Getting Swamped

[The Count]

Hmmm... So many little froggies to count. Though I'd prefer to count on an update. oh well, it'll come.

 

[Ruahnna]

Double trouble

Piggy wasn’t exactly Scarlet O’Hara, but she had not gotten where she was by letting a discouraging experience get her down. Fortified by Kermit’s attention, and determined to turn this visit around, Piggy had gotten up so determinedly cheerful that Kermit watched her nervously out of the corner of one eye for several moments before concluding he was, indeed, awake and functioning in his own space-time continuum. They went to breakfast together, where Piggy held court with at least a dozen small frogs, delighting them with tales of acts gone wrong at the Muppet Theater. Kermit smiled ruefully at their rapt and attentive faces. Piggy wouldn’t run out of material any time soon, he thought, but he was cheered by her repeated attempts to blend with his family. Still mortified by the thought of rogue mosquitoes feasting on his girl, Kermit was especially glad to see her surrounded by a cloud of children. They should keep any would-be snackers off Piggy’s smooth, pink skin, and the attention didn’t seem to be doing her any harm. Piggy was at her best when playing to an attentive audience, Kermit thought fondly. He smiled, reminiscing about the previous evening. Even if it’s just an audience of one, his mind promptly slyly, and Kermit felt his cheeks flush. As if aware of his straying thoughts, Piggy looked up for a moment and their eyes met above the bobbing heads of his nieces and nephews. There was a world of solace in his gaze, a world of forgiveness in hers.
Eventually, the children subsided and Piggy was allowed to push her rather un-appealing breakfast around on her plate in peace. Kermit sat down beside her and kissed the top of her head, daring anyone to say anything about it.
“Hey, Piggy,” Kermit said suddenly. “How about going for a swim, today?”
Piggy was a good swimmer, and he thought the water might soothe and cool her in the heat of the day. The weather was warm, and today promised to be very humid and close. Piggy looked at him and smiled.
“That sounds nice, Kermie,” she said. At “Kermie,” someone snickered, but was quickly shushed. She stood, glad to be done with her plate. She handed it off to Kermit without looking at it too closely. “Just let me go change,” she said.
“Super,” said Kermit. “I need to talk to Croaker for a minute, but I’ll meet you in a little bit.”
Piggy smiled. She felt collected and calm, in charge of things again. She didn’t even mind that she walked out of her shoe on the way back to change.

Piggy’s newfound confidence was not actually working in her favor at the moment, but she had no way of knowing that. Either Kermit’s conversation with Croaker was taking longer than expected, or Piggy was becoming more adept at changing quickly behind the questionable privacy of her “dressing room.” After about ten minutes, Piggy began to feel more than conspicuous in her bathing suit and decided to proceed without Kermit. He would be proud of her, finding her own way to the watering hole, and Kermit’s mother had given very explicit directions. Piggy set out with a spring in her step which had nothing to do with her impractical shoes.
“Hey, Cinderella!” called Orville the Frog. Norville the Frog snickered, appreciative of his twin’s humor. Piggy turned around, looking for the source of the voices. After a moment, she spied two identical frogs perched in the low-hanging branches of a tree, watching her from behind the leaves.
“Were you, um, talking to me?” she asked politely. With the sun behind them, she couldn’t see them clearly, but she could pick them out of the foliage by their distinctive blue-green color.
“Where’s the ball?” Orville called. Norville made a gasping sound of laughter.
Piggy looked around in confusion. She did not see a ball.
“I don’t see one,” she confessed. She shaded her eyes with one gloved hand. “Did you drop your ball out of the tree?”
Inexplicably, they burst into loud guffaws. Still not certain she was the butt of their joke but distinctly uncomfortable, Piggy felt her cheeks grow hot. She tried again to focus on them, but the noon-day sun was too brilliant, making her squint.
“I’m on my way to the swimming hole,” she said, more to have something to say than to communicate her intentions. “I’m supposed to meet Kermit there.”
It was a shame Piggy couldn’t see the mischief makers more clearly. If she had, she would have seen the look of evil delight that spread across two identical faces. As one, they hopped down from the tree limb, landing suddenly on either side of her. Startled by their abrupt appearance next to her, Piggy let out a little shriek that seemed to amuse them and felt her face grow warm again in embarrassment.
“You’re supposed to meet Kermit at the swimming hole?” Orville said, all solicitousness. “Well, you’re headed in the wrong direction.”
“Oh? But I thought—“ Piggy looked distressed. If these two hellions had had consciences at all, her look of dismay would have moved them. As it was, it made no impression at all.
“Here,” said Norville, touching her elbow lightly. “Let us get you back on the right path.”
“Thank you,” Piggy said gratefully. “I’m still learning my way around.”
“We’ll help you,” Orville said. He flashed a look to his twin. “We definitely know our way around.”

Piggy looked around her in wonder. The pond looked deep and cool and inviting, overhung with enough trees and hanging vines to provide copious shade. After the sweltering heat of the noonday sun it look wonderfully refreshing and inviting. Piggy turned around to thank her guides but could not locate them. She looked around in confusion.
How sweet, she thought at last. They must have gone off to give me some privacy. Carefully, she took off her wrap, revealing a sweet little confection of a bathing suit. Truth be told, it was the kind of bathing suit more suited to lounging by the pool at a posh hotel than swimming in a pond, but Piggy had so wanted to make a good impression. She fluffed the little skirt happily, and spread her towel on the bank. Kermit would be here soon, with lunch and something cool to drink. She stepped out of her shoes and tried to arrange herself attractively on the towel, a task that was complicated by the myriad cypress roots and smalls stones beneath her little patch of terry cloth. She heard rustling overhead--or maybe behind her. Eagerly and a little nervously, Piggy turned.
“Kermit?” she asked. “Is that you, Kermie?”
There was a sound that Piggy would later think might have been snickering, but at the moment she merely took for the rustling of leaves in the trees or the soft, babbling voice of the water. No Kermit emerged from the trail. The trail... Piggy stopped, looking for the trail she had so recently trod. Perhaps it was a trick of the sunlight through the leaves, but she couldn’t pick out the trail. Piggy put one gloved hand to her eyes to shield them from the brightness and stood up, looking back the way she had come...no, wait, the sun had been behind her, or--wait, the sun had been...in the sky. Piggy felt her heart give a little hiccup, then begin to thump loudly.
“Kermit?” she called hopefully. “Please--are you, um, can you hear me?” There was more rustling, but this time it was definitely coming from a thick clump of bushes near the water’s edge. Her knees felt weak with relief.
“Oh, Kermit,” she said breathlessly. “I was beginning to be--arrgh! Eeeeek! Help! Help! A snake!”
“Can I help you?” the source of Piggy’s distress asked, but his soft, sibilant voice did not carry above Piggy’s shrieking.
“Help! Help! A snake!” Piggy cried, snatching her robe from the limb and hurling herself headlong through the bushes. Her towel and shoes were forgotten.
“Well, for heaven’s sake,” said a second sibilant voice. “What was that all about?”
“Something about a rake, I think, Darling,” said the first voice. He looked around as though seeing the clearing for the first time. “I know I haven’t pruned in a while, but I don’t think it looks that bad, do you, Edna?” he said thoughtfully.
“Of course not, Willard,” his wife said, nuzzling his scaly cheek with her own. “She probably just wanted to smooth out the ground under her towel.”
“Oh. Quite right.” He looked at his wife quizzically. “Was that--was that a warthog? I didn’t think we got those around here.”
His wife pondered for a moment, hesitating. “Um, I don’t think so. I believe it was a domesticated swine.”
“How interesting! Are you sure?”
“Well, there were no tusks, and I’d say the satin gloves were pretty conclusive.”
“Ah. Where do you suppose she came from?”
Edna paused, then gave the snake equivalent of a shrug. “Judging by the bathing suit, I’d say ‘Saks Fifth Avenue.’”
Willard picked the towel up and tossed it over his, um, shoulder and caught it with his tail. “We’ll ask James and Jane next time we see them. There’s not much that happens in this swamp that gets by them.”

 

[The Count]

Thank you very muchly for the delight of a new chapter. Sorry I can't stay and review, have to get back to um, more fruitful pursuits.

Look forward to whatever else you have in store do, very fondly I do.

 

[Ruahnna]

“Um, have you seen Piggy, Mom?” asked Kermit. It was not unusual for Piggy to be fashionably late, but he had been waiting for her for more than an hour, and he was beginning to be alarmed. He didn’t quite like to admit that he had lost track of time and his wife in the same morning, but was finding himself in need of assistance.
“Oh, Kermit—are you still here? Piggy left for the swimming hole at least 45 minutes ago.”
Kermit looked uncomfortable. He had rather lost track of time talking to his childhood friend, but was more than a little surprised that Piggy had changed so quickly—and gone on without him.
“Oh,” Kermit said. “I guess I better make tracks.”
Tracks he found plenty of, but no trace of Piggy, either at the swimming hole or along the way. Puzzled, he trudged back to the clearing. This time, at the sight of his unhappy face, his mother put down her mug and looked at him with concern.
“Didn’t you find her?” she asked, her face troubled.
“No,” Kermit admitted. “I found tracks up to the old magnolia tree, but then she must have taken off her shoes. I followed the path all the way to the water and back. There were some kids there, but they hadn’t seen her.”
“Do you know what time they arrived at the swimming hole?”
“Not really,” Kermit said. Most of them had been too little to take much notice of time, and nobody but nobody here wore a watch. “I—how did Piggy know how to get there? Did she go with someone?”
“No,” said Jane, making a distressed face. “I—she asked for directions. I—I should have sent someone with her, but I didn’t think….” She put a hand on Kermit’s arm. “You didn’t see any tracks on the path?”
“No,” said Kermit. “They stopped right under the tree.” He paused for a moment, thoughtful. “You know, maybe she didn’t take her shoes off. Maybe she went another way.”
“Does she know another way? She didn’t seem very certain this morning.”
“No,” Kermit admitted. “Piggy’s not, um, let’s just say that directions aren’t her strong suit. She usually has a driver.” Or me, his brain prompted unkindly. “Um, I think I’m going to take some of the guys and look for her,” he said. “Will you ring the dinner gong and put out the word?”
Worriedly, Jane nodded. She wiped her hands on her apron and went to call everyone in.

Croaker picked up the trail underneath the big magnolia with an ease that made Kermit realize that he had become more of a city frog than he wanted to admit. They followed Piggy’s twin heel grooves up to the edge of a lovely clearing, but Croaker hovered back a little and did not approach the water’s edge.
“What’s the matter?” Kermit asked.
“Oh, nothing,” said Croaker. “It’s just I didn’t want to go in without knocking first. This is Willard and Edna’s place, and I didn’t want to just—“ He broke off suddenly and hopped quickly into the enclave. He emerged moments later with Piggy’s shoes, his expression sober.
“Um, these look like Piggy’s shoes,” he said solemnly. “I don’t see any signs of Willard and Edna, though.”
“Who are Willard and Edna?” asked Kermit, not genuinely worried.
“Oh--no,” said Croaker hastily. “They’re nice folks—water snakes, but real nice. I can tell they’ve been here, but I can’t tell if it was before or after Piggy was.”
Kermit wasn’t listening. He was looking at something gauzy that was fluttering mildly in the almost still air, caught fast on the out-stretched twig of a tree. He walked up and picked it off carefully, then his heart began to hammer in his chest.
“What is it?” said Croaker. “What do you have there?”
Kermit turned and looked at his childhood friend soberly, his eyes worried.
“It’s—it’s part of Piggy’s bathing suit,” he whispered. “I—I think we’re going to need some help.”

Help was forthcoming, and soon the swamp was crawling—and slithering and hopping—with scores of determined rescuers all beating the bushes for signs of an obviously lost and probably very frightened pig.
The noon-time sun was at its hottest when word reached Kermit that she had been found. Piggy’s newly-met friend Arnie actually sent up the call that she had been located. Out of breath from running, Kermit arrived on the scene—along with about two hundred other amphibians—and put his arms and a warm blanket around a very disheveled Piggy. She leaned into his arms and allowed herself to be led back to the clearing, making an odd little parade through the marshy grass. Piggy had certainly been in her share of parades, waving and smiling at crowds of the awed and curious, but this time she turned her face into Kermit’s chest and did not seem to even know how many, many eyes were on her.
“I’ll be durned,” said Arnie’s cousin Mortimer as they passed by. Mortimer had been with him when he found Piggy. “I didn’t even know pigs could climb trees.”
“My neither,” said Arnie, “but this little lady of Kermit’s is a real fire-cracker. She must have learned it in acting school or something.”
“Must be.” They were silent for a moment. “Hey Arnie,” said Mortimer. “What do you reckon she was doing all the way out here. Didn’t Kermit say they were going to the swimming hole.”
“Yeah,” said Arnie thoughtfully. “It doesn’t make any sense, does it?” He gave Mortimer a look. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” he said.
“Yeah,” said Mortimer. “I think we got us some troublemakers on the loose.”
“You know what else I think?” said Arnie.
“Yep,” said Mortimer. “And I’m with you. Let’s go.”

Piggy was, at least, clean, having been allowed a private swim in the swimming hole to soothe the cuts and scratches on her pink skin and wash the brambles out of her hair. The bathing suit had been discarded—permanently—and she had pulled yet another clean and dry outfit out of her luggage. Piggy sighed as she slipped her arms into the short puffy sleeves of the dress. It was a little like pulling one poufy tissue out of a box after another, except that her luggage did not contain 180 outfits. She had been through almost a week’s worth of clothes in less than 72 hours, and was down by one bathing suit forever. Suddenly, achingly, she thought of her nice apartment with its huge walk-in closets and soft bed and air-conditioning and she felt like crying. As if sensing her sudden turn of thoughts, Kermit peeked into her changing area. Piggy hastily averted her eyes, buttoning up the rest of the dress.
“You okay?” he asked, looking with distress at the pattern of scrapes along her arms. Piggy wished she had a long-sleeved jacket, but she didn’t. She put her hands behind her back, but Kermit came up and put his arms around her gently.
“I wish you’d tell me what happened.”
“I got lost,” Piggy said stubbornly. “I was on my way to the swimming hole and I got lost.”
“I know it was my fault. You were counting on me to take you, and I—“
“It wasn’t your fault,” Piggy cried. “You probably wouldn’t even have been afraid of the snakes.”
“What snakes?” aske Kermit, suddenly confused.
“Nothing,” said Piggy. “I, um, just, um—“
“Did somebody scare you?” asked Kermit, trying unsuccessfully to catch her eye.
“Yes—I mean, no. I mean, they weren’t trying to scare me. They were trying to help me!”
“The snakes?”
“No,” said Piggy, now confused herself. “I didn’t even know they were friends of your parents.”
“What friends of my parents?” Kermit had spent most of this day confused and worried; he knew he sounded annoyed and impatient and tried again. “Piggy—can’t you just tell me?”
“Oh—I’m so embarrassed!” cried Piggy. This whole day had been one long humiliating experience, and she did not think that she could go out tonight and face all the friends and family that were gathering here just to meet her. She felt fairly certain that her reputation has preceded her to every corner of the swamp, and that everyone who came would be looking at Kermit with either scorn or pity. She did not think she could bear it. She would have turned away but Kermit caught her plump little arms in his gentle hands and turned her back to look at him. When she looked up into his face, everything seemed suddenly okay.
“C’mon,” Kermit teased. “This can’t be any worse than the time I fired you in front of everyone and replaced you with our guest star.”
“Kermit!”
“Or the time you had to tell all those tabloid writers that you had made up all those stories about you and me.”
“Oh, Kermie! You are so—“
“Or the time—“
“Stop!” cried Piggy, but she was trying hard not to smile. It was easy to laugh at those things now because she was on the other side of them—on the other side of them with her frog.
“Tell me,” Kermit entreated. “Whatever it is, I promise I won’t laugh.”

“So, there were tracks leading up the Willard’s place?” said James thoughtfully.
“Yep—two pairs, along with, um, Mrs. The Frogs. Funny thing is—it took me a minute to be sure it was two pairs of footprints because they were identical,” said Arnie carefully.
The two men exchanged a look of shared comprehension.
“Hmph,” said James. “I should have known.”
Arnie looked at him speculatively. “You want me and Mortimer to have a word with ‘em?” he asked.
James shook his head, looking thoughtful. “No,” he said at last. “Don’t do anything. Let me think on this awhile.”

Kermit wasn’t laughing.
“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” Kermit said hotly. “I’m going right back up there and knock some sense into those two chuckleheads.”
“Kermit, please,” Piggy pleaded. “Don’t make a fuss.”
“Don’t make a fuss!?” Kermit asked, incredulous. “You were lost for hours! You could have been hurt, or scared, or—“
Piggy kissed him, silencing his tirade in the most practical manner possible. Resisting a little at first because he was angry, and had been so worried, Kermit eventually warmed up, returning her kiss like a good boy.
“Piggy,” he said, touching her face. “I was…I was worried.”
“I’m fine,” Piggy insisted. She kissed him once again, but quickly, and looked at him with solemn eyes. “I want to handle this in my own way.”
“What way?” Kermit demanded. Piggy dropped her gaze, playing with the lace on her sleeve cuffs.
“I-I don’t know yet, but—but Kermit,” she pleaded, for he was threatening to break free, “I want to do this myself. They—Orville and Norville didn’t actually hurt me. I’m sure they didn’t mean any real harm.” She gave a little embarrassed laugh. “It probably never dawned on them that I wouldn’t be able to find my own way back.” Her expression was hurt, although she was trying hard to hide it. It made Kermit’s anger flare back to life, and he would have gone off again, but Piggy was trying so hard not to be dependent that he swallowed his ire with effort and tried to smile. He leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. She smiled up at him, her eyes suspiciously bright. “I--It was partly my own fault for being so gullible.”
“It was not your fault.”
“Look—you warned me before we came that some of your cousins could be tricksters. I was too busy trying to be nice to be cautious.” She looked at him, and her expression became rueful. “I’m not used to being nice all the time. It’s hard.”
In spite of his pique, Kermit began to smile. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he agreed. He reached out and touched her neck, turning her face back up to him. “Look,” he said, “just treat everybody here like you treat everybody at home. If somebody gets in your way, you have my permission to swat ‘em, okay?”
Kermit saw with satisfaction the little gleam of hope that flash in her eyes, then she masked it quickly. Her expression was impish as she smiled.
“Yes, Kermie,” she said softly, batting her eyes in mock docility. For a moment, Kermit just stared at her, then they both burst out laughing.
“Come’ere you,” he insisted, pulling her close. And Piggy obliged.
When everyone arrived tonight to see a happy couple, chances are they were going to see one.

 

[The Count]

Another stellar installment Ru. Glad that Piggy was found safe and sound, if scared for the experience those twins put her through. Very much like James thinking wwhat to do about those frogs... Loved the references to past incidents at the theater to make Piggy smile again.
And she'll deal with them in her own way... That doesn't bode well, not for Orville nor Norville that is.
Look forward to updates here, in Somebody's Getting Married, and most importantly and anxiously Kermie's Girl.

 

[The Count]

Swamp bubblin'... Dinner bell's ringin'... And I'm a-hopin' or hopping over an update to this one soon.

 

[Ruahnna]

Offerings

Once Kermit had satisfied himself that Piggy was truly un-traumatized by the day’s events, he went off to make himself useful. With a little determined digging, Kermit found wild rice in one of his mother’s tins and, stealing a little water from the teapot, made a bowl of brown rice and vegetables, which he brought to Piggy like a dozen roses after an argument. The sight and smell of warm, edible food made Piggy’s knees weak with longing, a problem Kermit circumvented by dragging her down next to him on a sturdy log and making her eat every last morsel. Then, like a poker player pulling three aces out of his sleeve, Kermit produced a package of chocolate truffles. Piggy let out a little whimper and reached for the package, but Kermit held it away from her questing hands. Deliberately, he unwrapped each little mound of rich chocolate while Piggy watched, then he fed them to her one by one off his fingers. When the last chocolaty morsel was dissolving against her tongue, Piggy stood up suddenly, slipped onto Kermit’s lap and kissed him with enough energy to remind Kermit that they were still, after all, newlyweds. His arms were around her now, holding her close.
“Hey there, Mrs. The Frog,” murmured Kermit. “Still glad you married me?”
“That’s Miss Piggy to you, frog,” Piggy growled. She kissed him again, putting some energy into it this time. This almost distracted Kermit from his question, but he returned from the pleasant place that Piggy was taking him to find the question still pinging against his brain.
“You are still glad you married me?” he asked again. He looked up at Piggy and his eyes were uncertain. The need in those eyes made Piggy want to rush in and offer reassurance. She did so, her arms slipping around his neck.
“Marrying you was the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me,” Piggy said gently, letting her hand touch his face, then come to rest on his chest. “And not just because you bring me chocolate. I love you, Kermie. Your goodness, your sweetness, the way you put your, um, flipper down when it’s important. I love you because you’re steadfast and dependable, and I love you because you’re unpredictable.”
“Piggy,” Kermit breathed. “Oh, Sweetheart....”
“I would rather be here in this stinky ol’ swamp with you than anyplace else on the planet.”
Kermit felt the urge to chuckle, but he was using his mouth at the moment to kiss his wife. He chuckled when the kiss was over, and looked at Piggy’s earnest and flushed face.
“Anyplace else?” he asked, looking skeptical. “Even Roberto’s?” Piggy sniffed and got to her feet.
“Don’t push it, frog,” she growled, and this time, Kermit kept his chuckle to himself.
Piggy put on her gloves—the finishing touch. There was no mirror here, but Piggy could look in Kermit’s eyes and know that she was ready to face anything—even the whole gosh-darned neighborhood. They held hands and made their way toward the common clearing where everyone would be waiting—waiting for them to show up and show off their matrimonial bliss. Holding tight to Kermit’s slim green hand, Piggy felt the urge to pinch herself, wondering if it could really be true that she was here, here with Kermit, the newest Mrs. The Frog in a long line of Mrs. The Frogs. She thought about Kermit’s mom—serene, unflappable, without a mean bone in her little green body—and felt suddenly uncertain again, but Kermit seemed to know, well, everything. He smiled at her and patted her hand.
“It’s just a backyard cookout,” he said in his most reassuring tone. “What can go wrong?”
Piggy said nothing. Never ask a pig what can go wrong at a cookout. But she held on to Kermit’s hand, and she believed him like she always did—knowing he would not lead her astray.
They just hadn’t counted on Maggie.

 

[TogetherAgain]

Now that is a sweet chapter. A really, very lovely chapter. Exactly what I needed tonight. I love that Kermit is taking such good care of Piggy.

Last line is intriguing. I sure hope to see more soon!

MORE PLEASE!

 

[The Count]

Thank Ru. Good chapter and it's a bit funny imagining what could happen with those last few forebodding lines. Hop for more to be posted soon.

 

[The Count]

Been awful quiet in that thar swamp... Probably why this here story's plum fallen down into the boggs. Well, maybe a bit of fresh air'n 'll do it some good.

Maybe the next scene will be the big family get-together at dinnertime. Heh, thinking it'd be funny and fun at the same time if some songs propped up, like Grandma's Feather Bed or Disco Frog. Oh well, I'm chewre the author's got plenty of them thar idea thingys ploting and a-planin' in the stewpot. Look forward to more story hen she can get it.