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Wearin' O the Green (For St. Patrick's Day)

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Ruahnna, Mar 17, 2007.

  1. Muppetfan44

    Muppetfan44 Well-Known Member

    Cute Story

    Love it as always, Ru! Can't wait to find out what Kermit thinks of Piggy's kissing booth! I'm pretty sure this story takes place before they're married but where exactly is it timeline wise; I'm thinking after Great Muppet Caper but before Muppets take Manhattan. Let me know and I can't wait to read more story

    Also, anyone have any idea when Heart of Gold is going to be updated?

    Have a great weekend everyone!
  2. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Consistently Inconsistent (a rant on canon)

    Um, ahem. This is actually rather embarrassing to admit, but I don't actually feel compelled for ALL of my muppet stories to, um, nest into each other. (SORRY!)

    The following are what I would consider my canon--Can't Help Lovin' that Frog of Mine, A Pig Out of Water, Somebody's Getting Married, Getting Swamped and The Party of the Second Part, You're Not the Boss of Me and Kermie's Girl.

    In response to any accusation that I seem to feel free to ignore internal consistency in order to tell a new or different story, I can only say, in my defence--THEY STARTED IT!

    All of the other stories don't even necessarily go with each other!
    Sometimes I have Piggy living in an apartment, sometimes in the boarding house. Sometimes, I embrace the boarding house (at my own risk, I might add) and other times I sort of look the other way and whistle. I almost always write the characters in the same way except for the pertinent facts about where they live and whether or not their relationship has changed or progressed. For example, Rowlf will always be Rowlf, his lovable, irascible self--friend to Kermit and appreciator of female, well, anything. Gonzo will always be, um, gonzo-ish. Rizzo will always be hungry--at least, as long as Chef runs the kitchen.

    As the reigning queen of ush-gush (a dubious title, I assure you), you can always assume that Kermit and Piggy are going to hanker for each other--admittedly or no--but ultimately and eventually happily. Stories like, um, let me think, oh!--What an Angel and Cold Hands, Warm Heart and The Party of the First Part--let's just say that, for me, those occur at some point BEFORE Kermit has wised up and popped the question. (And yes, I have several several versions of the proposal that I have not deigned to bore you all with--from shouted, furniture-flying arguments to very sweet and romantic--but I digress.) I try REALLY HARD to be consistent in my own canon, but that's just so I'm not crazed. You are free to feel crazed if you like--whatever makes you comfortable.

    They only thing I've done that was genuinely sad or dark was Cheeky Frog, and it bothered me so much after I posted the first part that I had to "fix" it. I can't stand the thought that we can't let them have a happily ever after after all they've been to each other.

    Everything other than that--the core of ush-gush (which, by the way, supplies a steady stream of clean, readily-renewable energy to the entire kingdom), anything can change. Robin can stay the same while Scooter is allowed to grow up (how weird is THAT?), Pepe can appear on TMS, TMS can show up as a back-drop for any story ANY TIME regardless of when the show went off the air. I can treat the "theatre show" as a "television show" or ignore the television show aspect altogether. (See how complicated this can get?) I am happy to treat IAVMMC as a real occurance or a movie at my whim--and yours.

    I guess the message I'm sending is this: I have an imagination and I'm not afraid to use it! But the moral of the story is: SO DO YOU! So..... GET CRACKING!
    And yes, I probably SHOULD get out more. I'll let you know how that works out for me....
  3. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

    *Thanks Aunt Ru for the explanation above... And assures her that we understand fully as we've come to love her writings awaiting anxiously for the next update to any of the previous tomes she's started in need of complimentary chapters. *Buys a cup of home-made coffee from Jim's establishment in town leaving it at Ru's desk or nightstand before disappearing on my merry way.
  4. BeakerSqueedom

    BeakerSqueedom Well-Known Member

    <3 Oh Ruh, yay for expressing yourself!
    :0 No matter what you say, darling, I am still reading your fabu fics.


    Now, get on with your writing. -nudges her happily-

    Bwahahah! :D
  5. Muppetfan44

    Muppetfan44 Well-Known Member

    Happy St. Patrick's Day!

    Happy St. Patrick's Day Everyone!
    May your neighbors respect you
    Troubles neglect you
    Angels protect you
    and Heaven accept you!:coy:

    Oh and Ru, I hope my question the other day didn't upset you. I was just curious and I in no way meant to offend!

  6. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Happy St. Patrick's Day

    Not at all, dearie--not in the least. I was just pointing out how ridiculously compulsive I can be about some things, and so completely non-compulsive (uncompulsive? discompulsive? Sheesh--now I'll have to look it up!*) about others.

    When you write with someone else's characters, I think it's important to understand that your take on them will be unique to you. That's why I was trying to "come clean" about the fact that--while I'm very emphatic about some characteristics in these characters, other things don't bother me if they shift or even change completely! In fact, I'm often amused by my ability to completely ignore inconvenient facts--like the one I cited about Robin remaining very young--while I've not had any problem growing Scooter up to the point that he could be an interesting adult character (in KG--but not in this story! LOL!) And yet--and yet!--I'm still struggling with a story about Robin during his teenage years simply because I can't decide whether I ought to have Robin living with Kermit and Piggy ALL the time or only during school holidays. (Talk about compulsive!) Some writers will take Kermit and company to completely new places both physically and emotionally, but have a cow if someone mentions Kermit's "teeth" or Piggy's "eyebrows." (Would this be called "having a sacred cow"?) Still, most of us feel perfectly free to romantically entangle ANY of the characters with established characters or with our own OCs without so much as a stray qualm. (Qualms, as you probably know, usually travel in packs.)

    Anyway, this sort of rumination is interesting to me as a writer, but perhaps NOT as interesting to you (and others) as readers, so I will conclude, and promise to make up for my wild, tangental journey here by finishing this story before St. Patty's day is over. As Piggy would say (and certainly do!), kissy kissy to all of you and a Happy St. Patrick's Day!

    *which is exactly what a compulsive writer-type like me would do!
  7. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

    Hi... If you're looking for a good fanfic to help at least show you one possibility for that Robin story Aunt Ru... I suggest greenstuff's Once Upon My Heart. *Goes to check on other tale threads for updates... And maybe come back to this one too.
  8. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 9: To the Rizzo Go the Spoils

    For a fellow who had spent most of the day submersed in a vat of lime green jello, Gonzo looked pretty natty. His lime-and-coral-striped pants were neatly creased and his butter-yellow shirt had been impeccably ironed. He did take the precaution of tucking his shamrock and daisy embroidered necktie inside said shirt while he waited for the start bell.
    Next to him, Rizzo sat in his lime-Jell-o-splattered t-shirt and slicked back his hair, ready for anything. Sweetums cast an impressive shadow over both hopefuls, and dwarfed the two men on his other side. One had his long hair pulled back into a neat pony-tail beneath a baseball cap that had been turned backwards and the other had shouldered out of a green watch-plaid jacket and handed it off to his girlfriend.
    “Hey,” said Rizzo. “Where are all the womenfolk?”
    Gonzo looked at him sadly. “Don’t you know anything?” he said. “If women eat pie like this, they do it after everyone else has gone to bed.”
    Rizzo shrugged, then sniffed the air appreciatively. “More for me,” he said. “But if Miss Piggy had entered, we’d all be toast.”
    Gonzo gave a small snort. “I think Piggy’s too busy for pie, today,” he said, and Rizzo cleared his throat and nodded.
    A young man approached the microphone and tapped it a couple of times with his finger. “Is this on?” he asked, then jumped back as it screeched in protest. When the wail had died away, he approached it again cautiously. “Testing,” he muttered. “One, two, three—and hi, folks! Welcome to the St. Patrick’s Day pie-eating contest. Some of Hensonville’s best bakers have been working hard all week to provide the pies for this year’s contest. Let’s hear it for them, okay?”
    People clapped politely, and a couple of kids yelled, “You go, Mom!” The young man laughed.
    “Okay. You know the rules, right fellas? No throwing, no fighting and—oh, that’s right—there’s a new rule for this year’s contest—no hands.” The contestants all blinked in surprise, then the man at the end of the row took off his necktie and unbuttoned his collar with a determined air. People cheered. Not to be outdone, Gonzo took off his necktie and threw it over his shoulder. It landed on the young man with the microphone, who removed it from his shoulder and laid it on a table behind him. More cheering, and then Kermit stepped up to the mike.
    “Okay, guys,” he said. “We want a fair contest. On your mark, get set—eat pies!”
    They were off, face first into whatever sort of pie had been laid in front of them. Rizzo made short work of his apple pie, and Gonzo slurped up his lemon meringue with alacrity. Sweetums grasped the whole pie tin between his teeth and flipped it down his enormous maw. The two men on the end had tackled their treats with equal gusto and in less than a minute, five new pies were on the table.
    Kermit watched with pleasure, liking the old-fashioned holiday feel. What a great day of wholesome entertainment this was turning out to be! Runners removed empty pie tins, replaced them with fresh pies and kept counting their fingers with obsessive attention to detail. The stack of pies behind the table decreased, and so did the speed with which the pies on the table were being consumed.
    The man with the baseball cap had been presented with a pistachio pie, which was obviously not his favorite, but he chewed gamely. Still, he lost enough time to see the writing on the wall—even if it was in meringue. He held up his hand in resignation and was greeted with polite clapping and a steaming hot towel to clean up with.
    Sweetums was having a little trouble with the no-hands rule, but he was having even more trouble with the don’t-eat-the-tins rule. Eventually he, too, resigned from the contest to pick the aluminum foil out of his big teeth, and was handed a steaming hot towl of his own. He groomed his face and hands carefully and ate the towel thoughtfully.
    “That’s okay, buddy,” said Beauregard. “You did great.”
    Gonzo and Rizzo and the man in what had once been a snowy shirtfront were eating with dogged determination now, mouths working with furious force to subdue and consume the flaky crusts and sweet fillings.
    This contest always drew a big crowd because once the winner had been declared the spectators were invited to line up for pie. Kermit watched, hoping for a little sweetness himself.
    Things were pretty even until, halfway through a key-lime pie, Gonzo began to falter.
    “Too much,” he muttered dazedly, slipping sideways in his chair. “Too much lime….”
    “Hang in there buddy!” said Rizzo around a mouthful of cherry cobbler. At least, Kermit assumed that was what he said, for the actual words came out rather mushy.
    “Can’t…hold on,” said Gonzo. “Too much…going—“
    “Don’t give up now!” Rizzo said. “We’re just hitting our stride!”
    But Gonzo was indeed showing signs of giving up.
    “Go…on…without me!” he panted. “Save yourself!” He fell with a thunk beneath the table.
    The man at the end of the table looked relieved. A pretty little brunette at the end was holding his jacket and cheering him on, but he was obviously slowing down. Rizzo spared a glance of concern for Gonzo, then looked his last competitor in the eye and dived, face-first into a coconut cream.
    “I luff conconuth cremf!” he moaned happily, and set himself to the task.
    Three-quarters of the way through a luscious-looking blackberry pie, the man at the end of the table looked up at his pretty girlfriend with a hangdog expression.
    “Oh!” she squealed. “It’s okay, Jakey-poo! You’re gonna get a ribbon and a big kiss anyway!”
    Jakey-poo threw in the towel, toweled off and collected his reward—from the judges, and then from his girlfriend. Only Rizzo remained.
    It took them a couple of minutes to find the little rat in the deep swells of coconut cream, but he emerged triumphantly to collect his ribbon—before diving back in to finish his pie.
    Kermit laughed, patted him on the back and got in line for a piece of pie. He watched the man with the blue ribbon walk away with his little lady’s dark head on his shoulder and thought about Piggy. Maybe he would get two pieces of pie, he thought, and go and find his girl.
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 17, 2016
  9. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

    *In the cue for some crust of pie, filling of fruit... Nice job there Gonzo. Heh, guess he needs a bit of air to refill his lungs first. Kerm, you tried the shoo fly yet? *Waves at Claudia up ahead. Wha me? Nah, I could never do this competitive eating stuff... My trick throat you know. *Collects a piece of 4 and 20 Blackberry pie and a big glass of milk. Plenty to go around. We should save some for Ru though. Any idea which one she'd like? OK, thanks Riz, I'll get back in line later.
  10. Muppetfan44

    Muppetfan44 Well-Known Member

    Great Addition!

    Great Addition to the story. The Pie-eating contest with Gonzo and Rizzo pulling for one another was great and very typical of the dynamic duo! I can't wait to see what happens after Kermit finds Piggy at the kissing booth!

    Great update and totally excited for more!

    :wisdom: (a little over a month before i finally graduate!)
    p.s. I love this forum; it's a great distraction from college!
  11. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 10: The End of the Line and the Beginning of an Argument

    Kermit still had the pillow under one arm and he had two slices of Derby pie on a Styrofoam plate and wrapped with green plastic wrap. Two plastic green forks lay between the slices of rich, fudgy walnut pie. Just looking at the slices of pie made Kermit want to drool, but he shook his head at his own lack of willpower. Nope—he would wait and share his pie with Piggy—provided he could find her. While he was at it, he thought he’d better check on Robin as well.
    He headed for the Frog Scout tent, being stopped about every eight feet or so by someone congratulating him for such a nice fair, or expressing their gratitude for the conservation cause, or oohing and ahhing about the cute little Frog Scouts. Kermit took it all in happily. This was like Hollywood schmoozing, except nobody kissed you or patted you on the bum or tried to stab you in the back—much for friendly-like.
    When the parade had ended, the crowd and the fair booth workers had all been dumped at the far end of the site and had disbursed like dandelion fluff. Kermit wondered if they had a head count of people here, which immediately made him think of Count von Count. He made a note to himself to look up The Count—or his friend Ed—and see if they had some numbers for him. This thought was almost put out of his head by the press of bodies as he neared a veritable logjam of people all craning their necks toward something he could not see. Still, he was almost to the Frog Scout booth, and he wedged himself determinedly through a couple of young men and almost staggered to the counter.
    A very excited, very buttery group of Frog Scouts greeted his arrival with an onslaught of words. Kermit nodded and smiled a lot and finally gleaned from the cacophony around him that Scooter had just been by. He had told them that, of those booths that had already reported in, the Frog Scout popcorn booth had outstripped all of the other money-makers at the fair. This was good news, thought Kermit, and wondered again how much money they were talking about.
    He finally divested himself of small frogs and sidled over to talk with Scoutmaster Rana.
    “Sounds like you guys had a profitable day,” he said, rebalancing the pie and the pillow so he could shake the older frog’s hand.
    “We did indeed,” said Scoutmaster Rana. He leaned forward and when he whispered it was just barely loud enough for Kermit’s aural organs. “Although I don’t reckon we’re gonna beat your little lady. Still, the boys made a good run for it. Nothing wrong with second place.”
    Kermit was trying to make sense out of his words. “You mean Piggy?” Kermit asked at last. “You think Piggy’s going to outsell the Frog Scouts?”
    Rana’s eyes were twinkling. “I do,” he said. “She’s given her…um, her most to the cause.” He grinned at Kermit and jerked his head toward the press of people just beyond the booth. “And I had to say you’re being an awfully good sport about it.”
    Again, Kermit had that feeling that there was a “kick-me” sign on his back or something smelly on his flipper—some vague feeling that everyone knew something, something about him that he ought to know but didn’t.
    “Um, where is Piggy now?” he said as casually as he could. “I haven’t, you know, seen her all day because she’s been, um, working.”
    Again, Scoutmaster Rana nodded toward where the crowd had yet to thin.
    “I imagine she’s still at her booth, trying to make the most of the time left before they count the money.” He looked at the pie and the pillow. “That’s nice,” he said approvingly. “You brought presents.”
    Kermit blushed a little and nodded, feeling all school-boyish and shy. “Yeah,” he said. “I haven’t been very available today. Thought I’d make up for it.”
    A fleeting expression of…something—surprise? Amusement?—flitted over the older frog’s face and he tilted his head toward the crowd.
    “Sounds like a plan,” the Scoutleader said. “But you better get in line before she closes.”
    Before Kermit could ask him anything else, Rana was swarmed by small frogs, all hopping excitedly and talking at once. No hope of recapturing the older frog’s attention now. Kermit set his face toward the crowd—still wondering what on earth the line was for—and pushed on, looking for one lush pink figure in the midst of the crowd.
    It didn’t take him long to find her.

    He had pushed against the line that, curiously, seemed to be comprised only of men until the line had pushed back.
    “Hey—no shoving,” one guy complained. “I been waitin’ most of an hour and I’m not giving up my place in line!”
    “Yeah—and the line is closing in two minutes. If you aren’t in line then—“
    “—not half as long as the lines this morning,” another young man was saying. “I’d have come back sooner but it knocked me for a loop and I just got my feet back under me so—“
    “—said it was the best five bucks he ever spent outside of—“
    “—wished I could have thought of something to say, but she was real nice about—“
    “—counting the money now. The only booth made more’n her is the Frog Scout kids selling popcorn. That red-headed guy is still adding—“
    “—see that old guy? He had to take a heart pill after—“
    The line gave a sudden abrupt heave and the corner of Piggy’s booth—and Piggy herself—came suddenly into Kermit’s line of sight. Scooter sat at the corner of her booth, out of the way, counting out bills methodically. Kermit paid him no mind—he only had eyes for Piggy.
    Kermit did not notice how carefully matched her ensemble was, nor how very dedicated she had obviously been to the cause. Kermit did not approve of her carefully worded signs or the fact that she had been hard, hard at work all day long while he flitted from one project to the other. In fact, Kermit looked decidedly unhappy with the fact that she was running neck and neck with the Frog Scout booth for first place in money-raising ventures for the day. The pots of money so prominently displayed conjured up images of Piggy giving more to the cause than he could sanction.
    Heedless of the other men, Kermit stepped angrily out of line and marched up the counter. He glared at the short, middle-aged man Piggy was bussing with aplomb but if Piggy was even aware of him, she gave no sign. When at last she released her patron he tried a couple of times to speak and failed.
    “Are you married?” he asked faintly, his voice hoarse.
    Piggy laughed and motioned him away. “No,” she said, and then her blue eyes saw Kermit—and hardened. “Not yet,” she said firmly, and crossed her arms across her chest.
    “A kissing booth!” Kermit said. “A kissing booth! Piggy—this is the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard of!”
    Piggy smirked at him. “Good thing the citizens of Hensonville don’t share your views.”
    “My views?” Kermit huffed. “It’s not my views that are in question. This is supposed to be a family event.”
    Piggy looked at him levelly. “Single men often become family men,” she said silkily, then put her hands on her ample hips and looked him up and down. “At least, some of them manage. Why just today, I had fourteen proposals—“
    “I’ll just bet you did!” Kermit muttered, but not quite loud enough for Piggy to call him on it.
    “And I raised tons of money for the town conservation project!” Piggy shot back, infuriated.
    “And plenty of eyebrows!”
    Piggy gave him a look of pure venom. “What other people do with their eyebrows is none of my business!” she snapped.
    Kermit couldn’t think of anything snappy to say to that, so he changed tactics. “And look at all this money!” he accused.
    “We’re supposed to be making money,” Piggy said. Her voice was level but her blood pressure was not. “This was a fundraiser, and Scooter says I might win first--”
    “Yeah, but—“ Kermit blustered brilliantly.
    “Perhaps vous have forgotten that art can be commercially successful,” she said primly.
    “Art? I don’t think this qualifies as—“
    “Well, if the crowds are applauding….” She trailed off and looked at him sweetly. “You do remember that feeling, don’t you? The one when people actually clap after the performance?”
    Oooh! Direct hit on the frog’s ego. Kermit drew himself up to his full height, ready to say the first scathing thing that popped into his head. He opened his mouth--
    Piggy kissed him. In the time it had taken him to puff himself up with irritation, she had reached out, snagged the green beads draped around his neck and pulled him within target range. Some small part of him argued that she was bound to be good at this seeing how she had just practiced so very much but it was impossible for him to remember anything of the sort once her lips met his. There was apology in her kiss, and tenderness and insecurity and a million other things that could not fail to move him if he was not immovable. He found he was not, and he also found his arms around her waist, feeling the solid wealth of her curves and glad to find them so obligingly pressed against him.
    By the time they pulled apart, it was safe to say that Kermit had thoroughly sampled the wares so cunningly displayed at Piggy’s booth, and had little to say in disapproval—very little to say indeed.
    Piggy looked at him, her eyes contrite, but there was a hint of mischief in them.
    “Five dollars, please,” she said sweetly.
    Kermit drew himself up, pulling his dignity around him with difficulty as if suddenly becoming aware of the many eyes watching their little interchange. He slapped a ten dollar bill on the counter, but when her hand reached for it, he grabbed her wrist, pulled her firmly into his arms and dipped her almost to the ground.
    “I didn’t ask for change,” he muttered, and kissed her again.
    Nobody reminded Kermit this was a family event. Nobody so much as said “awwwed” or made “kissy-kissy” noises. After an appallingly indecent interval, Piggy was set back onto her very high heels in front of a crowd determinedly looking at something else entirely. She put one hand to her hair and the other rose to her flushed lips while she looked at Kermit without saying anything. After a moment, one satin-gloved hand closed over the bill, and Kermit was surprised to find the other gripping his wrist. She walked swiftly, drawing him after her, and there was a loud wail of disappointment as she abandoned her post. Too powerless to pull free and too proud to protest, Kermit had no choice but to follow. Piggy walked his ten dollar bill over to the Frog Scouts table. She put it on the table and looked at Robin brightly.
    “Ten dollars for some of your Frog Scout popcorn,” she said quietly, trying to ignore the little stir her arrival had created among the pre-adolescent frog scouts. Only Robin seemed impervious to the fact that a real, live, in the pink movie star had just visited their booth, and he took her money and sold her a box of chocolate-covered popcorn.
    There was a rustle of movement, then Scooter burst through the crowd.
    “Was that a ten?” he asked.
    Several heads nodded, and Scooter looked down at his clipboard.
    “It’s official then,” he said. “The Frog Scouts win for most money earned at the fair.”
    “We win!’ Robin shouted exultantly! “We win! We win! We made the most money today!”
    The crowd erupted into cheers and yells. Frog scouts bounced with abandon and there was a great deal of back-thumping and head-rubbing congratulations.
    Kermit found himself surrounded by people, but Piggy’s hold on his hand had not loosened and the crowd swept around them. He returned the pressure of her hand and looked at Piggy, his eyes softening in response. “I guess we all win,” he said softly.
    Piggy nodded earnestly. “I…I wanted to do something for the cause. This seemed like a natural.” She had the good grace to blush under his scrutiny—she who had not blushed once on the job!—but Kermit’s sigh was benevolent.
    “It certainly seems to have been a smash hit,” he admitted. He gave her a lop-sided smile. “Five dollars a kiss!” he teased. “I had no idea I was so deeply in debt.”
    Piggy sniffed and disengaged herself. She put her lovely snout into the air and sailed past him. “Don’t worry,” she said airily. “I’m willing to let you work it off.”
    There was a moment’s stunned silence, then Kermit smiled broadly. He would have started after her, but at just that moment a small webbed hand slipped into his.
    “Hi Uncle Kermit,” said Robin, beaming at him. “We did good, huh?”
    Kermit smiled, taking in Robin’s slightly less-than immaculate uniform and twinkling eyes. “You did great.”
    “Um, is there anything to eat?” asked Robin. “I’m hungry.”
    Kermit thought of the old joke about the parents who simply weighed their little boy as they exited the grocery store and paid for the weight difference at the going rate for grapes. He imagined that Robin had consumed his weight twice over in popcorn, and there was nothing—nothing at all—leftover from the sack lunch he’d packed the night before.
    “Sure,” Kermit said, his arm around Robin’s shoulder. “Lets go back toward the entry and see what they’ve got to eat.” He glanced once over his shoulder and saw Piggy in earnest conversation with Scoutmaster Rana, then smiled and let it go. He’d catch up with Piggy in a bit—she wasn’t going anywhere.
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 17, 2016
  12. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    (Not quite finished--still got a few loose threads to tie up....
  13. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member




    I think that pretty much sums up my feelings at this exact moment.

    Edit: Ooh, MORE? WHEEEEEEEEEEEE! <bouncy>
  14. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

    ... And when she thought it was safe to post again... *Glomp. Weee *Excited about the chappy... Thrills to find Robin and the troopers won. Gahs at the mention. Whooshes at the ending... Waits for the next update. Urges Ru that she's almost at 9H. *Glomp.
    *Skulks away.
  15. BeakerSqueedom

    BeakerSqueedom Well-Known Member

    :0 <3 Love it, babe.
  16. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

    Hey Clauds... Did you get any pie or popcorn? Did you buy anything at the Bizarre Bazaar? *Making small chit-chat with sis till the next part gets posted.
  17. The Count

    The Count Moderator Staff Member

    Hello there... Just a friendly reminder that if you could, please do post whatever's left of this charming chaptered clover-to-cover.

    Thank you... We welcome the update and so do all of your faithful readers.
    *Gives Aunt Ru a friendly hug with crazy Grover arms. :heroic:
  18. froggiegirl18

    froggiegirl18 Well-Known Member

    I really enjoyed reading this story. I really enjoy reading actually all your stories. You're an excellent writer. After watching an okay movie I wish you could have helped them on the script. It was a cute movie but it could have been better with a better script. Enough of my rant. I loved this short story. I love how you have grown the characters. I especially love the relationship between Kermit and Piggy, it's just so sweet and tender. Keep writing. You're an excellent story teller. :)
  19. Ruahnna

    Ruahnna Well-Known Member

    Chapter 11: Don’t Miss Your Queue

    Stuffed with pancakes, pie and punch (Kermit was having a bit of a Sesame-Street-inspired flashback), Robin had finally declared himself no longer starving. He had belched delicately, giggled and then asked permission to run and play with the Frog Scouts and other Hensonville children. Kermit watched him go, confident of his safety in this familiar crowd, and looked around surreptitiously for Piggy.
    His miffed mood had evaporated somewhere in the middle of their second kiss, and he did not mind at all the looks of grudging admiration that had followed him in the wake of their little scene at Piggy’s booth. If he was honest (which he did not much want to be) he would have admitted that Piggy’s contribution to the cause had been pretty inspired—and pretty inspiring! The taste of her lips was still on his (or was that chocolate?) and he could still remember the look in her electric blue eyes when he had set her back up onto her nosebleed heels. She had landed a couple of jibes, true—the one about applause had really stung—but he had stormed up to her booth like a Neanderthal. He had a sudden image of himself in caveman togs, Piggy dressed in a leopard-print bikini, and the thought was so…well, ridiculous and fun that he felt like laughing. Besides, no matter how many people Piggy had kissed, in the end, she had only had eyes—and lips--for him.
    Kermit worked through the crowd, trading triumphant hugs with Fozzie over the day’s successes and waving to Rowlf, who waved a mug of something frothy and green back at him. The mayor had been full of praise and congratulations, and Kermit’s arm had been pumped so many times he thought it might be sore tomorrow.
    The Bizarre Bazaar had done quite well for itself, but the everything-you-can-stuff-in-a-recyclable-grocery-bag-for-$5 sale at the end of the day had picked the long tables clean. Kermit saw Ed strolling arm-in-arm with Nora, both of them laden down with bags. Nora’s looked like books, and Kermit was sure he saw a candelabra sticking out of Ed’s bag, along with something that looked like a string of Christmas lights, but with prisms hanging at intervals instead of light bulbs. Kermit expected to see the garland adorning the Bat, Bolt & Skull in the very near future.
    Kermit saw Piggy coming across the fairway, the fluted hem of her dress swaying as she walked toward the center of the square. Her hat was in her gloved hands since she no longer needed protection from the sun—or from erstwhile suitors—and it was obvious from her manner that she was looking for…something. Kermit was pretty sure what that something was, and he locked his eyes on her face until the force of his gaze drew her unerringly to look in his direction. There was a long moment—a nice moment—when they simply looked at each other, then Kermit grinned and waved. Piggy, however, wasn’t waving—her happy smile changed to a look of surprise, then horror, and Kermit turned to see what had so arrested her gaze.
    Robin and some of the other frog scouts had been happily playing on the barrels that Gonzo’s gelatin had arrived in, scrambling over the stacks of sticky containers with youthful exuberance to bound with great joyfulness into the soupy vat of green semi-liquid. It was not, Robin had thought, unlike climbing the maze of trees and vines he had so often climbed with his many cousins in the swamp, but the plop at the end was definitely more fun. It was a great pasttime—especially since it was then possible to clean off under a stiff spray of water from Dr. Honeydew’s station where Beaker had thrilled and horrified the crowds with his intellect-defying dives.
    Many, many people had jostled their way onto the grounds today, laughing, eating and enjoying the shows, sights and smells of the festival. Over the course of many hundreds of bodies squashing themselves past the tower of gelatin barrels, the foundation had become a little less steady than it ought to have been. This was compounded by the fact that—as the gelatin in the vat had diminished, it had been replaced by the reserve gelatin from the barrels. The barrels had once been full, and heavy. Now they were empty, and provided much less sturdy a foundation for the substitute diving board the Frog Scouts were using. This had gone un-noticed until just this moment, and it was still un-noticed and unknown by the little green frog perched triumphantly on the makeshift diving board at the top.
    In actuality, Kermit whirled around as soon as he saw the look on Miss Piggy’s face, but the act seemed to take a long, long time. Something small and green caught the corner of his eye and drew his eyes up, up, up above the teeming crowd. Kermit froze, horrified by the sight, as Robin had poised briefly on the top and readied to launch himself forward.
    In the same way that Piggy’s gaze had been unerringly drawn to Kermit by his eyes fastened on her, Robin sensed the weight of Kermit’s stare and turned to look down, waving to his uncle frantically from the top of the heap.
    “Look at me, Uncle Kermit! Watch me! Watch me jump!” the little amphibian cried, clinging to the edge of a barrel which was just beginning to tip.
    “No!” Kermit shouted! “Robin! Don’t jump! Hold on! The barrels are falling!”
    But the bold Frog Scout was concentrating on his dive, and did not heed his uncle’s desperate cries. Others joined in, yelling to the little frog scout, who finally recognized the din as something other than simple cheering. The timing couldn’t have been worse.
    Robin looked down and—startled by the rows of people all frantically waving at him—did not attend to the barrel beneath him at all. At that precise moment, the stack of barrels behind the stack he stood on smacked squarely into his perch and he was pitched forward without warning. Robin let out a cry of surprise and scrabbled desperately for a hold—any hold—on the tower of wooden containers while the crowd below him gasped and pointed. The make-shift diving board swung in a slow, almost lazy semi-circle and ended up by hovering over the rickety barrels while Robin held on for dear life. If Robin lost his grip now, his landing would not be soft and squishy.
    Sometimes when faced with something too terrible to contemplate, the mind seems to shut down completely and adrenaline surges to the forefront, readying the body for action. Kermit’s mind had shut down the instant he’d seen Robin atop the unstable barrels, but his body was tensed as though for battle. His bulbous eyes were scanning the fairway, calculating distance, force, gauging what sort of jump might intercept his nephew’s perilous position when he caught sight of Blackstone’s brilliant green mane.
    If this had been a movie, Kermit would have put two fingers into his mouth, given a sharp whistle and then caught the saddlehorn of his trusty steed as he thundered past. This was not a movie, and Kermit had never learned to whistle like that, but he gave a loud, almost hysterical bellow, calling for Blackstone at the top of his lungs. The stallion’s head shot up out of his bag of oats and it took him two seconds to meet Kermit’s frantic gaze and identify the source of his anxiety.
    A good horse knows his rider. A great horse knows his rider on short acquaintance. Despite his ridiculous coiffure, Blackstone had the heart of a great horse. He raced toward Kermit, shouting instructions as he came.
    “Forget the saddlehorn,” the horse cried. “Grab my mane with both hands and hang on!”
    Kermit only had time to gulp, then his outstretched hands closed over two fistfuls of brilliant green hair and he was whisked off his feet. Finding his seat wasn’t as hard as he’d imagined, but nothing mattered now except Robin, who clung paralyzed with fright at the top of a mountain of teetering barrels.
    “I’m coming Robin!” Kermit cried. “Just hang on!”
    Desperation took over where skill was lacking. Blackstone was thundering down the hard-packed paths, swerving with precision and skill to avoid the crowds milling mostly unawares between the two erstwhile heroes and their object. Kermit could not afford to look where they were going—he could not spare a glance for anything they were hurtling past. He had his eyes fixed grimly and without wavering on a small green figure who was perched on the very edge of disaster!
    There was a rumble, and at first it seemed to come from the crowd, but then the entire heap of containers was falling. Too frightened to yell, Robin had only time to push off with his feet, but he did not have time to aim. It did not take a physics major to see that Robin was going to far overshoot the welcoming vat of green gelatin and land somewhere on the far—and far harder—side of his target.
    But Kermit was coming. Blackstone’s hooves were gobbling up the earth and Kermit found himself—unawares and completely unconscious of the potential danger to himself—crouching on Blackstone’s back. One hand still held tight to Blackstone’s mane but the other was outstretched, straining toward the place where one small green frog seemed likely to land. Robin was falling faster and faster, but time seemed to slow, to still, everything moving in freeze-frame.
    Kermit’s initial idea was to catch Robin, snatching him out of the air before he could hit the ground, but it was clearly impossible at the rate they were going.
    “We’re not going to make it!” Kermit cried, and his voice sounded deep and funny to his ears, but Blackstone wasn’t about to admit defeat.
    I’m not going to--” the horse panted back, “but YOU can! When the time comes, jump for it!”
    It took only a fraction of a second for Kermit to understand, but the fraction of a second was precious indeed. “Right! Right! Do it!” he yelled.
    Kermit felt the stallion dig in his heels, skidding through the tramped-down dirt in a wide arc, and then Kermit was propelled over Blackstone’s head and into the air, aided by a powerful push from his strong hind legs. Now Kermit was flying up toward his nephew as Robin hurtled down toward the ground. If they collided in midair, it would all have been for naught—and for both of them—but Kermit had not come this far to fail.
    “Robin! Arms out!” Kermit screamed above the roar of the wind. “Catch me as I catch you!” He hoped to break the force of their impact by catching Robin askance instead of head-on, diffusing some of his momentum and pushing him back into the range of the pool. If it worked, Kermit expected them to emerge rather banged around, but it was far better than the alternative.
    There are moments when your fate hangs in the balance and no one can say which way the scale will tip, but that is assuming a blind and impartial judge. It was fairly safe to say that there were very few impartial viewers to this little drama, and it was enough to tip the scale in Robin’s favor. Frightened beyond ken, Robin did what his uncle asked, holding both arms wide as Kermit did the same. The two projectiles intersected, spinning wildly but clinging to each other, the force of Kermit’s ascent pushing them back the direction Robin had come. Kermit wrapped his arms and legs around his nephew, shielding him with his body, determined to take the brunt of the fall.
    Time was creeping by with incredible slowness. Kermit felt Robin clinging to him, felt Robin’s head pushed into his shoulder as though to hide his face from what might come next, but he was also aware of other things, other noises. He heard yelling, strains of music and laughter, and wondered briefly if his life was flashing before his eyes, but his musings were cut short as Kermit hit the pool of viscous liquid with a solid THWOP.
    It hurt. It hurt quite a bit, but Kermit had never been gladder to do a stinging flop into the water in his life. Everything went green for a moment as they hurtled toward the bottom, but they surged back up to the surface in a surprisingly short time. They were both coughing and sputtering, wiping green goo out of their eyes, but there were worried faces smiling at them, eager hands reaching for them both, and it was going to be okay.
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 17, 2016
  20. TogetherAgain

    TogetherAgain Well-Known Member


    I needed that.

    ...<GLOMP again!>

    More please!

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