A Heart of Gold

[theprawncracker]

*explodes in a rush of incredible rainbow colored goo*

That about sums it up.

 

[TogetherAgain]

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Tightly bundled in her winter coat, a dark-skinned woman stood on the steps leaning against the doorpost of her apartment building and smiled and waved at everyone who passed while she shuffled through the mail that had just come. She frowned at two bills, skimmed a few advertisements, and then came a cross an envelope that made her pause. On this envelope, her address and the return address were written in a familiar handwriting.

She recognized that handwriting, and she recognized that return address.

She excitedly tore the envelope open, having only talked to this friend once very briefly within the week, and otherwise not having spoken to him in a very long time. She was about to announce the letter's arrival when she saw, on the back of the neatly folded paper:

WAIT! Read it to yourself before you read it to the street!

She smiled to herself. He knows us well, she thought. He's still one of us inside. So she unfolded the paper and began to read without announcing anything to anyone on the street.

Dear Susan,

Hi-ho there! Sorry if the note on the back causes any trouble, but this letter is something that will need some explaining, especially for Big Bird, Grover, the kids, and… well, pretty much everybody, I guess.

I'm sorry I haven't come to visit since arriving home from the war. Under normal circumstances, I would love to come. I do miss seeing everyone. But unfortunately, the last two weeks of my service were exceptionally hard on me, and the resulting grief and guilt make it hard for me to interact with kids. I do still love kids, and I have been getting better. I might be able to visit around New Year's, but more on that later.

As you've heard, things are mostly going pretty well here. Thanks for calling the other night. It was great to hear from you! Sorry we had to keep it so short, but it felt like the whole world wanted to talk to me all at once that night. Anyway, Piggy and I are still thrilled to be engaged, and if we can ever sort through however many thousands of wedding brochure's she's discovered, we'll actually get married!

I hope the war hasn't affected you too badly. For me, it's hard to look around here and see how terribly misinformed the public is, and how that shapes everyone's opinions. The details of the war are terrible, but they completely change a person's perspective of the war.

The military is planning to start a new television station to explain all those details. It will have the usual local news programs, but it will mostly be informative shows about the war from the perspective of the men and women in each branch of the military.

I have been asked to host a weekly one-hour show portraying the perspective of the Marines on the war front, specifically my old unit. I've given it a lot of thought, and I've decided to go. I'll be leaving on the 1st of February to re-join my unit as a Lance Corporal, and the TV station will officially begin broadcasting a week afterwards. As I'm writing, none of this has been publicly announced yet, but it will be within a day of you recieving this letter, and the rumor mill has all ready started.

Before any of this came up, a friend of mine from the unit had decided to return to fight again, and he will be leaving on New Year's Day. I'll be spending New Year's Eve with him, to send him off, but since he does live in New York, I thought it might be a good time to stop by the Street. I would love to see everyone again before I go. I'll give you a call soon to figure out details.

In the mean time, Robin and I will be spending Christmas at the Boarding House. We're looking forward to a good old fashioned, loud, explosive, chaotic holiday filled with an array of unidentifiable food and endless heated discussions of which Christmas specials to watch and just what our "usual" traditions are. There's nothing quite like celebrating the season with the family. I hope it's a little calmer on Sesame Street!

Hope all is well there. Send my love and Christmas wishes to all. Merry Christmas, and I hope to see you soon!

Sincerely yours, Kermit the Frog

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~​

Rowlf settled on the piano bench. He slid his paws onto the keys and wondered what song to wander through. It was morning.

He slowly, softly, led his fingers through something slow and soft, letting the piano make its quiet melody for anyone awake enough to hear it.

Then he heard another sound.

It sounded like a voice. That was nothing unusual. There were lots of voices in this house, and any one of them could have been awake. But there was something unusual about this voice.

Namely... it came from outside.

Rowlf was curious, especially because the sound continued, and changed, and continued, and grew and faded and grew and faded again.

He stopped playing, stood up, went to the window, and pulled back the drapes just enough to look out.

He sighed, instantly knowing that today would be a very long day.

Reporters. Protestors. Cameras. News crews. Rowlf softly growled. They certainly had a knack for showing up early.

Rowlf sighed heavily and let his head hang down.

He heard the faint flippersteps on the stairs. Instead of the usual cheerful greeting he heard, "Rowlf? Is something wrong?"

He turned and looked at Kermit, standing on the bottom step, holding the flag, ready to go outside and raise it. He looked concerned.

Kermit frowned. "What is it?" He started to walk closer to the dog.

"The news is out," Rowlf said quietly.

Kermit stopped walking.

For a moment, neither of them moved, holding eye contact.

Kermit saw Rowlf's paw, holding back the drape part-way. "Who's here?" he said quietly.

Rowlf looked out the window. "The usual suspects," he muttered. "Hostile enemies..."

"Great," Kermit grunted. He came and stood next to his friend, peeking out the window.

Rowlf stepped aside so the frog could get a better look.

Kermit frowned at the window. He looked at the flag in his hands. He looked out the window.

Rowlf watched him. "Better have one of us raise it today," he whispered.

Kermit opened his mouth to disagree, looked at his friend's face, hesitated, and nodded. He looked out the window and frowned. "I hate it when they do this to people," he said quietly. "Don't they realize how much it throws off?" He looked at Rowlf. "Robin has school today."

"Not anymore," Rowlf said simply.

Kermit shook his head. "Let me rephrase that. Robin has a test in school today."

"Call him in sick," Rowlf said quietly. "There's no way he'd get through that crowd."

"With his uncle's help, he would," Kermit said, a little more sharply than he realized, but the sharpness was not directed within the house.

"Don't even think about it," Rowlf almost growled. "If anything, that would make it harder."

Kermit frowned miserably, leaning slightly towards the wall. "Well there's gotta be some way," he sighed.

Rowlf hesitated, thinking, looking out the window for a long moment. Then he looked at Kermit. "There is some way," he said softly.

"What is it?" Kermit asked, looking at him.

Rowlf continued to ponder. "I still don't think you should go out there..."

"Rowlf, just tell me what it is," Kermit sighed simply.

Rowlf looked at him blankly. "Sweetums."

Kermit looked at him for a moment, then looked out the window. "...Why didn't I think of that?" he asked absent-mindedly.

"You've got enough on your mind," Rowlf said.

Kermit was quiet for a moment before brushing past to the next matter of business. "We've gotta figure out who all they're here to talk to," he said. "Who not to send outside."

"They'll talk to anyone they can get," Rowlf said.

"Anyone they can understand," Kermit lightly corrected.

"Very true," Rowlf said. "So that rules out... or in, I guess... Chef, Beaker..."

"No not Chef," Kermit said quickly, scanning the crowd. "Scribbler's here. He understands mock Swedish. Believe me, I learned that the hard way."

"Gotcha," Rowlf muttered. "Who else, then?"

Kermit pondered. "Camilla, maybe," he said. "And um... Well, I would say Animal, but- he's more articulate than he seems, sometimes..."

"Can the muppaphones talk?" Rowlf asked.

"Yeah. But Marvin's pretty strict on what they can say."

"That might be a good thing."

"True," Kermit said. "But then that would require Marvin being out there..."

"Not a good thing," Rowlf said.

"No…"

"Who else, then?"

"Um-"

Rowlf scratched his ear.

"Got any fleas?" Kermit asked.

"Go fish," Rowlf said.

"Now Lew... would be a bad idea."

"But his fish might be a good one," Rowlf said.

"We'll keep it in mind," Kermit said. "So who've we got so far?"

"Beaker, the fish, and maybe Camilla," Rowlf said.

Kermit shifted his weight. "I'd... kinda worry about sending Camilla out on her own. Not sure she'd like the idea, either." He looked at his friend. "Boy, it seems like we've got all sorts of folks no one can understand, until we actually need them for something."

"How 'bout the Snowths?" Rowlf offered.

Kermit shook his head. "They're on vacation in Wisconsin with Mahna Mahna."

"Do doo do do do," Rowlf sang.

Kermit scrunched his face up. "Sheesh... that gag never gets old, does it?"

"Got old a long time ago," Rowlf said. "It just never dies."

"Hm," Kermit sighed. "Must be related to Statler and Waldorf."

"Must be," Rowlf nodded.

Kermit sighed. "So that's what- Beaker, fish, and who else?"

"Nobody," Rowlf said.

"Sheesh," Kermit muttered. "Well... if there's a necessity to go outside, we'll either send Beaker or have Sweetums be an escort. But if it's not a necessity... Let's just pop in a movie or something and stay indoors. Try to keep everybody from going outside."

"Why can't we go outside?" a voice asked from the stairs.

They turned to see a very sleepy, very confused Miss Piggy, gently rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stifling a yawn. She had just enough make-up to feel presentable and a very tightly wrapped robe over flannel pajamas. Apparently the lack of piano that morning had caught her attention.

Kermit sighed and held his hand out to her, and she approached, reaching for the outreached hand. "We're under propaganda attack," he explained wearily. He kissed her hand, dropped it, and slid his arm around her, letting her look out the window.

"Oh dear," she breathed faintly at the sight. She wrapped a protective arm around Kermit's shoulders and set her head on his. "Mon Capitan- you don't want us to go outside? At all?"

"Well I'd like to avoid it as much as possible," Kermit said lamely.

"Does Bernie know about this yet?" she asked.

Kermit hesitated. "I- I don't know," he confessed. "I guess we should call him..."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Rowlf drawled.

Kermit settled snugly into Miss Piggy's side. "You've got enough on your mind," he mumbled with a scrunched, teasing face that they didn't have to see to hear.

"Pardon?" Miss Piggy said. Rowlf chuckled. She sighed. "I don't understand any of this," she flatly recited.

Kermit grinned and pressed against her. "Thanks," he said simply.

And with that, they braced themselves for the day ahead.

 

[The Count]

Yaeeeeeey! *Glomps Lisa with a glomp o' doom.
The letter to Susan! The Propaganda attack. Scribbler and the ones who are unintelligible...

*Bounces away. Weeeeeeeee!

 

[BeakerSqueedom]

Wow...

O_O

MORE MORE MOREMOREMORE!

 

[TogetherAgain]

Two chapters in one night, and they STILL beg for more? Sheesh.

 

[The Count]

*Standing on the snowbank... Yes! And we shall claim more postage until this story is over! For they can take away our nagging sticks, but we'll still have our...
*Gets hit by snowball from White Rabbit.

 

[theprawncracker]

SUSAN! BEAKER! MUPPAPHONES! SCRIBBLER! CHEF! LACK OF PIANO! SWEEEEEEEEEETUMS! EVERYTHING!

I love it, I love it, I LOVE IT! It's so funny even when being so TERRIBLY cruel to the Frog we know and love! I have GOT to see more! But I realize that won't happen too soon.

Can't wait to see the frog on the street for New Year's, gotta know that's gonna turn out... interestingly.

 

[redBoobergurl]

Oh my oh my I want to say so much and I don't know where to start. Susan and the letter and the street and Mahna Mahna, do do do do do, this gag never dies, and reporters and don't go outside and ohhhhhhh.....

Love it as usual, can't wait for more!

 

[TogetherAgain]

Chapter Fifty-Eight

"Piggy, WHAT are you DOING?"

A few days had passed since the yard had swarmed with the 'propaganda attack,' and life was returning to as close to normal as it could ever get with the Muppets, although they tried to avoid leaving the house alone... Not that it was a common occurrence for them, anyway. But on this particular morning, late in the morning though it was, Miss Piggy had come sauntering down the stairs in tall black leather boots, tight black leather pants, tight black leather jacket, and tight black leather gloves, with a shiny helmet in her hand.

This of course, had led many of the occupants of the house to stare, and many others to pretend not to stare, and still others to try as hard as they could not to stare. Kermit, of course, stared openly. The fact that he stared a little differently than anyone else was what made him the one to ask just what, exactly, she was doing.

...That, and he was the frog in charge, and everybody knew it.

She slithered to the bottom stair and swiveled her hips with every step closer to him. "Moi am clearing moi's mind, Kermie," she said simply.

He gulped, took a step back, and reached for the wall, hoping to regain either his balance or his composure. He knew better than to hope for both. "You uh... You usually go shopping for that..."

She sighed and tossed her hair back with a hopeless shake of her head. "Kermie," she explained matter-of-factly, "It is the Saturday before Christmas. Every mall in America is teeming with ignorant, last-minute-shopping fools who have nothing better to do with their time than to ask why moi am letting vous go back." She nearly spat the words, as if the definition of stupidity was to think that she let him do anything, instead of the other way around.

Kermit looked her over again. If his maximums were set at ten, his balance was up to a seven and his composure was still somewhere around a two. "I see," he somehow tricked his mouth into saying.

She smiled easily. "So- plan B." She lifted the helmet in her hand.

He gulped again. "Isn't- isn't it- kind of- cold for a motorcycle, this time of year?" he managed to wrangle out of his voice.

"Not if you have the proper gear," she said. She leaned towards him. "And moi always has the proper gear."

"Ah, eh..." Balance, four. Composure, point five and dropping.

She smiled and shifted her weight to flaunt just the right features. "Want to come with?" she whispered.

Balance, three... Where was that wall when he needed it? Composure, dangerously close to the negatives.

Her black leather gloved fingers slowly walked up his arm to his shoulder, her eyes never losing contact with his.

"Think I'd survive?" he barely croaked.

"Oh, you might get a little cold," she said cheerily. Her voice grew soft and sultry. "But moi could warm you up..."

So that’s where the wall was, thank goodness! Balance, zero. Composure, not available.

"We, um, have, uh- oh boy..."

"Girl," she corrected smoothly, trying to keep her other hand away from him, for the sake of keeping him conscious.

"Uh- woman," he stuttered.

"Mm-hmmmm," she hummed. Her arm was sliding around him.

He very clearly did not have control of his voice. It was crackly and a little higher and a lot weaker than usual. "Piggy, we- ah- um- have- uh... interview," he managed to sputter. "Later, um..."

"Oh, we'll be back in time," she assured him airily.

He slid two inches down the wall with a sharp, short whimper.

She wrapped her arms around him. "Vous, Mon Capitan," she said, "Need some fresh air." And with that, she kissed him tenderly.

"Oh, geez- get a room, you two!" a voice muttered.

"Get a bike, you two," from another voice.

Hm… Balance, one, maybe... Composure... Well, who needed it… But it did seem to be coming back... His hands seemed to have remembered how to find and squeeze her arms. That was always good.

She pulled away and took his hand in hers. "Come with me," she said simply, and she led him to the closet, where she stopped, pulled out a jacket, and dropped it into his arms. She then led him out the door to the shed in back, where her motorcycle was waiting.

She opened the shed doors and stepped inside. He stood there, staring, wondering when he had regained enough balance to stand without assistance.

She pulled the dust cover off of the motorcycle and started it up. Then she came back to stand in front of him. Her eyes kept a steady gaze on his as she lifted the jacket from his hands and helped him into it. She zipped it for him and smiled, keeping her hand on the pull-tab. "Ready?" she said softly.

"Never," he said weakly.

"Always," she corrected him gently.

He held her gaze for a long moment, and then convinced his hands to find her shoulders. "Can't we just go back to the kissing?" he asked.

She smiled and put on her helmet. "Later," she said.

"How come you get a helmet?" he whined.

"It's more for disguise than protection," she grinned. "I do tend to stand out."

"Oh yeah, because there's so many frogs in Hollywood," he grumbled.

"Oh, here!" She handed him a helmet.

He stared at it blankly. "Thanks."

She looked at him, staring at the helmet, and sighed. "Oh, here..." She lifted the helmet, put it on his head, and set about securing it there. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

He grinned, grabbed her, and kissed her tenderly. When their lips parted, he murmured, "Well now that you mention it, that's not a bad idea..."

"Oh- you!" She sighed, shook her head, straddled the bike, and pulled it off of its kickstand. "Get on..."

He obeyed, and wrapped his arms around her, hoping his grip would be tight enough.

She smiled. This, she thought to herself, is EXACTLY why I don't have a backrest for him.

The engine roared, and they zoomed away.

After a little more than an hour and a little less than eighty miles of sharp twists and curves and turns, they slowed to a stop.

Miss Piggy turned the engine off.

"Time to get off?" he mumbled, perfectly content to stay pressed up against her back, as long as they continued to hold still.

"Moi thought vous could use a little break," she said simply.

He looked around. They were in a nicely secluded spot... How much balance did he have, and just how much would he be needing? He swung himself off of the bike and continued to look around.

She set the bike on its kickstand, came up behind him, grabbed him, and playfully, easily, wrestled him to the ground, letting out a pleased giggle.

He grinned and put up enough of a fight to pin her on her back with a long, long kiss.

She delightedly squeezed him close. "Oh, Kermie..."

He persuaded the strap of her helmet to come undone and promptly pushed the thing off of her head. "Better," he murmured, and he felt his own helmet being removed.

She pulled him down into a hungry kiss that he eagerly accepted.

"Oh Piggy..." He nuzzled down beside her. "Piggy..."

She held him fast in her arms. "Kermie..."

He snuggled closer to her. "We should escape more often," he mumbled.

"Mm-hm," she said. "Especially next month..."

He made a small whimpery sound and pressed closer to her. "Let's not think about-"

"Interview," she said, interrupting.

"Pardon?" he said, lifting his head.

She was looking at a watch he hadn't known she was wearing. "The interview," she sighed. "It's time to go."

"Aw..." He flopped back down. "Five more minutes..."

She smiled, wrapping her arms around him. "Well... I suppose, moi could ride extra fast on the way home..."

He processed this. "...On second thought..." He began to push himself up.

She groaned and snatched him back down. "Five more minutes?" she whimpered.

"Three," he bartered, wrapping his arms around her.

"Four," she growled.

"Three and a half?" he said meekly, kissing her neck.

"Mmm!"

He wondered if that was a yes or a no. He didn't really care.

But in a few moments, they found themselves once again on the motorcycle, zooming back to the boarding house.

When they pulled up, the camera crew was all ready there, getting set up... and capturing their approach.

She waved to them as she rode to the shed. Safely out of sight of the cameras, they dismounted and turned to each other.

"Ready to strike back?" she murmured, taking off her helmet.

He looked her over with something akin to a smug sort of pride. "Always," he mumbled. He wrapped his hands around the leather of her jacket and pulled her close for one more kiss.

She let the kiss linger, and then pulled away to take his hand. "Barbara's waiting," she said simply, and she led him away to the cameras.

 

[The Count]

Hmmm... Well... Uh... Will just wait here with this nice muffin until another chapter gets posted.