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Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Ruahnna, Apr 21, 2006.

  1. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Prologue

    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.
  2. ReneeLouvier

    ReneeLouvier Active Member

    Oh wow....*melts into a pool of sweetness*....I love this.
    misspiggy5260 likes this.
  3. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 1: 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.”
    fufumuppet and basicallygood like this.
  4. Leyla

    Leyla Member

    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.
  5. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    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!
  6. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 2: Chez Roberto's

    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!
  7. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 3: Treasure Seekers

    “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.
    fufumuppet likes this.
  8. Leyla

    Leyla Member

    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!
  9. froggiegirl18

    froggiegirl18 New Member

    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!:) :) :)
  10. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 4: At the The Frogs

    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.
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  11. Leyla

    Leyla Member

    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.

    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.

    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.
    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.
  12. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 5: Good Remembering

    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….
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  13. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

    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!!!!!!!!
  14. Leyla

    Leyla Member

    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.

    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!
  15. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

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

    ReneeLouvier Active Member

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

    *giggles* Maybe little figs perhaps? :)
  17. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 6: The sum of the parts

    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.
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  18. Leyla

    Leyla Member

    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.

    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
  19. redBoobergurl

    redBoobergurl Well-Known Member

    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!
  20. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 7: This Can't Be Much of a Picnic.

    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.


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