1. Welcome to the Muppet Central Forum!
    You are viewing our forum as a guest. Join our free community to post topics and start private conversations. Please contact us if you need help with registration or your account login.

  2. "Muppet Guys Talking" Debuts On-line
    Watch the inspiring documentary "Muppet Guys Talking", read fan reactions and let us know your thoughts on the Muppet release of the year.

    Dismiss Notice
  3. Sesame Street Season 48
    Sesame Street's 48th season officially began Saturday November 18 on HBO. After you see the new episodes, post here and let us know your thoughts.

    Dismiss Notice

Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

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

  1. redBoobergurl

    redBoobergurl Well-Known Member

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

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

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

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 19: Conspiracies

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

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

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

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

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

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

    ReneeLouvier Well-Known Member

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

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

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

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


    Oh, and I love this part:

    I LOVE that!


    Wait I said that already... oh well.
  7. Leyla

    Leyla Well-Known Member

    Whee! Another great update, Ruahnna!

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Oh! The Henson stitch! What a lovely reference! (And great line by Thoreau.)

    Very funny!

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

    I liked that description of the band.

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

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

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

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

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

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

    Leyla Well-Known Member

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

    That wasn't going to happen anyway, however.
  11. ReneeLouvier

    ReneeLouvier Well-Known Member

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

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

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

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

    Getting to bed early? Oh really, Leyla... don't even THINK about trying it... I know from experience, days like today, there's no way to gorge yourself on freshly-posted-fanfic and go to bed early. Unless you can read in your sleep.
  14. Leyla

    Leyla Well-Known Member

    A girl can dream, Lisa...
  15. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

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

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

    Leyla Well-Known Member

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

    *Props eyelids open with sticks.*

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

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

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

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

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 20: Funny doin's back stage

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

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

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

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

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

    Leyla Well-Known Member

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

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

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

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

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

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

Share This Page

Find out more about Jim Henson the Biography