Cheeky Frog

[Ruahnna]

“Hey there,” said the studio doorman. “Looking good, Mr. the Frog.” Kermit looked up and waved.
“Thanks, Ned,” he said. Ned’s smile was very big, and his blue eyes were merry above his bulbous nose. Kermit returned the smile but wondered at it. Ned was always friendly, but there was something—
“Hey there, Kermit!” called a couple of young ladies from the soundstage next door. Ginger, the tall redhead, wiggled her fingers at him coquettishly. Darylynn, the diminutive blonde, winked at him cheekily. Blushing a little, Kermit waved back, turning to watch them down the sidewalk. Both of them were watching him, and he hastily put his eyes forward again. That was nice, Kermit thought. That doesn’t happen every day. Nervously, he looked around to see if anyone had seen that, but no one had—at least, not anyone who cared.
The studio was bustling. Kermit signed in—again—and headed for his office. Holiday trimmings were everywhere, and there was an enormous tree in the lobby. Kermit stopped for a moment to admire the multi-colored bulbs, and saw a couple of co-workers coming up behind him.
“Looking fit and trim, Champ,” said Lou, from the office down the hall. Kermit took his outstretched hand and allowed himself to be thumped on the back. “But you know that, doncha?” Lou said with a nudge.
“Must be workin’ out,” said Charlie, who rubbed elbows with him chummily. Kermit was beginning to feel decidedly uneasy.
“Um, thanks,” he said. He excused himself and walked down the hall.
Up ahead was Mrs. Forsythe, the very correct administrative secretary of the big boss. Kermit watched her approach with relief. You could always count on Mrs. Forsythe to set a polite and professional tone.
“Good morning, Mrs. Forsythe,” Kermit said. To his complete astonishment, Mrs. Forsythe sniffed at him disdainfully. When he turned to stare after her he found that she, too, was looking at him over her shoulder. Kermit fled down the hall, looking for someone he could trust. With a tremendous feeling of relief, Kermit found Fozzie standing in the break room, waiting patiently for the coffee pot to fill.
“Hey, Fozzie,” said Kermit. “If you’ve got a minute, I—“
“Nice album, Kermit!” Sonya, from Accounting, managed to insert herself into the minute between him and Fozzie, flashing him a brilliant smile all the while.
“Gee, um, thanks,” said Kermit. He would have moved back to give her more room, but there was no where to go. He pressed himself back against the counter and tried to suck in his stomach. “We, um, sure had a nice time doing it.”
“Well it certainly showed me a side of you I hadn’t seen before,” said Sonya. Unaccountably, she giggled, then moved off with her cup of coffee.
Kermit continued to smile fixedly as Sonya moved off, but he could find no explanation for everyone’s strange behavior. He was now getting positively paranoid. He took Fozzie by the arm and drew him back. Fozzie looked longingly at the coffee pot but followed Kermit obediently back toward the windows.
“Fozzie, do I—do I have something on my back?”
Fozzie looked carefully, finally shaking his head.
“No,” he said. “I don’t see anything.”
The receptionist from the 3rd floor walked by and gave Kermit an obvious once-over. The bewildered amphibian felt like hiding behind his hirsute friend.
“Are you—are you sure, Fozzie?” Kermit asked. “No sign that says ‘kick-me’ or ‘kiss me, I’m really a prince’ or anything?”
Fozzie looked carefully again, but finally shook his head.
“Nothing. I don’t see anything,” he said at last.
Kermit sighed and looked unhappy. “Then, does my back look funny?”
“Funny?”
“You know, Fozzie,” Kermit said, becoming exasperated. “Does it look, I don’t know, different from the way it usually looks.”
“Nooo,” Fozzie said, baffled by Kermit’s odd behavior. “It looks just like the picture.”
“Oh, well at least—wh-wh-what?” Kermit stammered. “What picture?”
Now Fozzie was looking at him like he really had lost his mind.
“Um, the picture on the Christmas album.”
Maybe, thought Kermit, I’ve slipped accidentally into an alternate universe. He shook his head to clear it.
“The picture of me and Miss Piggy?” he asked. “The one I approved for the front of the album?”
“No,” Fozzie said. “The one on the back of the album.”
“Fozzie, there is no picture on the back of the album. That’s just where they put the song titles and—“
Patiently, Fozzie took Kermit by the shoulders and walked him over to his office. He handed Kermit the copy of “The Muppets: A Green and Red Christmas” that had arrived that morning. Kermit looked at it, then at Fozzie.
“So?” he asked.
Relishing not being the one in crisis, Fozzie took the little plastic CD cover from Kermit’s hands without comment and turned it over.
Kermit stared, then his mouth dropped open and his cheeks flamed scarlet.
“But, but—who did, I mean, where did, um, oh sheesh! Fozzie—why is my backside on the back of this album?”
Fozzie backed away nervously. Kermit was close to arm-waving hysteria, and Fozzie did not want to be too close when it erupted.
“Um, why don’t you ask someone at the record company?” he suggested, edging for the door. All thoughts of coffee were forgotten.
“I’m gonna do that,” Kermit snapped. He marched out the door, almost into the middle of a flock of young ladies from the secretarial pool. He nodded politely, blushing and stammering, then broke free and sidled—sideways—down the hall to his office as fast as his flippers would carry him.

 

[Ruahnna]

“Yes, I’ll hold,” Kermit said for about the millionth time. He listened to another four and a half minutes of elevator music before someone picked up.
“Hey Kermit! You got the CD!”
“Um, yes,” Kermit said. “Thanks, but I wanted to ask you about the—“
“Cover? Oh, I loved it, too!”
“Yeah, it, um, seems to have been a big hit around here. Look, I—“
“And you have to love the way Miss Piggy is looking at you, bud!”
“Oh, um, yeah. It’s a great shot on the front of the album, but what I really wanted to talk to you about was—“
“And you look great, Kermit. I got to tell you—I was skeptical when you first selected the back cover art but—“
“Selected? What do you mean, selected?” Kermit fought the urge to hyperventilate. There had to be an explanation for—
“What?” For the first time, the voice on the other end of the phone seemed to register some of Kermit’s lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t you like the shot?”
“Like the shot?” Kermit repeated dully. He had a dim recollection of one of the camera folk snapping a picture of him when his back was turned. They had laughed about it, and the picture had actually turned up on the proof sheets. “Um, well, I guess I was just a little surprised to see, um—“
“Well, gosh, Kermit,” said the voice regretfully. “I wish you’d have told me you were having second thoughts. Once we got your signature—“
“My signature?” squeaked Kermit. Breathe, he reminded himself. Just breathe in and out.
There was the sound of shuffling papers. “Sure, Kermit. We’d never have gone ahead without your okay. Your secretary said—“
“My secretary?” A light, faint but persistent, was beginning to bloom in Kermit’s brain.
“Kermit?” The voice on the other end of the phone sounded concerned. “You okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”
Kermit’s expression hardened, but he forced his voice to sound normal. “Oh, I’m fine,” Kermit said levelly. “It seems I haven’t been myself lately.”

 

[Ruahnna]

By the time he reached the glass-fronted reception room, people were spilling out of doorways to watch him go by. Kermit gritted his, um, teeth and kept moving. He heaved open one of the etched doors, startling the neat, efficient-looking secretary behind the desk. She looked up and, at the look on Kermit’s face, registered considerable alarm.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you can’t go in right now. She’s on the—“
Kermit walked around her, ignoring her fluttering protests.
“But you can’t,” she pleaded. “If I let you go back, I’ll lose my—“
Gently, Kermit brushed her aside and banged through the lavender door in front of him.
He stalked up to the imposing desk, glaring at the figure in the high-backed leather chair.
“You had no right!” he accused.
Piggy gave him a look but did not stop talking on her phone, nor stop twirling the cord around one well-manicured pinky. Kermit knew exactly what that phone cord must feel like.
“Piggy, so help me—“ He put one slim finger over the base of the phone, warning her with his eyes.
“Sweetie—I’m going to have to go. I’m having a, uh, pest problem and I’ll-call-you-later-love-you-too-bye!” She put the phone down and regarded him with just the right touch of guilelessness for him to know it was an act.
“You changed the album picture!” he accused.
Piggy sniffed, twirling lazily in her comfy chair. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. The look in her deep blue eyes said she most certainly did.
“Piggy, people have been making comments to me all morning,” Kermit complained. “You had them put a picture of my backside on the back of the new album!”
“I don’t see why you’re complaining,” Piggy said silkily. “I thought you wanted people to get to know the real you.” Her eyes became hard. “Isn’t that what your new tell-all book is about? The real you. Well, I think that picture captures the real you pretty effectively.”
“Piggy!” Kermit said, but he had seen the warning light in her eyes and it made him cautious. “Why—why would you do something like that?”
“Nobody said Moi did anything,” Piggy said firmly.
“Piggy, they said my secretary changed the photo.”
“Well then,” said Piggy, as though that settled everything. “There’s obviously been a mistake. You don’t even have a secretary.” She looked at him sympathetically. “And what a shame, since you don’t type.”
“Let’s stay on the original topic, shall we?” Kermit snapped.
“Okay,” Piggy said sulkily. “I think we were discussing the fact that you’ve been acting like an—“
“You are driving me crazy!” Kermit exploded. “Just when I think you can’t think of one more way to make me nuts, you go and do something so—“
“Would this be the beginning of our new purely professional relationship?” Piggy said. “I don’t remember them talking about arm-waving hysteria in business school.”
“You didn’t go to business school!” Kermit cried. “You were discovered right out of high school! And your career kept you so busy that you never had any time to—“
“Moi’s career?” Piggy said, and her face was set. “I was under the impression that you didn’t think much of Moi’s little career.”
Ah. Kermit’s anger abandoned him suddenly and he looked at the lovely pig in front of him carefully. There, he could see it now—the hurt beneath the poker face. As if sensing his scrutiny, Piggy suddenly became busy with the papers on her desk. Some of them, Kermit was sure, were evidence of her attempts to balance her checkbook and he was sure he saw a high-end fashion catalog among the scripts and memos.
Piggy,” he said softly. “I never said—“
“No,” Piggy said stonily. “You were too busy making fun of me.” She looked away suddenly, and Kermit was sure her eyes were sparkling with more than irritation. He started around the desk but Piggy shot to her feet, keeping the desk chair between them. Kermit stopped advancing and Piggy stopped retreating, but she wouldn’t look at him. She began to fidget, looking pointedly toward the door. Kermit had a sudden horror that she had pressed a secret button under her desk, and security was even now on its way to—
“I’d like to get back to work,” Piggy said stiffly.
“Um, yeah,” Kermit said. He shifted his weight from flipper to flipper. “Look, I didn’t mean those things I said in the interviews. They were, you know, scripted. People used to think it was funny when we, um, said things about each other.”
Piggy’s voice was very low. “So did I. But that was before I believed you meant them.”
“But, Piggy—“
“You’re not nice anymore,” she accused. “So, yeah, I changed the picture because I thought it, it suited you more than the one of the two of us.”
“I thought the picture of us on the front was nice,” Kermit said, a little defensively.
“Of course you would,” Piggy snapped. “I’m looking at you. You’re looking away.”
“Piggy,” Kermit murmured. For the first time, there was tenderness in the tone. Piggy looked away from him, for once not wanting to hear it. “You know I—“
“Lots to do,” Piggy said with false brightness. The mask was firmly back in place. “And your social calendar must be so full, what with all your publicity tours." "Which Moi wasn't invited to do," she muttered, then smiled. "Don’t let me keep you.”
He had come in mad, and he was leaving miserable. There was a time he could have stormed in mad and left covered with kisses, but that had been a long time ago. Too long ago, his mind prompted. Kermit put his hand on the doorknob, looking back toward Piggy, who was turned completely away from him. Something—divine intervention maybe—prompted his next words.
“Piggy,” he said, and his voice was as disapproving as he could make it. “What you did was wrong. If you wanted the album to sell like hotcakes, you should have but a picture of your backside on it.” He heard her sudden intake of breath and clamped his lips shut lest he smile.
“What?” she growled. Kermit turned around, making his eyes as innocent as he could with all the mischief that was bubbling behind them.
“You heard me,” he said firmly. “I mean, if you really wanted to do something for the company, you should have put your best assets forward.”
“Oh, you are so—“
“I’d have bought one,” Kermit said. While she was still stuttering in surprise and consternation, Kermit hopped over near her and put a hand on her arm. When she jerked it away, he slipped both arms around her impressively proportioned form and kissed her on the cheek.
Piggy’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and Kermit was just unsure enough of her ultimate response to want to get out of striking range. He paused again with his hand on the doorknob again. He didn’t apologize. It had never been his way, and Piggy had never seemed to hold it against him. Still, he looked at her with something as close to apology as he could manage.
“Maybe I could buy you dinner?”
“What? Be seen in public with Moi? What about preserving reputations?”
“To heck with my reputation,” Kermit said, wincing as soon as the words left his mouth, but Piggy had out-maneuvered him again.
“I was talking about mine,” she said dryly.
Kermit’s face broke into a wide grin. “Touché,” he said. “Why don’t we talk about it over dinner?”
“I don’t—“
“This offer expires in five seconds. Five, four, three, two—“
“Okay. Yes.” She shuffled more papers, her cheeks pink. “I suppose Moi could squeeze you into the schedule.”
“Good,” said Kermit, secretly elated. Before, she would have made him wait until “one” before answering, but of course they were out of practice. They could get back into practice if they tried. And it might be fun. “I’ll pick you up about seven.” He gave her a lop-sided grin, the one that never failed to charm her. “Hey, Piggy,” he said. Piggy looked up, and Kermit saw the split-second of hopefulness that flashed in her eyes before her expression turned sassy again.
“Yes?” she said coolly.
“Wear something green,” he said. “I’ll wear something red.”
“Like I’d take fashion advice from a frog,” Piggy muttered. But she was smiling when she said it.
And so was Kermit.

 

[The Count]

Hmmm... Dunno what to think about this one. Seeing as how it took more than one post, I'm unsure if this one's over and done with. Or if you plan to add more later. This seems like an attempt to reconcile current trends espoused elsewhere on the forum with the current merchandise and the characters themselves. And that's probably why I'm unsure of the results. It's a good story, just something I can't place my finger on.
Hope this is OK Ru, you know I look forward to all your fanfic gloriousness. Have a good weekend.

 

[Ruahnna]

Yes, a little atypical for me, to be sure. And I'm done. (I think) I much prefer a would with more frog-pig snuggling.

 

[The Count]

A would with more frog and pig snuggling what?
Hee, small joke. Good short story... The thing is I liked it with the gradual build-up, it reminded me of the episode where Kermit got so upset and hysterical he fired Piggy. And that's kind of what I half expected. Then, when you get to the confrontation, it sort of fizzles as the two exchange their points of view on the current status of their relations. Add to that the way the argument was half-resolved... And I guess that's why I'm unsure of what overall to think about the short story.

Post more, either in the form of main fanfic updates or little short stories like these... Please.

 

[Ruahnna]

Author: Warning! Danger Will Robinson! This is not my usual sort of post. So--forewarned is, um, forearmed.
Pepe: Ju called?
Author: What? No, I just meant....
Pepe: 'Cause I got four strong arms to hold you when you--"
Author: Get off! (Muttering to self) Should never have admitted I thought he was cute....

 

[Ruahnna]

According to Plan

Kermit looked around the elegant setting and made a small “hmmm” of satisfaction. Everything looked perfect for the meeting. Sardi’s should prove the perfect backdrop for his very important discussion. He checked his cell phone, noting the time. He was early, and did not expect his companion to be. A waiter came by unobtrusively to take his drink order, but Kermit decided to pass on anything alcoholic. He would need all his wits about him today.
The thought made him smile as he remembered his last meeting with this Hollywood player. She had come to supper with some reluctance, but they had a nice meal, some animated conversation and have even shared an enormous slice of hot fudge cake. They had scooted their chairs together, and Kermit remembered fondly the way she had startled and blushed when his leg had brushed against hers.
Above her protests, he had walked her to her door. She hadn’t kissed him or invited him in, but she had touched his face lightly with one of her satin-gloved hands and disappeared inside her door in a cloud of expensive perfume. Still, there had been something in her eyes that night--something that had haunted him until he had heard her voice on the phone, agreeing to meet him here today.
She had hesitated. She had hemmed and hawed and tried to put him off, but in the end, he had gotten his way. Just like old times.
Breathlessly, Piggy arrived at the table. Hastily, Kermit stood, walking around to hold her chair like a gentlefrog. She was impeccably clad in a smart red suit with black faux fur around the cuffs and her hair was pulled back from her face with a matching band of fur. Kermit noted with interest that she had a little sprig of holly tucked behind her ear, and wondered wryly why she hadn’t put mistletoe there instead. If she had, then he could have....
Kermit quashed his thoughts with effort--best to keep his game face on--and returned to his own chair. Piggy was looking at him intently, perched skittishly on the edge of her chair.
“Hello Kermit,” she said. “I came as soon as I could. You--you said it was important.”
“Yes--thanks for coming, Piggy. I wanted to talk to you about our upcoming projects--be sure you were on board with where we’re going next.”
There was something that might have been disappointment in her big blue eyes, but her voice was level.
“I’ve been getting all the memos. Was there--is there something else you haven’t mentioned?”
Inwardly, Kermit smiled. Piggy was all business today. The fact that she didn’t want to make small talk told Kermit that she was nervous. And if she was nervous, she was off-balance, which meant he should be able to tip the scale in his favor. Yes, everything was going according to plan.
“Nothing new, Piggy--just the stuff I sent you.” He leaned across the table and tried his best charming smile. “But you know your input is always important to me.”
Piggy looked down and worried her ring. “I--oh, Kermit, I don’t think this is such a--”
“You know, we’re part of a bigger company now. And the new company really expects us to pull together on all of the muppet projects.”
Piggy looked up, her expression solemn. “I’ve always supported the company projects,” she said softly.
“I know,” Kermit said quickly. “You always been a real team player.” He made a face. “I know you haven’t liked some of the more recent things we’ve done--”
Piggy opened her mouth to speak, but shut it carefully and looked away. Kermit looked at her expectantly, but she shook her head and did not comment. Kermit tried again.
“And you know how much your support means to me, um, personally.”
Piggy looked up at him again, and there was something stubborn in the set of her jaw.
“I’ve always supported the company projects,” she said again.
“Piggy...” Kermit entreated.
“Kermit, this is not a good time to--”
A waiter arrived at her elbow and the intrusion seemed welcome. Piggy took a menu and stared at it as though she’d never seen one before, although Kermit was fairly certain she could recite the entire thing from memory. She took a long time deciding, and Kermit got the distinct feeling it was only to keep the waiter hovering nearby, preventing any real discussion.
Dreamily, Kermit smiled. How cute, he thought. After all this time, after everything they’d been through, after everything they’d meant to each other, Piggy was playing shy. He found it endearing, but his conscience pinged him a little. Piggy probably had reason to be shy around him now. He hadn’t exactly been a font of support professionally, and the only time they’d spent together lately had been because of her clever little prank with the cover of the Christmas album. Still, here she was, coming when he called and looking absolutely--
Kermit’s phone began to play the theme from The Muppet Show and Piggy startled. Sheepishly, Kermit reached for it, intending to turn the durn thing off, but it wasn’t his phone. It was Piggy’s. Apologetically, she fished the little silver phone out of her purse, looked at the number and turned beseeching eyes on Kermit. He waved assent, and she flipped it open, turning so that her hair shielded her expression from Kermit.
“Yes, Marty,” she said breathlessly. “I’m here but I’ll be ready to--what? You what? Oh, no, no, I didn’t want--what? Oh. Oh, I see. Well, thank you, dear.” She looked flustered but she tried vainly to flash Kermit a smile over her shoulder. “Um, how was Hanukah? Did you go to Maury’s?” There was a pause, then Piggy giggled a little. “Good,” she said. Another pause. “Yes. No--no, don’t worry about it. It can’t be helped. I just wish...oh, nevermind. Thanks for calling, Marty. See you soon.” She closed the phone, her expression thoughtful.
“How’s Marty?” Kermit asked, wondering about the part of the conversation that he hadn’t been privy to.
Piggy smiled. “Same as always,” she admitted. “He’ll never retire.” She leaned forward suddenly and stretched her hands toward him. Kermit felt his heart lurch and reached forward to clasp her hands in his own.
“Kermit, there’s something I need to tell you. I should have said this last week when we went out to dinner, but I just didn’t know how to say it.”
“I’m listening,” Kermit said, feeling a calm settle over him even as his heart began to race. This was the way it always happened. If he just waited, Piggy would do all the hard parts. All he had to do was--”
“Hello, Love,” said a deep, masculine voice with a tantalizing accent. Piggy jerked her hands free of Kermit’s and sat back suddenly in her chair. A dark head of longish hair bent and pressed a kiss against Piggy’s cheek, holding the contact long enough to make her blush and duck her head.
“Hello, Russell,” she said. Her eyes looked very soft as she gazed at him. Kermit felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Luckily, he’d had lots of practice denying his true feelings, so his composure, at least, did not desert him. He sat very still, but his eyes went from Piggy to her companion in disbelief.
Russell cadged a chair from a nearby table and sat down, garnering a room full of snotty looks from the waiters. His put a muscular arm around Piggy, and his hand settled somewhere slightly lower than her waist. Kermit fought the urge to shoot to his feet and say something scathing, but he found he didn’t know what to say. Piggy wouldn’t look at him anymore.
“Russell, this is my, um, director, Kermit the Frog,” she said formally, not quite meeting his eyes. “Kermit, this is my, um...”
A beefy forearm shot out and a huge hand grabbed Kermit’s fingers and pumped energetically. A pair of penetrating eyes looked Kermit over, sizing him up.
“Nice to meet you, Kermit,” he said heartily. His gaze slid over to Piggy’s still profile, and he smiled slightly. “Piggy’s told me so much about you. A pleasure.”
Kermit muttered something. He would never recall exactly what he said, but it seemed to suffice. An awkward silence settled over this corner of the restaurant. In fact, Kermit was pretty certain that an awkward silence settled over the entire restaurant. He was suddenly aware of lots of watching eyes, and steeled his resolve.
“Always nice to meet a friend of Piggy’s,” he said, thinking he ought to get an Oscar nomination at least. Piggy darted him a quick furtive glance but said nothing. She was outwardly composed, but her hands betrayed her. She twisted her ring anxiously around and around, a sign which Kermit knew meant she was distressed. He wondered if Russell knew what that gesture meant, and decided he didn’t want to know the answer.
Russell turned to Piggy and gave her a little squeeze. “Hey there, Darling,” he said easily. “Marty told me you were here.”
Piggy smiled, looking up at him. “Marty told me you called.”
“Good. Look, I don’t want to interrupt your lunch but our departure time has been moved up.”
Piggy put a hand on his arm. “Yes,” she said. “Marty told me.” She slipped the cuff of his shirt back so she could look at his watch. “Oh,” she said. “I guess we should, um--”
“Are you done here?” he asked. He stood up, looking at Kermit but dismissing him as a threat. “I can wait in the lobby if you--”
At last, Piggy looked at Kermit, her blue eyes fathomless. She didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything left to say.
She turned and looked up at Russell. When she spoke, it was to him. “No,” she said, “I think I’m done here.” She stood up, tucked her gloved hand underneath Russell’s elbow and simply walked away.
Stunned, Kermit watched her go. Suddenly, he realized what it was that he had seen in Piggy’s eyes the other night--the look he had never seen before. It was good-bye.

Fozzie knocked on the door and walked in even though Kermit didn’t answer. He found his friend sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair and looking up at nothing. His collar was open, his tie half-untied, and there was an open bottle of something that probably wasn’t root beer sitting on Kermit’s desk. Fozzie eyed it and sighed.
“So, how’d your lunch meeting go?” he asked. Kermit didn’t answer, but he swung around and looked out the window. Fozzie said, “ah,” and sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk.
For a long moment, nobody spoke, then Kermit swung his chair around and looked at Fozzie dismally.
“She...she has a boyfriend,” Kermit said softly, one hand over his eyes.
Fozzie said nothing, and Kermit opened his fingers and peered at his friend. Fozzie looked uncomfortable, but not surprised, and Kermit sat forward suddenly.
“Fozzie--did you know?”
Fozzie shrugged, uncomfortable. “You never know if what you read in those tabloids is true,” he muttered.
“Oh, Fozzie,” Kermit said. He did not think he could stand this small betrayal on top of the larger one, but Fozzie roused himself suddenly and stared right at Kermit.
“Look,” he said bluntly. “Don’t you think this is for the best?”
“For the best?!” Kermit exclaimed. “How could you think--”
“Kermit, what did you think would happen? All these years, all those jokes, all that talk about needing your space.”
“But, but--”
“Kermit, to hear you talk, you’d think this had worked out just the way you planned.”
“The way I planned? But--but I never....” He fell silent, taking mental inventory of the last two years. Gradually, his expression grew sad, but resigned. “I, um, I guess I got what I said I always wanted.”
“That’s right,” Fozzie said encouragingly. He gazed at his friend carefully. “It will work out, Kermit. You’ll see.”
Kermit looked up at his friend, his expression hopeful. “Do you really think so, Fozzie?”
It was one of Fozzie’s most endearing qualities that he was virtually incapable of lying. He looked at Kermit out of the corner of his eye. “Um....”
Kermit slumped back into his chair, morose and implacable.
“C’mon,” Fozzie said. “I’ll bet you didn’t eat lunch. Let’s get a sandwich and a cup of coffee.”
“Thanks, Fozzie,” said Kermit. “But I don’t think so. I just want to be alone.”
But Fozzie put a firm hand under Kermit’s arm and hauled him out of his chair. “Plenty of time for that later,” said Fozzie, not unkindly, and hustled him out the door.

 

[The Count]

Ooooh... Soo much to love here.
Piggy left Kermit, the heartbrake and the frog's sufused stupor afterwards... This is good, it almost mirrors the situation in Melissa's The Great Desire.
Go have a read through that one if you want to gage the little blue weirdo's sense of ush-gush blissfulness.

Fozzie: You never know if what you read in those tabloids is true.
OMG! Have you seen and did Vic's SJW issues serve as inspiration for this segment? Great if they did.
That's a nod to Vic Romano's Weekly Creative Visuals, Slanderous Junk Weekly tabloid magazines. Me thinks Issue #1 falls in line with what was written here, but Issue #2 could help with the follow-up.

Also, I like the separation of the power couple if we take it they're still married from your previous works. It echoes what others have mentioned here on the boards about Jim and Jane separating themselves, though I don't know all about that one.
You might want to check with others regarding that subject.

Anyway, it's great and I await the next installment gratefully.

 

[Ruahnna]

Just for clarification purposes, this story DOES NOT take place in my usual muppet universe. In this storyline, Kermit and Piggy are not married and have never been. Kermit has never made the, um, jump to tell Piggy that he cared about her and she has made the best she can of that situation. This is what I think would happen in a universe where those are the parameters. Congratulations, Kermit--you got what you always wanted. Right?

And yes--Vic's tabloids were marvelously inspirational, but then you all know that I am always happy to use a good snarky tabloid article as an excuse to write a story.