Muppet Fanfic: Something worth waiting for

Hey, if County and Marty can bump fics so can I. Layla ushy gushy honey pie, may we have more please?

And if that didn't work, *fires penguins out of MY penguin cannon* And Prawnie said: "Let there be fan-fic!"

And there was fanfic.


...Or at least, THERE'D BETTER BE!

<throws penguins>
<has bad aim>
<hits self instead>

Ow...

I hope there's more in sight as I've posted in my own...

Sorry for the long, long delay in updates, friends... I'm run ragged right now, and I have at least another week before things have a chance to settle.

Enjoy anyway...


Talking to the Swedish Chef was one of those grueling, migraine-inducing tasks that Piggy tried to avoid whenever possible, much like cooking and manual labour. It wasn’t that she disliked the odd little man exactly, but, like nearly all of the Muppets, Miss Piggy had learned through painful experience to be wary of him… and his dishes.

Camilla fluttered her wings anxiously as she clucked rapid-fire at him and he listened with great interest. The hen was careful not to get too close to the Scandinavian maniac, the porcine diva noted wearily.

“Just tell me what the bird is saying, will ya?” she muttered when he peered at Piggy for just a little too long.

No. Piggy didn’t dislike the Chef… not exactly. On one occasion when she’d been complaining that whoever was responsible for the development of the all-celery diet should be impaled repeatedly with his own celery, the Swedish Chef had, in his usual, excessively jovial manner, offered to help Piggy in her, completely unnecessary, dieting endeavors.

She must have been delerious to have accepted such an offer.

The resulting case of, thankfully, mild botulism is better left un-described, but her furious complaints and utter misery did put somewhat of a rift between them. The tension had lasted through some months, until he’d attempted to use Piggy herself in a recipe. Naturally, she had foiled his efforts with pork chops of a different variety… though, arguably, no more dangerous than the originals.

It wasn't that the Swedish Chef’s efforts to turn her into a culinary disaster had settled matters between them directly… but he had woken up Kermit’s protective instincts, and after nearly a week of basking in the frog’s solicitous attention, Piggy had forgiven the Chef entirely.

“Und der Piggy was knock knockened in der noogin by der crazee kook.” Her forgiveness didn’t make communicating with him any easier however. Piggy would have been more than happy to forget the whole thing, forget having ever tried to listen to the chicken, but Camilla was proving persistent to a fault.

Getting frustrated himself, the Chef ran off and returned shortly thereafter, having shanghaied Beaker into their efforts, causing Piggy to seriously consider whether winning Kermit’s affection was really worth the mental anguish of not strangling a small handful of his associates.

“Mee mee, me mee mee meee mee moo moo mee.”

He would surely understand, wouldn’t he? After all, there were days when Piggy knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he, the head honcho, the boss, the frog himself would be perfectly agreeable to sending a few annoyances over to Piggy’s less than tender ministrations… before he throttled them himself. Camilla’s distraught cluck drew Piggy out of her vaguely murderous reverie.

“I know but…. Look. Is this really that important, Camilla dear? Can’t we just wait for Gonzo to come back?” The little white hen, if anything, looked even more distraught and nodded insistently.

“Meeee! Meee me me meeee mee mee monzo?”

As if she was sharing Piggy’s thoughts, Camilla shot a look brimming with skepticism at Beaker, whose voice, the diva decided, had all the soothing harmonies of an electric violin played with a power sander, accompanied by a veritable choir of fingernails on chalkboards.

All four of them were near tears when Animal stalked past, eyes darting back and forth like some wild thing on the hunt for something wilder… which, to be honest, was more or less the case. Seeing the mismatched group in borderline hysterics, he stopped, tilted his head, wagged his hairy eyebrows at Piggy, and then bellowed, “QUIET!!” at Beaker.

The skittish part time scientist and full time guinea pig complied immediately, ducking his narrow head into his lab coat, as was his wont when he was alarmed, which was nearly always, and for good reason.

Piggy stared at Animal, uncertain what the drumming creature would do next. “WEIRDO SAD! PIG MAD!” Animal pronounced wisely. “PIG FIX GONZO…. NOW!!!”

With that, his eyelids dropped heavily over the barely shuttered madness that lay beneath them, and he ambled off in search of one or more of the five basic staples of life.

Cautiously, Piggy looked at Camilla.

“Is that-“ The hen had collapsed against the lady pig’s leg, weeping and nodding in relief.

“Oh,” she said quietly, before waving away the Chef and Beaker and shifting her leg slightly away from the hysterical chicken. “Camilla, it- it was an accident. Moi am not angry with Gonzo. Really.” She sighed heavily, “I just want to forget all of this ever happened so I can get on with moi’s life!”

Camilla’s answering comment required no translation… thank goodness.

“Well, I don’t care what you think!” Piggy snapped. “It’s the truth! I am NOT angry with that freak and he doesn’t need me to talk to him!" She took a breath and spoke more calmly, more coolly." If Gonzo needs someone one to fix him, might I suggest a psychologist?”

Changing tactics, the chicken cast Piggy a pleading, puppy-“frog” eye look that would have rivaled anyone’s save perhaps, for little Robin’s, who had become something of an expert.

“Fine,” she growled, relenting at last if only to free herself from the confounded girlfriend of a confounded… whatever. “Moi will talk to him. Alright?”

With that promise given, Camilla, at last, granted Piggy a reprieve from the clucking, snarling, meeping and Swedish gobbledy gook. Left alone again and to her own devices, Piggy felt the melancholy that had fled in all the chaos returned swiftly to plague her once more. She sighed moodily and, after a few minutes of waiting for Gonzo to come rampaging by and seeing no sign of him, retired to her bedroom.
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“Hey, listen. I really appreciate you opening your home to me like this.”

“C’est notre plasir,” came the fluid reply from the doe-eyed, raven-haired woman.

Kermit had never pretended to understand French, but his host kindly translated. “It’s our pleasure. Welcome to our home.” Marcel LaPierre had been quick to offer Kermit a chance to come over and watch the show with them when Mr. Caraway had made it known that the frog wanted to see it as soon as possible. “Mireille understands English, but she is shy to speak it, Mr. Frog.”

“Please, call me Kermit,” he said in reply, offering a friendly smile that took in the couple as well as the chubby faced toddler that stood staring at him in fascination. The little one reached forward suddenly, pointing with grubby, moist, baby fingers, his innocent face breaking into a child’s smile of pure, untroubled delight, but before Kermit had a chance to wonder just where those fingers had been, Mireille scooped up her son and blew a quick raspberry on his round belly. “Au bain, Chou,” she crooned, whisking him off for a quick bath.

“Nice family,” Kermit commented as Marcel slipped a tape into his VCR.

“Thank you. We are all great fans of your work, yours and your friends’, including little Sami there.”

“Well, thank you very much for the hospitality. I’m glad you recorded the show. I wouldn’t have been able to see it otherwise. Really, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“It is my pleasure…Kermit,” he smiled. “Ah, look, it is starting.” Quickly, Marcel took up the chair next to that which he’d offered to Kermit and together they watched the latest episode of the newest reincarnation of “The Muppet Show.”
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EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! Oh LEYLA!! How amazingly LOVELY!!!!!!! Oh my gosh the way Piggy kept trying to have conversations with Chef and Beaker and Camilla! And then Animal comes in and saves the day!! How AWESOME!!! Then Gonzo!! OH GONZO!!!!!!!!!!! Oh it's so heartfelt...OH GONZO!! And then THIS:

Oh it's just...HILLARIOUS!!!! AND WOOOOOOOW!!!! I love it ALL! (((HUGS))) and keep cool, you'll be fine this next week and get an update to us when you can!

I could squeal in delight over this chapter.

Or I could NOT reveal to my parents that I have my computer on after 9:30 at night, which as you know, is not supposed to be allowed.

Your choice.

...I thought so.

I'll come back and squeal some time tomorrow, hopefully. Till then, just know that I love it! And MORE PLEASE!

Sorry for an even longer delay in a review.

*imagines Piggy cooking* Mmm...nice...rubber gloves...

My porcine diva...

*giggles*

Gah! I adore the double meanings you bring to stories!

*laughs again*

She's so hot when she's cross...

*falls into a vaguely murderous reverie of my own...and wonders if depriving the world of a certain amphiberous friend would lead Piggy to my door*

*weeps at how amazing your conparasons are*

Again, wow.

Nice nice nice.

It's all nice! I loved the fact that those who can simply NOT be understood by man or Muppet, can understand each other. And I adored that Animal was the chief translator in this case.

Well done Layla!

Such descriptive writing! I LOVE it. Trying to translate for Piggy was hilarious and the fact that it was Animal of all people who finally cleared the mess... pure genious.

I hope to see more!

Chapter um... well... another one, anyway.

Oh, thanks and hugs and love to everyone who replied to the last chapter... this in another introspective one, next one should have a little more dialogue and action and stuff.
And, just for the record, despite appearances, Beau is NOT an ushy gushy guy. And, as always, I am NOT a fangirl.


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Though Marcel offered him a lift, Kermit chose to walk back to the hotel. His mind was roiling with tumult and turmoil. Foremost in his mind was the sense that he should not be where he was, and there are few feelings that nag more persistently then that. He needed time to think things over, and nothing settled him like a good long walk in a quiet, green place. The streets of Paris were somewhat lacking in tranquility, it’s true, but there was still something stabilizing about the soft, rhythmic slaps of flippers on stone, no matter the noise and light around him.

Even in the varying light, passersby would be able to notice something usual about the walking anthropomorphic frog walking their city. Kermit’s expression was calm, yet distant. His eyes were focused on a faraway place and his heart on a place farther still.

If Kermit hadn’t known the schedule for the show, if he didn’t know his friends as well as he did, or if he didn’t know who was supposed to have sung “Bahama Mama” and the old torch song, Kermit would have thought it was insanity as usual back home in the theatre.

But he did.

He did know the schedule of the show; he knew his friends, and he knew just who was supposed to be there, and wasn’t.

What Kermit didn’t know, however, was why, and without knowing why, he didn’t know what to do or even what to feel about it. He passed a French deli, and, catching sight of what was on sale this week, firmly steered himself away with a queasy little whimper.

Piggy was usually, heck… constantly, demanding to be on every show, always pushing for a bigger role. That she would voluntarily miss a show where she had not one, but two leads… Kermit shook his head uneasily. Well, there had to be a reason… Piggy always had her reasons, even if he didn’t always see much reason in her reasons. Illness? She hadn’t sounded sick on the phone, and he rather suspected that if Piggy was ill, he’d have heard about it in pity inducing detail. Kermit turned over the other possibilities in his mind and didn’t like where they were taking him.

As if Piggy’s absence wasn’t bizarre enough, Gonzo’s act, not what he’d been planning to do before Kermit had left, had pushed the show to a whole new level of oddity. In fairness… this was not unusual. Gonzo’s acts always pushed the show to a new level of oddity. Still, the sudden focus on Piggy. Watching him, Kermit had been chilled by the strange poetry about Piggy, about Piggy… getting hurt?

It was a horrible thought, almost unthinkable… but again… she had sounded fine, nervous, but fine on the phone.

As well, since the strange implications of Piggy being hurt were coming out of Gonzo, could Kermit even dare take it literally? This was Gonzo after all, and there was no telling what he would say or do next. Had Gonzo actually done something to Piggy or had she simply been so irritated by the Haiku that she’d refused to go on? Was this some sort of protest? Kermit wouldn’t have put that past her, but then, wouldn’t she have complained to him? Demanded that he take action, never mind that he was on another continent? He sighed, miserable in his confusion. Kermit had trouble conceiving of anything being bad enough to keep Piggy willingly off the stage ….but something HAD happened. He knew that… and guiltily wished he didn’t. This wasn’t a decision he wanted to have to grapple with right now.

What was happening back home?

The aggressive sounding of a horn brought Kermit back from the theatre and dropped him squarely back in the streets of Paris. He had somehow made his way back to the posh hotel where he’d been put up. It looked back almost accusingly at this impertinent frog from a swamp who had had the audacity to enter into its domain.

“Why are you here at all”, it seemed to demand, added its weighty voice to all the other questions assaulting him, pushing him for answers, for decisions.

Kermit couldn’t answer that question, but after that walk… he did know something…

“Time’s up,” he told it quietly.

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When Piggy was dragged out of her room by a flustered Camilla at nearly eleven o’clock that night, it took no time for her to figure out that Gonzo had still not returned home. Camilla’s genuine distress and her status as a fellow woman, not to mention Piggy’s grogginess spared the hen from a trip through a nearby wall. Incidentally, this spared Kermit, at least temporarily, from having to repair that wall.

Although there was no real cause for alarm yet, the little blue daredevil’s absence had stirred the others to action. They were holding a meeting, which evidently, Piggy was late for. Nearly everyone else was already there, babbling one over the other in a wildly excited din that Piggy knew in an instant, and with the help of long experience, would accomplish nothing for a good long time.

Fozzie was displaying his usual talent for getting everyone’s attention, and his usual talent for keeping everyone’s attention, which was not much better than his talent for stand-up comedy. Without Kermit there to organize them, to give them a unified sense of purpose, the well-meaning bear’s efforts were wasted.

Piggy rubbed her temple as a fresh headache began to blossom. She’d finally managed to claim enough sleep to start feeling better and now the little twerp had gone and disappeared. What the chicken expected Piggy to do about it, she had no idea. Watching the chaos unfold, it was more than obvious no one else expected anything of her.

“What am I doing here?” she wondered aloud. Lew Zealand heard her and shrugged before lancing a fish at Fozzie. It did not return. Ten minutes after that dismal thought, Miss Piggy was quietly shutting the door to the boarding house behind her, unnoticed in all the kerfuffle. Though the diva eschewed jogging as a matter of course, walking was something else entirely, and in any case, it was certainly better than being back in that mess, being hounded by a chicken who could give any of the dogs lessons.

Uncertain of any destination in particular, Piggy paced uneasily. She always liked to know where she was going, where she was headed. Piggy was, as those in the know might say, a goal oriented person. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of someone staring out their window at her. She glowered at him. Apparently he found something noteworthy about a Piggy wandering the streets at night. She stopped then, thinking, becoming aware of how silly she looked, walking back and forth like that in the middle of the street in the middle of the night like a crazy woman. Piggy liked being a spectacle, but only in certain circumstances, circumstances which generally involved lavish parties and a certain handsome green escort. Tossing a fearsome glare at the gawking onlooker, she moved just far enough to be out of sight, then halted.

The wind blew softly against her skin. Piggy sighed into its caress, imagining another’s and then looked searchingly up at the stars. Without warning or fanfare a streak of radiant light fell across the broad expanse of the sky in a silent blessing of comfort hope, and beauty.

Seeing it, Piggy knew where she was going.

Oh Leyla Leyla Leyla!! First of all, THE CHAPTER!! Wow!! So much thought and determination and sadness all at the same time!! And KERMIE'S comin' HOME!! And speaking of Kermie, THE SIGGY!! It finally shows!! Sheesh, I'll never live it down!!

And that's the truth! *ahem* Please don't make me squirm again Layl..

"tranquility" It's a lovely peacable word.

"something stabilizing" "soft" "slaps" "stone" Nice alliteration...and the "slaps" are very tunefull.

"passerby" "anthropomorphic" Nice words.

*squeeeeeeels!* I know where his heart is! It's pressed close to Piggy's on the alter of love! *is not ushy gushy* *and is not part of a cult that offers sacrifices of Pig and Frog hearts on the alter of love*

...*stab*

Ayeee! That's so...cute somehow?

"Pity inducing" besides being a loverly phrase this also is so heartfelt because she is NOT demanding pity from anyone over this!

Gonzo act...bizarre...where have I heard that before? Oh! Everywhere!

"Implications" "literally" Nice words.

Grapple. Nice word!

Oooh! Fascinating! "Agressive" "squarely" "accusingly" "impertinent" "audacity" "domain."

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

*giggles*

*laughs out loud*

Whooo-ha! Nice!

Great imagery.

"lancing" Nice choice of wroding there. Also I love the short and sweet little sentence. "It did not return." Says a lot in four words.

Oh and "kerfuffle" reminds me of a huge Sesame Street inhabitent with a trunk...

"eschewed" - Another darling word from the diva of diction!

Shooting star!

Shooting A-class-star!

<Raises hand> Can I just second all of the above whilst shaking my fist at this dreadful sinus headache I've had since trying to go to sleep last- ...erm, this morning? ...Oh, I can?... Oh good. <Does so.>

MORE- Oh, gosh, it hurts to shout- More please! <grumbles something about a bed and a headache and half a dozen ushy-gushy scenes whilst slowly stumbling out> <discovers ability to think of lots of fun words when in pain-induced-half-sleep...> <is rambling in the form of actions> <wonders how that's possible> <looks over post> <still wonders>...