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Muppet Fan-Fiction: Weddings Are Disastrous

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by theprawncracker, May 18, 2008.

  1. theprawncracker

    theprawncracker Well-Known Member

    Chapter 9

    It had been unanimously decided that everyone, from Sesame Street and the swamp, would meet at the Boarding House for dinner every night and then those who happened to also be Muppets would carpool back to the theater.

    Scooter was relieved to return to the Boarding House; maybe here he could find a way to escape the relentless desire of Prairie Dawn wanting to help him in every task he underwent.

    Scooter walked into the Boarding House quickly, trying to ditch Prairie as they unloaded the bus. He speed-walked through the living room and caught the attention of Bean Bunny, who had arrived on the earlier carpool.

    “Oh, hi there Scooter!” Bean said with a smile to the go-fer. “You look like you’re in a hurry, what’s up?”

    Scooter didn’t stop walking as he answered the rabbit. “No time to stop and explain, Bean, so follow me,” he said.

    Bean shrugged and hopped along behind the Scooter, who was still moving at an alarming pace. Scooter made his way into the kitchen and looked around in all directions for pulling open a door beneath the staircase. On the door, there was a small sign that read, “Wipe your feet, please! You may have stepped on a shrunken Beaker on your way to Muppet Labs, and we’d like to collect him if you did!”

    Scooter didn’t stop to wipe his feet as he quickly descended the stairs into Muppet Labs. “Close the door behind you, Bean!” Scooter called up to the rabbit racing to catch up with him.

    Bean did as he was told and continued to follow Scooter into the basement. When they both reached the bottom and entered the main lab area, Bean confronted Scooter again. “Scooter, what are you in such a hurry to hide from?” Bean asked.

    “Prairie Dawn,” Scooter said blankly. “She’s been following me around all day trying to help me go-fer coffee and go-fer sandwiches—it’s driving me nuts!”

    “Oh, on the contrary, mister Scooter,” Dr. Bunsen Honeydew said, appearing from behind his work desk, and scaring the boy and his bunny. “Our psychological examinations have proven that you, and everyone else, is already crazy for living in this house!”

    “Munmoubtedly,” Beaker chimed in, popping up from underneath the a large, hardly inconspicuous tarp in the back of the lab.

    “Aww,” Bean cooed. “Well I think it’s cute, Scooter.”

    “Then you deal with her,” Scooter said. He turned his spectacled attention to the tarp and inquired to Bunsen about the contents being hidden underneath it. “What’s underneath the tarp?” he inquired (like I said).

    “Oh, that?” Bunsen asked nervously. “Why, it’s nothing—nothing at all, mister Scooter, just—just my lunch!”

    Scooter snuck a glance at an upside down clock on a wall (another failed [or, in Bunsen’s lack-of-eyes, successful] endeavor of Muppet Labs). “It’s seven pm,” Scooter said suspiciously.

    Bunsen fiddled with his glasses nervously. “Erm, I’m going by British lunchtime,” he said.

    “Mee mo, mee time!” Beaker said, pulling out a teacup.


    “Ooh, do you have any crumpets?” Bean asked excitedly.

    Scooter smirked. “Oh, I see now,” he said, nodding. “So you’re going to eat lunch at three in the morning, like most Brits?”

    Bunsen scratched his bald honeydew melon shaded (and shaped) head. “Is that what time they eat lunch?” he asked.

    “Ah ha!” Scooter declared. Beaker jumped in shock, causing his head to retreat inside of his lab coat. “Give it up, Honeydew, we’ve cornered you with logic,” the go-fer said, pointing an accusing finger in the direction of the bumbling scientist.

    Bunsen whimpered. “Oh, please mister Scooter, mercy! We beg of you! Don’t tell mister Kermit that we’re hiding something, please!” Bunsen begged.

    Scooter frowned, well now he felt like a jerk. “I’m sorry Bunsen,” he said, pulling Dr. Honeydew back to his feet. “I was just kidding, of course I won’t tell. But you might want to find a better hiding place for whatever it is—just in case Kermit comes down here.”

    “What is it, anyway?” Bean asked, edging closer and closer to the tarp of mystery.

    “I would recommend that you refrain from touching it,” Bunsen said quickly, gliding over towards the hidden machine. “I will, however, tell you, since you’re being so merciful. Come now, Beaker, the tarp.”

    Scooter and Bean looked at each other and shrugged in unison. The two of them stood behind the desk and watched as Beaker pulled the tarp off of what looked like, in essence, a gigantic hamster wheel with an electric generator attached to it. (Oh, and the tarp fell on Beaker for comic relief.)

    Scooter scratched his head. “You’re not going to clone a giant, mutant hamster, are you?” he asked Bunsen worriedly.

    Bunsen chuckled. “Of course not,” Bunsen said. “That would be too normal for our taste—and besides; it would make a quite awful wedding present for mister Kermit and Miss Piggy.”

    “So you’re giving this machine to Kermit and Miss Piggy as a wedding gift?” Scooter asked.

    “I don’t think you could get Miss Piggy to exercise on that thing if you paid her,” Bean said.

    “I think it depends on how much you paid her,” Scooter said with a laugh.

    Bunsen giggled. “No, no, we’re not giving them the machine, we’re giving them what comes out of the machine!” he said.

    Scooter leaned down towards Bean’s ear. “I bet it’s a toaster,” he whispered.

    “And contrary to what you might think, this is not the Muppet Labs Toaster Generator,” Bunsen said. “We had to axe that project.”

    “Mee mo mee!” Beaker yelped.

    “Indeed, literally, it went on quite a rampage,” Bunsen said solemnly. “But what comes out of this machine, could, in essence, generate a toaster if it felt like it!”

    “Felt like it?” Scooter asked. “This machine creates a living, thinking, feeling… thing?”

    “Precisely! A fully-fledged creation with its own thought process,” Bunsen said, making it sound spectacular. “It was quite a nuisance last time we created it, but I think this time we’ve worked out all the kinks.”

    “Last time?” Scooter asked.

    “Kinks?” Bean asked. “That’s a cute word.”

    “Why, yes, we’ve tried this very same experiment before, you see,” Bunsen said. “In fact, Bean Bunny, you should remember the last time we tried this!”

    Bean blinked. “Me? Really? Why me?” he asked.

    “Me mo mow moo meel,” Beaker mumbled.

    “Because last time this creation came to life,” Bunsen said, “it nearly caused you to run away—forever!”

    Scooter gasped as Bean’s eyes widened with excitement. “You mean… it’s Waldo?” Bean asked. “You found Waldo?”

    “More or less,” Bunsen said. “You see, Beaker and I set out on an expedition to Walt Disney World about a year ago with our sights set on recovering our missing creation. We disguised ourselves by creating our Muppet Mobile Lab and roaming the park. But by the time we recovered our friend Waldo he had been through Space Mountain one too many times and was not really feeling like himself.”

    “Oh no,” Bean said, “but you think you fixed him?”

    “Oh, yes,” Bunsen said. “And may I say, I think we’ve done a bang-up job.”

    Scooter ducked habitually at the words “bang-up.” He realized nothing was going to explode and recovered himself. “Who is this Waldo guy anyway?” Scooter asked.

    “He was part of our 3D movie,” Bean said cheerfully. “Don’t’cha remember? You were there, Scooter.”

    “Sort of,” Scooter said. “I wasn’t all-there back then.”

    “Well you’ve at least gotta remember Waldo,” Bean said. “He stole the show!”

    “If we hadn’t sucked him up with the VacuuMuppet,” Bunsen interjected, “he probably actually would have stolen the show.”

    “Mee mo crazy!” Beaker blurted out.

    “Well, statistically, yes,” Bunsen said. “But I am also statistically crazy, Beaker. Now what does this tell you about statistics?”

    Beaker gulped and had to use his hands to force himself not to shout anything out at his employer.

    “So, wait, let me get this straight,” Scooter said. “You’re giving Kermit and Piggy… Waldo for their wedding gift?”

    “Exactly!” Bunsen said happily.

    Scooter sighed. “I suppose I have to ask why.”

    “Fireworks, of course!” Bunsen said.

    “I think they’ve already had enough sparks between them,” Scooter said.

    Bunsen chuckled at Scooter again. “No, Waldo will turn into the fireworks after mister Kermit and Miss Piggy have been wed!”

    Bean gasped. “You’re gonna blow Waldo up?” the astonished bunny asked.

    “Yes. It was Beaker’s idea, actually,” Bunsen said.

    Beaker’s mouth fell open in awe of Bunsen’s acknowledgement of his idea, and then he nodded slowly.

    “And that is why Beaker will run the wheel to operate the machine,” Bunsen said.

    Beaker continued nodding, and then stopped suddenly. He sighed heavily and then nodded again.

    “You’re gonna run it right now?” Bean asked.

    “Well of course, now that we have a captive audience we might as well do a test run,” Bunsen said.

    Scooter pulled up a chair. At least he had something to do while he was avoiding Prairie Dawn.

    Bean sat down on the floor with his legs crossed and waited for the show to start. Beaker moved, his entire body shaking, to the over-size hamster wheel and took his place. He bent down and tied his shoe, and then nodded to Bunsen.

    Dr. Honeydew moved over to the generator connected to the wheel and started turning a smaller wheel on the side and flipped a myriad of switches. The hamster wheel began to turn slowly and Beaker began to run. The wheel slowly picked up speed and so did the Beaker. “You’re doing great, Beakie!” Bunsen called to his assistant as he monitored the generator while flipping the necessary switches and pushing the proper buttons.

    Electricity started to generate above the wheel and connected to a wire, powering the generator. Cogs began to whirl inside of it and the wheel was, by now, moving faster than Beaker could keep up with. The hapless (and helpless) assistant tripped over his own two feet and was now being carried around and around and around and… you get the idea.

    Suddenly, lights on the machine started to turn on. Yellow, green, red, blue—they all illuminated the dimly lit basement. Even more suddenly, a giant open-ended pipe extended slowly out of the top of the generator.

    Scooter was now on the edge of the chair he’d pulled up.

    Lighting started swirling around the new pipe and a glowing aura began emitting from it.

    Bean was shaking excitedly, nearly jumping up to the ceiling.

    The aura coming from the pipe suddenly grew larger and much brighter. It shot up to the ceiling and bounced off of it, flooding the room with a blinding light.

    Scooter and Bean shielded their eyes as the light exploded into the basement. Silently, Bean wondered if this would affect his cute, little bunny tan.

    As the light slowly settled, Scooter moved his hand back down to his side. He looked forward when he could see again, and what he could see was not at all as spectacular as he would’ve expected.

    It was a tiny—tiny blue… thing. The creature looked like a cross between a boat and a clown. It had a bouncy red top hat and a rather long red nose. The blue thing grinned a huge toothy grin at Scooter. “Hi there,” it said in an overly perky overtone. “I’m Waldo. Waldo C. Graphic. The spirit of 3D!” The little 3D bug thing laughed and then proceeded to fly manically around the room.

    Bunsen laughed giddily and jumped up and down. “It worked, Beakie, it actually worked!” he said.

    Beaker didn’t honestly care, however, considering he was still spinning around in the wheel, wishing he hadn’t eaten those hot wings for lunch (the real lunch, not the British lunch at three am).

    “Waldo!” Bean shouted gleefully. “Welcome back, pal!”

    Waldo zipped over to Bean and gasped. “Bean! My little bunny buddy!” he said. “If I had arms, I’d give ya a hug! Since, I don’t, I’ll just give you a hand!”

    The little blue creature spun around at lighting-fast speed and had suddenly morphed into a hand. With fingers (and a thumb). “Gimme five, pal!” the hand said to Bean.

    Bean laughed and whipped his hand out to smack Waldo’s.

    Scooter’s mouth was completely open. If there was a fly in the basement, it would’ve certainly flown into it. (However, the only fly in the basement was completely blinded by the light of Waldo’s emergence.)

    “Take a picture, four-eyes, it’ll last longer,” Waldo said. He then morphed instantly into a camera and flashed a picture of Scooter.

    “I… I think it’s dinner time,” Scooter said after a second.

    “Ooh, dinner?” Waldo asked. “Great, I’m starved!”

    “Oh, I don’t think so, Waldo,” Bunsen said. “You have to be kept a surprise for mister Kermit.”

    “What?” Waldo asked, appalled. “That’s boring! C’mon Honeydew, let me fly free! I’m a caged bird!” Upon saying that, Waldo transformed into a canary in a cage.

    “Yes, well, I’ve heard that caged birds have lovely singing voices,” Bunsen said. “I do wonder why, though…”

    Beaker recovered from his whirling experience and was now approaching Waldo with a plastic hamster ball.

    “What is it with that guy and hamsters?” Waldo asked, darting around the basement.

    Scooter stood up from his chair and shook his head. “Well, good luck guys,” he said. “I’m going to eat dinner.”

    Scooter jogged up the stairs like kids tend to do and opened the door at the top.

    “Scooter—no!” Bunsen shouted.

    Waldo zipped right out the crack in the door. “Suckers!” he called back as he zoomed off through the rest of the Muppet Boarding House.

    Scooter sighed as Bean ran up, laughing, to chase after Waldo. “It’s gonna be a long, long four months,” the go-fer said.

    ~-~-~-~-~

    Kermit smiled as he climbed the stairs with a plate of food in his hand. He listened with joy as his friends and family from all walks of life (and all species) intermingled at the dinner table. He was extremely glad, for the first time since they’ve been there, that they were here. It was much easier to slip away from an extremely crowded dinner table than it was from the normally only very crowded dinner table.

    Kermit slipped into his bedroom quietly and sat in front of his desk, putting his plate to the side. He cracked his knuckles and opened his lime green laptop. He turned the computer on and opened up his Word Processor.

    The frog’s spindly green fingers flipped down on the keys wildly as the titled his new project and put his name on the top. It looked something like this:

    THE NEW MUPPET MOVIE
    Written by Kermit the Frog and
    Jason Segel
    Directed by Kermit the Frog and
    Nick Stoller
    Kermit stared at the computer screen.

    He reached over and took a drink out of his glass of water.

    He stared at the computer screen.

    He reached over to his plate and took a bite of a French fry.

    He stared at the computer screen.

    “This is gonna take longer than I thought,” Kermit said with a sigh.
  2. AnimatedC9000

    AnimatedC9000 Well-Known Member

    I know how ya feel, Kermit. Really, I do.

    Uh-oh. Waldo's running amuck in the household. And Scooter's trying to distance himself from Prarie Dawn. What other chaos will ensure?

    All in all, another great chapter. Can't wait for more!
  3. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

    Loved the chapter. Too tired to reply. C'mon Scoot, she's not pestering you... If only Prawny saw the potential in at least a passing friendly crush on the part of the little girl from the Street on the man, er, gofer behind the frog...
  4. redBoobergurl

    redBoobergurl Well-Known Member

    The hilarity ensues! Another great chapter dear Prawn, now let's see some more!
  5. Muppetfan44

    Muppetfan44 Active Member

    Very nice chapter. A very muppety way to bring Waldo into the mix. I'm excited to see the trouble he'll surely cause before the wedding.

    Poor Kermit. writer's block really does suck. I'm sure he'll find inspiration with all the craziness happening the Boarding House and the theatre before the wedding.

    Definitely excited to see what happens next.

    Post more soon please!
    :)
  6. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

    Nine is half of 18.

    That must make for an exceptionally crowded table. ELBOW ROOM DOES NOT EXIST HERE! Everyone sits so smushed together that you'd think they were Muppet dormies hiding from vampires under Prawnie's bed. Ah, memories... I wonder if they have enough chairs.

    Good luck, Scooter. Good luck. Because like most characters of the felt-and-foam variety, Prairie can be quite the determined young lady, I am sure.

    BEAN! Hi Bean!

    I bet that really is a common enough occurance to merit a sign.

    <GASP!> SCOOTER! YOU DIDN'T WIPE YOUR FEEEEET! Rebel. Also-- Rabbit racing.

    Poor Scooter. I should imagine that he WOULD be rather possessive of his go-fer-ing. And I love that he says she's TRYING to help. Makes me think that, at least from his perspective, she's been more of a hinderance.

    Can I move in?

    Also-- Boy and his bunny. I like that. I like that a lot.

    It's so nice to see someone giving Beaker lines that are similar to actual words. He does sometimes say things that sound kind of like words sometimes, which is so easy to forget when writing him.

    <Snicker> Bitter go-fer. Or frustrated, rather. I like this side of him. I don't seem to recall seeing Scooter agitated too much.

    1.) Spectacled.
    2.) I love it when you break the fourth wall with those little parentheses.
    3.) <Peers at tarp>

    ...Bunsen must be very hungry.

    Oh, no WONDER he's so hungry, then! He's eating quite late. Also... It's dinner time.
    Plus! Brackets AND parentheses! Ooh that makes me happy. Also, Bunsen's lack-of-eyes.

    Oh... So he's either planning for tomorrow, or lunch was an extra... Hm, let's see, Beau's six hours ahead of me and California's two hours behind me so California would be eight hours behind Britain... I think? ...So Bunsen is either exceptionally late, or planning for tomorrow.

    Oh, and Beaker's backing up Honeydew. How kind.

    ...Y'know... I'm not even sure I know what a crumpet is.

    <snicker>

    I love it when Beaker's head is in his coat. And I do so love Scooter taking a moment to play detective here. :search:

    <Laughs!> Oh, Scooter the Accusor must've been a terrifying sight! That, or Bunsen is a wimp. Or both. Anyway, this makes me happy.

    Aww, I love that Scooter has a conscience. Really, I think that finger-pointing was a release of pent-up stress of Prairie-dodging. How kind-- and wise-- of him to advise a better hiding place.

    Bunsen is so grateful for that show of mercy. ...And, he likes to show off. But I second the question! What IS it?

    GIANT HAMSTER WHEEL! We used to have one of those at a park near my house and it was SO MUCH FUN but they took it down because kids kept getting hurt. Not hurt badly, just splinters and such, bu-- ...<Looks at Beaker> Hmm.

    And speaking of Beaker-- (PARENTHESES! Comic relief! WAHOO!)

    I wouldn't put it past them. Although they wouldn't have to do any cloning. Just get a hamster and a lifetime supply of insta-grow pills.

    Oh. Apparently I SHOULD put it past them. ...Or... within them? If it's too normal... I think I'm confusing myself.

    Of course not! She would get splinters in her gloves!

    ...Don't let her hear you say that, Scoot.

    <Snicker!>

    HA! But they DID have that IDEA! ...So Scooter, how much was that bet for, eh?

    Literally! Oy vey. <Tilts head>

    Again... I wouldn't put it past them.

    That can't POSSIBLY be a good sign.

    Not as cute as-- ...<ahem> Nevermind. :halo:

    I have no idea.

    HA! Oh, Beaker WOULD know how that feels!

    Oh. Did he bring back a sandwich?

    I can NEVER find Waldo. But then again, I'm not sure I remember the last time I looked for him. We have one of those books somewhere... I don't remember much about it, but I know that on one page he's in Ancient Egypt, and-- ...Wait. Waldo?

    ...THAT Waldo? ! ? ...Well wait a second, if he can change into anything, how do they know he wasn't feeling like himself? How would WALDO even know if he was feeling like himself? HE might not even know what he FEELS like!

    Oh no! They banged him up! Poor Waldo.

    Ah, the habitual ducking...

    <Pats Scooter's head>

    ...Um... Well... In THIS instance, erm...

    ...That.

    ...Well, if Kermit can give Piggy a mink for Christmas...

    <Rimshot>
    So true, though. So very true.
    I just had to retype that last "true" four times before I spelled it right.

    <Pats Bean's head> ...<Goes to wash cute germs off of hand>

    <STARES>
    ...Did BUNSEN just give CREDIT to BEAKER? After all that talk of SACRIFICE?

    HE DID! ! !

    ...Oh. That explains a lot.

    <Hugs Beaker>

    That's the spirit, Scooter! Something to do! And, knowing Bunsen, possible harm to inflict on yourself. ...Maybe you're better off with Prairie.

    <Deep breath> <bouncy>

    No, no, he CAN'T be doing it right. He hasn't hurt himself! ...Yet.

    I can FEEL the excitement building. Like I'm sitting in the room, right next to Scooter, watching ALL of this and just... wow. There is electricity in the air. <Is shocked> See?

    <Leans forward> <stares> <rubs hands together>

    Me too me too! Except that I'm on a ball and it doesn't have an edge.

    Ooooh, swirly... <stares> Glowing... I'm getting diiiizzy...

    Hold still, Bean! You're not helping my dizziness!

    AHHH! <gasps> Sorry. Surprised me. <STARES> <looks a bit like a deer in headlights> <except... human> <How did they describe this look before headlights?

    HA! TAN! <Continues staring a la dear in headlights>

    Well, I'm sorry you're disappointed, Scooter, but WHAT DO YOU SEE? ...Did it work?

    IT WORKED! IT WORKED! MARK THE DATE! BUNSEN'S INVENTION WORKED!

    Oh look! He's as shocked as we are!

    <Hugs Beaker-- carefully, so as not to get caught in machine> Again, the (parentheses.) They totally make my day, especially in this chapter.

    Why not just grow arms?

    Oh. That works too. (That works, too!)

    (More parentheses!) I love the fly commentary. (Poor blind fly.)

    HAHA!

    Ooh, I sense trouble.

    I should imagine that Waldo would be fun to write, what with the constant changing. ...But also... That much more challenging for it.

    Wonder what? Why the caged bird sings? Hmmmmmm. :p

    <Snicker> Good luck with that, Beaker.

    He relates to them very well. Hamsters... lab rats... guinea pigs... You know.

    Wise time to bow out, methinks.

    Ah, and time's up! Off I go! I shall be back with more to say! HUZZAH! ...Odd mood. Odd, odd mood.
  7. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

    Huh. And to think, she was almost finished with the chapter. Let that be a lesson... Bow down to the master of long fanfic reviews, Layla! *Carts off a passed-out Toga over to wherever it is we wait for Prawnie's updates.
  8. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

    Oh, good. Ed has carted me off since I left, so now I can continue without double-posting. :coy:

    Now where was I...

    Like kids tend to do. I like that. Thank you for acknowledging Scooter's (at least relative) youth.

    Too late! TROUBLE COMMENCES!

    "Suckers!" That cracks me up. Ohhhhhh, what MISCHIEF shall ensue? !

    You said it, Scoot. And Bean is laughing. Ah, yes. Life in the MBH.

    I just like these guys. Looks nice with the dashes between the tildas. I usually just use spaces between the tildas, which really annoys spellcheck. :p

    No one would ever describe the Muppet Boarding House, with all of its occupants, as empty... Unless they had just seen it with all of its occupants, all of Sesame Street, and a good chunk of the swamp. It's all relative, even though most of them are not each other's relatives. They are, however, family. Complicated business.

    Come now, Kermit, don't you know better than to eat by the computer? You get all sorts of crumbs in the keyboard. I know this from personal experience.

    I LOVE the finger description. One, it matches his fingers. Two, it really conveys his excitement about the movie. YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Three, it reminds me of when I get to typing really fast and start to feel like my fingers are just tap-dancing!

    It looks fantastic.

    I do that a lot.

    Staying well hydrated, I see! Very good. I should grab my water bottle when I'm done with this.

    Yes, Kermit. It's still there.

    I wonder how salty it is. ...I am in an odd mood.

    I see.

    That's what I said about this review!

    All in all, a LOVELY chapter, my dear Half! And I do so look forward to more. Therefore: MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
  9. theprawncracker

    theprawncracker Well-Known Member

    Chapter 10

    Kermit jumped from his desk chair as a light knocking on his door woke him from his accidental nap. He scrambled to cover up his computer, “Who is it?” Kermit asked, his voice cracking from his recent awakening.

    “Do vous know anyone in this house, besides moi, who knocks?” Miss Piggy asked from the other side of the door.

    Kermit smiled and shut his laptop. “I didn’t realize you would knock,” he said. “The door being closed has never provoked you to knock before.”

    “I’ll knock ya out if you don’t let me in, frog,” Piggy said violently.

    Kermit got up to go open the door for his fiancé. “Huh, I thought Piggy was at the door, not Fozzie,” he said.

    Kermit pulled open the door, revealing Miss Piggy standing perfectly in the doorway, waiting for her frog. “So I have a teensy head cold, sue me,” Piggy said.

    Kermit scrunched up his face. “I was talking about the pun, not your voice.”

    “Are you sure you’re not Fozzie, dear?” Piggy asked. “Because that joke is incredibly suspicious…”

    Kermit smirked. “If I was Fozzie, would I do this?” Kermit lunged forward and planted a large one (no, not a begonia) upon Piggy’s luscious lips.

    The shaken sow released a smirk of her own. “Moi would certainly hope not,” Miss Piggy said, returning the kiss to Kermit multiple times on his cheek.

    Kermit put his hands on Piggy’s hips and smiled up at her big, blue eyes. “Let’s dance,” he said soothingly. “I need to stretch the old frog legs.”

    “Kermie, mon cher, you silly frog,” Miss Piggy swooned. “There’s no music.”

    The frog laid his head on Piggy’s shoulder and sighed happily. “Your breathing is all the music I will ever need, Miss Piggy,” he said softly.

    Miss Piggy caught her breath and went through a large amount of excited gasps before recovering from the frog’s sweet nothing (but, boy, was it ever a sweet somethin’).

    “Mm, techno,” Kermit hummed quietly.

    “I’m going to need to change shoes for that genre, mon capitan,” Piggy said giddily.

    “Why do you need shoes?” Kermit asked, rubbing his foot on Piggy’s calf (piglet?). “Barefoot dancing is so refreshing.”

    Piggy shuddered excitedly when Kermit’s flipper caressed her leg. She gritted her teeth in sheer excitement as she wrapped her gloved hand around her frog’s back. “That tickles,” she said fiercely, pulling Kermit against her, making him double back in surprise.

    Kermit’s face quickly went from shock to sensuality. “These spindly fingers are good for more than just plucking banjo strings, you know,” Kermit said.

    “What does that have to do with—”

    Kermit moved his hands up from Piggy’s hips to her waist and began tickling her intensely. Piggy started laughing hysterically and slipped on the floor (it was very moist, due to the fact that it was a frog’s room) and Kermit followed her down.

    Miss Piggy, being the strong, brazen, independent woman she was, independently grabbed Kermit and flipped him from being on top of her tickling her, to being underneath of her, being tickled.

    Kermit flailed his arms around and tried to keep breathing—and Piggy continued tickling.

    “W—Wai—Wait!” Kermit breathed out.

    Piggy giggled lightly and released the frog from her flailing fingers upon his chest. “Make it quick,” she said. “I’m on a rampage.”

    Kermit lifted his head off the ground and pressed his lips against Piggy’s. He pulled back slowly, and then reached up to push a strand of her golden hair out of Miss Piggy’s eyes. “I give up,” the frog whispered. “I could never beat you.”

    Piggy smiled. “Hmm,” she purred lightly, “well that is a problem.”

    “Please tell me why,” Kermit begged (she loves it when he begs).

    “Because moi, mon froggy, am not done with vous,” Piggy said, leaning her face in closer.

    “Oh, that’s good, then,” Kermit said, “because I’m just getting started.”

    Piggy sighed happily and giggled. “Let’s go to Vegas—just get married now,” she said. “No cameras, no video, no Aunt Marge…”

    Kermit smirked. “Piggy, honey, I think that would just add more of each of those things to our lives.”

    Piggy sighed again, and let herself fall on her back next to Kermit. She stared up at the ceiling and the frog did the same. “We are really going to get married though, aren’t we, Kermie?” Piggy asked seriously.

    Kermit continued to stare up at the ceiling while he mindlessly reached his hand down and grasped Piggy’s with in it. “Nothing in the world would keep me from marrying you, Miss Piggy,” he said. “Nothing in the world.”

    Miss Piggy smiled victoriously. “Not even some hot supermodel with her own reality television show?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

    “Piggy, you’re super enough for me,” Kermit said.

    Piggy leaned over on her elbow. “Funny, I thought cheese fests would be in Wisconsin,” she said.

    Kermit shrugged on the ground. “I like to milk situations to the best of my ability,” he said.

    “Gouda to know,” Piggy groaned.

    “Did I hear somet’in’ about cheese?” a thick Brooklyn accented voice asked from the hallway.

    Kermit and Piggy rolled over onto their respective chests and looked up at Rizzo and Pepe standing in the hall, staring down at them.

    “Jou know Ritzo,” Pepe said. “I t’ink our stunning good looks have floored them, hokay.”

    “Not exactly you,” Kermit said. “Did you guys need something?”

    “Nah,” Rizzo said. “Just enjoyin’ da show.”

    “Si, si, we’re t’inking of selling tickets for de next one, hokay,” Pepe said.

    Kermit and Piggy turned to look at each other, and Kermit motioned towards the door with his head. Piggy nodded and reached her hand forward and wrapped it around the door. “Adios, mon vermin,” she said gruffly, slamming the door.

    “Now,” Kermit said, “where were we?”

    ~-~-~-~-~

    “D’is no es fair!” Pepe shouted vehemently. “We were here first, hokay, why, why they have to close de door?”

    Rizzo rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you really wanted to see that,” the rat said, pointing at the closed door in front of him. “Whatevah’s happenin’ in d’ere is nothin’ we wanna see.”

    Pepe grumbled. “Hokay, fine,” he said, “but now what are we going to do?”

    “Well my friend,” Rizzo said. “Let me introduce you to the wondah of midnight snacks.”

    “But es only ten t’irty,” Pepe said.

    Rizzo shrugged. “The time frames are pretty flexible.”

    The two smaller Muppets made their way to the kitchen. The Boarding House wasn’t nearly as crowded as it had been earlier in the evening; most of the guests had already taken the bus back to the theater for the night.

    In fact, nearly all of them had. The only people (that term used loosely) left in the Boarding House were Pepe, Rizzo, Scooter, Rowlf, and Cookie Monster (who wouldn’t leave the kitchen). Along with, of course, Kermit, Miss Piggy, Bob, Gordon, Susan, Maria, and Luis, who all, except Kermit, were spending the night in the house.

    Pepe and Rizzo made their way into the kitchen to find Cookie Monster dragging a chair along the tiled floor. The two looked at each other and Rizzo rolled his eyes and walked over to the blue monster.

    “Hey d’ere big fella,” the rat said, “whatcha up to?”

    Cookie Monster sat the chair down and wiped his brow. “Oh, about three or four boxes of cookies,” he said. “Me trying to reach ‘nother box in cabinet way up high.”

    Rizzo nodded. “I see, I see,” he said. “A valiant effaht my friend, but yer goin’ about it all wrong.”

    Cookie Monster gave a puzzled look in Rizzo’s direction. “Me am?”

    “He es?” Pepe asked.

    “Yeah, yeah, sure,” Rizzo said. The rat made use of the lower cabinets and drawers in the kitchen and climbed up on the countertop while Pepe and Cookie Monster watched. Rizzo jumped onto a window sill and grabbed the pull-string for the blinds with one hand, and one of the blinds with the other. “Watch d’is,” he said.

    He yanked down hard on the string, lifting the blinds up. He continued to pull down on the string as he rose up along the blinds. When he reached the top of the window he reached his leg out to open the higher cabinet, revealing a box of cookies—a veritable Holy Grail to the ravenous rat and his cookie craving compadre.

    Cookie Monster gasped hungrily. “Cookies!” he shouted.

    Rizzo shushed the shouting monster. “Quiet, will ya?” he hissed. “Ya want ‘em to find out we’re raidin’ the cookie jar?”

    “It no in jar,” Cookie Monster said, “that cookie in box!”

    “Si, si,” Pepe said, nodding, “es definitely a box, hokay.”

    Rizzo rolled his eyes and climbed over to the cabinet. He smacked his lips excitedly and reached forward for the box.

    “Whoa! Hold on a second!” the box of cookies shouted as its eyes sprang open.

    Rizzo screamed and tried to keep his balance. He grabbed onto one of the higher shelves inside the cabinet and pulled himself back up. “What the—alright, who bought the talking cookies again?” he asked.

    “Where,” Pepe said, “where could jou buy talking cookies, hokay? It just doesn’t make de senses!”

    Cookie Monster looked down at Pepe—his googly eyes rattling around. “Why make sense when it more tasty to make cookies?” he asked.

    “I don’t t’ink d’is es how it goes, hokay,” Pepe said.

    “Alright cookies, spill,” Rizzo said to the box.

    “No!” Cookie Monster shouted. “No spill! Me no have time to work five second rule to all cookies!”

    The box of cookies quickly morphed into Waldo. “I’m not really a box of cookies!” Waldo whispered.

    “I can see d’at,” Rizzo said.

    “I’m hiding here from that lunatic scientist and his vacuum cleaner!” Waldo said frantically.

    “D’at sucks, hokay,” Pepe said.

    “I know how d’at feels,” Rizzo said. “Ya try to take a nap in the middle of a rug and ya nearly lose yer tail, trust me!”

    Cookie grumbled quietly. “Does this mean there no cookies?” he asked.

    “Sorry pal,” Waldo said, “that’s just the way the cookie crumbles!” he said, turning into a cookie and then subsequently crumbling and turning back into himself, laughing hysterically.

    Rizzo snickered. “What are you anyway?” he asked.

    Waldo spun around quickly to face the rat. “Waldo C. Graphic, the spirit of 3D!” Waldo declared.

    “But I’m not even wearing de glasses, hokay!” Pepe said.

    “That’s the beauty of it!” Waldo said happily.

    “Can you turn into cookie again?” Cookie Monster asked.

    “So yer hidin’ from Bunsen, eh?” Rizzo asked. “Well, ya don’t have ta worry; he and Beaker went back to the t’eater for da night.”

    Waldo let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. Wait a second, you say you have a theater?” he asked.

    “Si, with curtains and everyt’ing, hokay,” Pepe said.

    “And tasty seat cushions!” Cookie Monster declared.

    Waldo suddenly morphed into a light bulb and lit up. Rizzo tilted his head to the side. “Got a problem d’ere, buddy?” he asked.

    Waldo realized he had morphed and quickly changed back. “Uh, no, no,” he said frantically. “Just, uh, trying to light up the room.”

    “Right,” Rizzo said.

    “Hey guys!” Scooter’s voice called. “The bus is back! This is the last route to the theater tonight! All Muppets move out!”

    All Muppets?” Piggy’s voice growled down.

    Scooter gulped. “All but the happy bride!” he recovered.

    “That’s better,” she said.

    “Well, d’ats our ride,” Rizzo said, hopping down from the cabinet. “See ya later Waldo.”

    “Si, good luck not getting sucked up,” Pepe said.

    “Thanks guys, bye!” Waldo said, waving. When the three Muppets had left the kitchen he looked around cautiously. “Well… I am technically a Muppet!” he said, morphing into a smaller version of himself and darting into the hood of Pepe’s jacket. “This is gonna be fun!” Waldo snickered quietly.
  10. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

    I reply tomorrow when I no have work in nine hours and lack of sleep... But me planning quotes, so no worries! <HUGS!> Night m'dear Prawn!
  11. Muppetfan44

    Muppetfan44 Active Member

    Love It

    I absolutely loved that chapter! The whole playfulness between Kermit and Piggy was very nice, and i'm very curious to see what mischief Waldo has planned.

    Great job, post more soon!
  12. redBoobergurl

    redBoobergurl Well-Known Member

    Great chapter! Love the ushy gushy frog-pig goodness! And the stuff with Rizzo and Pepe was humorous as always. Must read more!
  13. theprawncracker

    theprawncracker Well-Known Member

    Chapter 11

    Miss Piggy entered the backstage of the theater lavishly, dangling a glittering purse down at her side. “Good morning everyone,” she said to whoever happened to be backstage.

    That happened to be Scooter—and no one else. Scooter glanced over at Miss Piggy from Kermit’s desk. “It’s one in the afternoon, Miss Piggy,” Scooter said.

    Piggy shrugged. “It’s morning for moi,” she said.

    Scooter shook his head. “Is that a new purse?” he asked.

    Miss Piggy looked down at her handbag. “Oh, this old thing?” she asked. “This was a gift,” she said.

    Scooter sighed. “Alright, I’ll bite. A gift from who?” the go-fer asked.

    “Oh, vous know dear, one of moi’s numerous celebrity friends, moi has so much trouble remembering them all,” Miss Piggy said with a heavy sigh as she walked over to the desk where Scooter was, slamming the purse down.

    Scooter jumped from the surprising force of the purse dropping. “You don’t even remember which one it was?” he asked, examining the purse closer.

    “Well,” Piggy huffed, “the point is, moi has a lot of celebrity friends, Scooter dear. A lot,” she reiterated forcefully.

    “Oh, I do too, Miss Piggy,” Scooter said eagerly. “Steve Martin e-mails me every week or so, and Paul Simon mails me an update every—”

    “Yeah, yeah, that’s great kid,” Piggy said, snubbing the go-fer. “But moi was thinking more of the—” she cleared her throat, “female friends of moi’s.”

    Scooter looked up at Miss Piggy. “Oh, I see,” Scooter said.

    “You do?” asked Piggy swiftly.

    The go-fer nodded. “You want me to get the phone numbers of every female celebrity you’ve ever worked with so that you can call them and ask if they’d like to be your last bridesmaid. Right, Miss Piggy?” Scooter asked.

    Miss Piggy’s mouth fell agape (very unattractively). She shook her head, regaining her composure. “Well, erm, yeah,” she said. “But I bet you don’t know what else moi was going to ask you to do!” Piggy said, challenging the go-fer.

    “Well I’d need another hint,” Scooter said. “The purse was nice bait, by the way.”

    “Thanks,” Piggy muttered. “Let’s just cut to the chase, Scooter,” she said. “Moi wants vous to spy on Kermit.”

    Scooter did a double take. “Miss Piggy, I thought we agreed that after last time you would never—”

    “And now, Scooter, you know why you should always get these sort of things in writing, dear,” Piggy said sweetly.

    Scooter frowned. “I’m caught in a loop hole even though I didn’t sign anything,” he said with a sigh.

    “Just a little tip moi learned from one of those celebrity friends,” Miss Piggy said proudly. “Maybe vous should ask Mr. Martin for—”

    “Alright, alright,” Scooter said. “Why am I spying on Kermit this time?”

    Miss Piggy’s face grew serious. She looked all around, then back at Scooter. “He’s being very suspicious around moi,” she said finally.

    “Miss Piggy, you and Kermit are getting married, he’s probably got some sort of surprise waiting for you,” Scooter said.

    “Don’t vous think I know that?” she asked gruffly. “That’s what I want you to find out from the spying!”

    “But doesn’t that ruin the—”

    “I think I’ve had enough surprises for this wedding, don’t vous?” Piggy asked, referring to, of course, Kermit’s surprise proposal.

    “Well…” Scooter pondered this proposal. “Alright, Miss Piggy, I’ll do it,” he said finally. “But what sort of compensation are we talking about?”

    “The usual,” Piggy said, not making eye contact with the go-fer, “I’ll continue to pay off Skeeter so she won’t follow you to any of your dates—oh, and I’ll continue not telling anyone that you go on dates.”

    Miss Piggy looked Scooter in his eyes (or the eyes in his glasses) and smirked victoriously. Scooter grimaced. “You strike a hard bargain, Miss Piggy,” Scooter said, “I guess I have to do it.”

    “Exactly,” Miss Piggy said. “Another Hollywood trick, kiddo, they basically fall off of moi.”

    “Save it for the honeymoon, Miss Piggy,” Scooter muttered.

    “Did you say something?” Piggy growled at her go-fer accomplice.

    Scooter fumbled his words. “Did you want me to book the honeymoon?” he asked frantically.

    Miss Piggy smiled. “Silly boy,” she said, “Kermie and moi don’t even know where we’re going yet—try to find that out too, won’t vous?” Piggy picked up her purse and moseyed off towards the stage. “Ta ta, dear, moi am off to mingle with her co-stars and guests.”

    Scooter softly sighed in relief as Piggy walked off. “Oh, and Scooter dear?” she called back suddenly.

    Scooter jumped up. “Um, yes Miss Piggy?” he asked.

    “I won’t forget what you said about things falling off of moi,” she said sweetly. Piggy was, by now, on the stage, in plain sight of everyone in the seats. “And good luck on your date tonight, Scooter,” Piggy said loudly, for all to hear.

    Scooter heard Clifford’s hysteric laughter all the way from the seats. The go-fer frowned and sunk down to his knees, crawling underneath the desk.

    ~-~-~-~-~

    “Did everyone enjoy their lunch?” Kermit asked his groomsmen (monster, bear, dog, frog, and whatever) as they walked down the town’s sidewalk.

    “Mine was too hot,” Fozzie said, fanning himself with his hat.

    “Mine was too cold,” Rowlf said, taking the opportunity to make the obvious joke.

    “Mine was pretty cold too,” Gonzo said. Everyone turned to stare at him. “What?” he asked.

    “I tell ya Kerm,” Croaker said, picking at something in his mouth with his finger, “I dunno how ya do it—eatin’ all this human food. Gimme a good grasshopper-kabob over that pizza stuff any day!”

    Kermit put his hand on his pal’s back. “Croaker, my friend,” he said, “you haven’t tried a locust and earthworm pizza!”

    “Got me there, Kerm,” Croaker said.

    “Yuck,” Fozzie said with a grimace.

    “I think it sounds good,” Gonzo said.

    “I think you would enjoy eating with Oscar,” Grover said to the weirdo.

    “Hey Kermit—Kermit,” Fozzie called to his best friend.

    “Yes Fozzie?” Kermit asked.

    “Where are we going again?” Fozzie wondered.

    Kermit scrunched up his face. “I told you, Fozzie, we’re going tuxedo shopping!” he said.

    “But I already have a tuxedo,” Fozzie said.

    “Yes, I know,” Kermit said, “but I want to buy you all new ones to wear in the wedding.”

    “Oh,” Fozzie said. “Well won’t the others be jealous?”

    “No, I don’t think so,” Kermit said as they approached the tuxedo shop. “They all have tuxedoes too.”

    “But…” Fozzie started. He shrugged. “Alright then.”

    Kermit held open the door for his friends and they all fell in orderly (surprisingly enough). The frog followed in after them and looked around the store. Headless, handless, and feetless mannequins adorned the walls of the store, each wearing a tuxedo. In the center of the store was a small pedestal risen up off the floor and a large set of mirrors, carefully covering the dressing rooms, making the store, overall, very aesthetically pleasing.

    Kermit approached the desk on the left side of the room. “Hi-ho,” he said to the clerk, “I’m Kermit the Frog—I think I made an appointment.”

    The clerk stood behind the desk with a huge grin spread across his face. “I know who you are,” he said finally. “Welcome Kermit—erm, mister the Frog.”

    “Kermit’s fine,” the frog said with a sincere smile.

    The clerk cleared his throat. “Thank you sir—umm, I looked through your measurements, and I must say, this is the first time someone of your age has had to buy from our Youth department,” he said quickly.

    “We get that a lot,” Kermit jested.

    “How can you say that?” Rowlf asked. “You don’t even wear clothes.”

    The clerk laughed. “I’ll be right back, I’ve gotta grab your suits from the back room.” The salesman said.

    “Hold it!” shouted someone, bursting in through the front door.

    All attention turned to the door, where about half a dozen penguins entered the store in a huff. “What do you think you’re doing, Kermit?” the leading penguin asked.

    Kermit frowned. “I’m buying my tuxedo for the wedding,” he snapped.

    “How could you?” the penguin asked. “Every time you wear a tuxedo, a penguin gets impersonated!”

    “And that’s just fowl play!” another penguin shouted.

    “Ahh! Good one,” Fozzie said.

    “You penguins are crazy,” Kermit said. “I have to wear a tuxedo—I’m getting married!”

    “Alright, we’ll level with you,” the main penguin said, quick enough to seem suspicious. “We’ll let you buy the tuxedoes if you let us sing in the choir at your wedding.”

    Kermit tilted his head. “Well… I don’t really know if we were planning on a—”

    “Penguins are people too!” the penguins started shouting in unison. “Save us from identity theft! Penguins are—”

    “Alright, alright, fine!” Kermit shouted over the quacking penguins. “You can be in the choir in the wedding.”

    The penguins cheered and flipped into the air with excitement. “Um, one more thing,” said the main penguin.

    Kermit groaned. “What?” he asked.

    “We’re gonna need tuxedoes too,” the penguin said.

    “You’re already wearing them!” Kermit barked. “Out! Out! Out!”

    The penguins quacked wildly as they filed out of the store. The perplexed sales clerk blinked, then shook off the confusion. “I’ll—I’ll be right back with the tuxedoes,” he said, walking off and heading to a concealed room next to the dressing rooms.

    “You know none of us do, really,” Fozzie said.

    “Do what?” Grover asked.

    “Wear clothes,” Fozzie said.

    Kermit shook his head. “Except for Gonzo,” the frog corrected the bear.

    “Thank goodness,” Rowlf said.

    Gonzo frowned. “Only because you guys make me,” he said.

    “I wear clothes sometimes,” Grover said, “when the job is right.”

    “This is somethin’ else I don’t understand,” Croaker said. “I understand conformin’ to food, Kerm, but clothes too?” he asked. “That’s reptile territory right there.”

    The attendant returned carrying six suits on hangers; three in each hand; and smiled down at the group. “Well, who wants to go first?” he asked.

    ~-~-~-~-~

    Sam Eagle sat stiff and upright (as always) across from the hunched, wrinkly frog.

    The patriotic bird silently stirred a glass of water with his straw, staring down his beak at the table below him, trying not to lock eyes with his date.

    Aunt Marge peered through her beady eyes at Sam. “You’re quiet,” she said. “I ordered French fries—and you didn’t even comment!”

    Sam rubbed his arm and coughed quietly. “I’m—very tired,” he said softly.

    “Couldn’t sleep?” Marge asked.

    Not with you in the chair right next to me, sleeping with your eyes open, Sam thought to himself. “Yes, the—the theater chairs are very uncomfortable,” he said aloud.

    “But you’re stiff and uncomfortable,” Aunt Marge argued. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”

    “I… I had a late night,” he said.

    “No you didn’t,” Marge sneered.


    “When… when you were asleep… I—I couldn’t manage to fall asleep so I went to watch… television,” Sam said, still not looking at Aunt Marge.

    “Television?” she asked, shocked. “What on Earth did you watch?”

    “Reruns,” Sam said quickly.

    “Of what?”

    “Talk-shows!”

    “What kind of talk-shows?”

    The Colbert Report,” Sam said suddenly, looking up at Marge. “He had Will Smith on promoting his new film, it was very entertaining! I enjoy the show very much!” he said quickly, and uncharacteristically snippy.

    Aunt Marge’s eyes opened wide and she sat back against her chair, crossing her arms. “Well,” she snapped, “I’m glad you found something enjoyable!”

    Sam restrained himself and looked back down at his glass of water. “Would you like dessert?” he asked quietly.

    Marge frowned. “Yes,” she said.

    “Alright,” Sam said softly.

    ~-~-~-~-~

    The frog pulled at the sides of his tuxedo coat and smirked into the mirror. He looked good.

    Fozzie stepped up next to his friend the frog and put his furry hand on the frog’s shoulder. He straightened his bowtie and smiled into the mirror. “Kermit, we look good,” he said. “We should do this more often!”

    Kermit smiled up at Fozzie. “I agree,” he said.

    Gonzo smoothed down his tuxedo pant legs as he walked up on the other side of Kermit. “I’d still rather go naked…” he muttered.

    “You have no idea,” Croaker said as he came up next to Gonzo, wearing a tuxedo of his own. He looked extremely uncomfortable (mostly because he was extremely uncomfortable).

    “It looks good on you, Croaker,” Kermit said.

    “Yeah, yeah,” Croaker said, snubbing off the compliment.

    Grover scrambled up to the mirror, next to Fozzie, wearing a tuxedo of his own. “Oh this is so much fun, froggy baby, I look even cuter, if I do say so myself!” the monster said with a smile.

    “I agree,” Kermit said happily.

    “But not cuter than me, right Kermit?” Fozzie asked in a whisper to Kermit.

    “Fozzie!” Kermit chided the bear lightly.

    “It’s good to get back in duds like these,” Rowlf said as he entered next to Croaker. “I’ll have to get used to pants again, though,” he sighed.

    “Well, that’s all of us Kermit,” Gonzo said as all six Muppets watched themselves in the mirror.

    “What do you think guys?” Kermit asked, grinning wildly at his best friends.

    “I think underwear is evil,” Croaker said.

    “Finally,” Gonzo shouted, “someone who agrees with me!”

    “In all seriousness Kermit,” Rowlf interjected. “They look great.”

    “Fantastic!” Fozzie said.

    “Yes, highly attractive,” Grover added.

    “Oh good,” Kermit said. He turned around and looked at the clerk. “We’ll take them please—no need to gift wrap them, I think we’ll wear them out.”

    You can,” Croaker said, already taking off his cufflinks. “This frog has other plans.”

    “Yeah, freedom!” Gonzo said, reaching for his belt.

    Rowlf reached his paw forward and grabbed Gonzo’s arm. Gonzo turned to look at Rowlf as he shook his head slowly.

    Kermit smirked. “Well I’ll wear it out,” he said.

    “Great!” the clerk said. “Will that be cash or charge?”

    Kermit’s face twisted up. He sighed. “Charge it.”

    “Did somebody say charge? !” shouted the wildly surprising (both in manner and appearance) Crazy Harry, jumping out from behind one of the mannequins, carrying a dynamite plunger.

    “Whoa! Wait!” Kermit shouted, stopping the almost certain explosion. “Crazy Harry, how did you get here?”

    Crazy Harry shrugged. “I came with the penguins,” he said.

    “Good grief,” Kermit sighed.
  14. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

    PENGUINS! EVIL UNDERWEAR! HARRY! CUTENESS COMPETITION! HAAAAAAAAAA!

    Also: <Pats Sam's head> <snickers at idea of him watching Colbert Report> <hands him a brochure for the Witness Protection Program>

    ...On second thought... <hands another brochure to poor Scooter> If you'd like, go-fer, I have a rock that's LOVELY for hiding under.
  15. Muppetfan44

    Muppetfan44 Active Member

    Great Chapter!

    I like how Piggy and Scooter are at it again; spying on Kermit. It's a muppet story-line classic!

    The scene where all the groomsmen are getting their tuxedos was very nice; I could just picture all six of them standing together looking at themselves in the mirror; great image!

    Crazy Harry better not get their tuxes dirty before the wedding! haha

    Hooray!

    post more soon!
  16. redBoobergurl

    redBoobergurl Well-Known Member

    PENGUINS! I love when the penguins show up! And the tuxedo stuff was great. And good interaction with Piggy and Scooter and also Sam and Marge. Heck, good chapter overall! Must read more!
  17. WhiteRabbit

    WhiteRabbit Well-Known Member

    I've said it on Beth's fic and I'll say it here too: Segel and Stoller should team up with you guys. ;) Great update!
  18. theprawncracker

    theprawncracker Well-Known Member

    Chapter 12

    Kermit returned to the theater after the tuxedo shopping experience—he sent Fozzie and the other groomsthings back to the Boarding House to put the tuxedoes out of harms way. The frog had a show to develop.

    For some reason the excitement of a lot more guests than were expected made Kermit forget that he still had a show to put on, thankfully he had Bunsen and Beaker remind him of it by suggesting the Sesame Street gang play guests on the show.

    Unfortunately, he didn’t really have time to write them into the script—since the show was in two days.

    “Scooter!” Kermit called to his go-fer as he approached his desk backstage.

    “Yeah boss?” Scooter’s unseen voice asked.

    Kermit looked around. “Where are you?” he asked.

    “Down here,” Scooter said, poking Kermit’s leg from underneath the desk.

    Kermit looked down at the concealed kid. “What are you doing down there?” he asked. “You’re not taking lessons in art from Gonzo again, are you?”

    Scooter pulled himself out from underneath the desk. “It’s a long story chief,” he said.

    “Well I certainly don’t have time to hear it,” Kermit said. “I need the rough draft of the show’s script for this week.”

    Scooter nodded and grabbed his clipboard off of the desk. He flipped through the papers until he found the script and passed it to Kermit.

    Kermit cleared his throat and began to read it. “The Muppet Show hosted by Kermit the Frog,” he read. “Theme song, opening number, middle acts, closing number.” Kermit looked up at Scooter. “That’s all ya got, huh?”

    “I’m afraid so, boss,” Scooter said.

    The frog sighed, “At least it’s more than I have written for—” Kermit stopped himself.

    Scooter suddenly became very interested. “For what?” he asked,

    “For, uh, next week’s show,” Kermit recovered. “Erm, where’s Clifford? I need to run a few act ideas by him.”

    Scooter frowned. “He went back to the Boarding House—Sam called him home for some reason.”

    “Well that’s weird,” Kermit said.

    “Did you expect any less?”

    “Good point.” Kermit put the clipboard down and reached for a pen under the clutter gathering atop his desk. He began to scribble something upon the script.

    “What’re you planning, chief?” Scooter asked.

    “A couple song and dance numbers for everyone from Sesame Street,” Kermit said. “It’s an easy save from writer’s block.”

    “Oh, right,” Scooter said, recalling the conversation he and Kermit had about this very subject earlier this morning. “How can I help?”

    “I’m glad you asked,” Kermit said.

    “I have to, it’s in my contract,” Scooter said.

    “And I’m glad you signed it,” Kermit said with a grin. “Could you go get, hmm, Big Bird, Hoots, Ernie, and Bert for me, please? Oh, and talk to Beauregard and Beaker about designing a inner-city backdrop for the opening number.”

    Scooter nodded. “I’m on it, boss,” he said, scampering off to run the errands.

    “This is just perfect,” Kermit said genuinely. “An easy couple of sketches and songs handed right to me thanks to everyone accidentally coming. Things are looking up!”

    “Heads up!” someone shouted.

    Kermit looked up, just in time to jump out of the way of a falling sandbag from the ceiling. “Sorry boss!” the voice called.

    Kermit wobbled on his feet. “I need to remember to keep looking up,” he said before collapsing.

    ~-~-~-~-~

    A light rap upon the door ended the hard rock session in the room.

    “Every time, every time,” Floyd muttered as his fingers silenced the still vibrating cords of his guitar. “Yeah, come in.”

    The bald head of Sam Eagle poked its way through the crack in the door. “Excuse me, I—”

    “Listen Rogaine,” Floyd snapped. “We scheduled this time to rehearse, baby, you're just gonna have to live with it.”

    “Jam se-shun!” Animal shouted.

    Sam frowned (even though he was always frowning). “Pardon me, sir, but I would just like a word with you about... erm, well... it's not about your music,” Sam said, finding it very difficult to call the noise exuding from the Electric Mayhem music.

    Floyd blinked solemnly. “If you say so, man,” he said. The perplexed musician lifted his bass off his shoulders and set it gently down by the bed. “What's up?”

    Sam looked around the room carefully (for the record, he was only in the room up to his neck). “It's a rather—” he cleared his throat. “Private matter.”

    Floyd glanced out of the corner of his eye (don't ask me how that's possible) towards Dr. Teeth. The band leader shrugged and chuckled to himself quietly. “Alright Sam,” Floyd said, following the eagle out of the room.

    Floyd entered the upstairs corridor of the Muppet Boarding House to find Clifford leaning against the railing, fiddling with his cell phone, and Gonzo balancing on his head. “You feelin' alright, Washington?” Floyd asked Sam.

    “Actually, Franklin was my favorite president,” Sam said.

    “Roosevelt?” Clifford asked.

    “Benjamin,” Sam said blankly.

    Floyd and Clifford exchanged glances (Gonzo would've gotten one too, but he was too low to the ground). “So what's goin' on with you, Sam?” Clifford asked finally.

    “Yeah and why'd you wanna talk to us about it?” Gonzo asked.

    Sam looked right and left down the hallway. Then he walked over to the railing and looked down. Floyd laughed heartily. “This must be a matter of national importance!” he said.

    “It very well could be,” Sam said seriously. Floyd stopped laughing and he, Clifford, and Gonzo stared at Sam. Sam looked at each of them. “I... I was trying to make a joke.”

    “That's weird,” Gonzo said.

    “Comin' from him that's a big deal,” Clifford says. “What's rufflin' your feathers, Sam? Heh heh.”

    “A woman,” he said bluntly.

    Floyd burst out laughing, Gonzo fell to the floor, and Clifford's mouth fell open beautifully.

    “This is no laughing matter,” Sam said. “I—I need to learn how to break up with someone.”

    “Well here's step one,” Floyd said. “Ya gotta have a girl first!” he said, still laughing.

    “I... I do have a... a woman,” Sam said shyly.

    “Lady Liberty doesn't count, man,” Clifford said, sputtering with his words, still trying to compose himself.

    “Heavens no,” Sam said sternly. “This is a frog.”

    “At least it's not a chicken again,” Gonzo said. “Any warts yet?” he asked.

    “That'd require touching!” Floyd said, still laughing.

    “Do we really have to get into that?” Sam asked.

    Gonzo held back his laughter. “Well... it'll help us... determine the best way for you to break off the relationship,” he said.

    “That's the problem,” Sam said. “I'm afraid I might get broken off... Or a part of me anyway.”

    Clifford almost tripped over himself (and he wasn't even walking). “It's Aunt Marge?” he shouted.

    Sam gulped. “Quiet! Please!” he said quickly.

    Floyd was, by now, literally, on the floor laughing so hard it hurt.

    Sam glared down at Floyd. “Do you see now why I am approaching this matter carefully?” he asked.

    “I'd approach it with an armored car, if I were you,” Clifford said.

    Sam pulled a notepad and pen out from nowhere. “Ah, yes, and where would I be able to find one of those?” he asked.

    Gonzo leapt up and grabbed Sam around the shoulders. He looked the eagle straight in his eyes. “Sam, listen to me! You don't need to take notes, you just have to go out there and do it!” Gonzo shouted.

    Sam stared down his beak at Gonzo. “Do... what?” he asked.

    “Sam, you're a stiff bird,” Gonzo said. “I'm sure you can take whatever she can throw at you!”

    “Even boards can get snapped in half,” Floyd said.

    “The question still remains, dude,” Clifford said. “Why us?”

    “You all ended your relationships in less than two minutes,” Sam said. “I figured you were experts in the field.”

    “But we did that on—”

    Floyd reached his hand over quickly and covered Gonzo's mouth. “You're right—he's right! We've gotta help our patriotic pal here!” Floyd said.

    “Oh thank you, thank you,” Sam said.

    “No problem,” Floyd said. “Now first we need you to get us each a soda, then we can really sit down and analyze this problem of yours.”

    Sam saluted to Floyd. “I take back most of the things I said about you being a Liberal junky,” he said. The eagle ran off down the stairs towards the kitchen.

    Clifford pulled off his shades and glared at Floyd. “Now why would you go and do that?” he asked.

    Floyd laughed. “It's gonna be way too much fun,” he said.

    Gonzo frowned. “I dunno...”

    “We can tell him to call your next act American and distinguished,” Clifford anted up.

    Gonzo's eyelids pulled back. “Ha ha! This is gonna be great!” he laughed.

    ~-~-~-~-~

    Hoots the Owl sighed happily and nodded. “Yeah frog, I think you’ve got the right idea,” he said.

    “Thanks Hoots,” Kermit said. “So you think it’s good enough for an opening number?”

    Hoots laughed his hearty belly laugh. “Kermit, I think it’s good enough to be the whole show!” he said.

    Kermit smirked. “Well, we have to fill the time slot,” he said.

    “I really like the song you want me to sing too, Kermit,” Big Bird said, towering over the frog.

    “Well naturally,” Kermit said suavely, “after all, you are singing it with me.”

    “But don’t you think our sketch is a little too childish, Kermit?” Bert asked a hint of pleading in his voice.

    “Oh, come on now, Bert,” Ernie said. “I think it’ll be fun! You’ve always liked telling jokes!”

    “No I have not,” Bert said, lowering his singular eyebrow. “I’ve always preferred art and culture!”

    “Oh, Bert,” Ernie chided. “Try to have some fun.”

    “Well try to make it as artistic and cultural as possible, Bert,” Kermit said. “We’ll even throw in a paperclip joke.”

    Bert thought over this proposal. “What about a tap dance number?” he asked eagerly.

    Kermit thought over the counter-proposal. “Do you have your own tap-shoes?” he asked.

    “Of course,” Bert said, “doesn’t everyone?”

    “Alright then, you can finish with a tap dance number,” Kermit said.

    “Great!” Bert said, laughing.

    “Well Scooter,” Kermit said to the go-fer. “I think we’ve got a show!”

    “Um, Kermit, sir, I have one more problem,” Big Bird said.

    Kermit smiled. “You don’t have to call me sir,” he said.

    “Oh, thank you,” Big Bird said. “But, Kermit, I—uh, well…”

    “What is it?” Kermit asked.

    Big Bird shifted his weight from side to side nervously. “I think I’d rather do my number with Miss Piggy,” he said.

    “B—but Big Bird, I thought we were—”

    “Oh we were, Kermit, we were,” Big Bird said. “It’s just… Miss Piggy seems like such a big star, Kermit! I’d be so honored to work with her!”

    Kermit scrunched up his face. Scooter chuckled and patted the frog’s back. “I think Big Bird will make it just fine around here.”
  19. AnimatedC9000

    AnimatedC9000 Well-Known Member

    Ah, the chapter ending reminds me so much of the Leslie Uggams episode...

    Sam's getting desperate if he's asking those three to help him out. XD No offense, guys.

    Okay, I'm agreeing to what everybody's saying: You and Lisa should team up with Segel and Stoller! Think of the awesome movie you four could make together!

    Can't wait for the next installment(s)!

    ~ AnimatedC
  20. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

    Ah... *Soaks in all the rich goodness of this chapter. The Broken Hearts Club is back at it again... Kermit's planning for the next show... Bert's going to make a complete fool of himself again... Big B wants to star with Miss P, nice. Just wondering if Scooter and Prairie will make peace with each other though, maybe that's who the gofer's secretly, ahem. ThanksPrawn... More please!


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