Getting Swamped

[The Count]

Hello Ru... Was wondering if you had some more story we could preemptorily peruse while waiting for an update. Thanks.

 

[The Count]

*Comes in singing... Y is the yellow bird that sings so sweet...
Which brings me back to Z and now...

Is this story complete? In the swamp?
No, I don't think so... So come on Ru and post some updates... Please?

 

[The Count]

Hi... Just dropping by to see if we can get more swamped with more story please.

 

[Ruahnna]

Once again, sorry I've been out--Shanghai'd by my life. Writing has gone on in my absence from here, however, and I'll be posting more soon.

 

[The Count]

*In Animal voice: CAT-ER-INE!!!
Oh how we've missed you around here. Post when you get the chance, let us know if you need catching up and we'll help.

 

[Ruahnna]

A great little spot

Piggy sat on a log next to Kermit and tried to keep smiling. Everywhere she looked, there were frogs. Little frogs and big frogs, smiling frogs and frogs deep in discussion about world affairs or the latest in pond scum. Frogs barely more than tadpoles frolicked nearby and stared without compunction at Piggy peaches and cream perfection. Used to attention and generally undaunted by scrutiny, Piggy was nevertheless somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer number of faces that smiled at her in a friendly manner. She was especially grateful for Robin, perched on the log nearby and chirping happily to everyone, and to Kermit’s parents, who tried their best to reiterate names at regular intervals and put a buffer between Piggy and some of her more persistent admirers. Kermit was so gosh-darned delighted to be home, getting his back thumped and his head rubbed and being swarmed by children and brothers and sisters and cousins that he was not, after all, much help to Piggy in wading though the social niceties.
There was tea and soup and some little sandwiches which were lovely, but Kermit ascertained almost immediately that Piggy was going to have to stick to tea. Toward that end, they shared a plate, so as not to be obvious. He would have to do something about appropriate edibles, and soon.
Piggy’s luggage arrived and, despite Kermit’s prediction, arrived without help of a crane. It came by pick-up truck instead, which served admirably well. It made an excellent excuse to spirit Piggy away from the crowd for bit.
“Thanks, Sherwood,” Kermit said, waving to the ruddy-faced man in the flannel shirt. “We sure appreciate it.”
“Anytime, Mr. Kermit,” Sherwood had said. He took his baseball cap off to Piggy and looked down, blushing. “Sure was nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said politely. “We don’t get many movie stars around here.” He cut his eyes at Kermit, then stammered, “I mean, ‘cept Mr. Kermit here.”
Inexplicably, his shyness made Piggy shy in response. She smiled at him warmly and thanked him again for bringing her luggage out. He offered to carry it for her but she hefted it without noticeable strain. She trotted off for the edge of the swamp grass and, except for sinking at irregular intervals into the soggy ground, made it look both easy and oddly elegant. Kermit smiled after her. He liked strong women, which—given his family—was fortunate. He turned to Sherwood and smiled.
“Congratulations, Mr. Kermit,” Sherwood said admiringly. “That’s a mighty pretty pig you got there.”
“Thanks, Sherwood,” Kermit acknowledged, feeling his chest swell a little with pride. “Um, I was hoping that you could help me with something.”
“Anything! You just say the word and I’m on it.”
“Um,” Kermit began, lowering his voice a little, although they were quite alone. “I need to get some, um, groceries.”
Sherwood looked at him, obviously confused. “Groceries?” he said. “Why, I thought your Mom would be cooking everything she knows how to—“
“Um, yeah,” Kermit said, again looking around nervously. “It’s not that.” He turned and smiled at Piggy, who waiting for him at the edge of the grass. “Um, Piggy isn’t used to, um, country cooking,” he finally said. It took a moment, but the light eventually went on behind Sherwood’s eyes.
“Oh,” he said. “Oh, I see what you mean.” Sherwood put his tongue in his cheek and pulled on his lower lip. “What kind of stuff do you need?”
Kermit sighed with relief. You could always count on Sherwood.
“Well, um, we don’t have refrigeration, so we need stuff that won’t, um, spoil or wilt.” Kermit shot one more nervous look at Piggy, who smiled and waved. “Um, chocolate is always good.”
Sherwood was nodding again. “I’ll get right on it, Mr. Kermit,” he said firmly. “You can count on me.”
“Thanks,” Kermit said simply. He took a couple of bills out of his wallet and pressed them into Sherwood’s calloused hand. “And let me know if you need more, okay?”
Sherwood climbed into his battered grey pickup and leaned out the window to wave. He waved as he drove off and Kermit went to join his wife.
“He seems very sweet,” Piggy said as they trundled through the marshy terrain. The terra firma wasn’t very firma, and Piggy was having increasing trouble with her shoes.
“Oh yeah,” Kermit said, his hand firm under Piggy’s elbow. “Clem’s a great guy.”
Piggy looked at him in confusion. “Clem?” she said. “I—I thought his name was Sherwood.”
Looking at her puzzled, upturned face, Kermit began to chuckle. “Oh,” he said, “Um, it’s sort of hard to explain. You see, every since Clem was a little boy, he’s always been ready to help anybody who asks. And every time somebody asked for help, he said—“
“’I sure would,’” Piggy said, beginning to smile herself.
“Right.”
Piggy began to giggle and Kermit sighed with contentment. It was nice, sharing a private joke with Piggy before they went back to the noise and mayhem of his family. Kermit put his arm around her, kissed her shining hair, and steered her firmly back into the chaos.

The first night was not great. Despite his hopes, Sherwood had not returned, so Piggy was exhausted, grubby and more than a little hungry by they time they walked away from the big bonfire. Although the welcome had been unmistakably warm, the strain of being “on” was beginning to tell, and Piggy longed for a little privacy and a place to be alone with her frog. Kermit tried to find them a nice, comfy tussock of sweet grass to bed down in, but realized belatedly that what might look enticingly comfortable to a frog was far from what Piggy was used to. He looked at her apologetically.
“I know this isn’t what you’re used to—“ he began, but Piggy shushed him with a quick kiss.
“It fine as long as you’re with me,” she insisted, and hoped that lightning wouldn’t strike her for a well-intentioned lie, even if it was a whopper.
Kermit smiled and embraced his wife, snuggling against her in the dimness. Although Piggy’s suitcase had contained some lovely silk pajamas, there had been no place to change, so she had settled down in her day clothes, her feet tucked protectively under the layers of her skirt. The night noises seemed loud around her, and she was bothered by the persistent whine of insects.
“There sure are a lot of mosquitoes,” Piggy said, a little distressed.
“I know,” said Kermit, snagging a few with relish. “Isn’t it great?”
Already uncomfortable, Piggy didn’t feel like reminding him of all their differences. “Swell,” she said faintly. She put her head on Kermit’s shoulder and waited for sleep to come.

Everything seems brighter in the morning. Piggy got up after a restless night and did twenty determined minutes of yoga stretching to get the myriad kinks out of her spine. By the time she was done, Kermit was up, and he lay back in the grass and watched her balance and turn and stretch with proprietary pleasure while she made faces at him and vamped just a little. Finally unable to stand it any longer, Kermit bounded out of bed and embraced her.
“Com’ere you,” he murmured, pulling her close for a kiss.
“Ewww!” came a chorus of little voices right behind him. They broke apart hastily to find half a dozen small frogs staring at them with undisguised interest. Piggy felt her cheeks grow hot, and she looked down, flustered.
“Ewww yourself!” retorted Kermit, more than a little frustrated be his interrupted plans, but at their crestfallen faces, his expression softened and he held out his hands to them. He was immediately swarmed by small frogs, as was Piggy, dragging them both to breakfast.
“But I’m sweaty,” Piggy protested, looking with chagrin at Kermit even as they let themselves be hauled along.
“You look beautiful,” Kermit said gamely, but he knew how Piggy hated to appear in public without a chance to attend to her hair and makeup. He looked at her helplessly and hoped for divine intervention.
Intervention came, but it wasn’t exactly divine. Kermit’s family was large and, although they did not typically sit down to every meal at the same time, Kermit’s mother almost always had something cooking in the big cauldron in the common clearing at mealtime. They sat down and accepted hot chocolate (which Piggy felt like inhaling gratefully) and found themselves once more sucked back into the maelstrom of family life.
When Kermit finally managed to extricate them, Piggy had at least had a couple of mugs of warm chocolate, but the oatmeal had proved to contain added protein that wasn’t exactly compatible with Piggy’s more esoteric tastes.
“I’m sorry about the food, Sweetheart,” he murmured when they were out of hearing distance. “I didn’t think—“
“I know, I know,” Piggy said wearily. It was hard to be understanding when she was hungry and felt so sweaty and rumpled and disarranged. Kermit stopped their forward progress and turned her to face him.
“I’m an idiot,” he said quietly. “How about we get away for a little bit—just the two of us?”
Piggy had a sudden image of a sweet little bistro with a top-notch chef, a private back room and lots of air-conditioning.
“Really?” she asked hopefully. “Could we really?”
“Sure, Honey,” Kermit said. “I know a great little spot.” He smiled at her. “Why don’t you brush your hair and change your clothes and we’ll go?”
Piggy looked at him with adoring eyes.
“I could kiss you,” she growled, her eyes boring into his.
Kermit reached out and brushed some swamp grass from her hair. “Why don’t you?” he murmured.
Piggy feinted toward him but pulled away at the last moment, leaving him with his lips puckered and a grumpy expression.
“Because somebody might say “ewww,’” she retorted, and went to change.

Kermit sat with his back to a tree stump, his fingers strumming the strings of his banjo idly. Piggy turned from where she was picking flowers, enjoying the soft plink-plink of sound that carried across the open field.
This is not so bad, she thought determinedly. Kermit’s idea of “a great little spot” differed considerably from hers. Still, with the timely and, in Piggy’s eyes, heroic arrival of Sherwood, she at least had something recognizable to eat. And she had brushed her hair until it shone, swept it up off of her neck and changed into a beautiful sundress, so she felt immeasurably better about everything. The day was beautiful, the field of flowers before her a profusion of riotous color, and she was here with her frog. In fact, she thought absently, this field looked a lot like the one where they had filmed some of the scenes of The Muppet Movie. Piggy smiled, remembering how awkward they had been when they first started filming romantic scenes together.
The day had started like many others—very early, and very hectic. Piggy had been positively petrified at the thought of so many people watching them act out a full-blown romantic fantasy, but she had calmed down immediately once Kermit arrived on the scene. Although he had been polite, professional and impeccably groomed, Piggy could see that he was nervous, too, and it made her feel immeasurably better. Jim had been very hands-on at that point in all their careers and, in typical fashion, had worked to put them both at ease.
“Don’t worry about the camera,” he had insisted. “We’ll follow you. Just, you know, play with it—do what comes naturally.” Jim smiled at Piggy. “You look very fetching, Miss Piggy,” he said gallantly. “If Kermit can’t figure out what to do, I’ll give him a few pointers.”
Kermit had turned then and given Jim a look that should have felled him, but Piggy had felt a little thrill go up her spine at the glint of challenge in Kermit’s eyes. “Thanks, Jim,” Kermit said silkily. “but I’ve got a few ideas of my own.”
The first few times were awful, Piggy thought. She hoped the dailies had been destroyed, but after they had tried to run, laughing, through the field for about the fifth time, her shoe caught on a rock and down she went. Unable to stop in time, Kermit tripped over her, landing in a solid thump on top of her. After a moment of mortified silence, they had both burst out laughing.
“I’m so sorry,” Kermit kept saying, but he was smiling as he helped her up, brushing the grass from her clothes with a little more attention to detail than was strictly necessary.
“I tripped,” Piggy explained for about the twelfth time. “I must be clumsy today.”
“No,” Kermit insisted. “You’re very graceful.” Without warning, he stepped very close to her, his hand reaching for her face. Paralyzed by surprise, Piggy stood motionless as he reached out and plucked some grass from her tumbled curls. “You, um, had grass in your hair,” he said awkwardly, and then she looked at him and he was caught in the glorious gaze of those amazing blue eyes.
“Thank you,” Piggy whispered. “That was very sweet.” Her cheeks felt warm again, and she looked away. Released from the spell, Kermit found his voice and volition again, and stepped back to regain his equilibrium.
“Are you, um, ready to try that again?” he asked, then his face suffused with color and he started to stammer an explanation. “Not the fall,” he insisted, “although that was, um, that was nice, I mean, you fell very gracefully, um.” With a visible effort, he stopped babbling, then looked at her to see what she was thinking. She couldn’t help it. Piggy began to giggle. After a moment, Kermit began to chuckle, too.
“This is sortof, um, hard,” Kermit admitted. “I mean, we’re supposed to be, you know, um, lovers and I’m, um, I’m really nervous about all these people watching.”
Piggy nodded, then flashed him a look of pure devilment. “And if all these people weren’t watching? Would you be nervous then?”
Kermit gulped, then that same glint of challenge Piggy had seen earlier flashed in his eyes. “No,” he said firmly, his eyes boring into hers. “I don’t believe so.”
After that, it had been easy—easy to play lovers, no matter the scene. From that moment forward, Piggy had been more than certain that she wasn’t in this alone.
Fondly, Piggy shook herself back to the present, looking at Kermit adoringly. He had his eyes closed as he leaned back against the tree stump, letting the sun warm and soothe him. Piggy felt her heart go pitter-pat. Here was a field of flowers, and there was her husband, and—
The flowers dropped from Piggy’s nerveless fingers. There was an alligator on the embankment, creeping up on Kermit step my sturdy step. Kermit had no idea he was in danger. Piggy tried to scream, to call out, but her voice wouldn’t cooperate. She waved her arms frantically, hoping he would open his eyes. Another scaly step forward, then another. Piggy began to run. The alligator was almost upon Kermit when Piggy launched herself through the air. Her voice came back of a sudden, and she howled a loud “Hi yah!” as she hit the reptile’s broad back and sent them both hurtling toward the edge of the water. With a sudden rush of horror, Piggy realized they were going to land in the water, but the horror passed off almost immediately, to be replaced by absolute fury. When the water closed over her, she held tight to the alligator’s back and began to pummel him. How dare he! How dare anyone try to harm her Kermit! She rained blows down on his scaly head, twisted one arm behind his back.
Kermit was on his feet now, shouting something. Piggy couldn’t hear him over the din they were making as they thrashed and splashed and wrestled in the dirty water.
“Hey!” said an unfamiliar voice. “Hey—ouch! I’m gonna need that arm again so I’d appreciate it if you’d—“
Piggy looked around for the speaker and saw Kermit wading into the water toward them.
“No!” she shouted. “Stay away, Kermit! He’ll eat you!”
“Eat him?” the voice said. “What on earth gave you that idea, I’d like to know.”
Piggy realized suddenly that the unfamiliar voice was coming from beneath her, and looked down in surprise at almost the same moment that Kermit reached them.
“Piggy,” Kermit said urgently. “Honey—let go. You’re gonna hurt Arnie.”
“Arnie?” Piggy said faintly. She looked down. Toothily, the alligator flashed her a grin.
“Hi. I’m Arnie. How you doin’?” he asked agreeably.
“And Arnie—this is my wife, Piggy The Frog,” Kermit said. Arnie and Piggy looked at each other uncertainly, then began to disentangle themselves, laughing and apologizing like strangers bumping into each other in an elevator. Piggy let go of the alligator and slipped dazedly from his back. Kermit reached out and took her hand, pulling her around to his side.
“Well, well—so this is the new Missus,” said Arnie. “Nice to meet you.” He held out a scaly hand.
Feeling surreal, Piggy took it. “A pleasure,” she said faintly, holding her sopping hair out of her eyes.
Arnie looked at her with open admiration and gave Kermit a frankly covetous look. “Your little lady packs quite a wallop,” he said appreciatively. Kermit put a proprietary arm around her waist, beaming with pride.
“Yep,” he said. “She does that. Hey—we’re having a big get-together tomorrow night over at the clearing if you and some of the guys want to stop by later.”
“Oh, gosh, Kermit—I can’t tomorrow. PTA meeting—the missus will kill me if I miss this one, but I’ll tell everybody to come by and meet the little lady.” He winked at Piggy cheekily and slipped beneath the water.
There was along silence, then Piggy turned and looked at Kermit in disbelief.
“You—you know him?” she asked levelly.
“Um hum.” Kermit smiled and gave her a quick smooch on the mouth.
“Glad to see you’re meeting everyone,” he said approvingly. “C’mon. Let’s go find you some dry clothes.”
Stunned into submission, Piggy just did as he said.

 

[The Count]

Few little things.
"wading though the niceties", shouldn't it be "wading through" instead?
"Who waiting for him", shouldn't it be "who was waiting" instead?
"You see, every since", shouldn't that be "ever since" instead?
"by they time", shouldn't that be "by the time" instead?
"It fine", shouldn't that be "It's fine" instead?


Loved how you take us through all the events of the day/night/next day.
Piggy nervous about so many frogs watching her.
The little in-joke about Clem's name, nice.
Piggy dissheveled and Kermit snagging a few mosquitos before going to sleep.
Breakfast and Sherwood bringing them some more "edible" food.
The flashback to TMM, with Jim and both leading stars tumbling down into the grass.
The fight with Arnie the Alligator.
And the happy couple strolling off to whatever it is you have up your sleeves next.

A heck of an update, but it was definitely worth it. Please Ru... Post more!

 

[The Count]

Mmm... Simply loved the update... Um, could we get some more please?

 

[Ruahnna]

A Place to Change

They had, at least, addressed the issue of a place to change for Piggy. They hung two of Piggy’s voluminous silk dressing gowns over a hastily-constructed frame, making a space where Piggy could dress in privacy. Piggy dried her damp and muddy sundress over a bush, resolving not to fret about whether or not it would come clean. Kermit could just buy her another one, her mind prompted, and the thought made her feel better.
Her up-do was now a fluffy little ponytail, and she was wearing jeans with rhinestone studding down the legs, a white tank top and a red silk blouse knotted at her waist. Her shoes were red satin open-toed heels, and Piggy once again tried to alter her gait in order to avoid planting herself like a daisy. Kermit nodded his approval when she emerged, noticing that some of her air of determination had returned.
Kermit sniffed the air. “Something smells good,” he said.
“Mmm,” Piggy said noncommittally.
“Ready to go have dinner?”
Piggy nodded firmly. “Ready for anything,” she insisted. She tried to look confident.
Kermit smiled and took her hand firmly in his own.
“That’s my girl.”

There was nothing on the supper menu that appeared appetizing to a lady pig of discriminating tastes. Piggy had had a satisfying lunch, however, and she was content to sit next to Kermit on one of the big logs and watch him enjoying his mother’s cooking. Things were less formal today, and she felt slightly less the center of everyone’s attention, but it seemed that everyone had heard about her encounter with Kermit’s friend, Arnie. She smiled and laughed as cheerfully as she could as she was ribbed and teased by pretty much everyone except Jane and James. Robin, bless him, asked for a blow-by-blow account, which Piggy declined to give. After more than an hour of stiff-upper-lipping, Piggy was pretty tired of smiling and longed to retreat to a less public place. As if sensing her discomfort, however, Kermit reached around behind his back and pulled out his banjo. A ripple of excitement went through the crowd.
“I wondered if you were ever gonna play that thing,” said his brother Matthias pointedly, “or if you were just wearing it for decoration.”
Kermit made no reply, but his slim fingers danced over the strings, picking out a merry tune. Piggy heard someone warming up on a harmonica, and saw more than one of Kermit’s cousins pull out a reed pipe or a neatly carved water-reed flute. The firelight was dancing, and she felt drowsy and oddly content as she listened to Kermit’s fingers flying over the taut strings.
Kermit plays jigs and ballads, songs with words and songs where there were no places for words among the sprightly tune. Piggy recognized some of the songs, and others were unfamiliar to her. Others sang, too, and Piggy was pleased to note that, while Kermit was not the only one in his large family to have musical talent, his talent shone very brightly nonetheless. She was proud of him, and could see that his family was, too.
Although she was musically talented, Piggy played no instrument. It was nice to not be expected to perform, but Piggy felt a little left out, especially when Kermit played what were obviously local favorites. The log was sturdy beneath them, and dry, but it was far from the luxurious comfort of Piggy’s own furniture. With an effort, Piggy stifled a yawn and leaned against Kermit’s shoulder; she felt like she’d been running on adrenaline most of the day.
Feeling her stir, Kermit turned and smiled down at Piggy. Being a musician had its privileges, but it has its drawbacks also. You might attract the girls, but you couldn’t do much about it as long as the music was playing. In Kermit’s case, his banjo had served a dual purpose during his years in the swamp. More than one fetching young female had been attracted to the melancholy or joyful sounds of his skillful playing in the moonlight, but the music has also served to keep them at a distance. Feeling the sweet weight of Piggy’s head on his shoulder, Kermit was glad he had never put the banjo down all those years before, glad he had waited for the one who could dance to his own special tune.
He finished the strains of “John Henry” and stopped playing to an absolute chorus of protests from the assembled crowd. Piggy smiled, thinking it was plain where Kermit had gotten his penchant for playing in front of a crowd.
“Don’t stop playing!”
“Yeah—the night is still young….”
“Awww, one more, Kermit—just one.”
“Do you have to?” This last was said by about 86 little frogs in various modes of whine.
“We’re going to turn in,” Kermit said firmly.
From somewhere on the far side of the firelight came the sounds of an exaggerated lip-smacking kiss. Kermit startled, blushing furiously, as everyone burst into nervous laughter. Jane the Frog made an indignant “oh” and stood up to look for the source of the devilry, but whoever had transgressed had at least had the good sense to melt into the darkness. Kermit tried to wave it off, but he found himself red-cheeked and annoyed. Sheesh—it wasn’t like he was the only one who’d ever gotten married. Some of his siblings had been married for years and had several clutches of tadpoles by now. He looked to Piggy apologetically and saw her face was suffused with color as well.
She looked at Kermit in dismay. Just when she thought the teasing had abated…. She sighed and stood up, forgetting in her flustered state that pushing down on her heels in the soft earth would affix her as firmly to the ground as though she were a prize petunia. With alarm, Piggy felt herself falling backward. Some fears are inborn, and Piggy waved her arms frantically to stop her descent. Sadly, this caused her to miss landing squarely on the log. She overbalanced and, with a loud cry, fell backside-over-teakettle over the log, landing flat on her back. Her shoes were still resting placidly inside the circle of firelight.
Kermit stood aghast, as did the other frogs. Piggy lay still and wished the earth would swallow her up, leaving no trace. Again sadly, these things never happen when wished for, and Piggy was forced to endure the helpful assistance of some two dozen of Kermit’s family members as they hauled her not quite gracefully to her feet. Kermit pushed his way to the forefront and put his arms around Piggy protectively, half-expecting another big smoochy sound but not caring a whit. Apparently, the perpetrator had been silenced, however, and Kermit was allowed, with much solicitousness, to lead Piggy away. A chorus of concerned voices called after them as Piggy slunk away with very little left of her dignity.
Behind the makeshift curtain, Kermit helped Piggy peel off the damp and muddy jeans. Her red silk blouse was blotched with dirt, and it followed the jeans, as did the tank top.
Neither spoke, but the tenderness of Kermit’s touch was soothing to Piggy’s badly-scuffed pride. He put a comforting hand on her waist, but pulled back almost immediately.
“Piggy!” Kermit cried, suddenly alarmed. “Your back—omigosh, what, what happened?”
He was looking at a neat row of red welts along the small of her back. Gently, he touched one of them. It felt warm. Piggy looked over her shoulder in surprise, then up at Kermit’s bewildered face.
“Kermie, those are mosquito bites,” she explained gently. Kermit looked aghast.
“Mosquitoes bite?” he demanded. Piggy nodded. His genuine horror and surprise made Piggy smile in sympathy.
“Yes—and they particularly like to bite you in tight places, like under your waistband or….” She trailed off and showed him another cluster of bites in an inconvenient place.
“Do they, do they hurt?” Kermit asked.
“Not really,” Piggy explained. “But they itch like the devil.” At this, Kermit looked absolutely flabbergasted.
“But—but I didn’t know mosquitoes could bite. They don’t even have any teeth!”
“Apparently, they don’t need them,” she said dryly, trying not to squirm. “It’s only temporary,” she assured him. “Miserable, but temporary.” Much like her recent embarrassment, her mind prompted, and Piggy felt just a teensy bit better.
“But—but why didn’t you say something. I didn’t realize—“ His distress was so palpable that Piggy forgot her own misery for a moment and put a hand on his arm.
“I have some ointment in my makeup case that ought to take some of the itch away for tonight. Why don’t you go get my makeup case?”
Happy to have something constructive to do, Kermit trotted off and returned in moments with the leopard-print bag. Carefully, he helped Piggy tend to all of the little bumps and change into her pajamas. He felt terrible, seeing the ugly red marks on her perfect skin, and when they finally settled down in the darkness he kept his own miserable council. Piggy certainly wouldn’t feel like snuggling tonight, he thought dismally.
In the darkness, Piggy stirred restlessly.
“Kermie?” she asked.
“Yes, Sweetheart?” he responded immediately. “Do you need something?”
Piggy’s voice was warm. “Just you,” she said softly. “Come over here and distract me.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice.

 

[The Count]

That was another good slice of fanficness.

Yes Kermit... Mosquitoes do bite, though it's usually just the female ones.
The portrayal of the swamp life is brilliant and made even moreso thanks to Piggy's struggles.
Loved the scene of dinnertime with the family...
Whoever tried to rile the frog and pig...
The banjo playing, ah, now that's a touch that was worth getting to... Seemed like the music was missing. Though I noticed a bit of warbling between your tenses, no matter, it's good all throughout.

Very much like that they have their private little changing area, gives them a sense of privacy amidst the openness of the swamp.
Looks like Kermit's gonna have to call Clem to take Piggy's clothes to the laundry.

Oh well, I love this and await the next installment eagerly.