Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

[christyb]

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

 

[The Count]

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

 

[christyb]

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

 

[The Count]

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

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

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 14: Philanthropy

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

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

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

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

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

 

[The Count]

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

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

 

[Leyla]

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

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

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

Oh, and this line:

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

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

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

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

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

 

[christyb]

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

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 15: Setting the Stage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[The Count]

Oosh! Yes, made up sound word.

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

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

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

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