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Muppet Fanfic: Something worth waiting for

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Leyla, Mar 16, 2006.

  1. Leyla

    Leyla Well-Known Member

    Hmm, well... what can I say... it seemed like fun!
    Be gentle, I hardly remember the Muppet show from my childhood, I'm rediscovering it now.
    “Vous are being unreasonable!”
    “I’m being unreasonable?!” he repeated incredulously.
    “Exactly!” she growled, but not without satisfaction. “Finally, we agree on something!”
    Kermit stared at her in stupefaction, mouth opening and closing in a fruitless attempt to find the words that would allow him to regain control of the situation.

    A situation that started, like many before it, with a capitol “P.”

    “Piggy,” he began, tension evident in every inch of his small green frame. The crowd of Muppets surrounding him leaned in expectantly, keenly waiting for the drama to unfold. “Piggy, you can’t honestly expect me to-” The irate blonde swept forward suddenly, her eyes blazing with blue fire. As one, the spectators scattered backwards; no one wanted to be within arm's reach when Piggy was this upset. Those farthest away from the centre of the conflict were at ease enough to discuss the matter in a civilized fashion.

    “Five bucks on the pig!”
    “Five on the frog!”
    “Jou must be kidding, alright?”
    “Tactics, man, it’s all about the tactics.”
    “Remember, guys, this doesn’t effect the monthly pool!”
    “Rizzo, you can’t change the rules in the middle of-”

    Kermit tuned out the tide of voices washing over his ears with a skill born of long practice. He needed to focus on the problem before him. Truthfully, that wasn’t all that difficult to accomplish. Piggy was eminently capable of making sure she was being heard. Pausing, she sent a furious glare around at the undeterred onlookers before resuming her intimidating approach. Kermit watched carefully, assessing her mood in a split second.

    Level 6, he decided, not angry enough to chop just yet. Chancing the risk that he might be wrong, the frog held his ground… and his breath.

    “Why,” she hissed, almost inaudibly, when she was near enough for him to feel her breath, “are you doing this to me?” Another flash of those blue eyes, and Kermit winced as a pang of regret hit him. Not often, but every once in a while, Piggy would let slip the hurt which was underlying the outrage. He hated when she did that; it was the equivalent of an emotional Karate chop, and it was devastatingly effective. Any temptation of giving vent to his frustration in a tirade expressed more clearly in frantic arm waving than in words, vanished abruptly.
    “Piggy,” he sighed, rubbing his head, trying to formulate his words carefully, “I am not doing this to you. It’s just how things worked out this time around.” Kermit was relieved when the volatile actress sighed mournfully. Level 2, much better. Muppets, some relieved, some disappointed, began drifting off to find other sources of entertainment. “I tried to talk to them; I really did.” She glanced away from him now, mood shifting like quicksilver, rapid and difficult to track. At least Piggy was listening. “It’s… they really only wanted one person on the tour and so…” Kermit trailed off, hoping for some sort of response. She still wasn’t looking at him. Reluctantly, he forged on ahead, “It’s not really going to be much fun, you know, rushing around, trying to make everyone happy, answering the same questions over and over until you just want to scream.”
    “Still,” she murmured, genuine regret edging in on pathos, “Paris… in the spring.”
    “I won’t be seeing it, Piggy. Living out of a suitcase, never having a minute to myself, it’s going to be exhausting.” Miss Piggy shrugged, non-committal. “I’ll be back soon. It’s only for a couple of weeks.” Kermit offered a sympathetic smile. She had settled rather quickly; this was going better than he’d anticipated.

    Suddenly, she looked at him askance. “Why didn’t vous tell moi about this until now, Kermie?” Storm clouds began to gather again in her expression. “Looks like everyone else knew. Just how long have vous known about this tour of Europe?”

    Time for the frog to backpedal as fast as his metaphorical legs could carry him. “Uh, well, you see, Piggy, uh, darling-” Pet names weren’t going to help him now, he realized too late. The invitation had been very specific about leaving “the pork” in the theatre. Two years ago the acerbic host had had a rather unpleasant encounter with the diva during an in-depth interview. Kermit did not entirely blame Piggy for her reaction to the biting questions and sly implications, but it did make things awkward when they needed to do promotions.
    “When!” It was not a question; it was a demand.
    “Er, I guess it’s been about a month, heh, but I wasn’t sure until-”
    “What’s her name?” The question threw Kermit for a loop.
    “Huh? I mean, pardon?”
    “The girl you’re taking to Paris with vous. What’s her name? Does moi know her?” Where is she getting that from?! Piggy spun away from him sharply, tapping her foot angrily on the floor. Eight and a half… uh oh. Kermit wished he’d never agreed to take on this charity marathon. He was beginning to wish he’d never left the swamp. Peaceful, calm, completely pig-free…
    “Piggy, you’re being ridiculous! I’m the only one going! There’s nobody else!” He had started to yell before he’d even quite realized it. “And even if there was, that’s none of your business, pig!”

    Is that a nine and a half or a ten?
    Ah, ten.
    Echoing footsteps and a slammed door heralded Kermit’s finding himself sprawled in an all too familiar position on the wooden floor. It was made slightly less familiar by Rizzo hovering over him looking less than impressed. Odd seeing the little guy from that angle.

    “You couldn’t have kept it at twelve, could ya?” The rat shook his head in disgust. “If you’d jumped on that plane yesterday-”


    “I’m just saying-”


    “You couldn’t have ducked?”

    Rizzo.” Kermit scrunched his face up in annoyance. “You want to try ducking, you just go right ahead.”

    “Sheesh, grumpy,” Rizzo trundled off as Kermit crawled to his feet.

    The frog glanced between a clock and the firmly shut dressing room door, wondering if he should try to resolve things one more time before leaving. There wasn’t much time and she needed to cool off. Piggy didn’t tend to hold her anger for long, however…

    “Hey, boss, you okay?” He nearly leapt out of his skin at the cheerful voice coming from behind him. Kermit didn’t answer the question directly.
    “Scooter, either Piggy or myself is crazy. I’m just not sure which one.” If it were only possible, the go-fer’s smile would have broadened.
    “Aw, don’t worry, everyone knows you’re both crazy!” Kermit frowned at him with all his might. Heedlessly, Scooter continued on, “Gee, I mean, everyone around here is crazy. You oughta know that, of all people.”
    miss kermie likes this.
  2. ReneeLouvier

    ReneeLouvier Well-Known Member

    I love this story. It's really funny!
  3. Leyla

    Leyla Well-Known Member

    Thanks! That means a lot coming from you! I'm hoping to get the next section up shortly. I have a ways to go yet!
  4. Smiles

    Smiles Well-Known Member

    This is great. I love how Kermit measures Piggy's anger. And how everyone is crazy, too true. Can't wait for more.
  5. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Very nice dialogue, and I like the way you've portrayed the Frog/Pig relationship. Piggy's high maintenance, but she's the one that Kermit picked--even if she picked him first! Keep going!
  6. Leyla

    Leyla Well-Known Member

    Er... when I said soon, I meant... er... not so soon.

    Sorry about the wait. School got in the way of my writing, and I'm not used to writing for the Muppets, so I kept changing my mind about where to go next.

    Ruahnna: Thanks for the support! I think I'm gonna have fun exploring Kermit and Piggy's relationship. I'm not sure I understand it yet. It's rather complex, but I like it!

    Smiles: Aw, thank you! Crazy people are such fun to write for! Well, when I say crazy people I don't mean you, I mean... er... oh, forget it. ;)

    Super Muppet:Thanks!

    It was nearly four months now since Alec Caraway, representing the Angels of Mercy Children’s Charity had approached Kermit and the other Muppets about hosting a twenty-four hour live Marathon show. It was sure to be a fantastically difficult undertaking and Kermit had been more than a little reluctant to take it on, despite the glowing reputation of the charity. He’d listed his objections calmly and very specifically, secure in the knowledge that most networks would be reluctant to give up that much airtime. Mr. Caraway had nodded thoughtfully, apparently noting Kermit’s objections, then he went off and handily overcame them. Kermit was not privy to the actual effort involved, but the energetic, warm-eyed philanthropist proved himself quite convincing and persistent. NBC had offered them a spot stretching from late Saturday to Sunday night. Gentle-natured Kermit had nothing on the ability to resist abject pleading possessed by the average television executive.
    So it was on with the show. Early on, poor Kermit had had a bit of a panic on discovering the show was going to be a live broadcast. It had taken Fozzie and Rowlf the better part of an afternoon to talk the frog out of changing his name to Steve and moving to Canada. They had relied heavily on logic to soothe his jangled nerves.
    “It’s cold up there!” Fozzie waved his arms in an unconscious imitation of Kermit.
    “You don’t really look like a Steve.” Rowlf offered calmly, his entire demeanor in stark contrast to the other two.
    “They have snow all year round! And polar bears! Mean ones!”
    “That’s true, Fozzie, and you know Kermit, Steves have troubles too. It’s not all sunshine and lollypops being a Steve.”
    “You’d need a better coat! And snowshoes! And what about the French! What if they want to eat your legs?!” Kermit made a face at Fozzie, who was disconcertingly genuine in his concern.
    “You do look more like a Steve than a Philip though.”
    “You think?” Fozzie left off his dire warnings about Northern wildlife to consider the issue.
    “Sure, look at the eyes.”
    “I dunno. Maybe we should get a second opinion.”
    “Good idea. Hey, Miss Piggy?” Kermit waved his arms in a desperate gesture to ward off Piggy’s involvement.
    “Mmmhmmm?” she greeted them sweetly, eyeing her frog in a speculative manner not entirely different than a French chef might.
    “Do you think Kermit look more like-”
    And so on and so forth until everyone was debating the issue the frog had sullenly agreed to stay, “before I end up being Mortimer the Amphibian Impersonator.”

    After all, the show was not all bad news. The publicity would be good for them, assuming nothing horrible happened to any of the guest stars. Also, the Muppet Madness Marathon would allow (i.e. force) them to use those acts that were seldom seen, rarely seen, and never shown in the regular show. It was a wonderful time to be an acrobatic penguin or a singing mushroom. In the end, Kermit had quietly stocked up on headache medicine and coffee before throwing himself headlong into the project. Once he decided on something, anything, that he considered important, Kermit was relentless in his choice. This was no different, and he had been working himself to exhaustion in the process of getting the marathon together. His closest friends were almost relieved that he would be getting away from the theatre for a while. A whirlwind tour wasn’t the most restful of experiences, but at least he would be too busy to worry for a while and Kermit would have nothing to do but sleep during the traveling.

    The door swung quietly closed with an ominous finality. It was official. The Frog had left the building. A familiar, almost friendly sense of barely controlled panic settled in immediately afterwards.

    “So now what do we do?” Zoot drawled lazily, voicing the unspoken thoughts of the entire cast and crew of The Muppet Show. Scooter stared at his battered clipboard, hesitating. What would Kermit do? Rowlf and Fozzie looked at Scooter, then looked at each other and shrugged.
    When the uneasy silence dragged on just a bit too long, it was Rizzo, small of body and large of voice, who snapped, “Let’s get this rehearsal on the road!” Gonzo opened his mouth and the rat hastily added, “the proverbial road! Not an actual road, people. Honestly…” and so he continued in like fashion, muttering to himself as he headed off to round up his rat compatriots.

    A stock market of exchanged glances whipped around backstage for a second after his departure before the unlikely crew of entertainers scattered to their individual tasks. Unnoticed, Miss Piggy edged open the door to her dressing room and watched the frenetic activity unfold below her. After a moment, she turned her gaze to the table where Kermit’s cup sat in its customary place, waiting patiently for his return. She sighed mournfully before brusquely ducking back in her dressing room. Something had to be done about her costume for the Best of Broadway medley. Too many feathers in all the wrong places. Makes me look like a turkey, albeit a graceful, stunning, fabulous turkey.

    “Mayhem band to the pit for Pachelbel’s Canon in D!” Scooter called brightly in Floyd’s general direction.
    “Heh, heh, you mean Pachelbel’s Cannon in D- struction,” Dr. Teeth chuckled, beckoning to the other players. “Let us away to our stations.”
    Small crashes and complaints reached Scooter’s ears seconds later. “Whoops,” he sighed, “House lights up! And could someone move the bicycles?” The go-fer couldn’t resist a cheery smile. They had a show to put on in two days, and a massive project rapidly approaching, The Marathon. It was going to be an organizational nightmare and he couldn’t be happier about the challenge ahead.
  7. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

    HA! OY MY WOW I LOVE IT! It's just hilarious and so Muppetational and chaotic and PERFECT! “You do look more like a Steve than a Philip though.” PRICELESS! And since I missed the first chapter until now, let me take this opportunity to say that I LOVE and ADORE how Kermit ranks Miss Piggy's anger. And I specifically love this line here: A situation that started, like many before it, with a capitol “P.” And these lines:
  8. ReneeLouvier

    ReneeLouvier Well-Known Member

    I really loved this little chapter, Layla. It was cute.
  9. Smiles

    Smiles Well-Known Member

    Greatness! I loved the whole Steve thing, priceless.

    And don't worry about taking a long time to update, your not the only one. *wink, wink*
  10. Leyla

    Leyla Well-Known Member

    Oh, thanks a lot gang! I'm hoping the writing will go faster once I really get into the plotline. I think I'm gonna have to get out my fanfic writing poking stick to prod people lovingly into action. There are a lot of good writers here, and it's so nice to relax while reading about the muppets!

    Oh, and so glad you like it, TogetherAgain, I can't remember offhand what story you wrote, only that I completely adored it. ARe you still writing?
  11. froggiegirl18

    froggiegirl18 Well-Known Member

    Oh yay!! It was so nice to see an update to this story. I love it! And along with some others on here, I loved the Steve part..hey wait Phillip as in our beloved Phillip who created this webbase? Hehe this makes it even funnier. Aww poor Piggy, so will her and Kermit be writing each other? Ahh I guess I will just have to wait and see won't I? Keep up the amazing writing and I look forward to another chapter. I can also understand about the busy schedule. Thanks for updating it though.:)
  12. Fragglemuppet

    Fragglemuppet Well-Known Member

    OMG, this is so hilarious! I would telly
    you my favorite eliments, but there are just too many! I love everyone else's work of course, but it is still nice to see a brand-new face in fanfiction, welcome!
  13. Daylight

    Daylight Well-Known Member

    Funny and incredibly good writing! Keep at it!
  14. Leyla

    Leyla Well-Known Member

    Well, another section for you!

    I realize that this story is coming in rather choppy bits, but once I actually start hitting plotline, the chapters will get longer. Thisone nearly went up last night, but I decided it was too short. Now it's longer and makes slightly more sense, and that's probably worth the wait!

    super muppet and Daylight: Thanks a bunch, glad you like it! It's so nice to be encouraged!

    Fragglemuppet: Thanks so much for the welcome. There are so many great writers here, well it's been a treat hunting down the various stories. It's an honour to be counted among them.

    froggiegirl18: I didn't realize that the creator of this wonderful place was Phillip, but he is surely beloved. I was actually thinking of Kermit's amnesia name from Muppets Take Manhattan but your way works too. Allow me to be a bit mysterious here and say that in short order, Piggy will desperate to avoid contacting Kermit.

    The pre-dress rehearsal, or the “Dress-Dress” was always chaotic. Nine times out of eight, no element of the show had actually been nailed down by that rehearsal. Acts arrived, grew, shrank, and disappeared, often literally. Sometimes they even went through all four stages in the course of an hour. In short, the Dress-Dress made the actual show look as cleanly polished as Martha Stewart's bathroom floor.

    During true dress rehearsals, Kermit fairly vibrated with nervous energy, trying to wrap his adorable little head around a show line up that bore little resemblance to the painstakingly laid plans of the previous weeks. The actual performance only upped his tension level and often that was when his friends would try to shield him from whatever disaster had befallen that particular evening. They were rarely successful and Kermit was frequently stressed and occasionally disheartened by his perceived failures as a director… until the end of the show.

    Outside observers, journalists, fans and the like, sometimes puzzled over why the little frog would put himself through such a harrying experience week after week, year after year, but they were not privy to the euphoria that gripped him after each performance. Like a survivor of a near-death experience, Kermit was always in love with life after somehow grappling his way through the Muppet Show. He’d made people happy, and, admittedly, two specific people unhappy, for another day and it was somehow instantly worthwhile. The agony of the planning and all the desperate improvisation had paid off and Kermit could settle back and start it all over again.

    Still, the Dress-Dress was not something anyone looked forward to, with the possible exception of Gonzo the Great, who thrived on the chaos. Over the years, Kermit, a closet anarchist himself, had learned to relax for this part of the process, if only to preserve the tenuous threads of his sanity. Unfortunately, Fozzie, Rowlf and Scooter, who were largely responsible for overseeing everything during their director's absence, did not have the benefit of that bit of Frogish wisdom.

    Without much discussion, the trio had fallen into specific roles that best suited their own individual talents. Scooter was scooting through the theatre so fast that certain physicists would have thrown out their calculators in dismay to see him go. He was somehow everywhere at once, an orange blur of youthful energy, chasing down props and performers, finding out what needed doing and getting that information to the doers. It wasn’t so very different from his usual responsibilities, except that he could not bring any problems to Kermit.

    Rowlf tended to take over from that point, making sure that the doers actually got to the doings they were supposed to be doing. In sharp contrast to Scooter, the easy-going pianist never seemed to hurry, did not seem to feel any pressure, and had an instantly relaxing effect on those around him. Muppets were wide-eyed and racing after an encounter with Scooter and cheerfully on task after a friendly chat with Rowlf.

    It was on Fozzie that fell Kermit’s greatest burden… that of worrying. When something went wrong, and something was always going wrong, it was up to him to fix it. Well, not so much to fix it, as to be aware that it had gone wrong. Experienced Kermit was positively laconic during the Dress-Dress for exactly the reason Fozzie was flitting from place to place, hovering anxiously as people complained, then flitting off to hover somewhere else. There was absolutely nothing to be done about the worries for the most part. No sooner would you hear about some horrible catastrophe that would end civilization as they knew it, then the problem would be a niggling little detail that someone else had already fixed. However, as Sam the Eagle had sternly reminded Fozzie, you had to be perpetually prepared for the unexpected.


    All in all, the day’s Dress-Dress went swimmingly; presuming the swimmer in question was competing in the Olympics and had never laid eyes on a swimming pool. Still, there were no fatalities and most everyone was in good spirits. Piggy’s flirty little torch song had gone off without a hitch and Gonzo had hurt no one but himself when he attempted to find matching socks blindfolded while being shot out of a cannon. The only major incident occurred when some well-intentioned, and wisely unidentified person slipped Animal a mild sedative. It wasn’t particularly effective. Only Animal’s chief caregiver, the chronically groovy Floyd Pepper, had picked up on the subtle differences in the drummer’s wild stare and slightly mellower demeanor; to everyone else, Animal was his normal, frenzied, maniacal, completely abnormal self. The bass player was furious, however, and took up his complaint with Fozzie.

    “Dude’s just not himself! I mean, just look at this!”

    Fozzie followed Floyd’s gesture and ended up staring helplessly at Animal’s drum set. Desperately, he tried to figure out what he was supposed to be shocking him. “It looks fine to me,” he answered finally after peering cautiously over the battered surface.

    “Right on!” Floyd nodded, “No teeth marks, no scratches, no holes.” He gave the bear a hard look. “You know what that means?”

    “Everything’s fine and I can go away now?” Fozzie asked hopefully, surreptitiously looking about for an escape route.

    “No, man,” Floyd replied, oblivious to the hopes he’d just dashed, “It means no passion, and no passion,” he emphasized, “means no go.”

    By this point, the entire band had gathered around them, including the apparently passionless Animal, who was breathing heavily as he stared at Fozzie like the bear was composed of delicious drums. There was no doubt about it: even drugged, Animal put the mayhem in the Electric Mayhem.

    “Oh, right, right! That’s what’s wrong, of course, I mean, of course you can’t play without… passion. Heh.” Whimpering was still beneath the bear’s dignity at that point, but he was heading there fast.

    As one, the band members settled a bit, satisfied. “I’m glad to see you understand our musical convictions.” Fozzie smiled in relief. “Now,” Floyd continued, “What are you going to do about it?”

    The bear stuttered nervously for a moment before inspiration hit. “Coffee!” he cried.


    Okay, so perhaps letting Animal drink that much black coffee had not been a brilliant idea. It all worked out in the end. The band had been thrilled when he’d effortlessly drummed them into exhaustion and Clifford’s old enemy, the perpetually malfunctioning light, had been mercifully put out of his misery once and for all during the resultant… mayhem. The frenzy had gotten slightly out of hand when Animal had started ravaging the dressing rooms, but before too much damage had been done Piggy leapt to her knickknacks’ defense in the “knick” of time, efficiently flattening the drummer. It was no small tribute to the strength of the coffee running through his veins that she’d had to chop him no less than four times before the crazed drummer was sufficiently deterred. In fact, Animal seemed to enjoy it, looking up at the pig and laughing until he eventually curled up for a well-earned nap.

    Her mission accomplished, Piggy delicately brushed a stray lock of hair from her face then turned deliberately, looking directly in each pair of the onlookers’ eyes until, finally, her gaze lingered on Fozzie.

    “Kermit,” she said firmly, “would have known better.” She turned then and returned to her dressing room, leaving them to the sizable task of putting things together again.

    Oddly enough, Miss Piggy would soon be in need of similar assistance.

    Oh, and sorry about the print size. It seems to shrink by itself. Any idea what I'm doing wrong?
  15. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

    THE LIGHT! Oh yay! I just love that perpetually broken light. Ah, out of its misery at last, I see. :D

    And an EXCELLENT chapter, and I can't wait to see just how Miss Piggy will be needing similar assistance.

    I absolutely love how all your descriptions are worded. For example, "Scooter was scooting through the theatre so fast that certain physicists would have thrown out their calculators in dismay to see him go." I LOVE that line. And you have all the Muppets so perfectly in character. This is just incredible. I love it. MORE PLEASE!
  16. Leyla

    Leyla Well-Known Member

    Oh, thanks so much both of you!
    TogetherAgain, I've been enjoying seeing how much all the writers here seem to link to eachother's stories, so I'm taking my own little stab at it with the light. Somehow I think that saga is not really over however.

    Glad you like my descriptions. I spend a fair bit of time on the, trying to word them exactly right. It's a great comfort to me that you (of all people!) feel I'm being in character with the muppets as that's the most important part of writing to me.

    I gotta get back to working on it now so I can maybe get something up tommorow. It should be a bit more exciting from this point on. (Crosses fingers)

  17. ReneeLouvier

    ReneeLouvier Well-Known Member

    Oh my god! I have to say I loved the decription of Scooter scooting through the theatre. That was SO awesome!
  18. Leyla

    Leyla Well-Known Member

    Oh, well thank you very much, Renee! I always think of you and your stories whenever I write Scooter. ;)

    I still haven't finished writing the peril section yet, but this may amuse you until I do.
    Kermit may have been absent from the Muppet Theatre, but his unspoken presence lingered. If their trusted, yet beleaguered leader had been there, he would have been bombarded with a thousand questions during the show’s dress rehearsal. However, since he’d left specific instructions not to contact him for every single trivial question, the questions instead seemed to float aimlessly out from the crowd, searching hopelessly for listening ears.

    “Should we sing this in C or Db?”

    “Blowtorch or crossbow? Which do you think is more evocative of French culture?”

    “How many flamingoes auditioned for the calypso number?”

    “Oh, if only our diminutive and verdant compatriot were here to cognate upon our selection of rocking vibes.”

    “None?! Now what are we going to do?”

    “Could we spray paint a chicken instead?”

    “Bawk. Bawk. Bawk?!”

    “That sounds like fun! Can I help?”

    “Bawk! Bukawk!”

    “Uh, of course I meant just you, sweetie!”

    “Does it have to be pink? All we have is purple!”

    “Purple flamingos? Well there’s always a first time.”

    “Louise looks great in purple! Uh, and Camilla, you look better of course. Heh.”

    “Do you think this cheese is still good?”

    “Kermit? KERMIT!”

    “I think it's still good.”

    “Has anyone seen my cue cards?"

    "Well, I'm eating it anyway."

    “Moi am not singing with purple chicken flamingo impersonators!”


    “Sorry, Animal, little dude’s smaltzing with the French!”

    “He’s doing what with the French?!”

    “Kermit go bye-bye?”

    “Like, fer sure.”


    “You got that right, Animal, and she’s all mine. Watch out for his teeth, baby.”

    “What’s Kermie doing with the French?!”

    “I find all of you people utterly beneath contempt."

    Okay, so that last one was not really a question. It still floated away, ignored, in the general hubbub. Frankly, it would have been ignored even if Kermit had been within earshot.

    “Two minutes to curtain! Two minutes to curtain everybody!” As Scooter took up his customary cry, the atmosphere changed rapidly from summer rainstorm to a class five hurricane. Insults, objects, and the occasional Muppet flew threw the air in a one-and-a-half-minute flurry as everyone rushed to get into place.

    “Thirty seconds!” the go-fer called out, heralding a sudden, intense silence: the eye of the storm. For the actual show, the optimists' hopes would have been mercifully euthanized and everyone would let the disasters roll right over them. For the dress, tensions ran so high that you could practically hear the gentle sound of minds snapping like twigs. Scooter gave Fozzie an encouraging nod and the bear straightened his neck-a-tie. With a breath, he strode out onto the stage, waving cheerfully at the empty seats.

    “Hiya! Hiya! Hiya! And welcome to the Muppet Show!”

    “Oh no! It’s started early!” Came the wholly unexpected cry.

    “Run away!”

    “Yeah, run away!”

    “You! Hey, you, the bear! Run away!”

    Fozzie did an astonished double take towards the theatre box. More specifically, he started with a horrified expression at his most faithful hecklers, doubled up in mirth.

    “Hey- what?! You can’t be h- You- It’s the dress rehearsal! You can’t be here!”

    “Then where’s your dress, sugar?” The chronically witty old men dissolved into unkind laughter.

    “Doh hoh ho ho! That’s a good one, Statler.” Waldorf chuckled obnoxiously.

    Shock switched quickly to indignant annoyance. Fozzie geared up for his most cutting comeback ever. “Oh yeah, well…uh, well… you’re here on the wrong night! You’re here!” Even he winced at the weak reply.

    “What’s that he said?” Statler called out mockingly.

    “He said we’re here… twice.”

    “Oh, sorry about that… We’re always sorry about that! Ha ha heh!”

    “Yeah, forgive us. We must be hard of here-ing!” They cracked up again, but not for long.

    “Did someone call for me and my boomerang fish?” With a gleeful laugh, Lew Zealand sprang seemingly out of thin air behind them and began pelting them with fish.

    “Argh! Stop!”

    “Enough with the fish!”

    Clearly delighting in the change of fortunes, Fozzie shouted, “Hey, he’s not listening, guys! I guess he must be-”

    “Oh, don’t say it!”

    “-hard of herring! Wocka, wocka!”

    “Haven’t we suffered enough?!”

    From off-stage, Scooter waved frantically at Fozzie, finally managing to catch his attention. “Fozzie! Keep it moving! This would be the longest intro in history in a respectable theatre!”

    “Oh, right. Sorry, Scooter." He turned his attention away from the balcony. "As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrup-” A fish smacked Fozzie with some force right in the kisser.

    “Good one!”

    “Got him!”

    “Do it again!” Statler and Waldorf showed their rarely shown enthusiasm, cheering for the brave little kipper.

    “As I was saying,” Fozzie tried again, no less brave than the acrobatic fish, “put your steel drums together for “Bahama Mama!” A light smattering of applause echoed from backstage to simulate a real audience.

    “Whoa! Good crowd tonight!” Statler snickered.

    “Would somebody show those fools the door?” Sweetums, who had been leaning against the wall under the balcony, shrugged and headed for the entranceway, ready to comply. Catching himself, Fozzie called out in alarm as the protesting creak of lumber reached his ears. “No! No! Leave the door! Just get the two old guys out of here!”

    Without warning, Miss Piggy, impatient to get her number over with, poked her head through the curtain. “Some of us have places to go, furball! Now move it!” To illustrate her point, she academically shoved the bear with enough force to send him crashing behind the left wing. Piggy then laughed sweetly at her imaginary audience and disappeared back behind the curtain.

    Sweetums, in the meantime, approached Statler and Waldorf in their box. Before the monster could say anything, Waldorf shook his hand. “Great show tonight.”

    “No need for the escort, giant furry man. We’re leaving.” Statler agreed cheerfully.

    Confused, Sweetums rolled his large eyes into an unintentionally terrifying squint. “Huh?”

    Not the least bit intimidated, Statler said conversationally, “Yep, we saw the bear dress, and the pig fly. Best part of the show!”

    “Only part of the show! But, Statler, I believe it was the pig that dressed and the bear that flew.”

    “No, no, no, you weren’t paying attention… now the pig was-”

    Somewhat intimidated himself by the departing heckler’s odd conversation, Sweetums headed off to get Robin to read him “Horton Hears a Who” again. It always made him feel better. “And a person’s a person no matter how small.” He rumbled to himself with a monstrous smile.

    Seconds later, thanks to the efforts of a crowd of frantic rats, the curtain opened to reveal a beach set complete with a large wooden palm tree and copious amounts of sand, which, at some point, for someone, was going to be a nightmare to clean up.

    Wrapped tightly in a feathery pink dress that flared out at the knees, Piggy launched into a speedy rendition of Bahama Mama, spurred on by her desire to cut short the amount of time she had to share the spotlight with a chorus line of purple chickens. Miss Piggy was very much aware that she was the most Flamingo-ish-looking creature on the stage by a large measure.

    Even when sung at warp speed, the song did not quite manage to go on without a hitch. Towards the end of the piece, Piggy spoke the title words in just the right rhythm, slurring them ever so slightly and suddenly two fluffy pink snowths darted on stage with their infamous chorus. Although outraged at being upstaged, she still attempted to finish the cursed song.

    “He simply can’t make up his mind!” She sang, almost spitting out the words, dodging the snowths who were evidently quite taken with her fluffy outfit, crooning “Doo doo, doo do doo,” almost lovingly as they pressed up against Piggy.

    “Bahama, bahama mama-aaaahhh!” she finished, crashing to the stage with an undignified yelp as she tripped over one of her ardent fans. The snowths, confused by the new sound coming from their beloved, yet fallen, mistress darted off into the wings and disappeared; a wise decision given the current emotional state of Piggy the Snowthqueen.

    In retrospect, Piggy would see Bahama Mama as the highpoint of her day. Almost everyone else already found it so.
  19. ReneeLouvier

    ReneeLouvier Well-Known Member

    AHHH!! That's SO funny Leyla!!! I love the Snowth's!
  20. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member

    Sorry I'm late, but I love this chapter! It's so... Oy I love it. The Snowths! And Piggy! HAAAA! That is some GREAT interaction and I just may be forced to reference that sometime in the future. Oh, hey, and speaking of interaction! Fozzie and Statler and Waldorf and Lew Zealand, and the fish, and then Statler and Waldorf and Sweetums, oy I love it! It's priceless! And I particularly love the beginning. Have I mentioned that I just adore your diction? And I love this sentence: For the dress, tensions ran so high that you could practically hear the gentle sound of minds snapping like twigs. Oh, it's beautiful! And the atmosphere changing from "summer rainstorm" to "class five hurricane" is just perfect! I love it! Oh, more please, pretty please, PLEASE! And, please, WHAT is going to happen to Miss Piggy... the Snowthqueen? I love that, by the way, the Snowthqueen, it's hilarious! But what's going to happen? Oh, I want to know, know, know! Oh, and the purple chicken flamingoes are awesome. Very Muppety. All right, enough with the compliments- MORE!!!!!!!!

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