Chapter Three
“Maybe it’s a pet,” Fozzie said speculatively as the Muppets gathered for breakfast a few days later.
“Maybe what’s a pet?” Kermit asked.
“The person Piggy’s bringing,” Fozzie said, and he started counting off on his fingers. “They don’t need a job, she’s bringing its bed, and it’ll stay as long as Piggy stays.”
Kermit thought about it and shrugged. “It
could be a pet.”
“Oh,
no,” Floyd moaned. “Not another
Foo Foo!”
The Muppets moaned collectively, some of them shuddering. Kermit shook his head, his face well-scrunched.
“Hey, guys,” Rizzo said, peering out the window. “Is it my imagination, or—“
“It’s your imagination,” Clifford said.
“Yup! Just a
figment of your
imagination,” Gonzo said dramatically, his eyelids raised painfully high.
Rizzo sighed with a shake of his head. “Is-it-my-imagination-or
are dere reporters on our
lawn?”
The Muppets turned to face the windows.
“Looks like reporters to me,” Rowlf growled softly as he looked out over Rizzo’s head.
“
See? It’s
not my imagination!”
Kermit frowned as he went to the window. “Why are they here?” he wondered aloud.
“BOSS! BAD NEWS!” Scooter shouted as he shot down the stairs, cradling his laptop in his arm and gripping a cable in his hand.
“I can see that!” Kermit said as he hurried to the family room, where Scooter was already attaching the cable to the TV. “But what
is it?”
“The tabloids found Piggy!” Scooter said as he snatched the remote and punched a few quick buttons. The screen turned blue.
“So, what
else is new?” Floyd asked.
Scooter put his laptop in his lap, opened it, and made a few quick keystrokes.
The television screen immediately showed a tabloid article with an accompanying picture of Miss Piggy, allegedly taken the day before. She was looking away from the camera—apparently oblivious to it—walking out of some anonymous restroom, all in black with a remarkably round stomach.
“Dios mio, She’s PREGNANT!” Pepe burst. “Wait… She’s
preg—“
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Bunsen said patiently. “It is possible that she simply has gained weight.”
“And gained it
all on her
front side?” Clifford said dryly, and he shook his head. “Naw, man. That is a
very pregnant pig.”
“When did she get
pregnant?”
“
How did she get pregnant?”
“Dios mio, h’I am
not having de talk wit’ jou h’about de birds h’and de bees, hokay.”
“Birds and bees
nuthin’! This is a pig and a—“
“Who’s the father?”
“Yeah, who
is the—“
“Hey Kermit, you know anything about this?”
“Johnny Fiama wants to know if
you know anything about—“
Sal, and everyone else, looked at Kermit.
“…Never mind,” the monkey mumbled.
The frog was very still, his face ashen and dull. “…No,” he said quietly. “I don’t.” He stared at the screen for a long, silent moment, and then turned away and walked up the stairs.
Fozzie took his hat off, staring after the frog. “This isn’t good,” he said quietly.
“Nope,” Rowlf said softly.
“Should we go talk to him?” Fozzie asked.
They listened as Kermit’s bedroom door closed.
“Not yet,” Rowlf said. “Let him digest it.”
“Speakin’ of digestion, I’m getting’ back to breakfast!” Rizzo declared, and he scurried back to the kitchen while the rest of the Muppets scrutinized the speculations in the article.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kermit sat on his bed, staring out the window.
…Miss Piggy was pregnant?
His head hurt. Suddenly the entire conversation of the other day sounded completely different. When she came home, she wouldn’t be alone… She didn’t know how long the ‘other person’ would stay… But probably as long as
she stayed… And she had
laughed about the job. The ‘other person’ wouldn’t need a job… For a
while, at least… And they would bring everything the ‘other person’ would need…
As long as she stayed… Would she be leaving soon? To be with—whoever the father was…
Why didn’t he know?
She had obviously been, well—
intimate with
someone… And he had
no idea—Why didn’t he even have a
guess of who had—had—…who had—
SHEESH, why did it
bother him so much? It wasn’t even his
business! He snatched the small framed picture of her from his nightstand and shoved it into the top drawer. Then he dropped his head into his hands and sighed down at the carpet.
He felt so deeply bitter. Bitter,
bitter to the core. Forgotten. Cast aside. Left behind.
Hadn’t she always loved
him?
…And he had never done anything to deserve, or to
return, that love. That she had, apparently, given it to someone
else now… should not have surprised him, should not have hurt, should not have stung, should not have left him
bitter, and should not have made him
miserable with the fact that he had
no way to contact her and would not see her again for
at least another
month…
…But
sheesh, it sure did.
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