What is this?” Fozzie asked, pointing to the huge box. “Where did it come from?”
“Look, they don’ tell me nothin’ hi don’t have to know, hokay?” Pepe complained. He made a great show of pulling on the dolly until Fozzie eventually walked over and gave it a shove in the right direction. “Hi just unloaded hit, Hi don’ know wha’ hit is.”
“Who does it belong to?” Fozzie persisted.
“Crazy man Honeydew, hokay? Hold that door for me!”
Thoughtfully, Fozzie complied, but once Rizzo disappeared into Piggy’s dressing room, Fozzie was once again alone with his curiosity. He approached the box cautiously, and when he put out his hand to pull back the cardboard flap, the whole box panel swung open. Fozzie jumped back, hat over his face again, but nothing untoward happened. When he straightened, however, there was a sound like a gas leak. It was the air leaving Fozzie’s lungs in a whoosh. Reverently, like a man in a dream, Fozzie walked up to the shiny metal contraption that was revealed.
“Honeydew’s Funny-o-meter,” Fozzie read, mesmerized. “Guaranteed to make you up to 50% funnier than ever before. Stand in front of laser beam. Press here.” He touched the cool metal side and let out a sigh of longing. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. Standing this close, he could even see the fine print. “Use under competent supervision. May cause hair loss and momentary unconsciousness.” For a moment, Fozzie spirits sank, but it was a moment only. Looking around quickly to make sure he was still alone, the earnest comedian looked at his furry hands ruefully, touched his furry cheeks nervously.
“Kermit is counting on you,” he told himself firmly. Before he could change his mind, he stepped in front of the laser and pressed the button.

“Is like a smorgasbord,” Pepe thought happily, taking as long as he could possibly take unloading the boxes of clothing into Piggy’s room. Since her dressing room was by far the roomiest, all the girls had gathered in there to model and get Thoreau’s terse nod of approval on everything they were wearing. The current subject of the dressmaker’s scrutiny looked positively terrified, and Pepe found himself smiling. “So young,” he thought. “So unsuspecting. But Scooter, he is a man of good taste. If she was my woman--”
At this precise moment, Laura May interposed herself between him and the object of his observation. One look at her stern face would have given a meeker man pause, but Pepe had it on good authority that Laura May was currently unencumbered by a boyfriend. He tried his most charming smile.
“His is hot in here, Laura May, or is that just ju?”
“Out,” Laura Jean said firmly, but Pepe thought that he might have seen a glimmer of a smile in her eye. Even if he was delusional, the fact that she did not bodily hurl him from the room was hopeful, no?
“Out,” Laura Jean repeated. “Now.”
And Pepe went.

“Well,” Thoreau said thoughtfully. “It’s just for one number, right? I suppose she could wear one of your old dresses, Piggy.” He snatched an emerald green dress off the hanger and tossed it to Sara, who pulled it over her head obediently. Having been put through her paces like a show poodle, Scooter’s sweetie was beginning to resign her self to the inevitable. Sometimes, she was learning, it was better just to do what they told her to do than try to argue. Thoreau looked her over critically, whirling his finger to indicate she should spin, then let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s not awful,” he said, pulling down the corners of his mouth. “But we’ll have to take it in.”
All motion in the room ceased. Piggy had been putting on her dress for the finale in front of the mirror, but she stopped abruptly and her head snapped up to stare at Thoreau in the reflection of the glass.
“What?” she growled. There were several nervous intakes of breath from the other ladies in the room as Piggy spun, ready to go to war, but Thoreau met her angry gaze guilelessly. He reached around Sara and grabbed a handful of fabric from the bodice back in his hand. With far less material in play, the dress made a more convincing attempt to mold to Sara’s very agreeable—but definitely less fully-endowed—figure. Thoreau gave Piggy an expert once-over, lingering on her generous curves.
“Piggy—you can loan her the dress, but you can’t loan her…everything.”
Piggy blushed, appeased, and resumed dressing. Sara realized she’d been holding her breath, and began to breathe again with relish.
“Ah, divas,” Thoreau said fondly, pinning two quick darts in the back of the dress. “Don’t you just love ‘em.”

“I don’t know,” Rizzo was saying breathlessly. “I found him like this and hollered.”
Even though it was perfectly obvious from the rise and fall of Fozzie’s chest that he was breathing fine, Gonzo knelt down and felt for a pulse. It seemed strong and steady, so Gonzo patted Fozzie firmly on the cheek a few times. Fozzie sat up, putting a hand to his head.
“Did it work?” he asked foggily.
Rizzo and Gonzo looked at each other. “Did what work?” Rizzo said. “Whatcha talking about, Fozzie.”
Fozzie said up suddenly, looking around him in confusion. “What am I doing on the floor?” He looked wildly around him. “Where—where is it? Did it—did it work?”
Again, Rizzo and Gonzo exchanged looks. “Where did what go, Fozzie?”
“The thing,” Fozzie said. “The big shiny thing that….” He trailed off, because even in his diminished state, he could see that there was nothing near him.
“Let me help you up there, buddy,” Gonzo said, suiting action to words. “Maybe you should see Dr. Honeydew.”
“NO!” Fozzie blurted, looking alarmed. “Then he’ll know that I….”
They looked at him patiently.
“—that I feel just fine, thank you. I feel great.”
“Are you sure, man?” Rizzo persisted. “Cause you’re talking kindof funny.”
To his astonishment, Fozzie clapped both hands over his mouth. “Oh my gosh,” he breathed. “It worked.” Before Rizzo or Gonzo could say anything more, he had taken off at an excited run toward the dressing room. In the silence, the roomies looked at each other and shrugged.
“Seems okay,” Gonzo said. He was, perhaps, not the best judge of behavior. Rizzo looked after Fozzie for a moment longer.
“You think? I thought he was acting a little funny.”

“Wow—look at you, cutie pie!”
Sara blushed almost as red as her hair, but she was not deterred from her mission.
“Um, Scooter,” Sara said nervously. “I really don’t know about this. I’m not used to being on stage—I’m more of a back-stage kindof person. I don’t know anything about acting.” She looked at him pleadingly, and Scooter thought with deep satisfaction that he was going to enjoy getting lost in those eyes later—but first things first. He put his arms around Sara and pulled her close.
“No acting necessary,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to do anything to be my dream girl—you already are.”
Now the big dark eyes were suspiciously bright, and Sara had to bite her lower lip to still it’s trembling. “That was very unfair,” she said sulkily, but she let Scooter kiss her once more before clomping back to the ladies dressing room in her still-not-broken-in character shoes..
“I learned from the champ,” Scooter said smugly, then scurried back to talk to the sound guys.

[Leyla]

Ah, 'tis true that. Still, I'm restless enough that I can't sleep just yet. Is good, whatever happens. I'm reading Swamp Call again. Is fun!

Thanks for the invitation, mon ami, I've been sorta thinking about it actually... but I'm kinda shy, believe it or no, and I'm not sure I'd fit in.

I'll just hook the knapsack off my back and curl up on your porch if you don't mind.

Edit: Oh, she ziffled me! Yay for Ruahnna!

[Ruahnna]

Apparently, I'm a big fat liar. I'm dying here of sleep deprivation and I'm not quite done with opening night. Tomorrow. Opening night tomorrow. Happy birthday, Sara!

[Ruahnna]

Ooh--and Leyla, come and hang out with me an Piggy in our dorm room. Just move a pile of Piggy's clothes off of any soft surface (bed, couch, comfy chair) and crash as long as you need to. I'm off to crashland myself!!!

[Leyla]

Aw, thanks Ru, you're a peach. I'm presuming you'll protect me after I touch her royal divaness' clothes? ;) As for your story, loved it, loved it, loved it! Though how anyone can play a prank on Fozzie is beyond me... actually, now that I think about it, there have definately been times when he's deserved it.

[The Count]

Yes... And you don't want to know about the fight he and Kermit got into when filming TMM.
Funny stuff in that fight.

Ru... The chapter was good and well-needed.
Though I noticed a bit of name confusion. After Fozzie holds the door open for Pepe to enter Piggy's room, you say Rizzo entered.
Also, when Pepe gets asked forcibly to leave the dressing room... He inwardly says that he knows Laura May is without or in a bit of a row with her boyfriend, but then when the chorus girl herself speaks you say it's Laura Gene.
Bit confused... Thought it was Laura May and Gloria Jean?

As for the chapter itself...
Thorough defusing Piggy's temper, clever.
The Funny-Meter and Fozzie's longing for it... Somewhat nice to see what the bear wants most in the world.
Scooter and Sara, after she's been dressed for the number...

Post the next part when ready, please we want to see what happens next.

[redBoobergurl]

Good stuff here! Looking forward to more!

[ReneeLouvier]

*melts into a huge puddle of ushy-gushyness*

That....was like the best present ever. ;) Thanks...wow....

[Leyla]

This update was a lot of fun, Ruahnna, so I hope you didn't deprive yourself of too much sleep. (That arm chair was very cozy to nap in.)

Loved Fozzie and the box, particularly his caution because of the start Pepe gave him earlier. Love Fozzie being alone with his curiosity. Oh, a Funny-o-meter! Poor bear didn't stand a chance. Kermit, Kermit, I love your mischievous side, but what have you done to you best friend?


“Si, si,” Pepe answered, hauling a laden dolly toward Piggy’s dressing room. “What? Hi am working, hokay?” He strained, all fours arms bulging with effort but barely moving the heavy load.
So is Thoreau evidently. Loved Pepe guilting Fozzie into helping him. King Prawn=Master Manipulator, except when it comes to the womens, hokay.

When he straightened, however, there was a sound like a gas leak. It was the air leaving Fozzie’s lungs in a whoosh. Reverently, like a man in a dream, Fozzie walked up to the shiny metal contraption that was revealed.
“Honeydew’s Funny-o-meter,” Fozzie read, mesmerized. “Guaranteed to make you up to 50% funnier than ever before. Stand in front of laser beam. Press here.” He touched the cool metal side and let out a sigh of longing. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Great description, and great line from Fozzie. Instantly seduced.

“Kermit is counting on you,” he told himself firmly. Before he could change his mind, he stepped in front of the laser and pressed the button.


Kermit is counting on you?! Oh, that poor, sweet, bear! Kermit better not have done anything too traumatic to him!

Pepe in the dressing room "smorgasbord" = priceless, especially with him targetting Sara, and the more experienced girl coming to her defence. Pepe has no honor at all! He's very funny though, so I'll forgive him.

“His is hot in here, Laura May, or is that just ju?”
“Out,” Laura Jean said firmly, but Pepe thought that he might have seen a glimmer of a smile in her eye. Even if he was delusional, the fact that she did not bodily hurl him from the room was hopeful, no?

Heheheh! Very funny Pepe writing.

“It’s not awful,” he said, pulling down the corners of his mouth. “But we’ll have to take it in.”
All motion in the room ceased. Piggy had been putting on her dress for the finale in front of the mirror, but she stopped abruptly and her head snapped up to stare at Thoreau in the reflection of the glass.
“What?” she growled.


Loved this scene. It's very very funny, and Piggy hasn't terrorized anyone in a little while. Loved Thoreau's handling the crisis, that Piggy couldn't lend her "everything" and Thoreau's line about divas. No doubt he's had plenty of experience mollifying them, in general, and Piggy in particular.


You know, rereading the post funny-o-meter scene, I'm not entirely sure you did anything to Fozzie at all, but convince him that he's just gotten a technologically assisted boost in his funniness... (lightbulb comes on) giving him confidence to face Statler and Waldorf! Oh! that's lovely! I'm sorry I ever doubted the frog!

Very sweet lovey dovey stuff with Scooter and Sara. Great job!


“I learned from the champ,” Scooter said smugly, then scurried back to talk to the sound guys. I particularly liked this line.

Loved, loved, loved it Ruahnna!

[Leyla]

Ignore this, I'm braindead.

[Leyla]

Gah! I did it again! And in someone else's thread. I have no idea what's wrong with me these days. Sorry!

[christyb]

No worries Lelya. I do the same thing. :) Quite often in fact. Great job on the story! I'd ramble on and on but I have lots of catching up to do!

[Java]

Well, maybe the practical joke is what Fozzie needs to truly get over his fear of the Statler and Waldorf monster.

Anyway, Loved it. Off to catch up on everyone elses!

[Ruahnna]

Scooter ran into Kermit outside the sound booth.
“Hey Scooter—I’m just going to get Robin. Who’s up now?”
“Johnny’s on stage for Christmas All over the World’ with the Amy Lu and Gloria Jean and Sally Ann and Laura May.” He looked at Kermit. “How do you think this is going to fly?”
Kermit shrugged, complacent with the inevitable. “Ought to be okay, I think. Howard’s still grumbling but the girls know the routine and Johnny ought to be able to sell it okay as long as he doesn’t just stop in the middle of the song.” He smiled. “Sal’s making cue cards, I hear.”
“Johnny can read?” said Scooter wickedly, and they both laughed before opening the door of the sound booth.
Robin bounded up at the sight of his uncle. “Hi Uncle Kermit—this has been great! Dr. Teeth is showing me what all the buttons do!”
Kermit smiled and put a fond hand on Robin’s head. “Thanks so much, Dr. Teeth. I want to keep Robin close because of the, um….” Robin looked at him inquisitively, aquiver with curiosity. The men exchanged a look, and Kermit trailed off and changed topics.
“Because I promised my brother I’d look out for him.”
“No, no—it was my pleasure. Robin is a seriously cool little dude,” said Dr. Teeth. "He’s learning how to run the sound system.”
Kermit smiled. “Yeah, heh, heh, right. Thanks again, Doc. Piggy and I sure appreciate—“
Dr. Teeth put a hand on Kermit’s arm. “No, seriously, my main frog. Your nephew can almost run the sound board by his lonesome.”
Kermit stared. “Are you, are you serious?”
“As the IRS. Check it out.” He turned to Robin, who looked up inquisitively. If he’d had whiskers, they’d have been quivering. “Hey there, my little green man. Bring up the sound on the main mike, won’t you? And fade in with the peripheral mikes to we’ve got the full chorus range, won’t you? Now—can you bring up the main mike again and give it some reverb. That’s right—not too much.” For the next five minutes, Kermit and Scooter watched, thunderstruck, as Robin followed every direction perfectly.
“Kid’s got a good ear, too,” Dr. Teeth said. “He doesn’t have perfect pitch, which is good, cuz it makes it hard to sing in a group, but he’s got an excellent ear. Um, so to speak,” he added, remembering that frog’s aural organs weren’t actually ears.
“That’s fantastic,” Kermit said. He looked at Robin. “Next thing you know, you’ll be running the sound board.”
“Could I really run the sound?” Robin asked excitedly. “For the show?”
“Well,” Kermit hedged. “Not tonight, of course. Maybe some other time.” Robin looked disappointed, but brightened visibly at a new thought.
“Maybe later in the week?” he asked.
“How about maybe before this show closes, hm? How about that?” What would it hurt? Kermit thought. Robin could sit in the booth part of one performance, push the occasional button, throw the occasional lever. It would be a good experience for the little guy.
“Uncle Kermit!” Robin demanded. “Were you paying attention to me?”
“What? Oh no Robin—sorry, I wasn’t. I was thinking.”
“About the confetti?”
Kermit sucked in his breath. Kid didn’t miss much. “Why would I be thinking about the confetti?” he asked carefully.
Robin looked up at him uncertainly. “Aunt Piggy was upset.”
Kermit put his arm around Robin’s shoulders. “Well, Aunt Piggy is just fine now. Why don’t we go find her and have a little snack, hm? Mabel had some cookies in the kitchen a little while ago.”
“Mabel makes good cookies,” Robin said happily. “Just like Aunt Piggy.”
“Um, yeah,” Kermit said. “Let’s go get one, now.”

Floyd rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. Janice stood at the end of the corridor, leaning casually against the wall, but the bass player was positive he’d seen Clifford disappear around the far corner as soon as he’d rounded the curve
“Hey, Babe,” Floyd said. “Waiting for someone?”
“Just you, Honey. Doc says the band’s getting together in—“ She consulted her watch. “Um, ten minutes.”
“Yeah—I came to tell you.”
Janice smiled, reaching for Floyd’s hand and holding it between her own. “Let’s go together,” she said warmly, leaning against him. “This is going to be such a rockin’ show.”
Floyd put his arm around Janice and felt himself visibly relax.
“I’m an idiot,” he thought grimly. “Getting all worked up for nothing.” He pressed a kiss into Janice’s shining hair. “Janice is still my woman. I got nothin’ to worry about.” Together, they walked toward the stage.

When Kermit and Robin found Piggy, they both had cinnamon on their lips from one of Mabel’s snickerdoodles. Piggy kissed Robin on the cheek and Kermit on the mouth, tasting cinnamon on both of them. When they got to the stage, Thoreau was waiting for them. He thrust a box at them unceremoniously. “Open it,” he demanded.
Kermit unwrapped the tissue paper and heard Piggy let out a little gasp of surprise. Inside the box, protected like an egg in a carton, was an absolutely magnificent black leather jacket. Kermit reached for it tentatively and his hand closed over soft, well-tooled leather as supple as Lydia the tattooed lady. The zippers and studs looked to be of chrome, and the lining had the insubstantial feel of Indian silk.
“Wow,” Kermit said. “This is, this is beautiful, Thoreau. You must have gone to a lot of trouble to get this.”
Thoreau waved the air languidly with one long-fingered hand, but Piggy knew that his air of elaborate casualness meant he had maneuvered his butt off to pull this little rabbit out of a hat. She sent him a kissy-kissy face behind Kermit’s head and he rolled his eyes and smirked like a schoolboy at his first dance.
“Try it on. It supposed to fit, and if it doesn’t, by thunderation I’m going to…well. Well, well, well. I must say that’s very, very nice. Turn for me.”
Mortifyingly embarrassed to be the center of attention, Kermit turned. By the time he had completed his twirl, half the cast had gathered around.
“Hey—nice jacket,” said Rizzo around a mouthful of apple-raisin bread. “That your costume for ‘One Fine Day,’ huh?”
“Ultimate threads,” Doctor Teeth said approvingly. “A new look for the frogman.”
“Hey, Uncle Kermit—you look like Fonzie,” Robin piped up. Somewhere in the world, “Happy Days” was still in reruns every day after school.
“Does it come with a cape?”
“Oh, like, that is so, like, retro and everything.”
“Kermit, now you’re the dude with the ‘tude,” Clifford said approvingly.
With difficulty, Pepe pushed through the crowd, his arms laden with yards of cable. When he caught sight of Kermit, he stopped dead in his tracks, dropped everything in his arms and went white-eyed on the floor. It took Janice and Camilla and Gloria Jean several minutes to revive him. “His hokay,” he said at last. “Hi am fine, si.” He stood up, walked over to Kermit and threw all four arms around the hand-stitched cuff in a paroxysm of longing. Kermit tried ineffectually to wrest his arm free.
“So, so you guys like it?” he said, still a little embarrassed by all the attention. He shook his arm to detach Pepe, but was unsuccessful.
“Like it?” Piggy growled. “I love it, Mon capitan.”
Kermit blushed, enjoying the look of proprietary pride in Piggy’s eyes.
“Well, okay then,” he said at last. “Let give this thing a test run.” He started for the stage, dragging Pepe behind him. “Um—a little help here, guys?” he said. Sal and Johnny stepped forward to carry a whimpering Pepe away.
“Only two arms,” Pepe was muttering dazedly. “So beautiful, but only two arms.”

“Oooh, that’s better,” Howard said thoughtfully, standing in the back of the auditorium and watching the run-through. “Much, much better.”
“The letterman’s jacket wasn’t a bad idea,” conceded Thoreau, “but it just wasn’t quite the right look. Or fit. Or color.” He looked at Howard in mock surprise. “Oh my—did I just say that out loud.”
“You were more tactful than I was. Piggy made me wear it.”
“No!”
“Yes.” Howard sighed. “The things I do for my art.”
Thoreau nodded sympathetically. “Tell me about it.” He turned to Howard suddenly. “How’s the new girl—the one that came in with, what’s his name? Skipper?”
“Scooter.” Howard shrugged generously. “Her name's Sara. She’s not bad. A quick study. Scared out of her wits.”
“But okay?”
“Yeah—she did fine. This wouldn’t fly if we were going for a chorus line effect, but each muse looks differently, moves differently, dances differently. And it works because each of the women is dressed in the style that makes her look the best. By the by—nice job with Camilla.”
“The chicken? Oh, thanks. Wasn’t too bad, was it? She’s pretty—very nice legs. I kindof like that little shrug, but the hat really made it.”
“Brought out the blue in her eyes.”
Thoreau looked very pleased. “That’s why I picked that shade!” He turned back to the stage, watching Piggy sashay across the stage with her ponytail bouncing. “You know, I’ve never done a show before. This has been, I don’t know, sort of fun.”
“Yeah,” said Howard, smiling to himself. “There are worse jobs and I—” He snapped to attention suddenly. “Rizzo!” he bellowed. “What is the matter with you? We are making left-hand turns thank-you-very-much!”
Rizzo looked embarrassed and got back in rhythm with the other guys. He nailed the next turn and Howard subsided. “What was I saying?”
“Worse jobs?”
“Yeah. Sure, the pay is lousy, but when push comes to shove—and believe me it does sometimes—we all pull together. It’s nice—we’re like a family.”
Thoreau was thoughtful. “That’s what Piggy says.”
“Well,” Howard said, his mouth twitching into a smile. “Wardrobe notwithstanding, I make it a habit never to argue with Piggy if I can help it.”

[Ruahnna]

Don't give up on me guys--it's just taking longer to get to opening night than I thought because of a whole new wrinkle. Will post more tonight and think I can clear the logjam for opening night to post it tonight.

[TogetherAgain]

Oh my gosh, Ruahnna! Can I hug you? You absolutely...

Okay. First of all. Loved the re-use of "Johnny can read?"

And Robin! ROBIN! Robin running the sound board! Oh I love it! I SO love it! I can not even begin to tell you how much I love it because I can't tell you why I love it because it's a secret! And I love Kermit covering the "why" he appreciates it so much, and then Robin asking if he's thinking about "the confetti," And Mabel makes good cookies, just like Aunt Piggy. Oh my gosh I love it!!!!!!!!!!

And Floyd considering thinking that maybe, about Janice... But checking himself immediately. I like that.

And, and. Oh, my gosh. Kermit. Jacket. Leather. Oh. Wow. ...Could somebody wipe my mouth, I think I'm drooling... And everyone's reactions! Oh wow... Especially Piggy, and Pepe, oh my gosh Pepe! HYSTERICAL! Only two arms... HA!

And then Thoreau and Howard's talk, oh, I love it again. Especially the last line. I like that a lot.

MORE PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...And did I mention yet that I love the jacket? And Robin on the sound board?

MORE PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[The Count]

To second what Lisa said... Yaeeeeyyy!!
This was another great chapter. Let's see, what did I like the best...
Robin manning, or frogging, the sound boards. That little frog has a good ear, and pretty soon he'll be in charge there. Heh, Robin on the sound board, his cousins Jane Frog and James Pig navigating the chaos... Sorry, got my fanfics mixed up there for a moment.
*Preparing for an assault from Sara.

Cinnamon cookies from Mabel, must be good if they've got some powder on their faces.
Floyd getting a bit paranoid about Clifford, reassuring himself it was nothing and Janice is still his girl, er woman.
Liked the part where he kissed her hair, that's nice and kinda classy at the same time.

And then Thorough and Howard having a chat at the end, Howard still mindful of putting the troop through their paces.
And Kermit's new jacket, funny reactions from everybody especially Pepe.

Keep it comin', we're waiting for more extremely anxiously!

[Java]

Everyone's already beat me to anything that I have to say! Wonderful chapter, can't wait for more!!

[Ruahnna]

“Hey, Kermit—hang back, man. Got a plan for your little blue dude and his thing.”
Floyd Pepper, the hippest of the hip, was sometimes incomprehensible to Kermit, but this time Kermit was able to follow him with relative ease.
“Something for Gonzo? Sure thing, Floyd—let’s hear it.”
“Okay, like, Gonzo’s doing the fruit bowl thing and the milk thing and all and, um, I was wondering, since you brought us in on the Dream thing if you also wanted us to assist and accompany our dare-devil-in-residence.”
Kermit’s brain decoded slower than he listened, but he nodded almost at once. “What’d you have in mind, Floyd?”
“Well, Mr. Little Richard has had—in his glorious day—a tune or two that have had a message for the masses. Or in this case, may be the messes.”
“Okay….” Now, it was getting a little hazy and Floyd himself seemed to be losing focus. At last, Floyd reached into his back pocket and pulled out an MP3 player. At the touch of a button, Little Richard’s vocals filled the room with energy. Kermit listened, and as he listened, he began to smile. He reached out and clapped Floyd on the shoulder.
“Good work, Floyd,” he said. “Stroke of genius. Tell the band it’s a go. I’ll go talk to Gonzo.”

“Oh, c’mon, Camilla, honey,” Janice said in what she hoped was a comforting manner. They were changing back into street clothes, which for Camilla consisted of taking off more than she put back on. “Aren’t you even going to talk to him? I know you’re mad right now but he was being rully sweet during Dream Girls. Didn’t you see the way he was looking at you?”
Camilla made a small, huffy sound and put on a pair of flashy earrings.
“Bawk bawbawk, begawk?” she asked.
“No, honey—I can’t. I’m rully sorry but Floyd and I were going to catch a bite to eat and then try to have a little alone time.” She looked around, watchful of any perking ears. “We have a special day coming up, and I’m trying to think of something special to surprise him.”
Camilla whispered something and Janice burst out laughing. “Shhh! Hush, Camilla,” she said, blushing furiously. “Someone will, like, hear you.”
Camilla whispered something else, making them both dissolve into giggles.
“Well that would surprise him all right,” Janice said, trying vainly to stem her mirth. Another wave of merriment washed over them and they laughed until their sides hurt.
Camilla subsided and looked at Janice fondly while she picked up her purse and slung it over one softly-feathered shoulder.
“Have fun at the show,” Janice said. Camilla gave an airy little toss of her head and left. Janice was alone for a few moments, then Thoreau bustled in, looking for costumes needing tweaks.
“Ooh—sorry! Thought everyone was gone.”
“No problem,” Janice said, smiling broadly. “I’m on my way out.” She started for the door, then paused. “Um, could I, like, ask you something?”
“Sure,” said Thoreau, sorting through a pile of lingerie. “Fire away.”
“Um, you do a lot of clothes for Piggy?”
“Um hm.”
Janice fidgeted a little. “Do you—do you, like, do special orders?”
Had she stopped by his shop, Thoreau might have been snippy with her, might have drawn himself up to his full height and told her that all of his orders were special, but the furious activity of the day, the amount of things to be done, or maybe just the warmth of the welcome that he’d received today had softened some of the designer’s sharp edges.
“What’d you have in mind, sweetheart?” he said gently. “What is it you’re looking for?”
To his surprise, Janice dug in her duffle bag and pulled out a dog-earred Polaroid. She handed it over carefully, and Thoreau took it from her, careful to only touch the edges.
“Wow,” he said, eyebrows lifting. “Was this an original?”
“Yeah. From France. I went one Sunday when we were filming in London and bought it for an, um, special occasion..”
“And you’re looking for one just like it?”
Janice looked up hopefully and nodded.
Gently, Thoreau handed back the photograph and shook his head sadly. “Now that she’s gone, they don’t make that kind anymore, and I’m afraid the originals have not held up well. Now, with newer materials, we’re seeing longer wear, but these old ones probably had real rubber in them.” He looked at Janice’s crestfallen face, and gave her lithe figure a quick once-over. “Look,” he said abruptly. “I don’t copy other people—other people copy my designs, dear—but from time to time I enjoy paying homage to a classic look. I could probably do a modern take on this timeless design, maybe throw in a couple of…curves.”
The smile that lit up Janice’s face was abundant payment for Thoreau’s kind offer.
“Oh, like, could you? I’ve got some money saved and, well, this is for a really special occasion.”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” Thoreau said breezily. “Let me make a few sketches and we’ll talk about it after opening night.”
“Oh, like, wow—I’m am so jazzed,” Janice said. “Thank you—thank you, Mr., um, Thoreau.” She favored him with another 1000-watt smile and went out into the hall.
“What a pushover I’m turning out to be,” Thoreau said to the empty room. “The next thing you know, I’ll be selling clothes right off the rack.” The thought made him shudder, and he smiled at his own foolishness. Oh, what the heck, he thought. It’s not like it’s going to take a lot of material.


It was late and the stage was quiet. Most everyone had gathered up their personal things and retreated to their rooms for bed, to grab a bite to eat or to the casino to satisfy their itch for a little night-life after being on a short tether all day with rehearsals.
Without even being asked, Mabel had brought Kermit and Rowlf enormous boxed dinners. Kermit’s had angel-hair pasta sprinkled with ingredients best not dwelled on, a perfectly ripe banana, a huge buttered roll and a root beer big enough to dive into. Rowlf had beef tips and gravy over bow-tie pasta, a mango, a roll of his own and an iced tea with a mint leaf floating in it.
“If I was the marrying kind…” Rowlf had teased. Mabel had slapped him, and hard, on the shoulder before moving off, but Rowlf had seen her look of exasperation and pleasure.
At last, Kermit sat back with a sigh of contentment and looked at Rowlf, who had eaten everything but the Styrofoam container his food had arrived in.
“That was a good run-through,” Rowlf said, chewing on a toothpick. “I would almost say that that was a good dress rehearsal.”
“Um hum.”
“Have we, uh, have we ever had a good dress rehearsal before?” Rowlf asked. Both men looked thoughtful.
“Coupla times,” Kermit said. “I hope it’s not a bad sign.”
“Naw,” Rowlf said. “It’s gonna be a good show. Nothing ought to go wrong now.” Superstitiously, they both reached out and rapped the wooden stage with their knuckles, then startled at the unexpected sound, looked at each other, and laughed.
“Looks like you and Piggy made up.” Kermit had noted a definite thawing in her attitude toward Rowlf, and this afternoon she’s been positively sweet to him.
“What? Oh—yeah, yeah. Nice to be off her list for a change.”
“What’d you do to get on Piggy’s list anyway?” Kermit asked, unable to imagine Rowlf offending anyone.
Rowlf pulled on his collar. “You mean originally? Oh, nothin’ really—it was silly.”
Kermit looked interested. “I like silly,” he said encouragingly. Rowlf looked sheepish and smiled.
“Piggy’s had her knickers in a twist ever since I took Foo Foo out a coupla times.”
Kermit stared for a moment, uncomprehending, then managed to collect himself. “You and—you and Foo Foo, um, dated?”
“Sure,” Rowlf said placidly. “Just for laughs, you know. She’s a real sweet kid—lot of fun.”
“You and Foo Foo?” Kermit was having trouble wrapping his mind around the idea. How could he have not known this? Where the heck had he been during this time? “I take it Piggy disapproved.” Rowlf and Foo Foo, Kermit thought. Rowlf and Foo Foo on a date. He could not conjure up a mental image.
Before Kermit and Piggy had tied the knot, Foo Foo had been the pampered, petted center of Piggy’s affection, but Kermit’s increasing presence in Piggy’s personal life and Foo Foo’s eventual desire for a more independent life had caused them to part—tearfully, of course. Still, they had remained close since Foo Foo had gotten her own place, lunching around town or getting together for coffee and pastry when their schedules allowed. Rowlf and Foo Foo, Kermit thought again. Where the heck was I? He’d been asking himself that a lot lately.
“Disapproved?” Rowlf was saying. He let out a short bark of laughter. “You could say that.”
“But you dated her, I mean, dated Foo Foo anyway?” Rowlf and Foo Foo, Kermit thought, unable to let the thought go. Going to the movies, playing Frisbee in the park…. Nope—couldn’t picture it.
“Yep.”
“Rowlf, I have to say--that was very brave.”
“That would be me.”
“And very foolhardy.”
“That would be me, too.”
“So…?”
“So, nothing,” Rowlf said.
Kermit looked a question at him and Rowlf shrugged, almost—but not quite--embarrassed. “Aw, well, it, well, it didn’t go anywhere. She was a little out of my league, if you know what I mean.”
Kermit laid a hand upon Rowlf’s shoulder. “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Rowlf. I mean, sure, Foo Foo was a little pampered, but you’re one of the most talented, intelligent dogs I know.”
“Oh, well,” Rowlf said, embarrassed. “It’s not that, exactly. You know what I’m saying—she was pedigree, I was table scraps. She was used to the good life, I was used to the single life.”
Kermit said nothing, and Rowlf looked away. “Ahhh, you know how it is—one minute you’re minding your own business, the next minute you’re following some cutie around carrying packages and sipping soda out of two straws. It’s like, it’s like you’re brainwashed, or something. And then they start wanting to talk about your ‘relationship’ and well….” He gave Kermit a knowing look. “You know what I’m saying?”
The two men exchanged a look.
“Why Rowlf,” Kermit said, in such a fake exaggerated voice that Rowlf began to smile immediately. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Like heck you don’t,” Rowlf chuckled. “Can’t help but notice you finally gave in.”
“Married life has it benefits,” Kermit said serenely. He liked being married, liked it a lot after the first numbing shock had worn off.
“So does the single life,” Rowlf objected.
Kermit turned and looked at Rowlf, held his gaze for a long moment. “Name one,” Kermit demanded.
Rowlf opened his mouth several times, but in the end, had nothing to offer.
“Aw, heck,” he said with a sigh. “You think Piggy’s still got Foo Foo’s number?”
“Better let me check,” Kermit said, and went looking for his wife.

Kermit tried to slip into the suite without making too much noise, worried about disturbing Piggy, but his caution was unnecessary. He found Piggy soaking in the enormous pond-shaped tub, up to her neck in bubbles. There was a glass of lemonade at her elbow and she smile at him lazily.
“Hello,” she said. “Everything okay? I just kept getting in Thoreau’s way, so I came on up.”
Kermit smiled and sat on the edge of the tub. “Everything’s fine. Everything’s great, Piggy. We even found a way to incorporate Gonzo’s, um, act into the first half.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Surprise me,” Piggy said dryly.
“Robin is…?”
“Down—“ Piggy began, but Kermit’s cell phone beeped and she broke off when Kermit flipped it open.
“Kermit the Frog, Rainbow Produ—Oh, hi, Marty!”
Piggy froze, but Kermit held up a hand quickly and smiled. “No,” he was saying. “All quiet on the Western front today. Everything’s good here.”
Piggy relaxed and took another refreshing sip of her lemonade, with barely time to swallow before Kermit was closing the little phone and putting it away.
“Marty says hi.” Kermit looked at her, enjoying the way the foamy bubbles clung to her neck and shoulders. “So, Robin is down, huh? Got room in there for a very tired frog?”
Before Piggy could answer, Robin squirted out of the water, surfacing amidst the bubbles between Kermit and Piggy and smiling at his uncle.
“Hey Uncle Kermit—why don’t you come swimming with us?”
Piggy sat up straighter in the water and Kermit could make out the outline of her strapless pink maillot beneath the veritable waves lapping the edges of the tub.
“As I was saying,” Piggy said dryly. “Robin is practicing his reconnaissance maneuvers down under the water. So far, he’s retrieved a handful of buttons and about seventy-eight cents worth of change.” She saw Kermit quickly reassessing the situation, shedding thoughts of romance reluctantly. He smiled warmly at them both. Within seconds, he had stripped down to bathing attire.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “I’m coming in.”

[The Count]

That was a good short chapter Ru... If any of these "chapters" can be called short.

Floyd suggesting some musical accompaniment for Gonzo's act... Oh, I'm sure I don't know what song from Reverend Richard Pettiman's repetoir Floyd has in mind.
Camilla and Janice's scene was probably my fave. Camilla's still angry with Gonzo, they need to make up. Camilla's street clothes, a pair of dazzling earrings, heh, wonder if they're part of a set with the matching bunny ears from that act Gonzo gave Liberace for the Vegas shows.
Janice wanting a something special in the way of wardrobe from Thorough... That was very very good, liked it muchly.
You know... I feel that you've captured something quite well in how you're portraying Thorough here at Vegas. Throw in the extreme Gonzonian eccentricism acts of lunacy into his personality, and you've got Aunt DanDan from MopFam. So better just keep writing for his/her/its better half for the moment.

Rowlf and Foo-Foo? Foo-Foo moving out, a nice touch, shows that the pampered poodle's every bit the star as her former owner.
Kermit... Best you don't get a mental image of them dating... Just leave it be.
Hey Rowlf, there are a lot of benefits to the single life... Just can't think of any now, but there are benefits.
Heh, good thing he's getting some practice in the dating business now... He'll need it for when he finally meets Wanda.

And then there's the end scene in the Frogs' suite. Good how even little Robin's there, diving for underwater missions.
Good stuff here indeed, I'm sure others will give you a more detailed rave. Keep it coming, please?

[ReneeLouvier]

I love it all Ru! Yay for more story!! Can't wait to see how bad I mess up the song...XD

Ed...I nearly choked on my soda when I read what you put down! It's touching actually...I still can't believe you remembered them! Thank you.

[Java]

I was very touched Janice and Camilla and then Janice and Thorough.
Reconnaissance in the water and disappointing poor Kermit.

I very much enjoyed the chapter!

[The Count]

*Comes in timidly... Um, Ms. Ru?
Wanted to apologize... Guess sometimes my instinctive spelling gets the better of me, always had trouble with those tricky French words.
But to the point... *Takes off glasses...
What I want to say is, sorry for misspelling Thoreau's name in my previous posts.

Knew something wasn't sounding fight when I read my own posts, so I checked it. Hope this makes up for the mistake, and goes toward getting some more story posted...
Soon? Please? Right, thank you.
*Puts glasses back on and waits quietly in the corner.

[Leyla]

Hi Ru! Thanks for that review honey! Don't think I was waiting for it to reply to your update... I've been rather distracted of late by MSN. It's too late for me to do a proper review... but tomorrow is another day and I'll get it done!!

Loves jacket, loves Pepe, loves Robin, loves you!

Leyla

[Ruahnna]

Kermit could have slept late—probably should have slept late, but he woke up at the crack of 8:30, wishing someone would turn down the noise. It took him a minute and a stiff cup of coffee to realize that there was no noise—at least, no noise outside his head. With the show opening tonight, he’d been awakened by the buzzing of his own thoughts, and no amount of volume control would work until he’d dealt with all the details that were beating a furious tattoo in his brain. Dressed, caffeinated and sheepish, he trailed back into the bedroom to watch Piggy sleep, leaning in the doorway with both hands wrapped around his coffee cup. As if sensing his presence, Piggy let out a soft sigh, stretched luxuriously and opened her sleepy blue eyes. Now fully recharged by the caffeine, Kermit considered shedding his clothes and making a bounding leap back into bed, but before he could act, Piggy looked up suddenly and fixed him with a knowing gaze.
“That smells divine,” she said longingly. “Got any more?”
Kermit walked over and handed her the second half of his second cup. Piggy accepted it and a lingering kiss before slipping out of bed and toeing into her high-heeled scuffs.
“Lots to do,” she said, gulping the steaming brew. “Give me a second to throw on some clothes and I’ll come down with you.”
Years of long experience had taught Kermit that Piggy “throwing on some clothes” could take an indefinite period of time. He went in and gently awakened Robin, who had no need of caffeine to be ready for the day. Kermit poured him some Frosted Flies and a glass of orange juice and brought it into the living room area along with another cup of coffee for himself.
“I love these!” Robin said around an enormous mouthful of, um, cereal. “Mom won’t buy them for me. She says they have too much sugar.”
Inwardly, Kermit sighed. Apparently, there was more to parenting that stopping them from running into the street. Ah well, he thought resignedly, what his parents don’t know won’t kill me.
To his astonishment, Piggy appeared in less than a quarter of an hour, impeccably coiffed, dressed and shod. Her makeup was understated, but tasteful, and her lipstick was translucent enough to keep the bell-boys from stampeding.
“You look nice,” he said, but his eyes were puzzled. She did look nice, but it was not her usual look. Her hair was restrained, and the violet linen jacket worn buttoned up over a crisp white skirt looked business-classy, as did the purple and white spectator pumps.
Piggy put a satin-gloved hand on one well-rounded hip. “Did you forget about brunch?”
“Um…brunch?” Kermit repeated, flipping rapidly through the rolodex in his brain. It came—slowly, but it came. “Oh—gah! What time is that?”
“We’ve got about a half-hour to get Robin settled and get there.” She came over and straightened his tie. “Don’t worry—you look very nice.”
“Um, thanks,” Kermit said, reaching to answer the blip of his cell phone. It was Scooter.
“Hey, Boss,” Scooter said brightly. “Don’t forget brunch in thirty, okay?”
“I’m on top of it,” Kermit said, wishing he was.
“I’m backstage checking on some things for tonight. Bring Robin by anytime. If you need me, or if anybody else needs you, you can reach me on my phone.”
“Scooter, could you make sure the final coat of paint on the—“
“Checked it this morning. It’s dry—looks good.”
“Great. What about the stuffing for the—“
“Stuffed and stitched.”
“Did they get the short out of the—“
“Honeydew’s helping Dr. Teeth with it now.”
“What about the cable for the—“
“Pepe ran the rest of it yesterday.”
“Fozzie was wondering if someone could—“
“Already done. I saw to it myself this morning.”
There was a long silence, in which Kermit could hear Scooter grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Want to go to this meeting for me?”
“Can’t help you there,” Scooter said, laughing. “Don’t worry about it—Piggy will be there if you have any trouble.”
“Sure,” Kermit said crankily. He sighed. “If I think of anything else—“
“Just call me. I’ll take care of it. Now go on—you’re going to be late.”
“Thanks, Scooter.”
“Sure thing, Boss. Break a leg, okay?”
If only, Kermit thought wistfully. He closed the little phone and put it away, then reached for Robin’s hand. Piggy took the young frog’s other hand and they went out to face the day.

“Um, Rowlf?”
“Huh? Oh, hey Fozzie. Nice job at dress rehearsal last night.”
Fozzie looked ecstatic, then mortified. “Um, do you really think so?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know you didn’t do your whole act, and it just not the same without an audience but I thought you did a good job.” There wasn’t a muppet anywhere who didn’t know about Fozzie’s usual backstage jitters, and Rowlf’s generous heart was prompting him to reassure the furry funnyman. If anything, Rowlf’s comments caused Fozzie to look even more anxious. He swallowed nervously and looked carefully over his shoulder.
“Something bothering you, Fozzie?”
Fozzie took his hat off, worried it with his hands, put it back on, snatched it off again and twisted it between his fingers.
“Um, did I seem, um, different to you when I was doing my routine?”
“Nooo, not so’s I could say.”
“Do I, um, look different?” Fozzie held out one hand for inspection and touched his cheek self-consciously.
“Nope,” Rowlf said. “How come?”
“Um….” Fozzie looked nervously around. “No reason,” he said with a sigh. “I’m just wondering if I did the right thing.”
“About what?”
Instead of answering, Fozzie looked away absently. “Ma always said that you should play fair,” he said faintly.
“Beg pardon?” Now Rowlf was thoroughly confused.
“Oh, nothing,” Fozzie said with a great sigh, put his hat on his head and wandered back toward the dressing rooms forlornly.

“Thanks Miss Mabel,” Robin said politely, sitting down happily to a stack of buttermilk pancakes. “This looks yummy.”
“Glad to hear it, squirt,” she said fondly, taking the plastic wrap off a tray of strudel and setting them out of the table. “You having a good time with your Uncle?”
“Uh huh!” he said, digging in enthusiastically. “Uncle Kermit says I might even get to run the sound board for the show some night.”
“Wow! And I hear you’re singing a coupla songs in the show. Must be exciting.”
“I’ve done it before,” Robin said with that same appealing mixture of embarrassment and smugness. “I used to be on Uncle Kermit’s television show.”
“That’s what I hear. And Gonzo tells me you can play—what it is, the fiddle?”
“The ukulele. And I’m learning the guitar, too.”
“Well—that’s something to write home about!” Unexpectedly, Mabel’s comment seemed to have the opposite of its intended effect. Robin put his fork down and stared fixedly at his plate. Mabel thought his eyes looked suspiciously moist.
“Oh, hey there, Honey,” she said gently. “Did I—I’m sure sorry if I…. Are you homesick, Doll?”
Miserably, Robin nodded. “Maybe a little.”
Mabel sat down across the table from the little frog. “You miss your Mom and Dad?”
“Yeah—a little.” Robin wiped at his eyes. “And my brothers and sisters and cousins and everybody.”
“This is a big place,” Mabel said. “You feeling a little small here?”
Robin made a sound that might have been a little laugh.
“I feel small a lot of places.”
Mabel was silent for a second, thinking.
“You ever throw a pebble in a pond back home?”
“Sure—lots of times.”
“What happens when you drop something into the water.”
“It falls down.”
“Right. What else?”
“What—what else?”
“Yeah—what else happens?”
Robin looked thoughtful. “It makes ripples?”
“That right. And what do the ripples do?”
“They get bigger?”
“That’s right. And sometimes, even when we feel small, we can have a really big impact on the world around us. Sometimes one little thing we do can make a huge difference to somebody else—for good or for ill.” Mabel reached out and touched the back of his hand lightly. “Honey,” she said. “It’s not the size of the stone that matters—it’s the size of the ripples.” She smiled at him. “You unnerstand?”
Robin nodded. “You’re saying I may feel small but I can be important because of the effect I can have on others.”
Mabel gave him a look. “Smart boy,” she said approvingly. “Now—anything else bothering you, Sweetheart?
Robin looked at her, obviously burdened with something. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it,” he whispered.
Mabel sat perfectly still, but her heart began to race. Sheesh, she thought. I ought to go get somebody else—somebody like family.
Robin took her silence for encouragement, however, and plunged on.
“I think someone’s trying to hurt Aunt Piggy and Uncle Kermit.”
Mabel felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She felt all the breath leave her in a whoosh but managed to maintain an even façade with effort. What to do, what to say. There was no one here to guide her, so Mabel was forced to follow her own instincts.
“You might be right. What makes you think so?”
Robin looked relieved to have his fears acknowledged, and let out the breath he’d been holding. “Um, I’ve heard them talking about some bad stories somebody is printing in the newspaper. Aunt Piggy tore up a picture of Uncle Kermit that was in the newspaper. It said something about Uncle Kermit that wasn’t nice.”
“Do you understand what it was saying?” Mabel asked, treading carefully. You never knew with kids—sometimes they understood more than you thought.
“I didn’t understand some of the words, but I think it said that Aunt Piggy doesn’t want to be married to Uncle Kermit anymore.”
Smart kid, Mabel thought. Poor thing. She gave him a frank look. “What do you think? Do you think your Aunt Piggy wants to be married to your Uncle Kermit?”
At that, Robin looked up. “Duh,” he said, rolling his eyes. Mabel almost laughed at the picture he made, but she held on to her composure.
“So, why do you think someone would make up a story about your Aunt and Uncle that wasn’t true?”
“Um, so people will buy the newspaper to find out if it’s true? And cause it’s, um, mean.”
“I’ve already said it, Honey, but you’re a smart kid. I think those are exactly the reasons somebody might print a bad story about your Uncle and your Aunt.” She patted his hand again. “Look, I just met your Uncle Kermit and your Aunt Piggy, but I ain’t never seen two people more likely to stay together. They been together for a long time. I don’t think that’s going to change.” She tried to stop her tongue, tried to tell herself to stop where she was and butt out. “But I think you ought to tell them what you told me. They can maybe explain it better than me.”
“You’re not going to tell them, are you?”
“I think you should,” Mabel said firmly. “So I’m going to leave that to you. But if you want me to talk to them, I will. You let me know, okay?”
“Okay.” He looked up at her and smiled. “I’ll let you know.”
“Hey—chin up, kiddo. Nothin’ bad’s gonna happen today.”

[The Count]

Oh, how wonderful! And let the shower of Robin fan praise come in.
Hey Lisssssaaaaaaa! Get in here and read this!

Scooter... What can you say about the gofer. Already taken care of most every little detail within his control backstage.
Kermit getting up early, the thoughts pounding out a tattoo inside his brain.
Breakfast in their suite... Yes, Kermit, parenting involves much more than just that.
But the conversation between Robin and Mabel took center stage here.

And I say bravo! Yes, Robin is a smart little frog, observant too.
And Mabel's earthen yet sensible character shone through here... Giving her a greater dimension than the resident motherly cook while the cast's in Vegas.
*Applause. Great job, keep it coming!

[Leyla]

Ooh, I'm falling behind! What a nice thing to wake up to though! Two chapters to review!

You know, I like how Floyd finds that song for Gonzo... it just reminds me of how much of a family they all are, that they're helping each other behind the scenes getting acts together... even incomprehensible ones... speaking of which...


Floyd Pepper, the hippest of the hip, was sometimes incomprehensible to Kermit, but this time Kermit was able to follow him with relative ease.


Great line! I love watch Kermit and Floyd interact, especially when Kermit doesn't understand what he's talking about.


Kermit’s brain decoded slower than he listened, but he nodded almost at once. “What’d you have in mind, Floyd?”


“Well, Mr. Little Richard has had—in his glorious day—a tune or two that have had a message for the masses. Or in this case, may be the messes.”

Nice alliteration. <is looking forward to discovering the song>

Camilla has quite a temper it seems. I enjoyed the scene with her and Janice.
<is intrigued by Janice's special day> Love that Thoreau's getting pulled into the mix.


“What a pushover I’m turning out to be,” Thoreau said to the empty room. “The next thing you know, I’ll be selling clothes right off the rack.” The thought made him shudder, and he smiled at his own foolishness. Oh, what the heck, he thought. It’s not like it’s going to take a lot of material.

<laughs>

I love the attention you spend on food, particularly the horrifying frog food. :) Somehow you make it sound delicious, if one doesn't think about it too closely. Rowlf's line about the marrying kind was very funny and nice characterisation.

“Have we, uh, have we ever had a good dress rehearsal before?” Rowlf asked. Both men looked thoughtful.
“Coupla times,” Kermit said. “I hope it’s not a bad sign.”

Ah, I loved this! I do some music now and again and we have a saying that a bad dress rehersal means a good concert... not sure if the opposite holds true. I guess we'll find out. Loved them knocking on wood.

I had no idea there was any animosity between Piggy and Rowlf... although, she did slam his hands in a piano once when she was after Chris Reeve. What does it say that that didn't strike me as animosity? <shakes head> Loved the backstory with he and Foo Foo. Love Kermit's reactions to them dating!


“Why Rowlf,” Kermit said, in such a fake exaggerated voice that Rowlf began to smile immediately. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Like heck you don’t,” Rowlf chuckled. “Can’t help but notice you finally gave in.”
“Married life has it benefits,” Kermit said serenely. He liked being married, liked it a lot after the first numbing shock had worn off.
<Laughs> Good stuff here Ru! Not that that should come as a surprise.
Sigh... I love this....mmm, change in Kermit's perspective, so different from the fight he put up as a bachelor.


“Aw, heck,” he said with a sigh. “You think Piggy’s still got Foo Foo’s number?”
“Better let me check,” Kermit said, and went looking for his wife.

Heh, love it! <ushy gushy girl runs rampant>


“Marty says hi.” Kermit looked at her, enjoying the way the foamy bubbles clung to her neck and shoulders. “So, Robin is down, huh? Got room in there for a very tired frog?”

<laughs> Nice try Kermit... loved Robin's reconnaissance! Great chapter, Ru! As for the next one...

[redBoobergurl]

Just read the lastest two chapters. Great as usual! Some good stuff with Rowlf and Kermit and good stuff with Robin too. Really enjoying this Ru, can't wait for more!

[Ruahnna]

Yes... And you don't want to know about the fight he and Kermit got into when filming TMM.
Funny stuff in that fight.

I do so want to know--am I just being dense not knowing what you're talking about?

[christyb]

Great chapter! Sorry I don't have much to say. I'm trying to catch up here.

[The Count]

Heh... Then lemme educate you Ru...
Do you happen to have The Muppet Movie on DVD with all the extras?
If so, then skip right to the one at the top of the extra footage section, "Follies" I think.
You have to let it roll all the way to get everything, but there's...

Filming a road scene where they send Sweetums off to go get some food.
Car trouble with parafernelia as Fozzie forgets he's driving.
Fozzie and Kermit in the woods, the mentioned fight...
Piggy and Kermit shopping for houses.
Piggy telling Kermit what really happened to Miss Mousey.
Kermit and Piggy staring at the night on the pond.

Lots of good stuff there, recommend you try finding it. If not, LMK and I can do my best to get you what I can from the dialogue.

[Leyla]

Sigh... there are two versions of TMM of DVD. The one that's easy to get doesn't have all that fun and interesting stuff on it. <tries to imagine Kermit and Piggy house shopping>

They all sound so fun.

Anyway, back to the reviewing!

Kermit could have slept late—probably should have slept late, but he woke up at the crack of 8:30, wishing someone would turn down the noise.

Oh, I've been there! I like the way Kermit's head is buzzing with all the show details. Kermit spends a lot of time watching Piggy sleep in your stories... and I find that so touching and sweet. I love Kermit being loving, without hesitation or denial.


Years of long experience had taught Kermit that Piggy “throwing on some clothes” could take an indefinite period of time.

Hilarious! And so very Piggy!

Frosted Flies? <shudders> You've got such a knack for that sort of thing, Ru!

To his astonishment, Piggy appeared in less than a quarter of an hour, impeccably coiffed, dressed and shod. Her makeup was understated, but tasteful, and her lipstick was translucent enough to keep the bell-boys from stampeding.

Great description! I love that last line!


“Um…brunch?” Kermit repeated, flipping rapidly through the rolodex in his brain. It came—slowly, but it came. “Oh—gah! What time is that?”
Rolodex in his brain! Awesome!


There was a long silence, in which Kermit could hear Scooter grinning like a Cheshire cat. Sara's obviously not distracting Scooter any. I love his efficiency, and of course, the line I quoted!


“Want to go to this meeting for me?”
“Can’t help you there,” Scooter said, laughing. “Don’t worry about it—Piggy will be there if you have any trouble.”

That seems fair. Mind you, her way of dealing with trouble often gives birth to little ravenous baby troubles.


There wasn’t a muppet anywhere who didn’t know about Fozzie’s usual backstage jitters, and Rowlf’s generous heart was prompting him to reassure the furry funnyman.
Aw... that's so sweet!


Instead of answering, Fozzie looked away absently. “Ma always said that you should play fair,” he said faintly.
<hugs Fozzie> He feels guiltly... that's such a Fozzie thing to do. He's a nice bear, through and through. Kermit's plan is backfiring?

<coos over Mabel feeding Robin>
“I’ve done it before,” Robin said with that same appealing mixture of embarrassment and smugness.
Again, great description! Poor Robin getting all homesick and worrying about Kermit and Piggy. He's too smart for his own good sometimes.
Love the talk about ripples!

“I think someone’s trying to hurt Aunt Piggy and Uncle Kermit.” Ooh! That's chilling! I like how Mabel doesn't just give him reassurances that there's no problem. Wise Mole.


“I didn’t understand some of the words, but I think it said that Aunt Piggy doesn’t want to be married to Uncle Kermit anymore.” Wow, I had no idea Robin knew that much about it! Poor guy! All Kermit and Piggy's efforts to protect him didn't work too well did they?


Smart kid, Mabel thought. Poor thing. She gave him a frank look. “What do you think? Do you think your Aunt Piggy wants to be married to your Uncle Kermit?”
At that, Robin looked up. “Duh,” he said, rolling his eyes. Mabel almost laughed at the picture he made, but she held on to her composure.


<laughs> Oh, that's the best part of this chapter, and it's all good! Too funny!

[quote “Hey—chin up, kiddo. Nothin’ bad’s gonna happen today.”[/quote]

I... don't believe that at all.

Wonderful section addressing Robin's worries about all this chaos. I am growing in my concern about him by leaps and bounds.

Great update Ruahnna! It's always such a pleasure.

[Java]

Just wanted to pop in and say great chapter! Everyone seems to have covered my thoughts (great people think alike!) and now I'm off to catch up on more!

[green stuff]

*pokes head in* I know you probably don't know me, Ruhanna, but I'm greenstuff, and I'm new here. I just wanted to say that you write exquisitely well, and that you have the Muppet spirit down perfectly. I only hope that one day, I can write as half as well as you can now....I hope I don't seem like a suck-up, I'm just trying to give you an honest compliment. Anyway, I am in love with this story so far, and I just can't wait to read more! You're my favourite!

[Ruahnna]

You are very kind to say such nice things! I've been writing stories since I was in first grade, which, for me, is a loooong time. I think we have some wonderful writers here at Muppet Central and truly enjoy having a friendly, safe environment to post in. If you have things you have written that are muppety, we would all like to see them. Glad you're enjoying the story so far--I'm going to post more in a few. (Minutes, I hope, not hours!)

[The Count]

Actually... Greenstuff's started a story here, Once Upon My/Your Heart, not sure which fright now.
Only the prologue and two chapters are up, but I think there's something there in the beginning that you Kermit/Piggy lovers will like.

As for this delightful story... Post as soon as it's ready, we'll wait for you here.

[Leyla]

Ooh! Ru, you're so prolific! <is excited>

[The Count]

Ho hum... Another Friday night. Sure hope Catherine posts an update. Rully interested in getting to Opening Night, and all the wonderful little details taking place backstage as the show nears it's debut amidst all the performances in Vegas.

That, and who if anyone from Hensonville might show up to witness the show live. Or maybe if Lady Luck or Lady Love has something planned for those special visitors.

Oh well, I'll just be waiting over here for some more story to get posted.

[Ruahnna]

Be careful what you wish for! Here it comes! I didn't make it all the way through opening night, but I made it to intermission. Oy, I'm tired. Enjoy. Oh--and apparently I'm a completely unreliable source of information about when I'm going to get done with things. Go figure.
Ever, Ru


“I hate these things,” Kermit muttered without moving his lips.
Piggy squeezed his arm and favored him with a sweet look, but her voice was more of a growl. “Cost of doing business,” she murmured, also without moving her lips. “Now smile and act nice.”
“Me?” Kermit gritted, annoyed, but they were at the maitre de’s podium now and he had to swallow his ire. “Um, Mr. and Mrs. The Frog. We’re meeting some other people—“
Before the maitre de could recover from the force of Piggy’s shockingly blue eyes, three gentlemen in well-cut suits were coming toward them, smiling. Two of the men were dark-headed, but the one in front had salt-and-pepper hair with snowy white at the temples and a pair of direct hazel eyes.
“We’ll take it from here, Hermes,” he said, smiling broadly. “Hi—I’m Jack Littleton.” He offered a very firm handshake to Kermit and took Piggy’s proffered glove with delight, brushing a kiss across the knuckles. “Kermit. Miss Piggy. Wonderful of you both to come,” he said. He took both of their hands in a warm grip. “We at the Palace are absolutely delighted to have you here.” He turned and made introductions.
“Forrest Canderling, Seymour Strathers, my partners. Forrest—this is Kermit the Frog.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“No ‘sir’ about it—call me Frosty.” He was a big bear of a man who walked with a western swagger. Kermit kept mentally putting him in a cowboy hat.
“All right, Frosty—my pleasure. My wife, Miss Piggy.”
“Enchanted,” she said gravely, and lowered her long lashes.
“And Seymour….”
“A huge fan, Mr. the Frog,” Mr. Strathers said earnestly. “Please call me Seymour.” He had an unlined, energetic face, but his eyes revealed the march of more years than his physique. His proffered handshake was firm and dry, but Kermit saw a pulse jump in his jaw when Piggy turned her velvet gaze on him. “And…gosh, Miss Piggy—I’ve seen all of your movies.”
“And did you like them?” Piggy asked, eyes innocently wide.
It left poor Mr. Strathers momentarily speechless. “Uh, yes—oh, yes, I—I did.”
“I’m so relieved,” Piggy murmured, then turned to Mr. Littleton. “Shall we sit?”
Beside her, Kermit had to transform a burst of laughter into a cough to cover his amusement. Piggy might look restrained, he thought absently, but she’s already playing this meeting for keeps.
Their table was in the back dining room and although the main dining room had been crowded, there were no other patrons back here. A private meeting, Kermit thought, not sure what tincture to put on it yet. Jack held Piggy’s chair—the one to his right—as she scooted her knees under the table.
“How very charming,” Piggy said, scooting in close to the table. “Ooh!” she said suddenly, putting her hand on Kermit’s arm. There was a momentary scuffle since both of the other men had been vying for the open seat next to her. “Did you remember to tell Scooter about the changes to the program we made last night?”
“Left him a message, Honey,” he said easily, sliding into the seat beside her. She turned and looked at the men helplessly. “Sorry,” she said, and gave them all the warm, lazy smile that often had waiters bumping into each other and busboys dropping crockery by the tub load. “I always get so nervous before opening night.”
Ah, thought Kermit, the first big lie of the day. Piggy was definitely calling the shots. Inwardly, he smiled and picked up his menu. This might not be such a bad meeting after all.

“Oh, golly, show me that one more time,” pleased Sara. “I just can’t seem to—“
“Like relax, Sara,” said Janice gently. “You’re doing just fine.”
“It’s this blasted slink-walk we do with the half-turn. I know I’m supposed to do left-hip-right-shoulder forward, then right-hip-left-shoulder forward, but I keep doing the same side at the same time and walking like Frankenstein.”
Janice laughed and Camilla, who’d been watching them from her perch on Clifford's cube in the back, hopped off the raised platform and came down to ground level where they stood. Camilla demonstrated, hips and shoulders moving in sultry slow motion, then Janice followed, and finally, after some intense concentration, Sara began to slink her way down the stage.
“That’s it—that’s it, honey!” called Janice. “Now, like, do the turn.”
Sara, after a moment’s hesitation, executed a decent turn and began to slink her way back up the stage. Janice got in front of her and Camilla got behind her as they made their way the length of the stage and back again.
“Bawk, bawkbucbuc begawk,” Camilla said. Sara didn’t have a clue what she’d actually said, but guessed by the tone that it was vaguely encouraging.
“Now do the shimmy,” Janice said, illustrating.
“There’s already more of me shimmying than I’m used to!” Sara complained, but she did her best to mimic Janice’s impressive movements as accurately as possible. Camilla joined in and they shimmied the length of the stage and back.
“Now do the slink-walk,” Janice called, “and when you get to the end, do the shimmy back, ‘kay?”

“Watch her—just watch her,” Pepe whispered to Rizzo. “See how she moves—his sexy, non?”
“She’s definitely got some moves, but I’m still putting a vote in on Janice—as long as Floyd is not around. That woman has some serious moves. Pass the nachos, woncha?”
Pepe had been adjusting a cable connection in the dark recesses of backstage left, but when the impromptu practice began found little incentive for making himself known. When Pepe had not returned, Rizzo had gotten a little worried and gone looking for him, carrying a huge plate of nachos before him. Once the king prawn had been located, Rizzo thought better of a hasty return to work and the two of them had settled back comfortably in the silence to watch the highly instructive dance lesson unfold. Pepe was about to comment on a point of interest when the sound of footsteps treading toward them made him and Rizzo look up nervously.
“And what, might I ask, are you two doing?” asked a firm voice.
“Busted,” Rizzo muttered. “We are so busted.”
Scooter has his arms crossed over his chest and his highly-polished shoe was tapping. Before they could answer, Scooter turned in time to see his girl come slinking sexily down the stage. His mouth fell open but he shut it with effort. He blinked several times in astonishment but the sight before him remained the same.
“What are they—what are they doing?”
“Practicing,” said Pepe.
“Yeah, but for what?” Scooter’s voice, although puzzled, held a definite hint of awe.
“Si, hit was like this. Jour woman, she says to Janice, ‘Janice, help me walk sexy for the song’ so Janice, she says, walk like this’ h’okay? So she shows her how to walk, and then they all start to walk and, ai carumba, I am here chust doing my job, h’okay? But I hear them and so hi turn and see them, and h’okay, hi am stricken with their beauty, si? Plus, hi do not want to embarrass them, so I stay quiet.”
Scooter looked disbelieving.
“What he said,” Rizzo said, “only I came looking for him and, um, stayed to, um, help him.”
“Well you guys shouldn’t be spying on them without them knowing you’re here,” said Scooter, scowling. “It’s not right.”
“Spy? Hi am not spying? Hi am here, chust working, si—not spying. And they are on the stage, h’okay? Hi am not looking through the keyhole—which hi would never do—but hi am watching them on the stage.”
Scooter looked torn between duty and interest.
“And, uh, if you tell ‘em we’re watching, they’ll stop dancing,” said Rizzo. “Nacho?”
“Oh, sure,” said Scooter, succumbing to temptation with a great sigh. “Why not? But if we get caught I’m going to be in such hot water.”

“Oooh! I love the slink-walk!” said Sally Ann, coming in with Amy Lu from a morning work-out. The girls were wearing bright leotards and had towels draped around their necks, but they quickly shed their towels and joined the caravan of femininity making its way up and down the length of the stage.
“Now we’re shimmying, right?” said Amy Lu, executing a perfect turn and shimmying with all her energy. “Lawsy, that feels good. Gets the kinks out, huh?”
“Gets something out,” Sara gasped, and they all giggled.
“Hey!” cried an indignant voice. “What’s the big idea of having a practice without us?” asked Laura May crankily. She and Gloria Jean had been out for a quick run before the heat was high-noon sweltering. “Howard will have my head.”
“Not a real practice, honey,” said Sally Ann. “This is Dream Girl stuff.”
“Well I’m a real dream girl even if whats-his-face thinks I’m not,” said Laura May, cutting in front of Amy Lu. “Wow—this does feel good.” She shook all the tension out of her muscles, then began to vamp-walk down the stage, leading with her hips, her arms posed artfully like an old Hollywood pin-up. “Here I am—Miss Available!”
Giggling, Sally Ann followed her, posing like a Greek statue every few seconds. Not to be outdone, Janice pirouetted neatly after them, stopping in a pose made famous by Betty Grable back in her pin-up days. “Hey there, soldier-boy!” she called, blowing a kiss to the audience.
“Ooh, me next, me next!” cried Gloria Jean. She sashayed her way down the stage and stopped with one hand in the air, one hand on her knee. “Yoo hoo, fellas! We’re new in town!”
Somewhere in the midst of this, Sara found herself laughing so hard she found it impossible to be nervous. She threw her shoulders back, shook her long hair back over her shoulders and put her assets forward, striding across the stage in her character shoes with an exaggerated swagger in her hips. “This is fun,” Sara thought. “But thank heavens Scooter isn’t here to see it. I would positively die.”

Piggy had shed the linen jacket when the waiter had brought the second round of mimosas. Underneath the crisp jacket was an impeccably tailored purple linen spaghetti-strapped chemise with a daring sweetheart neckline. By the time the food had arrived and Piggy had unclasped her hair and let it fall in shimmering waves around her shoulders, Kermit had the distinct feeling that no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to him, which suited him just fine. With a playful laugh here and a daring look there, Piggy had cajoled a few extra rooms for the additions to their cast and gotten permission to review and approve—or disapprove—any public relations releases that the hotel sent out. She’d even gotten some control over the hotel’s advertising budget for the show. And yet, even as Piggy laughed and smiled at the men who so openly fought to hold her interest, Kermit felt her watching him, knew she was tuned to him at the most basic level. After she had won some major point, she would turn and look at Kermit with her blue eyes wide. “Is that okay, Honey?” she would ask, deferring to him. “You know much more about the business end of things.” And he would smile and say, nonchalantly, “Oh, sure, Sweetheart. That sounds fine.” Watching her, Kermit was very, very glad they were on the same side.
When at last the plates had been cleared and coffee had been lingered over to the extreme, Kermit held Piggy’s jacket for her while she slipped her arms inside. He buttoned the first button, and found his fingers weren’t quite as steady as he thought they were. Piggy looked up at him for a moment and everything else around them stopped just long enough for two hearts to jump, then real time asserted itself again. A little flustered, Piggy turned back to their hosts.
“We had a lovely time,” Piggy said sweetly. “Please come backstage to see me, um, us after the show, won’t you?”
Jack Littleton stepped forward and pressed her hand between his own briefly, shook Kermit’s hand with a satisfied air. “I said it before, but I’ll say it again. We’re glad you’re here at the Palace. Good things are going to come of it—just wait and see.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Kermit said, and they took their leave.
Once outside and safely in the key-coded elevator, Piggy let out a huge sigh and buried her face in Kermit’s chest.
“Oh, Mon Capitan,” she murmured, resting against him. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there.” Kermit folded his arms around her and held her against him.
“Tired?” he asked, as the elevator slid to a stop on their floor.
Piggy raised her head and looked up at him for a long moment. “No,” she said simply.
Kermit swallowed whatever he’d been about to say. “Oh,” he said softly. “Well then….”

Mabel put dessert plate down in front of Clifford, who looked at it, then at Mabel, with a growing smile on his face.
“Is this what I think it is?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he tore off the cellophane and stuck his finger into the pie filling, then pulled it out and popped it in his mouth. “Oh my gosh, Mabel,” he swooned. “I haven’t had sweet potato pie in I don’ know when.” He picked the pie up and took a big bite, chewing and swallowing with his eyes closed.
“Wow,” he said softly. “Are you married?”
Mabel put a hand on her hip. “I only known you guys about two days now and that’s the 12th proposal I’ve gotten. ‘Course half of them were from Rizzo. Whatsa matter—don’t nobody feed you guys at home?”
“Long story,” said Clifford, licking the cellophane to get the last sweet, sticky morsel. “And don’ make me tell it cause it will spoil my appetite.”
“Well, that’s the only piece was left, but there’s a guy that makes our pies for the buffet. I’ll see if I can cadge one for back here before they all get gone.”
She started out the door but, on impulse, stopped and came back to the table and sat down. “You been with these guys a long time?”
“Pretty much,” said Clifford. “Not as long as some of the folks—Fozzie and Rowlf and Gonzo, but yeah, me and the green guy go back a ways.”
“Seems like a nice guy,” Mabel said.
“He is a nice guy,” Clifford said. “That’s why this business is so hard on ‘im.”
“I, um, heard he and the missus are havin’ some trouble.”
“Who, them?” Clifford began to laugh. “Mabel, Miss Piggy set her sights on that little froggy the first time they ever met, and she’s been nothing but trouble for Kermit. And Kermit—he loves every minute of it.”
“I didn’t mean between them,” Mabel said carefully, although she was glad to have Robin’s opinion confirmed. “I heard somebody was makin’ trouble for ‘em in the papers.”
Clifford sighed. “Yeah—stupid stuff, mostly, but you know what people are. They love to gossip.”
Mabel looked worried. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Clifford reached out and put his hand on her arm and squeezed it in a reassuring manner. “Naw, naw, Mabel—I didn’t mean you. I meant people outside—people who don’t really know them like we do.”
“I don’ want you to think I’m bein’ nosy,” Mabel said, still a little distressed. “They just seem like nice folks. I don’t want nothin’ to happen to ‘em.”
“It’s cool,” Clifford said. “We’re watching out for ‘em. Kermit’s always been the one to look out for us—the least we can do is return the favor.”

The afternoon has passed slowly, but it had passed. Robin had grumbled about taking a nap in the middle of the day, but had finally dozed off and sawed logs noisily for almost two hours. Kermit and Piggy had come down around noon to find everything ship-shape for the show and spent a little time playing with the choreography for “Baby It’s Cold Outside” before catching a light supper, which Mabel had graciously had sent up to their room.
Now, however, the hour was upon them, and the dressing rooms were a flurry of activity. In the midst of it all, Howard and Thoreau stood like traffic cops, directing people either toward the stage area or back into the dressing room to fix or find whatever was needed. Luckily for his piece of mind, Kermit was not near the dressing rooms, but backstage watching the auditorium fill up. They’d sold every ticket, and the place looked packed.
Piggy came by wearing a beautiful dark purple satin dressing gown with lilac sleeve and pink feather-boa trim around the collar and cuffs. Her hair was put up under the dark wig she’d wear for her first number, but her makeup wasn’t quite complete. She pulled Kermit to her and kissed him with a great deal of enthusiasm, so much so that he temporarily forgot what he’d been about to say.
“Wanted to do that before I get my lipstick on, Mon Capitan,” she said, and drifted back toward the dressing room.
“Well, um, thanks,” he called after her, still wondering what he’d been about to say. Oh well, he thought, it will come to me.

“Hi ho. I’m Kermit the Frog and it is my very great pleasure to welcome you to our Holiday Revue.” There was a warm surge of applause from the packed house, and although you couldn’t see it under the warm stage lights, Kermit felt himself glowing with flushed pleasure. “We hope to entertain you tonight, and set the mood for a Happy Holiday.” He had to stop again for applause, nodding and smiling with satisfaction until the clapping died out. “We want this year, this Christmas season, to be your very best, but before we get ready for Christmas Future, let’s take a little trip back to simpler times. Step back with us to a time of sock-hops and soda pop, rock-and-roll and Radio City Music Hall, Pin-ups and Elvis Presley.”
Kermit waited as an excited hush settled over the crowd. “Now, without further ado….”
The curtain swept back and there was a blast of music from Dr. Teeth on electric keyboard and Rowlf on piano as they faced each other from opposite ends of the stage and played the acoustical equivalent of a drumroll. As the sound thundered out of the two keyboards the musicians smiled, watching each other intently. Grinning like a Cheshire, Dr. Teeth opened his mouth and let our a great whoop of sound, followed immediately by the slam of two paws and two hands on some forty-odd keys.
“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!
Too much love drives a man insane
You broke my will, oh what a thrill
Goodness gracious great balls of fire!
Amy Lu, Sally Ann, Gloria Jean and Laura May high-kicked their way onto stage dressed as carhop waitresses. Their trim-fitting costumes edged with glittering sequin flames sparkled under the hot stage lights. Despite Howard’s dire predictions of the day before, they moved together in beautiful synchronicity.
If you had asked the audience, they would have sworn that the keys were literally hopping off the piano under Rowlf joyful pounding, and Dr. Teeth played the keyboard with such energy that some patrons swore the lights went low in the poker room.
“I learned to love all of Hollywood money
You came along and you moved me honey
I changed my mind, looking fine
Goodness gracious great balls of fire!”
The girls split off into groups of two, leaning in and pretending to kiss Rowlf (who always seemed to manage to get both of his kisses on his mouth) and the good Doctor, then dancing back off into formation again.
“You kissed me baba, woo.....it feels good
Hold me baba, learn to let me love you like a lover should
Your fine, so kind
I'm a nervous world that your mine mine mine mine-ine”
I cut my nails and I quiver my thumb
I'm really nervous but it sure is fun
Come on baba, you drive me crazy
Goodness gracious great balls of fire!”
At this point, the piano duet practically set the stage on fire. “Good thing we didn’t bring Crazy Harry,” Kermit thought absently from his perch backstage. “We’d have had the fire marshal out here for sure.”
“Well kiss me baba, woo-oooooo....it feels good
Hold me baba
I want to love you like a lover should
Your fine, so kind
I got this world that your mine mine mine mine-ine
I cut my nails and I quiver my thumb
I'm real nervous 'cause it sure is fun
Come on baba, you drive me crazy
Goodness gracious great balls of fire
I say goodness gracious great balls of fire...oooh!”

“Sizzling, ladies—absolutely sizzling,” Howard said approvingly. He caught himself immediately and scowled. “Amy Lu—you were slow on your shimmy in the last half of the song. And Gloria Jean, I want to see your high kicks first thing in the morning!” He nattered after them, but as soon as they had disappeared into the dressing room, he turned shining eyes on Rizzo and sighed. “Weren’t they just lovely?” Howard said happily, and drifted back toward the wings.
“Got no argument from me,” Rizzo said wistfully. “And to think—they were almost my roomies.”
Sara walked up at that moment and paused with her hand on the dressing room door. “What’s the matter, Rizzo—do you need somebody from the girl’s dressing room?”
Rizzo heaved a great sigh. “And how,” he muttered, but turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Robin had opted, after much consideration and some helpful overseeing from Piggy and Thoreau, to sing his song wearing just a pair of faded overalls. While Rowlf played the merest of introductions, touching the keys so lightly they were almost echoes of notes, Robin walked onto stage carrying a wooden bucket, sighed, and looked up at the “sky” just in time to see a very convincing rainbow burst from the carefully set stage lights and cover almost the entire backdrop. Robin let out a gasp of awe at the same moment the audience did, and stood still (just like Uncle Kermit said) while the people ooh’d and ahh’d over the impressive display. When the flutter of noise from the audience had died down, Robin backed up slowly as though mesmerized by the beautiful colors until he was sitting on a very realistic-looking tree stump at center stage. Without ever looking away from the rainbow, Robin set down his bucket, pulled his legs up to is chest and began to sing.
“Somewhere over the rainbow way up high, there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.
“Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream
really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me--
Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops--that's where you'll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow--why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow why, oh why can't I?”

There was a lovely little hush over the audience until the last note had completely died away, then the whole auditorium burst into applause. Without breaking character, Robin stood up, picked up his bucket and strolled serenely off-stage and into the arms of his uncle.
“That was super, Robin—just terrific,” Kermit whispered. “Way to go!” While Kermit slipped back onstage again, Sal was there to meet Robin and take him back to the dressing rooms, but their progress was impeded by pretty much the whole cast who wanted to kiss, hug and congratulate Robin for a job well done. While Robin was making his way back, Fozzie stood silently in the wings, taking deep, steadying breaths.
“Wasn’t that wonderful, folks?” asked Kermit. The audience clapped and cheered. “My nephew,” Kermit said proudly. “Robin the Frog.” The audience clapped even louder. “And now,” Kermit said enthusiastically, “it is my very great pleasure to give you the furry bear with the funny stories, our very own funny man, Mr. Fozzie Bear!”
Kermit walked off as Fozzie started toward the stage, but when their paths crossed, Fozzie grabbed Kermit’s arms in a tight grip.
“Kermit!” he whispered furiously. “Kermit—I, I have to tell you something.”
“Fozzie, you’re on! Go on—knock ‘em dead! I know you can.”
Fozzie looked toward the stage, but his eyes were haunted. “I—Kermit, I think I did something bad.“
Kermit returned Fozzie’s grip and smiled at his friend. “It’s okay, Fozzie. I already know.”
“You—you do?” Fozzie looked half-hopeful, half-ashamed.
“Yeah. It’s okay C’mon—get out there and do your thing.”
“But, but, won’t that be cheating?”
It took Kermit a second but the light finally went on. “Oh. No,” he said firmly. “Just better living through technology.” He’d have to explain it later, but for now, the audience was waiting. He gave Fozzie a pat on the back which was also a push toward the stage.
“Go get ‘em,” he said sternly. “They’re waiting for you now.”
Fozzie ran on.
“Hello ladies and gentlemen and wocka, wocka, wocka!”
The audience tittered approvingly (if for no other reason than the quaintness of Fozzie’s manners) and Fozzie was so surprised by this show of initial support that he stopped and stared for a second before regaining his composure. “Wow—who’s from out of town?” Fozzie asked, raising his hand up in the air. Almost the entire audience raised hands, and Fozzie nodded thoughtfully. “Oh. I guess the locals already know about this place.” A good-natured chuckle, and Fozzie felt a burst of adrenaline that was not caused by his fight or flight instinct. “I’m from out of town, too, and I’ve got to tell you folks—this is nothing like home! This place is huge! In fact, the casino here is so big….”
“How big is it?” a few quick studies asked.
“The casino here is so big, the doorman has to have a passport!”
The laugh this garnered might not have thrilled every performer, but to Fozzie is was balm to an aching ego.
“And my room at the hotel is so big….”
“How big is it?” a few more voice chorused. The audience began to lean forward in their seats, waiting for their next cue.
“My room at the hotel is so big it has it’s own zip code!”
“You know, dear, he’s not that bad,” said Astoria Waldorf. “You said he wasn’t funny at all.”
Statler humphed. “Beginner’s luck,” he insisted.
“You old coot,” sneered Waldorf. “He’s not new!”
“Yeah? Well, neither is his material!”
Both men chortled heartily, but with the room packed and the lights up high and hot, Fozzie couldn’t see past the first row, and—blessed be the architect—there were no balconies to afford anyone a bird’s eye view.
The casino here is so big….”
“How big is it?” the audience roared.
“The casino here is so big that it’s applying for statehood!”
More raucous laughter.
“And the swimming pool is so big….”
“How big is it?”
“A lady went too far in the deep end and they had to call out the coast guard!”
“No, Astoria’s right,” said the second older woman, who had not spoken yet. She shook her head a little for emphasis. “No. He’s not nearly as bad as you said, dear.” She gave Astoria a little look of dismay. “Men—they exaggerate everything,” she said dismissively.
“I’m telling you, the bear was terrible!” Statler insisted.
“He usually stinks!” Waldorf insisted.
“The buffet here at the casino is so big….” Fozzie was saying.
The audience swelled out the questions with wild enthusiasm.
“How big is it?”
“The buffet here at the casino is so big, the fried fish left the kitchen as caviar!”
“Good one,” Kermit muttered from backstage. “Caviar.”
“Did someone say caviar?” Piggy whispered archly. Kermit startled, turning to find Piggy right at his elbow, already changed for her next act.
“Um, Fozzie,” Kermit whispered. “The crowd seems to like him.”
“Apparently,” Piggy said, sotto voce. “I’m usually half-dressed for my next number when the audience begins to get ugly.”
Kermit peered out from between the curtains. “Seems like a good crowd, too.” He continued to stare out at the audience.
“Honey,” Piggy said patiently.
“Hm?”
“Sweetheart—aren’t you in the next number?”
“Um hum.”
“Mon capitan—aren’t you in the next number with me?”
“Yeah, sure.” He turned to look at her. “It’s the a cappella number.”
“And you’re wearing…?”
“Sheesh!” Kermit cried. “I’ve got to—I’m not—“ He started toward the dressing room in a flurry, but Piggy caught hold of him and held out his clothes. While he put on his jeans and white t-shirt, Piggy plucked the headset from his head and handed it off to Dr. Teeth, who stood by patiently, waiting to sub backstage for Kermit until the next number was over.
Kermit’s luck—and Fozzie’s routine—held out, however, and Kermit had enough time shrug into his leather jacket and make it to the other side where the rest of the group waited for their cue. Fozzie left the stage to applause which—if not quite thunderous—was certainly music to Fozzie ears, and stage lights went up and the curtain came back. When the crowd saw Piggy again, they screamed her name and cheered, but Piggy paid them no mind at all. When Kermit sauntered across the stage, hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, Piggy watched him go with limpid, adoring eyes. Behind her, Clifford, Scooter, Rizzo and Gonzo stared at her with open admiration.
“Shooby-dooby-dooby-dooby-do-wah-wah. Shooby-dooby-dooby-dooby-do-wah-wah,” sang the boys, and they were off and running.
To say the audience was appreciative would be a little like saying the sun is warm. By the time the Piggy and Kermit skipped off stage holding hands and gazing at each other, the applause in the auditorium had risen to a fever pitch.
After a moment of grinning at each other like idiots in the wings, Kermit and Piggy returned to the stage before the curtain and took another set of bows while the Electric Mayhem set up for their song. After a gracious acknowledgement of the wildly appreciative audience, Piggy leaned in, kissed Kermit demurely on the cheek (to absolutely moans of jealously from a group of college boys in the back row) and slipped off stage while Kermit introduced the band.

Backstage, Gonzo was struggling to get his goggles adjusted before mounting the ladder. Scooter hovered nervously nearby, but Rizzo was calm, at least outwardly, as he filled a sip cup with milk and hooked it onto Gonzo’s belt. Holding the bowl of fruit, Scooter shifted his weight from side to side, but when Gonzo reached out to take it from him, his face composed and confident, Scooter relaxed enough to smile.
“Break a leg, Gonzo,” he said earnestly. “But don’t break anything else!”
Gonzo’s eyes flashed with excitement. “On this cakewalk? Are you kidding?” He tucked the fruit bowl under his arm and stepped up onto the ladder. When “Shake it up Baby” had finished, Scooter and Clifford would wheel the whole tightrope contraption onto the stage.
Clifford reached out and touched fists with Gonzo. “You’re crazy, man—happy landings.” The strains of the raucous tune on stage were coming to an end. He and Scooter walked to the opposite side of the ladder and got ready to move.
Once Scooter and Clifford had left, Gonzo turned urgently to Rizzo. “Hey, buddy,” he said quickly. “Look—if something happens to me, make sure to tell Camilla—“
Rizzo put his hand up to stop him. “Tell her yourself when you come down, you lunatic. Now get out there.”

The audience was oddly receptive to Gonzo’s act, which did indeed have more of a nostalgic flavor to it while the band thumped out Little Richard’s “Tutti frutti.” Although Kermit had initially worried that the tempo would distract Gonzo, Gonzo had found the strong beat helpful in shutting out everything but the task at hand. Gonzo took a bow with his fruit and his bones intact to mostly incredulous applause.
Sal was already waiting in the wings with Johnny to make sure that he made it onto stage at the right time and ready to sing. The curtain closed, and Kermit scurried out yet again.
“You don’t see that everyday, do you?” Kermit said, gesturing toward the now-invisible stage. The audience clapped and laughed their approval. “And now, for your listening pleasure, the unique song stylings of Johnny Fiama!” Off went the frog, and on came Johnny.
Kermit hooked his headset back on, but only briefly, to be sure that the song was starting well.
“You have to admit—he’s got presence,” said Scooter, listening on his headset. Kermit looked at him and shrugged.
“He’s got something,” Kermit quipped, then he was handing off his headset to Dr. Teeth again so he could go change. This last number of the second half present a few technical challenges, not the least of which was the fact that most of their cast was also most of their crew. Dr. Teeth would hand the headset off to Rowlf once he finished playing for Johnny, then join the band for “Dream” onstage. Scooter, in turn, would hand of his headset to Dr. Honeydew closing to end of Johnny’s song because he was already dressed for the next number. This, Kermit thought suddenly, would be a great time to let Robin handle the sound stuff from the booth. He made a note to mention it to Scooter as soon as they were had broken for intermission and, providing Robin didn’t get too nervous, to implement it by the next show.

The “Dream Girls” number went very well even with a few glitches. Right before the “Gee whiz” line that—much to Scooter’s annoyance—had been deemed “his solo" by the other singers, Sara had reached out to almost stroke his face with her hand, overbalanced, and tumbled with surprising grace right into Scooter’s lap. A lifetime of working with the muppets (the last few years of which had been as Kermit’s right-hand man) had honed Scooter’s instincts to a fine edge, however. He caught her deftly, said “Gee whiz” with more-than-understandable longing and twirled her back on her feet before his next line. The audience seemed to like it. They made it through the rest of the song without any noticeable mishaps, but several people noted that Camilla looked a little flushed and flustered as she hurried back to the dressing room.
“What’d you say to her?” Rizzo asked knowingly, handing Gonzo a glass of iced tea.
“Oh, nothing,” Gonzo said airily. “Just a few sweet nothings at all.”

[The Count]

Oh... That was so great Ru! A few little things that should be minded next go-through though...
Will post my thoughts later, gotta get to the other stories.

But there is plenty of stuff here to mine and I'll definitely come back to post some thoughts on it.
Thanks for the update.

[The Count]

OK... Time for that review I promised.

Posted by Ruahnna: Piggy squeezed his arm and favored him with a sweet look, but her voice was more of a growl. “Cost of doing business,” she murmured, also without moving her lips. “Now smile and act nice.”
Heh... Piggy's strongarming Kermit again, good to see her basic characteristic traits haven't gone to waste.

Posted by Ru: Before the maitre de could recover from the force of Piggy’s shockingly blue eyes...
“Hi, I’m Jack Littleton.” He offered a very firm handshake to Kermit and took Piggy’s proffered glove with delight, brushing a kiss across Kermit saw a pulse jump in Mr. Strathers's jaw when Piggy turned her velvet gaze on him.
“And…gosh, Miss Piggy—I’ve seen all of your movies.”
“And did you like them?” Piggy asked, eyes innocently wide.
It left poor Mr. Strathers's momentarily speechless. “Uh, yes—oh, yes, I—I did.”the knuckles.
Well... She does seem to have that effect whenever she tries to pour on the charms in these fics...

Posted by Ahnna: Beside her, Kermit had to transform a burst of laughter into a cough to cover his amusement. Piggy might look restrained, he thought absently, but she’s already playing this meeting for keeps.
Good save Kermit. And didn't Scooter say Piggy would take care of the meeting?

Posted by Cath: There was a momentary scuffle since both of the other men had been vying for the open seat next to her.
Men fighting over who'll be favored by the open seat next to the diva... Good thing she protected Kermit from the scuffle.
Guys, you should know better. That seat next to her's is solely reserved for the frog.

Posted by E.: “I always get so nervous before opening night." Ah, thought Kermit, the first big lie of the day. Piggy was definitely calling the shots. Inwardly, he smiled and picked up his menu. This might not be such a bad meeting after all.
My, my... Kermit, do you doubt Piggy's veracity?
This was a good scene, reminds me a little of the business lunch from TMTM, nice to see Kermit's himself and enjoying a breakfast meeting for once instead of having to deal with the wheelings and dealings of the corporate side of the Muppets' entertainment enterprises.

Me thinks it should've been "pleaded Sara" instead of "pleased" when asking for help with the dancesteps.
Posted by Rine: Sara: "I know I’m supposed to do left-hip-right-shoulder forward, then right-hip-left-shoulder forward, but I keep doing the same side at the same time and walking like Frankenstein.”
Oh, it can't be that bad... *Chuckle, gotta put her through her paces, Janice and Camilla will help her out.

Posted by Piggy's roommate: Camilla: “Bawk, bawkbucbuc begawk,” Camilla said. Sara didn’t have a clue what she’d actually said, but guessed by the tone that it was vaguely encouraging.
See... Told you she'd get the hang of things performing with the Muppets.

Posted by The One who saw the Exhibit at the Smithsonian: “Watch her, just watch her,” Pepe whispered to Rizzo. “See how she moves, is sexy, no?" “She’s definitely got some moves, but I’m still putting a vote in on Janice—as long as Floyd is not around. That woman has some serious moves. Pass the nachos, woncha?” Rizzo replied.
Tsk, tsk... Peeping in on the girls... Then again, can you blame them?

Me thinks it should've been "went looking for him" instead of "gone" as you indicated to explain how Rizzo came to join Pepe watching the girls' practice.
Posted by Ms. Ushy-Gushy: “And what, might I ask, are you two doing?” asked a firm voice.
Uh-oh... They're in trouble now...

Posted by the Vegas Special's planner: Scooter has his arms crossed over his chest and his highly-polished shoe was tapping. Before they could answer, Scooter turned in time to see his girl come slinking sexily down the stage. His mouth fell open but he shut it with effort. He blinked several times in astonishment but the sight before him remained the same.
Me thinks it should've been Scooter had his arms crossed, or Scooter's arms were crossed...
“Nacho?” “Oh, sure,” said Scooter, succumbing to temptation with a great sigh. “Why not?
Even the gofer's mesmorized by his girlfriend. Oh, she'll be mortified if she finds out he was spying on her secret practice...

Posted by Dream Girls' dance instructor: “Not a real practice, honey,” said Sally Ann, “this is Dream Girl stuff." “Well I’m a real dream girl even if whats-his-face thinks I’m not,” said Laura May, cutting in front of Amy Lu. “Wow—this does feel good.” She shook all the tension out of her muscles, then began to vamp-walk down the stage, leading with her hips, her arms posed artfully like an old Hollywood pin-up. “Here I am, Miss Available!" Giggling, Sally Ann followed her, posing like a Greek statue every few seconds. Not to be outdone, Janice pirouetted neatly after them, stopping in a pose made famous by Betty Grable back in her pin-up days. “Hey there, soldier-boy!” she called, blowing a kiss to the audience. “Ooh, me next, me next!” cried Gloria Jean. She sashayed her way down the stage and stopped with one hand in the air, one hand on her knee, “Yoo hoo, fellas! We’re new in town!” Somewhere in the midst of this, Sara found herself laughing so hard she found it impossible to be nervous. She threw her shoulders back, shook her long hair back over her shoulders and put her assets forward, striding across the stage in her character shoes with an exaggerated swagger in her hips. “This is fun,” Sara thought, “But thank heavens Scooter isn’t here to see it. I would positively die.”
Oh my gosh! I hug you for this practice session.
Hey Rizzo, pass the nachos.
Laura May still upset with her boyfriend... Funny, especially the Miss Available title/comment.
Twas great that each girl mentioned struck a different pose, accentuating their individuality and making each little part of the session specially enjoyable.
Probably best part, then again, some of the acts are best part material also...

Posted by Kermie's Girl: With a playful laugh here and a daring look there, Piggy had cajoled a few extra rooms for the additions to their cast and gotten permission to review and approve—or disapprove—any public relations releases that the hotel sent out. She’d even gotten some control over the hotel’s advertising budget for the show. And yet, even as Piggy laughed and smiled at the men who so openly fought to hold her interest, Kermit felt her watching him, knew she was tuned to him at the most basic level. After she had won some major point, she would turn and look at Kermit with her blue eyes wide. “Is that okay, Honey?” she would ask, deferring to him. “You know much more about the business end of things.” And he would smile and say, nonchalantly, “Oh, sure, Sweetheart. That sounds fine.” Watching her, Kermit was very, very glad they were on the same side.
Excellent hidden jewel in the rest of the story. Shows that Piggy is thinking strategically, getting control of the hotel's PR resources, not to just have/get her way but to make sure no more damaging stories get published in the tabloids or newspapers... The main focus of this story, I think.
Also the line that Kermit's glad she's on his side kind of makes everything feel OK... For the moment.

Posted by the First Mate's flatmate: Mabel put a hand on her hip, “I only known you guys about two days now and that’s the 12th proposal I’ve gotten. ‘Course half of them were from Rizzo. Whatsa matter, don’t nobody feed you guys at home?” “Long story,” said Clifford, licking the cellophane to get the last sweet, sticky morsel. “And don’ make me tell it cause it will spoil my appetite.”
Awg... Liked the homefelt touch here, sweet potato pie for Clifford.
The line about Rizzo's half dozen marriage proposals to Mabel made me laugh.
And of course, a veiled reference to the Swedish Chef's torturous cuisine. Course, I've seen worse on Iron Chef. Love that show.

Posted by Annie Sue's rival: “Seems like a nice guy,” Mabel said. “He is a nice guy,” Clifford said.
This I liked very much, harkens back to the sentiment shared by Gonzo and Camilla on the rooftop in Flippersteps' last chapter.
Posted by Little Miss Hamhocks: “We’re watching out for ‘em. Kermit’s always been the one to look out for us—the least we can do is return the favor.”
Now this is a true sentiment... Something I'm glad to see, as all the Muppets owe Kermit for their fame and fortunes.
Also, too much to copy and paste... But the talk between Mabel and Clifford was great. Shows that she's becoming part of the group, worrying about Kermit and Piggy, not wanting anything bad to happen to them. And how Clifford explains that he didn't mean to say that Mabel particularly was prying, but that it's more the people outside the Muppet realms who are paying attention and fueling the gossip industry that is the focus of this story... I think, again not sure.

The Vegas Special... Oy, what to say.
Howard Tubman and Thoreau, traffic cops, perfect.
Posted by Madam Showstopper: Piggy came by wearing a beautiful dark purple satin dressing gown with lilac sleeve and pink feather-boa trim around the collar and cuffs.
Ooh... Is that her dorms robe?! Points for that, small squeee.
"Great Balls of Fire" by Jerry Lee Lewis sung and played by Dr. Teeth and Rowlf, good choice.
Although I thought the lyrics for the chorus/repeating verse and final verse were:
"Weeeeeeellll... Kiss me baby.
Mmm, feels good.
Hold me baby.
I wanna love you like a lover should.

You're fine, so kind.
Wanna tell the world that you're mine, mine, mine.

I chew my nails and then I twiddle my thumbs.
You make me/I'm feeling nervous, but it sure is fun.
Come on baby.
You drive me crazy.
Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!"
Funny how Rizzo's still pining over almost being roomies with all the dancing girls.
Somewhere Over The Rainbow by Robin was sweet and cute, at least now Java knows where to come to get the lyrics for Breaking Back In's reunion special.
Heh, Kermit confessing to Fozzie about the prank... And his act actually went well for once, the hecklers jabs unable to find their marks. Seems you found a good way to exploit his comedic skills.
The acapella number, that's Baby It's Cold Outside right?
Gonzo's balancing act came off flawlessly... And it looks like the audience liked it too.
Johnny Fiama proves that he's every bit the crooner, though we don't get to hear it... Only his reviews from the guys backstage.
The performance of Dream Girl... Truly spectacular.
Sara almost falling into Scooter's lap, and how he expertly got her back on her feet...
Looks like Gonzo patched things up with Camilla, funny how she was a little flushed coming off stage.

And to think, this is only the first half! Great stuff, please post more when it's finished.
Looking forward to it with plenty of gusto and relish.

[Ruahnna]

Ed--you may be right about the lyrics to "Goodness Gracious Great Balls of Fire"--I get them from different sources and I don't always get the same information, so I'll bow to anyone who's a bigger Little Richard fan than me.

Oh, and the a cappella number in the first half of the Las Vegas show is "One Fine Day." The actual arrangement I used for this number was the one used by "The Nylons" on their "Four on the Floor" album. They are a stupendous four-man a cappella group (I've been a fan for, well, many many years) and their arrangement was flipped with the boys singing to some unattainable girl. WHile I was juning along in my car one day, listening to the golden tones, I suddenly thought--"Hey--what a great song that would be for Kermit and the guys." The whole skit idea evolved from there.

Also, I have to say I just LOVED all the different ways you refer to me--they were incredibly sweet.

Seems like there was something else, but if I think of it, I'll post it. Glad you enjoyed it, and I'll be posting the second half ot he show, well, when I manage to get it finished to my satisfaction.

[The Count]

Ah... Let me reply then...
1 Little Richard? "Great Balls Of Fire" was recorded by Jerry Lee Lewis, not messieur Richar, as pronounced by Colinn Montgomery in an episode of Whose Line.
*Take that Snowthers! (Snowthers = D'Snowth, our resident T*K*O scribe and Kathy Greenwood obsessee.)
2 "Tutti Fruti", now that's a song by Little Richard, one I know well and the one I was hexpecting for Gonzo's act.
3 "One Fine Day", ah yes... Sorry, forgot that was part of the show's acts from previous chapters.
4 You like the Nylons huh? Then I guess you already know/have their version of the Tolkiens' "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" from when that band of singers you like appeared on The Jim Henson Hour.
5 The names deal... That's something that started with one of our constant fanfic readers, probably Lisa. We do it from time to time, check out the review she posted for one of Prawny's chapters from Old Friends Who've Just met to see what I mean.
Glad you liked it though.

Anything else we can help with, just let us know. And post when it's ready and you feel satisfied with the story overall.

[Ruahnna]

Now I remember! Yes--that was Piggy's dorm robe. What's the use of owning fancy lingerie if nobody every gets to see it.

[QUOTE=The Count]Ah... Let me reply then...
1 Little Richard? "Great Balls Of Fire" was recorded by Jerry Lee Lewis, not messieur Richar, as pronounced by Colinn Montgomery in an episode of Whose Line.[QUOTE=The Count]
To which Ru replies, "Doh!" Right, right--Little Richard did "Tutti Frutti" and Jerry Lee Lewis did "Great Balls of Fire." (You know, I'm assuming, that Sesame Street has a version of this called "Goodness Gracious! Eight Balls of Fur") Oh, and I love Colin Machery also--funny men are so, like, sexy!

[QUOTE=The Count]
4 You like the Nylons huh? Then I guess you already know/have their version of the Tolkiens' "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" from when that band of singers you like appeared on The Jim Henson Hour.[QUOTE=The Count]
Not quite clear here what you mean, but yes, I have the Nylon's version of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"--love it, love it. Also have another Nylon's original song that's lurking in the wings for this story, but some months down the road. If you are telling me that the Nylon's were once on The Jim Henson Hour--GIVE ME DETAILS! Um, please.
Ever,
Ru

[Leyla]

Oh, I loved it! I know I always do, but I do! Don't be hard on yourself for not posting exaclty when you thought you might! I mean, we're still here after all, and goodness knows things come up in life and in writing that slow things down.

It sure is worth the wait! Not that it was any burden.

Loved the brunch, Piggy knocking them down and making it rather fun for Kermit. I just adored the line about Kermit being glad she's on his side!

Also this:
Kermit kept mentally putting him in a cowboy hat.


and this:
Piggy might look restrained, he thought absently, but she’s already playing this meeting for keeps.

You're really very very funny in both your dialogue and your description, Ru.
I know that you're big on dialogue, I'm big on description and I like how your description is never just there. It's pretty; it's good reading; it's alive.

“Left him a message, Honey,” he said easily, sliding into the seat beside her. She turned and looked at the men helplessly. “Sorry,” she said, and gave them all the warm, lazy smile that often had waiters bumping into each other and busboys dropping crockery by the tub load. “I always get so nervous before opening night.” [.quote]
<laughs> I love it when she does that in your stories! <adores Piggy calling the shots>

The girls practicing their struts is fabulous! It's very funny, especially with the boys peeping, even Scooter who's a lot closer to gentlement than the other two.

[quote]Hi am not looking through the keyhole—which hi would never do—but hi am watching them on the stage.”
Fantastic line!

“This is fun,” Sara thought. “But thank heavens Scooter isn’t here to see it. I would positively die.”
I suspect Scooter is the one in need of medical attention here.


And yet, even as Piggy laughed and smiled at the men who so openly fought to hold her interest, Kermit felt her watching him, knew she was tuned to him at the most basic level.

Sigh... <is in an incredibly ushy gushy mood, even for Leyla>


Piggy looked up at him for a moment and everything else around them stopped just long enough for two hearts to jump, then real time asserted itself again. A little flustered, Piggy turned back to their hosts.
<staggers around in romantic haze>

“Tired?” he asked, as the elevator slid to a stop on their floor.
Piggy raised her head and looked up at him for a long moment. “No,” she said simply.
Kermit swallowed whatever he’d been about to say. “Oh,” he said softly. “Well then….”

<Buys house in ushy gushy land and sets up housekeeping>.

“Seems like a nice guy,” Mabel said.
“He is a nice guy,” Clifford said. “That’s why this business is so hard on ‘im.”
Oh, that's brilliant and poignant and true and wonderful. I love this wole scene with Mabel and Clifford... I'm glad she checked up on things.

“Who, them?” Clifford began to laugh. “Mabel, Miss Piggy set her sights on that little froggy the first time they ever met, and she’s been nothing but trouble for Kermit. And Kermit—he loves every minute of it.”

<hugs story>


“It’s cool,” Clifford said. “We’re watching out for ‘em. Kermit’s always been the one to look out for us—the least we can do is return the favor.”

Again, another great line! I love how they look after each other.


She pulled Kermit to her and kissed him with a great deal of enthusiasm, so much so that he temporarily forgot what he’d been about to say.
“Wanted to do that before I get my lipstick on, Mon Capitan,” she said, and drifted back toward the dressing room.
“Well, um, thanks,” he called after her, still wondering what he’d been about to say. Oh well, he thought, it will come to me.

<Sits on porch rocker, enjoying the beautiful scenery in ushy gushy land>

I love the show, Kermit's intro, the GREAT dueling piano/organ scene with the girls! Howard's accidental praise was wonderful. Rizzo was hilarious. Robin's song was unbelievably sweet... I love how many varying emotions you manage to pack into a scene.

Loved Kermit's introduction of Fozzie and especially Fozzie's attempt at confession and Kermit's reassurance. Statler and Waldorf's wives comments werre wonderful. No wonder they don't show up more often! I'm so glad Fozzie's act went well for him. I don't know where wocka wocka wocka came from, but I love it.


“Sheesh!” Kermit cried. “I’ve got to—I’m not—“ He started toward the dressing room in a flurry, but Piggy caught hold of him and held out his clothes. I love Piggy keeping an eye on him, and in fact, I just love it in general when people look after Kermit.

Once Scooter and Clifford had left, Gonzo turned urgently to Rizzo. “Hey, buddy,” he said quickly. “Look—if something happens to me, make sure to tell Camilla—“
Rizzo put his hand up to stop him. “Tell her yourself when you come down, you lunatic. Now get out there.”

Aww...! That's so sweet! I'm glad Gonzo survived his act, and the choice of song was perfect and hilarious and I didn't see it coming.


“What’d you say to her?” Rizzo asked knowingly, handing Gonzo a glass of iced tea.
“Oh, nothing,” Gonzo said airily. “Just a few sweet nothings at all.”

Hmm... "that's all" maybe. Anyway, I nitpick. Wonderful ending and it's nice to see Gonzo and Camilla's relationship. It's really a lot of fun.

Great job, Ru!

[The Count]

OK... Lemme try this again.
Yes, Eight Balls of Fur is an SS song that could be seen as a parody of Great Balls of Fire. The parody was sung by Chris of Chris and The Alphabeats fame. He even went so far as to destroy the piano, rocking it so hard with his piano-playing prowess.
The episode from JHH in question is Episode 03: The Monster Telethon. It's paired with The Storyteller: The Soldier And Death.
There's a transcript up on www.toughpigs.com and I believe the song's uploaded at the Muppet Musique website.

Essentially, the White Lion was absent when Jim went to do his intro for the episode. Instead, he was met by The Storyteller's Dog (voiced/performed by Brian Henson) who told Jim that the frog got the lion a job at the New York City Library. The video consisted of the lion chasing after the band, who bothered him while he tried to slumber. Modestly funny, talk to MuppetDude (the Senior Member from KY) to see if he can help you get a copy of the episode. Then again, might be that KermiClown could also be your best bet to get that particular JHH episode.
Hope this helps and post more story sooooon.

[ReneeLouvier]

*melts into a puddle of ushy-gushy-ness*

;) ;) ;)

Wow....What else can I say? It's a....great chapter! And me falling into Scoot's lap, I love it! I love it all!! Wonderful!!!

*applauds the story, and Ru, then settles back for some more.*

More please? I can't wait to see what else happens!!

[ReneeLouvier]

Aw...what happened Ru? Please, post more story! I'm wondering what happened and stuff, and I never saw a "The End" so it really can't be over can it?

[Ruahnna]

Aw...what happened Ru? Please, post more story! I'm wondering what happened and stuff, and I never saw a "The End" so it really can't be over can it?

Good grief, no, it's not over by a long shot. We've got literally months of time to get through before it's all over. We got to get to the Oscars (and it's only Christmas), to Broadway, and to the movie premiere, plus a whole, whole lot of other stuff--we're going to see some surprises for more than one couple that I think you'll like. (Wait--I know YOU'LL like them!) I'm just resting after that week of monster posting and trying to be sure I can cram in one more plot line before I get to far into the Vegas story to do it. I'll try to get something else posted before the weekend is officially over.

[The Count]

*Launches muffins, after getting the prompt from penguin carrying cue card. Can we please have some more story? Rully love this one, hope for more ASAP.

[Ruahnna]

Coming up, dear. Sorry this part is so short. But at least it's done, right? (eyes cannon nervously) Right?

[Ruahnna]

They had 20 minutes to change and get everything ready for the Christmas half of the show. Normally, Kermit would have taken a moment to rest and get centered, but once again he had something important to take care of. He went looking for Fozzie.
Kermit found him in the dressing room, looking glum.
“Hey Fozzie. I thought your act went great tonight. You really wowed them.”
Fozzie only acknowledgement was a great, heart-rending sigh. “You must be so disappointed in me,” he said.
“What?! No, Fozzie—I thought you were wonderful.”
“I know,” Fozzie moaned. “I’m so ashamed.” He put a big furry paw over his face.
“Fozzie, look—the crowd loved you. You were funny. I don’t understand why you’re upset.”
Fozzie looked up. “But—but you said you knew!”
“Well, I thought I did but now I—“
“I cheated!” Fozzie blurted. “I used Dr. Honeydew’s machine, the Funny-o-meter.”
“Yeah, but Fozzie, that was—“
“That was wrong! I wasn’t funny enough on my own so I cheated. I used…I used comical enhancements!” He covered his face with his hands. “Please don’t tell Ma.”
Kermit heaved a great sigh of his own, wondering how to sort this out.
“Look, Fozzie—you didn’t cheat.”
“I did! I used the machine when no one was looking. I wanted so much to be funny….”
“But, Fozzie, that wasn’t really cheating.”
“You’re just saying that,” muttered Fozzie, but he sounded maybe just a little bit hopeful. Kermit took him gently by the arm and turned him around so he could look into Fozzie anxious eyes.
“Fozzie, you didn’t really cheat.” He held up his hand to ward of further protestations from his furry friend. “The machine—the machine was a fake, Fozzie. It didn’t work.”
“But, but—it did work. It did. I was funny. Tonight, I was funny.”
“You were funny, Fozzie,” Kermit said gently. “You—not some dumb machine.”
“But—but it said that it would make me funnier and—“
“Lose your hair?” He looked a Fozzie’s shining coat, freshly groomed for his Vegas debut. “Lost any hair, Fozzie?”
“Um, no,” Fozzie admitted. “But it said that it would cause unconsciousness, and I—I woke up on the floor.”
“Um, you fainted,” Kermit said. “Probably nerves.”
“Oh.” Fozzie was quiet for a moment. “How do you know the machine didn’t work?”
Kermit was tempted—he was oh-so tempted to skirt his responsibility and say, very blithely, “Have you ever known any of Dr. Honeydew’s inventions to work?” but he didn’t. He scrunched up his face and screwed up his courage and spoke the truth.
“Because I invented the Funny-o-meter, Fozzie. It was—it was me, not Honeydew.”
Fozzie looked more confused than skeptical. “But—but why would you invent a machine to make people funnier?” He gasped suddenly and covered his mouth with both hands. “It was because of me, wasn’t it? It’s because I wasn’t funny enough! Oh—I knew it—“
“No—I didn’t mean that. Sheesh, this is getting more complicated than I meant. Fozzie—I didn’t invent the Funny-o-meter. No one did. I just took one of Honeydew’s old contraptions that didn’t work and slapped a new name on it. There never was a real Funny-o-meter.”
Fozzie looked at Kermit helplessly. “Why?” he asked at last.
Kermit felt like a heel. “Um, I only meant it as a joke, Fozzie—as a prank, you know, just to boost your confidence a little here in a new town. I never meant for you to—“
“Oh, Kermit.”
Kermit slumped. “Look, I didn’t mean for—I didn’t think that you would actually—“
“Kermit,” Fozzie said firmly. He put his hands on Kermit’s shoulders and looked at him reproachfully. “Are you telling me that you—my best and most trusted friend, my director, my employer, my frog—are you telling me that you tricked me?”
“Um, yes,” Kermit muttered.
“Do you know what this means?”
Kermit opened his mouth to explain, but suddenly found himself short of breath as Fozzie darn near hugged the stuffing out of him.
“It means I was funny! Me! I was funny tonight! Without comical enhancements! Kermit—I. WAS. FUN. NEE!”
Weak with relief, Kermit sagged against Fozzie and returned the crushing bear’s hug as tightly as he was able. This hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but it had certainly gotten Fozzie over the hump. Kermit planned to enjoy his friend’s success—just as soon as he could begin breathing on his own again. With difficulty, he extricated himself. Ten minutes out of his 20 minute intermission were already gone, and he hadn’t even changed yet.
“Fozzie, I’m proud of you,” Kermit said, patting his friend on the back. “You did a great job.”
Fozzie opened his mouth in a wide smile and waggled his eyebrows at Kermit. “Boy, did I!” he exclaimed. “Wocka wocka wocka!”

Somehow ferreting him out, Scooter met Kermit outside Fozzie’s dressing room and practically dressed him on a dead run to the sound booth. All around them, cast members were being herded expertly, with Howard and Thoreau occasionally nipping at their heels. Nobody nipped at Piggy.
Kermit stopped long enough to be sure that Robin was ready for their number together, and got backstage with about four minutes to spare before the curtain opened again. Piggy met him backstage, beautifully attired in a green satin lounging outfit and her very own high-heeled bedroom scuffs with the poufs on top. (Why improve on perfection, Thoreau had said, eying the shoes with something akin to lust.)
While they waited in the wings, the Electric Mayhem filed past, now decked out in what passed for their holiday duds. Dr. Teeth looked more glittery than usual, and Janice was wearing a short emerald satin dress with Christmas lights worked into the weave. Her Santa-style boots added to the festive air. Floyd looked the same, unless you counted the single sprig of holly pinned to his usual jacket. Animal had a Christmas T-shirt, or rather what was left of one, Lips had on a red-and-green-plaid jacket that Doc Sevrinson would have envied, and Zoot was wearing a maroon velvet pantsuit of undetermined origin. Thoreau couldn’t even look at him. Everyone while filed past Kermit gave passed palms or gave him some sign of cheerful acknowledgment. The band had been hot, hot, hot tonight, Kermit thought happily. And the second half is just starting.

[The Flying Sheep]

I Love how you write Fozzie here: "I. WAS. FUN. NEE!" Perfect Foz.

And you included Lips! Yes!

[The Count]

Oh... That was so good Ru. Short chapter, but it definitely helps bridge the gap between the special's halves.

The scene between Fozzie and Kermit, where the frog explains his prank...
How Fozzie address Kermit: his friend, employer, director, frog...
Of course, I rully liked how you described the Mayhem's Christmas duds, and Thoreau's reactions.

Janice's dress has working Christmas lights? Hope she doesn't suffer the same problem Spamela did when dancing in the background while Kermit and Tony Bennett sang "Firefly".
Hope I'm able to post what might be the last chapter of my story by this Friday before you finish the Vegas show... Why? Cause I think there's something/someone there that can maybe connect between the tales. You'll just have to wait to find out.

[Ruahnna]

Ooh! Can't wait! I'm off from teaching today, so maybe I'll get caught up on my reading!

[redBoobergurl]

That was great! I too loved Foz's line "I. WAS. FUN. NEE." That was just great and I could totally hear him saying that!

[Leyla]

Short perhaps, but absolutely packed with sweetness.

Lovely update here, and it's just so wonderful seeing Kermit and Fozzie interacting. You've got such a knack for showing just how much heart Fozzie has... and his dedication to doing the right thing. What a charming, consciencious bear we have there! Furthermore, you've also shown that buoyant side of him. He might get knocked down, even by a well-meaning friend or stricken by his own sense of right and wrong, but relieved of that, he recovers instantly.

Sigh... thanks for reminding me of why Fozzie is such a special character.


Normally, Kermit would have taken a moment to rest and get centered, but once again he had something important to take care of. He went looking for Fozzie.


Ooh, sweet carryover from when he took care of Piggy earlier. Lovely, subtle little lines like this make such a difference. A good story becomes a fantastic one, if you know what I mean.


“That was wrong! I wasn’t funny enough on my own so I cheated. I used…I used comical enhancements!” He covered his face with his hands. “Please don’t tell Ma.”

<giggles> Hilarious, and sweet and touching... ah, just wonderful!


“You were funny, Fozzie,” Kermit said gently. “You—not some dumb machine.”

Oh... <hugs Kermit> I just love the way they love and care for one another. When it all comes down to it, they really are a very close-knit family.


Kermit was tempted—he was oh-so tempted to skirt his responsibility and say, very blithely, “Have you ever known any of Dr. Honeydew’s inventions to work?” but he didn’t. He scrunched up his face and screwed up his courage and spoke the truth.
I love that very human moment of temptation there from Kermit. Lovely diction there too, "scrunched up his face and screwed up his courage."

I am simply in awe.


He gasped suddenly and covered his mouth with both hands. “It was because of me, wasn’t it? It’s because I wasn’t funny enough! Oh—I knew it—“
“No—I didn’t mean that. Sheesh, this is getting more complicated than I meant.

Oh, and how like Fozzie to take it in the worst way possible! Of course things get complicated Kermit, you oughta know that by now!


“Kermit,” Fozzie said firmly. He put his hands on Kermit’s shoulders and looked at him reproachfully. “Are you telling me that you—my best and most trusted friend, my director, my employer, my frog—are you telling me that you tricked me?”
"His frog"! Oh, that's priceless... such a great set up to Fozzie's bouncing back! There really is almost no room for hard feelings or resentment in that bear's heart... and to give Fozzie his due, I think it's because he knows Kermit would never ever try to hurt him deliberately. If, say, Fleet Scribbler played a trick on him, even if it turned out well, things would be very different.


“It means I was funny! Me! I was funny tonight! Without comical enhancements! Kermit—I. WAS. FUN. NEE!”
<glee> Yay!! <waves arms around> I love that bear! I love Kermit's relief and returning hugs. What a sweet moment. Classic Kermit and Fozzie buddiness.


Somehow ferreting him out, Scooter met Kermit outside Fozzie’s dressing room and practically dressed him on a dead run to the sound booth. All around them, cast members were being herded expertly, with Howard and Thoreau occasionally nipping at their heels. Nobody nipped at Piggy.
Great description of the chaos here and some lovely word choices... ferreting, herded, nipping. Loved the last line particularly! Not many would dare!

I continue to adore the outfits you put Piggy in, especially the bedroom scuffs and Thoreau's reaction to them! <giggles> Awesome! Actually everyone's costumes were just great, and again, you manage to make description hilarious by giving Thoreau's horror at Zoot's suit!

Looking forward to the continuation, whenever it comes!

Hugs,
Leyla

[TogetherAgain]

Okay, so I read this this morning when I was getting ready for school, and I love it!!!! ...But Leyla all ready said everything I was going to say. So! I'll just say MORE PLEASE!!!!!!!!!! (It was an excellent way to start the day, by the way...)

[BEAR]

So much to catch up on, but I'll do my best!

[The Count]

Well... Kept my end of the bargain, the second part to the last chapter of my story's there with all the costuming help in glorious detail.
Now then... When can we get some more of this enchanting fanfictional yarn?

[christyb]

*lets out a deep breath* Caught up! Wow I can't believe it. One down and uh....we won't mention how many more I have to go. Ru it is fab. I loved every chapter I read. Great job and post more soon! Not that I can talk seeing as I haven't writen a word. Anyways, I hate to jet without a proper review but I must take my ushy gushy self and go and read elsewhere. More soon!

[Ruahnna]

I'm still trying to get a handle on a log-jam here but I have TONS written to post once I get the durn thing unstuck. Hang in there with me!

[The Count]

Oh... We're hanging all fright...
*Camera shows MC gang hanging from nice little suspension harnesses above seats in audience waiting for update.

[Java]

I don't like being suspended from midair....

[The Count]

Oh don't worry... It's just until Ru posts more story.

*Nudge, Cath, if you'd be so kind... More story please?

[Java]

I'm starting to get dizzy up here...

[The Count]

Yeah... *Unhooking Melissa's harness bringing her back down safely.
Come on, let's go back to the dorms. Sure hope Cath updates this soon... Starting to miss my lovely doll though.

[The Count]

*Singing...
And now.
The nag is here.
And so I face.
The final posting.

I nagged.
Who I had to nag.
To get more story please.
It's you we're toasting.

To nag.
Each passing day.
No updates come.
On the information super highway.
But more story please.
More story than this please.
Just post it to-daaaaaaay!

[Ruahnna]

...have been greatly exaggerated. Here's most of the second half of the Vegas show. More to follow but not tonight, er, this morning.

Quick note: I have noted the languages used in "It's Christmas Time All Over the World" which is by Hugh Martin.

[Leyla]

YAYAYAYAYAY!!!! She's updating, she's updating! <squee>!!

<waves> Hi Ru!

[Ruahnna]

The audience shifted excitedly in their seats as soon as the Electric Mayhem took the stage, even though the lights weren’t on yet. At Dr. Teeth’s signal, there were four quick clicks of the drumsticks, then a blast of noise and sound as all of the stage lights—including the Christmas lights on Janice’s dress—lit up in two long bursts and then four shorts ones that corresponded to Dr. Teeth’s voice shouting “One, two, one, two, tree, four—“
“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock; jingle bell swing and jingle bells ring.
Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun—now the jingle hop has begun.”
The tempo was thumping as the band pounded out the song.
“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock; jingle bells chime in jingle bell time
Dancing and prancing in Jingle Bell Square in the frosty air.”

Backstage, Robin came running up, quiet on his webbed feet with Fozzie right behind him. He wore blue pajamas with little Santa faces on them, but Santa’s face looked suspiciously like Kermit’s underneath the snowy beard and red hat, mirroring the white beard and mustache that the real Kermit actually wore. A red-velvet Santa suit completed Kermit’s costume, since his flippered feet were also bare.
“I’m ready!” Robin said, then clapped both hands over his mouth, surprised by how loud he sounded even with the deafening din coming from the stage. “I’m ready,” he whispered.
“Good,” Kermit said, patting him fondly on the shoulder. “We’re on next.”
“Are you all warmed up, Robin?” Piggy asked softly. Robin nodded, his eyes shining.
“Rowlf was helping me,” he said, smiling up at Fozzie, “until Fozzie came to get me.”
“Good.”

Janice took the chorus. “What a bright time, it’s the right time to rock the night away.
Jingle bell time is a swell time—to go gliding in a one-horse sleigh!”
“Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet. Jingle around the clock. Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet—that’s the jingle bell—
That’s the jingle bell--
That’s the jingle bell rock!
The song ended in an extended bass riff by Floyd, which the audience appreciated loudly, yelling and whistling. Animal got so excited they had to lead him off the stage, but the excessively warm welcome created a buoyant mood among the band. The performers trailed off happily to await their next cue and Kermit and Robin and Piggy slipped on to the darkened stage.

“Johnny?” Sal said, looking cautiously around the dressing room. No Johnny. Sal slapped a hand over his face. Geez Louise, where could that guy be?! He was on any moment, just as soon as the kid’s song was over. He whipped out into the hall, running toward the kitchen. No Johnny there, either. Sal felt dangerously close to hyperventilating. With a sudden inspiration, he checked the men’s room (not the general dressing room, the other men’s room) but there was no Johnny there either. He swung out into the hall in time to see Johnny emerge—with some help—from the ladies dressing room, being alternately escorted and expelled by his soon-to-be-co-stars. Each of the ladies was dressed in a representational native costume from a different country: Norwegian, Portuguese, German and Greek.
“Just checking on you, ladies,” Johnny said smoothly. He gave a suave laugh.
“Yeah, yeah,” Amy Lu said, shaking her head. “Nobody’s buying, Johnny.”
“C’mon—we gotta go cue up,” insisted Sally Ann.
Johnny passed Sal in a cluster of femininity, only noting his friend’s presence at the last minute.
“Oh, hey Sal,” he called cheerily. “I’m off to do my next song. Hold those cue cards high, okay?”
Sal gave a thin smile and thought about fainting or homicide, but whichever he decided, he’d just have to do it after the show. He turned slowly and observed Rizzo staring fixedly at the girls’ dressing room with a look of baffled disbelief on his face. Sal shrugged, and hurried after Johnny.

When the lights went up, Robin was seated on what looked like a staircase downstage left, sitting not upstairs, or downstairs, but somewhere in between. There was a Christmas tree and a huge and very realistic fireplace upstage right, and the only illumination for the scene seemed to come from an electric candle that Robin held and from two large candlesticks on the mantle. While Rowlf played an extended introduction, Robin watched as Kermit—dressed as Santa—emerged from the large fireplace to be greeted with great enthusiasm by Piggy. While everyone watched, the bag of toys slipped from “Santa’s” nerveless fingers as he was thoroughly kissed under the mistletoe. Robin stared in comical surprise, then looked out at the audience, his eyes wide.
“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe tonight,” he sang. “She didn't see me creep down the stairs to have a peep; She thought that I was tucked up in my bedroom fast asleep.”

“My Ma would never kiss Santa Clause,” Fozzie whispered firmly to Beaker and Dr. Honeydew, who were both wearing headsets. “She only ever kissed my dad.” Dr. Honeydew opened his mouth to say something, but Beaker put a gentle hand on his arm and gave him a little head-shake. Usually so oblivious to input from Beaker, the scientist made a little “o” with his mouth and subsided as understanding came.
“I’m sure Santa understood,” Dr. Honeydew said solemnly. Beaker smiled a tiny smile and made a point to be more forgiving of his often careless employer.

Back on stage, Santa had recovered his bag, but he walked a little unsteadily to the tree, dispensing presents as Robin crouched down to keep out of view. At last, the colorful bags and boxes had been left under the tree, and Santa returned to the mistletoe for a well-earned reward.
“Then, I saw Mommy tickle Santa Claus underneath his beard so snowy white. Oh, what a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus tonight!”
As Robin’s voice swelled, the two lip-locked figures suddenly froze and looked in Robin’s direction as though hearing some disturbance. Robin ducked down, his hands making a funnel for his mouth (although he was careful to keep them from obstructing the sound carrying out to the audience). “What a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus tonight!” With that, Robin “blew out” his electric candle and scurried up the stairs as the stage went dark.
It was hard to say which part of the audience was more vocal—those mewing and cawing over Robin’s charming second appearance or the more raucous voices in the back cheering the spectacular kiss. Listening to it as they wheeled him—still atop the rolling staircase—off the stage (wheee!), Robin felt a great sense of pride, and some of the worry that had been troubling him eased. See—this audience liked to see his Uncle and Aunt kissing. The world wasn’t such a bad place after all. Even so, he planned to talk to his Uncle later tonight about the things that were troubling him—if only he could stay awake that long. As soon as the staircase stopped, Clifford was there to swing him off onto the ground, but not without a couple of swoops up in the air. As quietly as possible, Robin giggled. At that particular moment, he couldn’t think of anywhere in the world that was better to be.

The Electric Mayhem members were taking a quick break, milling around the soundproofed hallway until the finale but not straying very far. With their cast, schedules could change very suddenly and they wanted to be ready for the final number whenever it came.
Janice bent to get an ice-cold drink from the water fountain. When she swung back up, blond hair floating around her shoulders, Floyd put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. He didn’t have anything rehearsed, but some vague disquiet made him want to say something stirring, offer some endearment to his hard-rocking woman who played and sang and danced as though born to it. He was saved the necessity of speaking when Janice put one hand around his neck and kissed him soundly. Her lips were cold from the fountain, but warmed up quickly, as did Floyd.
“Hey, Baby,” Janice said simply, putting her other soft hand on Floyd’s cheek. “Like, you really had some thumping bass going on out there. The crowd loved you!”
Floyd was still working on recovering his voice, but he managed at last. “Thanks, Baby,” he said, then added slyly. “And how about you?”
Janice giggled and gently disengaged herself. “Always,” she said. “Ohh—watched the cord, Honeybunch—you’ll get tangled up with me.”
Floyd stepped back carefully, but his thoughts were not careful. Worse ways to spend my time, he thought with satisfaction.

Although Kermit would have sworn he didn’t breathe the entire time Johnny and the chorus were out there, the song went surprisingly well. The cue cards appeared unnecessary, (which was good since one of them was upside down), and Johnny was led firmly through the choreography by his attractive and able-bodied assistants.

“It’s Christmas time all over the world, it’s Christmas here at home,” Johnny sang, cooler than the flip side of your pillow. “The church bells chime wherever we roam…”
“Så riktig god jul [Norwegian]
Feliz natal [Portuguese]
Shenoraavor Nor Dari (Dari) [Armenian]” sang the girls in harmony, and then they all sang “to you!”
“The snow is thick in most of the world and childrens’ eyes are wide as old Saint Nick gets ready to ride…” Johnny said, his finger snapping stylishly. Wherever he moved onstage, the girls simply followed, doing their choreography in a cluster.
“So Feliz Navidad [Spanish]
“Sretan Bozic [Croatian]”
“And Happy New Year to you,” they crooned together.
“Though the customs might change and the language is strange this appeal we feel is real in Holland or Hong Kong.”
“It’s Christmas time all over the world, in places near and far and so my friend wherever you are…”
“Ein fröhliches Weihnachten [German]
“Kala Christougenna [Greek]
“Yoi kurisumasu [Japanese]”
“This means a very merry Christmas, Christmas, Christmas to you!

The crowd seemed happy, which made Kermit very happy indeed. He had shucked off the Santa suit, which disappeared as though by magic, and changed into his stuffy suit for the next number standing in the wings. There were definite advantages to being a frog. He was having trouble with his tie. When he failed to get it tied for the third time, he’d turned expectantly to Scooter, but Scooter wasn’t there. It was Gonzo who stepped forward to expertly knot the conservative strip of cloth and send Kermit, along with a hastily-changed Piggy (who had most definitely NOT changed backstage) back out onto the stage.

Scooter was having problems of his own, but they were largely personal.
Scooter sighed and leaned his forehead against the dressing room door—the girls’ dressing room door.
“Honey—it was fine,” he insisted.
“I was mortified!”
“Relax, Sara—it was cute!”
“Howard will fuss at me,” Sara whined unhappily.
“Fooey on ‘im. Howard fusses at everyone. It’s his job—no wait, he’s actually the choreographer. Fussing is actually his hobby. Look, if our performers holed up in the dressing rooms every time something went wrong we wouldn’t have any acts on stage.”
“Yes, but you’re used to it. I’m not. I ruined the whole song.”
“Sara—stop being silly. You didn’t ruin anything. It was fine.”
“I’m not going out for the finale. I’ll—I’ll fall or trip or something.”
“Sara, honey,” Scooter pleaded. “C’mon out here so we can talk.”
“No! You just want me out there where you can talk me into going on stage again. I’m staying right in here.”
“There I’m coming in!” Scooter said firmly. “Ten second warning ladies,” he hollered, then came charging in. He came charging in with one hand over his eyes, true, but he barged in just the same.
“Um, Sara,” Scooter said, groping blindly toward where he thought she would be. Laura May pantomimed goosing him and Sara stood up hastily and took his hand.
“I’m here,” she said, and Scooter opened his eyes.
“Look—Sara, Honey, I have done something today that I have never done before just for you. I have ventured into the ladies dressing room.” He looked at her hopefully. “Are you impressed or do you feel sorry for me? Cause I’ll take either one as long as it will get you back out on stage.”
Sara looked at him, rolling her eyes at the cute, tousled, puppyish air he exuded. Durn the man, he had to be taking lessons from his boss.
“But—“
“Please Sara—I have to go back out there. Don’t make me go out there alone.” He held out his hand. “Please?”
Moments later found her standing backstage in the wings, watching Kermit and Piggy work their magic on stage. Any moment now, she’d be throwing caution to the wind and going back out of that stage. I must be crazy, she thought suddenly. And I certainly came to the right place if I am.

In the back of the crowded auditorium, a restless figure did his best to stand still and stop fidgeting. He did not want to call attention to himself, but worry was making him want to jump out of his skin. He had been so sure that he would have seen a chink in the armor by now, an increase in the tension and swiping that would show up on stage. So far, he thought grimly, no darn luck at all. The crooner left the stage, there was a flurry of darkened movement on the stage and then the lights came back on and—sweet mercy for sinners, she was back on the stage yet again, wearing a dress that looked like it was molded to her. He caught his breath. Look at the way she was looking at him, the way they were tuned to each other. He must have been crazy, he must have been insane to think that he’d had a chance, even a tiny one, of cracking open that safe little cocoon. Nothing was going to separate little Miss Piggy from her frog as long as the crowd loved her like this. There was a pause, a hiccup almost, in the recesses of Scribbler’s brain. Carefully, he felt back along the thought to what had caught, what had snagged his attention. Tension, sniping, working together, audience loving her…ah! Ah—of course! What a fool he’d been! He felt a wild desire to laugh out loud. The answer seemed obvious now, simple enough for a child to comprehend. Of course, his brain prompted nastily, that was no guarantee his boss would get it. After a moment, Scribble resumed smiling. It was not a pleasant sight, had anyone been close enough to see it. Always easier to ask forgiveness than permission, he thought at last. Some things can’t be un-done. With a bitter snort, he started putting words together in his head.

[The Count]

Posted by Catherine: The audience shifted excitedly in their seats as soon as the Electric Mayhem took the stage, even though the lights weren’t on yet.
Yes, we're very much excited to see what the second half of this Vegas show holds in store.

Posted by Ru: At Dr. Teeth’s signal, there were four quick clicks of the drumsticks, then a blast of noise and sound as all of the stage lights—including the Christmas lights on Janice’s dress—lit
up in two long bursts and then four shorts ones that corresponded to Dr. Teeth’s voice shouting “One, two, one, two, tree, four—“
Correction: "shorts" should be "short", unless you're talking about pants.
Correction: "tree" should be "three", unless it's a dialectical translation in which case it'd be OK.
The lights bursting in short and long flare-ups as Dr. Teeth called out... Wow, that's a great start.
Even the lights on Janice's dress lit up? Oh la la!

Posted by Ahnna: “Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock; jingle bell swing and jingle bells ring.
Snowing and blowing up bushels of fun—now the jingle hop has begun.”
The tempo was thumping as the band pounded out the song.
“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock; jingle bells chime in jingle bell time
Dancing and prancing in Jingle Bell Square in the frosty air.”
Janice took the chorus. “What a bright time, it’s the right time to rock the night away.
Jingle bell time is a swell time—to go gliding in a one-horse sleigh!”
“Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet. Jingle around the clock. Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet—that’s the jingle bell—
That’s the jingle bell--
That’s the jingle bell rock!
The song ended in an extended bass riff by Floyd, which the audience appreciated loudly, yelling and whistling. Animal got so excited they had to lead him off the stage, but the excessively warm welcome created a buoyant mood among the band. The performers trailed off happily to await their next cue and Kermit and Robin and Piggy slipped on to the darkened stage.
Oh, like wow! You get huge points for using "Jingle Bell Rock", one of my fave Christmas songs.
Although... Thought some of the lines were...
"It's a swell time."
"To go riding in a one-horse sleigh."
"Giddy up jingle horse, pick up your feet, "jingle around the block"."
"Mix and mingle to a jingling beat."
Could be wrong though.
And it's great that the EM's getting some airtime, warming up the audience to the following acts.

Posted by Annahur: Backstage, Robin came running up, quiet on his webbed feet with Fozzie right behind him. He wore blue pajamas with little Santa faces on them, but Santa’s face looked suspiciously like Kermit’s underneath the snowy beard and red hat, mirroring the white beard and mustache that the real Kermit actually wore. A red-velvet Santa suit completed Kermit’s costume, since his flippered feet were also bare.
“I’m ready!” Robin said, then clapped both hands over his mouth, surprised by how loud he sounded even with the deafening din coming from the stage. “I’m ready,” he whispered.
“Good,” Kermit said, patting him fondly on the shoulder. “We’re on next.”
“Are you all warmed up, Robin?” Piggy asked softly. Robin nodded, his eyes shining.
“Rowlf was helping me,” he said, smiling up at Fozzie, “until Fozzie came to get me.”
“Good.”
Know this scene's in between the previous song, but I wanted to get that wonderous performance completed before moving on to the next part of this review.
Aw... Isn't Robin so cute in his PJ's?
Santa Kermit faces? Well, why not, if Palisades got away with a Santa Chef...
He had to whisper, surprised at how loud his voice was backstage... Heh, that kid's starting to grow up, just a little though.

Posted by Witty Catarina: “Johnny?” Sal said, looking cautiously around the dressing room. No Johnny. Sal slapped a hand over his face. Geez Louise, where could that guy be?! He was on any moment, just as soon as the kid’s song was over. He whipped out into the hall, running toward the kitchen. No Johnny there, either. Sal felt dangerously close to hyperventilating. With a sudden inspiration, he checked the men’s room (not the general dressing room, the other men’s room) but there was no Johnny there either. He swung out into the hall in time to see Johnny emerge—with some help—from the ladies dressing room, being alternately escorted and expelled by his soon-to-be-co-stars. Each of the ladies was dressed in a representational native costume from a different country: Norwegian, Portuguese, German and Greek.
“Just checking on you, ladies,” Johnny said smoothly. He gave a suave laugh.
“Yeah, yeah,” Amy Lu said, shaking her head. “Nobody’s buying, Johnny.”
“C’mon—we gotta go cue up,” insisted Sally Ann.
Johnny passed Sal in a cluster of femininity, only noting his friend’s presence at the last minute.
“Oh, hey Sal,” he called cheerily. “I’m off to do my next song. Hold those cue cards high, okay?”
Sal gave a thin smile and thought about fainting or homicide, but whichever he decided, he’d just have to do it after the show. He turned slowly and observed Rizzo staring fixedly at the girls’ dressing room with a look of baffled disbelief on his face. Sal shrugged, and hurried after Johnny.
So much here...
Rizzo still hasn't gotten over the fact he would've been bunking out in the ladies' dressing room. You gotsta feel for da' rat.
Sal running around trying to find Johnny, and Johnny just sort of casually noticing Sal... Perfect characterization, points for that.
Lovely contrast as to how the chorus girls are escorting and expelling Johnny from their dressing room.

Posted by Ushy Sweet: When the lights went up, Robin was seated on what looked like a staircase downstage left, sitting not upstairs, or downstairs, but somewhere in between.
Lisa'll get a squee out of that... Halfway!
Posted by Coffee, milk or tea?: There was a Christmas tree and a huge and very realistic fireplace upstage right, and the only illumination for the scene seemed to come from an electric candle that Robin held and from two large candlesticks on the mantle. While Rowlf played an extended introduction, Robin watched as Kermit—dressed as Santa—emerged from the large fireplace to be greeted with great enthusiasm by Piggy. While everyone watched, the bag of toys slipped from “Santa’s” nerveless fingers as he was thoroughly kissed under the mistletoe. Robin stared in comical surprise, then looked out at the audience, his eyes wide.
“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe tonight,” he sang. “She didn't see me creep down the stairs to have a peep; She thought that I was tucked up in my bedroom fast asleep.”
Heh... You just had to sneak in a bit of frog and pig romancing in there somewhere. But is okay, it's part of the show. And it's only complimented by Robin's innocence watching the scene play out before him.

Posted by the bear's human roommate: “My Ma would never kiss Santa Clause,” Fozzie whispered firmly to Beaker and Dr. Honeydew, who were both wearing headsets. “She only ever kissed my dad.”
Dr. Honeydew opened his mouth to say something, but Beaker put a gentle hand on his arm and gave him a little head-shake. Usually so oblivious to input from Beaker, the scientist made a little “o” with his mouth and subsided as understanding came.
“I’m sure Santa understood,” Dr. Honeydew said solemnly. Beaker smiled a tiny smile and made a point to be more forgiving of his often careless employer.
Funny joke from Fozzie... Do you think he meant it to be?
And I like how you describe Bunsen and Beaker in this bit, as they're tending to the backstage booth in Kermit's absence.

Posted by Grand Diva of Gushyness: Back on stage, Santa had recovered his bag, but he walked a little unsteadily to the tree, dispensing presents as Robin crouched down to keep out of view. At last, the colorful bags and boxes had been left under the tree, and Santa returned to the mistletoe for a well-earned reward.
“Then, I saw Mommy tickle Santa Claus underneath his beard so snowy white. Oh, what a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus tonight!”
As Robin’s voice swelled, the two lip-locked figures suddenly froze and looked in Robin’s direction as though hearing some disturbance. Robin ducked down,
his hands making a funnel for his mouth (although he was careful to keep them from obstructing the sound carrying out to the audience). “What a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus tonight!” With that, Robin “blew out” his electric candle and scurried up the stairs as the stage went dark.
It was hard to say which part of the audience was more vocal—those mewing and cawing over Robin’s charming second appearance or the more raucous voices in the back cheering the spectacular kiss.
Oh you... *Shakes head about.
Robin's playfullness shines through here as bright as those electric candles.
Kermit getting a well-earned reward after dispensing the toys... Nice imagery there.
The liplocked figures froze... *Gasp! Caught in the act!
And the crowd's divided into two camps: those who were applauding over Robin's appearance, and those cheering on the kiss... Hmmm, wonder if I know who in the audience there were cherring on the kiss.

Posted by She who's living with Robin's Uncle: Listening to it as they wheeled him—still atop the rolling staircase—off the stage (wheee!), Robin felt a great sense of pride, and some of the worry that had been troubling him eased. See—this audience liked to see his Uncle and Aunt kissing. The world wasn’t such a bad place after all. Even so, he planned to talk to his Uncle later tonight about the things that were troubling him—if only he could stay awake that long. As soon as the staircase stopped, Clifford was there to swing him off onto the ground, but not without a couple of swoops up in the air. As quietly as possible, Robin giggled. At that particular moment, he couldn’t think of anywhere in the world that was better to be.
Now this is probably the hidden jewel of the installment.
Robin's secure in the knowledge that the audience loves his uncle and aunt as much as he does... And when they're together nothing can go wrong that they can't overcome. The little frog's worries eased, that's a good sentiment, given his talk with Mabel earlier in the week/story. He's still going to talk with his uncle if he can stay up that long... Aw, that's just what the chapter needed, the sobriety of a child worried about his parental figures, even if they're his aunt and uncle.

Posted by Leader of the Ush-Gush: The Electric Mayhem members were taking a quick break, milling around the soundproofed hallway until the finale but not straying very far. With their cast, schedules could change very suddenly and they wanted to be ready for the final number whenever it came. Janice bent to get an ice-cold drink from the water fountain. When she swung back up, blond hair floating around her shoulders, Floyd put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. He didn’t have anything rehearsed, but some vague disquiet made him want to say something stirring, offer some endearment to his hard-rocking woman who played and sang and danced as though born to it. He was saved the necessity of speaking when Janice put one hand around his neck and kissed him soundly. Her lips were cold from the fountain, but warmed up quickly, as did Floyd.
*Melts... Though the frog and pig might not be my cup of tea... Janice's the one that gets me. Guess I'm part of Byron's followers.
*Byron, aka Janice&Mokey'sMan.
Lovely image of the guitarist bending down to take a sip from the fountain, accentuated by her flowing blonde hair.
Again, you hit me with clever yuxtapositioning... Cold ips warming up.
Uh, don't mind me... I'll just be here for a while in this little melty state.

Posted by Gush-Ush Monarch: “Hey, Baby,” Janice said simply, putting her other soft hand on Floyd’s cheek. “Like, you really had some thumping bass going on out there. The crowd loved you!”
Floyd was still working on recovering his voice, but he managed at last. “Thanks, Baby,” he said, then added slyly. “And how about you?”
Janice giggled and gently disen