Getting Swamped

[The Count]

Oh hey... *Hugs Nicee, wishes more of her own will be posted but only if she feels OK with it.

Thank you for posting this Aunt Ru. Hope there's still more to come.

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 18: Revelations, Part Trois

“Sheesh,” said Norville to his twin when they had been roundly snubbed by another passle of cousins on the narrow pathway. “You’d think we were the bad guys.” He swung up onto the low-hanging branch and perched there, waiting until his brother joined him.
Orville was just slightly more introspective than his younger brother, and he was quiet for a moment. “I…I think maybe we are,” he said at last. Norville spun to look at him, eyes wide with surprise and betrayal.
“No way!” he sputtered. “We didn’t do anything, um, so, you know, awful…..” He trailed off, mumbling resentfully, and shot his brother a baleful look. “Besides—it wasn’t us that put the grasshoppers in there.”
“No,” said Orville, his mouth twisted ruefully. In that instant, he looked so much like his cousin Kermit that Piggy might have forgiven him anything, but she wasn’t there—and Norville, who bore an equally strong resemblance to Kermit, wasn’t impressed with the resemblance.
Norville squirmed. “It was Maggie. Maggie did it—and she and Kermit are always playing tricks on each other.” Around the swamp, their pranks on each other were legendary.
Orville shrugged in a gesture that was half-agreement, half-defiance. “Yeah,” he muttered. “On each other.” He looked at his twin. “I don’t think this was quite the same.”
“Oh, get over yourself,” said Norville. In his opinion, Orville had an annoying habit of “pulling rank” on him because he was hatched thirty seconds earlier. And so what if they’d been the only two eggs to hatch—it didn’t make Orville the boss of him, did it?
“Speaking of getting over yourself, where—exactly—is Mags this morning?” Orville said coolly. If Norville had had eyebrows, they would have climbed. No one called Maggie Mags except Kermit—no one, and doing so even here, out of aural organ-shot, showed a daring that demanded at least grudging respect. “If she’s so delighted with herself and what she did, how come she isn’t out getting snubbed like we are?”
Norville didn’t have an answer for that, but he was spared one by the sudden rustle of swamp grass nearby. When, after a moment, Arnie the Alligator emerged from the tufts and squinted up at them, they shifted uneasily. Quite without realizing that he did it, Orville pulled his toes up out of nipping range.
“’Day to you, Orville and Norville,” said Arnie.
“Hey,” said Norville faintly, waving his hand as though compelled to against his will. Orville shot him a look of contempt and rolled his eyes at his brother before turning back to their visitor.
“Hello, sir,” said Orville.
Arnie’s pale eyes turned and fixed themselves on Orville, who was again very glad his toes were far off the ground.
“Oh,” said Arnie softly. “So today its, ‘sir” and nice manners, is it? What a pleasant surprise.”
Orville shifted uncomfortably and didn’t answer, and he ignored Norville’s look of faint alarm.
“Come down here,” said Arnie and, loathe as they were to do it, they dared not disobey an adult and a friend of Uncle James. They hopped down and stood uncomfortably in front of the reptile. While well into young adulthood, up close they appeared much younger. Just big kids after all, thought Arnie. H sighed and reassessed how to begin. “Pull a log up, sit down,” he said, more gently, and they looked at each other uncertainly. “Do it,” Arnie said, and they hastened to comply. Norville didn’t quite hit the log soundly, and had to wiggle his blue-green butt over a little to avoid falling off.
“I knew your great-grandmother—did you know that?” the alligator began. Two identical faces registered surprise and exchanged hasty glances. They had expected a lecture, but this was something different.
“Great-Grandma Stumpwhistle?” asked Orville, but he knew the answer before the alligator shook his head.
“No,” Arnie said slowly. “Not your Great-Grandma Stumpwhistle, although she was a fine lady. I meant your other great-grandmother.”
Norville was so astonished he remembered his manners. “You knew Great-Grandmother Elderbitz, sir?”
Alligators are not physiologically designed to nod, but Arnie nevertheless managed to convey an affirmative answer. “Yes.” He squinted up at them thoughtfully. “But her real name wasn’t Elderbitz—did you know that?”
“Yes,” said Orville.
“No,” said Norville. He turned and stared at his brother. “Wha--? How come you never--?”
But Orville cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. Arnie was speaking again, and he wanted to hear what he had to say.
“Do you know what her real name was?” Arnie asked gently.
Orville hesitated, then whispered, almost too low to hear.
“Elderberry,” said the elder twin.
Norville was looking from one to the other of them with an incredulous and slightly mutinous expression on his face. “Elderberry? Like the tree?” he said.
Arnie’s gaze, which had been intent upon Orville, turned and looked at Norville significantly. “Yes,” he said. “Just like the tree.”
It took a moment, but the import of what Arnie was saying finally penetrated. Norville turned wide bulbous eyes on his twin and grabbed his forearm convulsively.
“Then…then it’s…true?”
Orville nodded, but Norville needed verbal confirmation.
“Great-Grandmother Elderbitz, I mean, Elderberry was…a tree frog?”
Orville nodded, then managed a faint “yes.”
“How come you knew and I didn’t.” Norville wailed indignantly, and Orville rolled his eyes.
“Maybe because you’re too immature to handle the information?” Orville shot back. Arnie made a mild gesture that nevertheless managed to capture their attention. The two frogs desisted arguing with each other in favor of watching the alligator warily.
“And a mighty fine lady she was,” said Arnie. “I knew her family before she married your Great-Grandfather—nice people.”
Norville was trying, but he couldn’t quite seem to let go of the idea and its implications. When they had been barely more than tadpoles, stilled hauling tails behind them, they had often pretended to have exotic ancestry, unwilling to believe the grown-ups in their world were truly as boring as they had seemed to two wildly imaginative youngsters. But Great-Grandmother Elderbitz had actually been…. It was too much to take in.
“How did you know them?” Orville asked. He was wondering about a lot of things—why this seemed important to ask now he couldn’t say.
“Some of her uncles were in trade,” Arnie said vaguely. “Used to send convoys up the river when the swamp covered a little more gound. One day when I was just taking a little swim, around the curve of the river they came.”
“And you met her?” asked Norville.
“Well, not right away,” said Arnie. “But I saw her.” He smiled and gave what might have been a chuckle. “Hard not to—she was the first thing I saw when their little raft rounded the bend.” He smiled and the resultant display of teeth was fearsome, and oddly reassuring. “She was hanging onto the mast, right on top of their little sail, so I got a good look at her.”
“What did she look like?” asked Norville and Orville together. They shot identical looks of annoyance at each other, then laughed and gave over to amiability.
“She was a right little thing,” Arnie said. “Not much bigger than a minute, as they say. And she was holding to the mast and not making any never-mind about it.” Arnie’s voice had softened, and he seemed lost for a moment in a far-off time and place. “And when the raft came aground, she didn’t jump onto the bank—she looked up, squinted her eye and jumped into the nearest tree.”
“Wow,” said Norville reverently. “How high did she jump?”
“Well, the raft was riding low in the water, and the tree….” Arnie looked up into the branches of the tree they had been in. “Oh, I guess about that branch there—the one with the broken twigs.”
Orville and Norville looked solemnly up, calculating. Orville was the first to shake himself out of his reverie.
“So, did you say hello?”
“No,” said Arnie, laughing a little at himself. “I wanted to, but I was afraid to show myself by then.” He looked at the twins significantly. “They’d parked the raft close to me ‘cause I was under the water, and I guess they couldn’t see me. I didn’t want to startle ‘em, so I went under and slipped downstream a little, then approached them a little more noisily than usual. By that time, Audra was standing on the bank.”
“Audra was…Great-Grandmother Elder…berry?”
“What? Oh, yes. Audra was her first name.”
“What was she like?” asked Orville wistfully. In that wistful tone was the longing of almost-grown boys everywhere—the hope that life will be full of adventure and things unimagined, and unimaginable.
“She was quick—very quick, and funny. I remember that. She flitted around the bank helping set out wares. And she wasn’t afraid of me, which was nice, although I did catch her shooting a quick look up at the trees. I guess if she’d felt threatened she’d have vaulted into the branches above.”
“Most frogs would’ve gone for the water, but I could tell right away she would have tried up before she hit the water.
“I guess she could tell I was a little shy. She was almost grown, and I was just a boy, for all that I was plenty bigger than her. But she was friendly—asked my name and if I’d like to come closer to see what they’d brought.” Arnie grinned, remembering. “She didn’t have to ask me twice.” Arnie paused, thinking. "I guess that makes me the first one from the swamp to meet her."
“How’d Audra…I mean, how’d Great-Grandmother Elderberry meet Great-Granddaddy?”
Arnie smiled. The how-we-met stories never seemed to lose their appeal. His own children could practically recite his courtship of their mother like a well-worn catechism.
“Well, after a little while—you know how news travels here in the swamp, people started to show up to see what there was to trade for. Every woman with an ounce of curiosity was there with purse in hand and children in tow.’
Orville and Norville exchanged knowing glances. Though they’d been orphaned at just a few weeks old, they’d been raised in the heaving bosom of a large and loving family, and one of the first rules of childhood is, “If Momma wants to go shopping, we all go shopping.” They’d been dragged on innumerable shopping trips, and knew well the carnival atmosphere they could attain.
“You Great-Grandpa was there with a group of young frogs—seems like they did everything in a group—but he took one look at Audra and that was the end of traveling with the pack.”
“What did his friends say?” asked Norville.
“What did his family say?” asked Orville.
For the first time, Arnie hesitated, not sure how much of this narrative he was comfortable imparting, but in the end he eyes their eager faces and hungry gazes and told them the whole of it.
“Most frogs are nice folks,” said Arnie. Sometimes it was easier to go around your elbow to get to your knee. “Not everybody,” he added, and counted himself virtuous for not giving them both a significant look. “But most folks are just folks, and they will give a new idea a chance to take root before they throw it out lump, stump and barrel. Your family has always been reasonable about this sort of thing, and most of our friends are the same.”
Orville opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. After about five seconds of intense mental ping-pong, he blurted, “Great-Great-Aunt Tilly says some folks were scandalized because Great-Grandpa Charlie wanted to marry a tree frog.” He looked at Arnie, half-daring him to deny it, half-hoping he might, but Arnie just sighed deeply.
“I’m sure it’s true, “ he admitted. “I’m sure some folks—frogs or alligators or doves or whatever—live and die by the almighty TTWWADI, but Charlie wasn’t ever much for rules.”
Norville had a question of his own now. “What’s an almighty twaddy?” he asked, thinking he must have missed one of his Grandmother’s boogeymen.
But Arnie threw his head back and laughed. “Not a twaddy, son. Tee Tee Double-yu, Double-yu, Ay Dee Aye—That’s The Way We’ve Always Done It. TTWWADI.”
“Oh!” the younger brother said, finally comprehending. “I get it now.”
“Wish everybody did,” Arnie muttered before continuing. “So, Charlie and Audra got married, and settled down to the outer edges of the swamp. Had a lot of clutches of eggs, but not many…well, they had a houseful of kids, but not several housefuls. How’s that?” Arnie felt he might have inadvertently stumbled into matters of biology as opposed to matters of culture, and he back-pedaled with alacrity. “Audra was a great mom, and Charlie just doted on her, but...well, some people disapproved of how Charlie and Audra chose to raise their kids.”
“What do you mean?” asked Norville.
Orville shot Norville a withering look, then turned back to Arnie and braced his shoulders. “You’re talking about all the stupid people who said Great-Grandmother Elderbitz didn’t know a thing about taking good care of tadpoles.”
Arnie jumped in hastily. “Well, now—let’s not be too harsh. You know, sometimes it takes more family than just Mom and Dad to raise tadpoles. Those late-night feedings can get pretty intense, you know?” A warning bell went off in Arnie’s head and he heeded it. Orville and Norville had been the only two from their clutch of eggs to hatch, and then their parents had been cruelly taken by that accident. If anyone knew the advantages and disadvantages of group parenting, it was these two. Arnie made up his mind to be as truthful as he could be.
“I don’t think anybody meant to imply that Audra was a bad mother, but she did things mighty strange compared to local custom. Some people were just worried that the tadpoles wouldn’t be safe if they were put to bed up in the trees so soon after growing legs.”
“And she got mad.”
“Well, she got sad, I might say. She didn’t feel like she fit in here, and she refused to let Charlie go where she’d grown up. I think it was about this time that she began to tell folks her maiden name had been Elderbitz instead of Elderberry, and she stopped traveling through the trees.” Armie gave a sad little sigh. “That always makes me sad,” he said. “Audra felt like she had to hide who she was to fit in here, and it didn’t say much for the way we treat people who are different.”
“But she did fit in eventually—didn’t she?” asked Norville. Normally, his brother would have teased him for the almost mournful tone of wistfulness in his voice, but the same anxious look was mirrored on Orville’s face, and he said nothing.
“Yes!” Armie cried triumphantly. "She stayed and—eventually—it did get better. Audra and Charlie didn’t have a big family, it’s true, but they had an active one, and before long it was obvious to anyone that their kids were turning out just fine.”
Arnie paused thoughtfully, not wanting to gloss over the periods of difficulty and isolation that Audra and Charlie had suffered but determined to push home the positive outcome. “Most swamp dwellers are pretty fair,” he began. “When folks saw they’d been wrong, they made amends if they could. By the time the kids started school and Frog Scouts and all that other stuff, Charlie and Audra had a great big circle of supporters and friends. Why, Audra was even elected president of SPAT (Swamp Parents and Teachers) one year. After a while, folks got used to seeing frogs jumping in the trees as well as in the grasses and nobody thought twice about letting their kid go to parties or sleepovers at Uncle Charlie and Aunt Audra’s place.”
“How come people don’t like to talk about Great-Grandmother Elderbitz?” said Orville irritably. “Every time I try to ask about her….” He trailed off and turned reproachful eyes on the alligator as the only available adult target of his reproof.
“Well, I think talking about it makes some folks a little uncomfortable. A lot of reasons for that—some of them sensible and some of them not. Talking about Audra reminds folks that their parents or grandparents might not have been very nice at first, so I guess it’s kindof embarrassing. And some folks are so worried that it will seem like they’re still disapproving of tree frogs that they just try to minimize the tree part and stick with the what-a-nice-frog-she-was part.” There was one more thing Arnie started to say, but he hesitated.
Sensing weakness, Orville and Norville honed in on it instantly.
“And--?” Orville prompted.
“Yeah! And--?” chimed in Norville.
Arnie sighed and gave the alligator equivalent of a shrug. “Well, I reckon you two are the last of their kin,” he said. He knew they knew it—they had grown up in the shadow of that knowledge—but he was careful to be gentle. “Not many frogs around here can swing through the trees like Tarzan anymore.”
“I know,” muttered Norville. “There’s nobody to play with sometimes except each other.” He looked at his older brother accusingly, as though it was somehow Orville’s fault.
“Yeah—and some of the grown-ups give us dirty looks when we come by overhead.”
Arnie gazed at them mildly. “Maybe the problem isn’t that you’re up in the trees,” he suggested, “but what you do when you’re up there. Think I could be right?”
The twins squirmed. They had taken advantage of their aerial ability and the element of surprise to startle or prank more than one family of frogs.
“Maybe,” muttered Norville sulkily.
“Yes, sir,” mumbled Orville.
“Well, I’ve got things to do,” said Arnie. “But I thought I’d just track you two down and talk to you about Audra. Been on my mind for a bit.” He turned to go, but Orville’s voice called him back.
“So…you’re saying that when we make fun of Kermit’s wife for being different, we’re sortof being like the folks that were mean to Great-Grandmother Elberbi—Elderberry,” he finished firmly.
Arnie registered surprise. “Now, did I say anything about the newest Mrs. The Frog?”
Orville smiled ruefully. “No, sir,” he said.
“Didn’t think so.” Arnie turned to go, then paused and craned his neck around once more. “Some time in the fall, I promised Jake I’d take him camping upstream. If James says it’s okay, maybe you could come, too—see if we could find some of your distant cousins at the old Elderberry home place. Sound interesting to you?”
This time, they young male frogs were too excited to answer. They nodded emphatically, desperately eager to be included. Arnie was almost out of sight before they remembered to say “thank-you.”

 

[The Count]

Hmmm... Surprised noone else's commented yet. Thanks for the new chapter Aunt Ru. Rully intereschting to learn about the twins' heritage. Even drives home the way Piggy's been treated so far when compared to Great-Grandma Audra Elderberry. It made those two troublemakers think... But I wonder what gave Orville the impetus to call Maggy by the name only Mit calls her? Hope to read more from your froggy font sonerishkibbible.

 

[BeakerSqueedom]

*Blows her nose over Eddie's shirt*
OHOOHOOHOO! *Cries*
---

Er...sorry Eddie.

I loved this. It had such a meaningful message and reminded me
of something personal.

I was touched.

Thanks for updating Ruh.

*Huggles*

 

[The Count]

Tsk tsk tsk... Here ya go sis.
*Hands her a few tissues so she can wipe her eyes.

 

[The Count]

Um hi... Just wondering if there's an update in store for this enchanting yarn of how Piggy fit into Kermit's swamp family... Or at least attempted to do so in spite of the obstacles placed in front of her, by one frog in specific.

Hope to read more when you can post it though Aunt Ru.

 

[The Count]

*Drops off a slice of decadent devilfood cake (store bought) with a stylish edible white chocolate tombstone in hopes of getting an update to this terific tale.

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 19: Amazon Dot Swamp

Piggy was indeed back. With Sherwood’s insistent help, she had conveyed all of her boxes, bags and sundries from the truck to their little room, and dispatched the remains of her trousseau with Sherwood to be shipped back home. Kermit had missed her at the clearing, but he trotted up and reached expectantly for the curtain of vines that served as the door to their room.
Piggy let out a little shriek, and Kermit jerked his hand back instinctively.
“Piggy—Honey, it’s me.”
“You can’t come in!” Piggy cried.
“I was just going to—“
“You can’t come in," Piggy insisted, as though she were explaining something to one of the children. Her voice sounded oddly muffled. “I’m changing!” Kermit had no idea how true that last was, but he was caught up unhappily by the thought that he couldn’t see her.
“How come?” Kermit complained, thinking after the words had left his mouth how juvenile it must have sounded to anyone nearby. Cheeks flushed, he turned and looked carefully around, but, for the first time in several days, luck was with him and he saw no one.
“Cause I’m almost done,” Piggy said. “Just wait there and I’ll come to you.”
That sounded infinitely more promising, and Kermit waited obediently if not patiently for Piggy to emerge. As usual, it was well worth the wait.
“Close your eyes,” Piggy wheedled. Kermit started to protest but sighed instead and put his hands over his eyes.
“No peeking,” Piggy demanded from behind the viny curtain.
“I’m not peeking,” Kermit complained. By the time the words left his mouth, they were true. He heard the rustle of the door, this Piggy’s excited little giggle of surprise.
“Now,” said Piggy. “Open your eyes.”
When butterflies emerge from their chrysalides, there are several moments before the transformation is complete, then the beautiful wings spread wide and a stunning new creature is revealed. This is like that, thought Kermit dazedly, as Piggy looked at him intently, then took off the pale pink silk kimono and showed him the fruits of her shopping. Kermit’s mouth went dry.
“Wow,” he croaked finally. “Wow, Piggy, you look…you look fantastic.”
There was nothing fluffy about this bathing suit. Though far more utilitarian in cut and fit, it allowed Piggy’s own natural endowments to take the center stage—and to take it by storm. The print was purple camouflage and the little spaghetti straps and impressive underpinning made much ado about very little fabric. Giggling a little at Kermit’s gaping mouth, Piggy executed a perfect runway turn and displayed the virtues of the suit’s—and her own—back side.
She was not wearing heels, Kermit noticed after he had allowed his gaze to linger down the graceful line of her back, and to admire the smooth, plump and shapely legs that tapered to trim ankles and feminine feet. She was wearing what looked to Kermit’s eyes like clogs. These clogs had wooden platforms with little designed carved into them and, instead of sinking into the ground, gave Piggy a firm foundation on the spongy ground. Kermit had yet to regain his composure, and Piggy laughed delightedly and vamped just a little for him, tossing the kimono over her shoulder and doing her slinky run-way walk before executing another perfect turn and coming back to where he stood.
Kermit had been so overwhelmed by the whole that he was still registering details. Piggy had done something with her hair. It had been brushed back from her face and restrained with two little combs connected by an elaborate web of netting and tiny sea-shells woven through. Little curls and tendrils escaped from the webbing and lay against the pale skin of her neck and shoulders, and though Kermit could detect no signs of make-up on her face, her eyelashes looked freshly curled. She smelled good, but Kermit couldn’t identify the unfamiliar scent.
He settled his arms around Piggy’s lush curves and smiled at her. Piggy smiled back at him with impish delight.
“I take it you approve,” she murmured with that charming touch of demureness that Kermit found irresistible even while he harbored no delusions that he was in charge of the situation.
“I definitely approve,” he agreed. He bent to claim a kiss and Piggy allowed it for the briefest of moments, then pulled away from his embrace.
“Then tell me what you think of the others,” Piggy said. In an instant, she was inside the little enclosure, presumably donning another purchase. Kermit waited as patiently as it was possible to wait while your new bride is undressing nearby, but Piggy reappeared in remarkably short order. While she might take an interminable time to get ready for any particular appearance, Piggy’s background on the runway made it possible for her to change her clothes and her image hastily when she wished. And, replete with new purchases and new ideas, Piggy wished.
This next outfit seemed somewhat safari-inspired. The olive drab khaki-cut shorts were well-tailored, held in place by a a canvas belt of leopard print. There was a bright yellow mini-tank top that stopped at her midrift, and the white silk shirt was knotted with elaborate casualness well above her waist. This allowed Kermit (and anyone else) a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, pink skin that gleamed palely against the fabric. Again, she was not wearing heels, but short leather hiking boots that nevertheless seemed to have some heel height on them and gave the necessary umph to her profile. The entire ensemble was topped off by a butter-yellow mesh pith helmet over Piggy’s hastily braided hair.
This time, Piggy did her runway walk without further prompting, stopped short in front of him to give him a dramatic smooch.
“Do you like my pith helmet?” Piggy asked coquettishly.
“Yeth,” said Kermit, straight-faced.
Piggy made a face and once again disappeared into the enclosure.
The third time she emerged, she had a bright floral halter-top that stopped just under her bustline and a sarong-inspired triangular skirt-wrap-thing that Kermit didn’t know what to call over a pair of hot pants in the same fabric as the top. Her hair had been twisted up and secured behind one velvety ear with a huge silk lily-flower clip.
When she made to breeze past him, Kermit caught her and pulled her into his arms.
“Enough with the fashion show,” said Kermit.
“But I’m not done,” Piggy pouted prettily.
“Well I am,” Kermit insisted, teasing her a little. “I surrender already—you’re gorgeous.”
Piggy put her arms around his neck and her expression became coy. “Just remember that you surrendered when you get the bills,” she said archly.
Kermit might have protested, but he was learning to pick his battles. He contented himself with kissing her upturned lips. “So just pick one already,” Kermit said. “And let’s go for a walk before supper.”
“In a minute,” Piggy promised. She disappeared into their little enclosure and Kermit sighed and leaned against the nearest tree. He was elated that Piggy had found a way to combat her unease and feel more at home here, and he was certainly enjoying the private fashion show, but he wanted to talk to Piggy, to hear about her day and to tell her about his own.
This time when Piggy emerged she seemed more subdued.
Shy, Kermit corrected almost immediately, noting the blush that was gracing her cheeks. It took him a moment for his eyes to take in what he was seeing, then a moment longer for the significance of it all to dawn on him.
Piggy was wearing green—several shades of it, in fact. Her shoulders were bare, and the dress she wore seemed fashioned from loose, silky layers that looked like nothing so much as leaves. Her hair was down, and she had a ring of leaves woven into a circlet for her hair. Her shoes were bronze sandals, barely emerging from under the silky folds of material, and her gloves…her gloves were non-existent. When Kermit reached out to take her hands, her fingers felt warm in his. Piggy looked up at him, hoping he understood, and the look on his face said that he did. For a moment, Piggy’s eyes threatened to fill with tears. Of course he understood—Kermit understood everything.
The frog who knew everything—at least, who knew everything important—did know what he was seeing. Piggy had clothed herself in green to show how much she wanted to fit in, how much she wanted to be a Frog. But she had taken off her gloves to show that she was not afraid to get her hands dirty—that she had come to take hold of this place, this family, this frog.
Kermit pulled her close, and Piggy raised her eyes to his, grateful for the love and approval so abundantly offered.
“I wanted to look like Piggy the Frog,” Piggy said softly. “How’d I do?”
Bemused, Kermit shook his head. “Like you always do,” he said. “Exceeding every expectation.”
Piggy kissed him then, but gently, and pulled back just enough to see his face.
“Maybe you need to raise your expectations,” she teased, and pulled him, sputtering, after her for a long, lazy walk before dinner.

 

[The Count]

Wow... That last part really helps drive everything home. She wanted to look like Piggy The Frog. Doesn't she know she already does? Truly great Catherine... It's so good. And to think, I had two forum/Muppet inspired dreams last night. Well, maybe when things ease up a little I'll have the opportunity to amaze all of you. Definitely hope more gets posted when it can be posted.

 

[BeakerSqueedom]

I agree with ol' Eddie there.
Miss Piggy does indeed look like some gal good enough for Kermit.
I liked how this chapter went from sweet to overload major--in a good way.
Loved the small fluff between the married couple.



As usual, I melted into a puddle of mushy goo.
Wonderful story.