Getting Swamped

[The Count]

Aw man... Gotta rescue this one and bring it back topside for a bit of nighttime moonshine again. Maybe second time's the charm and it'll net us some updatin'.

 

[Ruahnna]

Sometimes You Have to Eat the Things That Bug You

Piggy would think of Kermit’s words more than once during the evening but, luckily, she had more weapons in her arsenal than could be gained through physical training. She put on her game face and determined that she would be the most gracious, most charming, most unflappable lady pig (emphasis on lady) that this neck of the swamp had ever known.
Supper was, well, what it was. But since there were folks from all over the swamp there, and not just frogs, Piggy found her food choices considerably broadened.
“I wish you’d let me talk to Mom about the food,” Kermit had murmured, bringing the topic up for about the hundredth time. Piggy steadfastly refused.
“No,” she insisted stubbornly. “Your mother is a good cook. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
Thanks to Kermit’s thoughtful intervention, Piggy wasn’t starving, so she felt free to sample some things and pass on other—pass at a distance in some cases. And she actually enjoyed meeting all of the other denizens of the swamp. It made her feel, well, less conspicuous, certainly. Instead of being the only pink swine in a sea of green-to-blue-to-brownish skin, Piggy felt more at home in this multicultural mix of species. She met Arnie and his wife who had come late, scurrying in after PTA, along with two toothy youngsters who looked at her with undisguised awe.
“My dad says you can really hit!” said a tweenish boy, peering up at her through his glasses.
Arnie’s wife looked apologetic, but Piggy sat down on a nearby log to make better eye contact and smiled at Arnie’s son, Jake, warmly.
“Well, yes,” she said, “but that’s because I took karate for many years.”
“Do you work out every day?” asked Jake breathlessly.
“No,” Piggy said. “But I try to keep my hand in.” She smiled again. “Do you work out?”
“Um, some,” said Jake, casting a sideways look at his dad. “My dad and me—we swim laps.”
“Me too!” said Jake’s little sister Alice. “I swim too.”
“How nice!” said Piggy. “I like to swim. Maybe we can all go swimming before Kermit and I go back home.”
Jake nodded, speechless with excitement as his parents led him away. Piggy stood back up. Kermit slipped his arm around her waist, put his mouth close to her ear.
“Softie,” he accused.
Piggy sniffed. “I can afford to be. I really can hit.” She looked at Kermit out of the corner of her eye. “It’s the least I could do,” she said solemnly. “Arnie’s still limping.”
Kermit shrugged. “Yeah, but he gets a good story out of it.” He steered Piggy over toward a crowd of otters. “Come over here—I want you to meet Emmet and his mom.”

“Honey,” said James gently, his hands on Jane’s shoulders. “Just let it go, Jane. She’s got a flea in her ear about this and she’s just going to have to work it out.”
Jane sighed and stopped worrying her hands with an effort.
“I know, I know,” she said miserably. “I just…I hate it when the children argue.”
James didn’t try to tell her not to worry. He didn’t remind her that Kermit and Maggie were adults. He didn’t say that he was sure everything would work out in time, even though he was sure it would. He just set his cane to the side and reached out to put both of his arms around his wife, resting his chin atop her head.
“They’re our kids,” he said softly. “And they’re good kids.”
“Yes,” said Jane. Her voice sounded wet.
“And it’s going to be okay.”
“Yes,” said Jane. Her voice sounded more firm, now. After a moment, she disengaged. “Oh,” she said, putting her hands to her face. “I need to take out the millipede loaf.” She wiped her face hurriedly on her apron and headed toward the fire-pit where the bulk of the evening meal had been prepared. James watched her go, wishing there was something he could say that would make things okay.
As so often happens, there was nothing. James sighed and returned to their guests.

Piggy had really begun to shine as the evening wore on. Kermit watched her meet and greet with pride. She was witty and charming and every time she laughed and tossed her golden hair over her shoulder he could feel the collective sigh from his younger or unmarried brothers and cousins. What a woman, Kermit thought. What a pig! Piggy even managed to exchange pleasantries with Edna and Willard, although her grip on his arm had tightened to near gangrene-inducing pressure while she did so. Piggy had never been fond of snakes, but a casual observer would never have known, and Kermit distinctly heard Edna murmur, “charming, just charming—and such style!” to his mother later in the evening. He’d flashed his mother a look of triumph, and smiled with satisfaction at his talented wife.
Ever so often, as they mingled with the large crowd of guests and family alike, their eyes would meet whether they were standing close or far away from each other. Her blue eyes were gentle, shining with affection for him, and Kermit could see that she was beginning to relax but still working hard to find a way to fit in. Piggy might be a city pig at heart, but he loved her for trying so hard to fit in here in this more rural setting. That lifted the weight of a Buick off of his shoulders, and he felt more relaxed that he had in some days.
Eventually, as the evening grew darker and the food began to be cleared away, people of all species began to settle onto logs or the soft boggy earth around the campfire. Musical instruments were brought out and placed on stand-by. James directed a squadron of youngsters who brought bundles of dry sticks which were fed carefully onto the fire by an adult. The bonfire lit up the clearing in a warm and cheery manner, but it did nothing to dim the vastness of stars that burst twinkling through the deep, deep blue-ness of the night sky.
It was beautiful, thought Piggy. Fathomless and lovely and…beguiling. She thought of Gonzo and his song, of the aching that sometimes accompanies both happiness and sadness, of the longing that goes with knowing where you belong, and where you’d like to belong. Piggy turned her eyes on Kermit, still thinking with wonder how…how utterly amazing it seemed to be sitting here beside him, wearing his ring, bearing his name. She had longed to be here for so long—in this place, in this moment—and yet she was letting the momentary, transitory annoyances make her unhappy. Piggy leaned and pressed her cheek against Kermit’s shoulder, wanting to be closer to him. Kermit looked down in surprise. He saw the firelight playing over her face, felt the flush on her cheeks that did not come from the fire. His arm slipped around her waist, the banjo forgotten for the moment.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured softly. “Piggy, honey.”
He might have kissed her then—in from of everyone—but fate had other intentions. As if on cue, there was an eruption of little frogs all swarming into the circle of firelight, hopping up and down with excitement.
“Ooh! Loook!”
“I want one! I want one!”
“Hey—Don’t push! Hey—I need some!”
“Lookie! Lookie, Ma! Nightcrawlers!”
It was, indeed, a huge tin of recently harvested nightcrawlers, and little frogs and prepubescent tadpoles ran for sticks that might serve as roasting spears. There was, in fact, a run on the firewood, but the older frogs kept the poachers at bay and parceled out appropriate sticks with discretion until every little frog—and many of the older ones—had a skewer with a fat white grub on the end.
Marshmallows, Piggy thought determinedly. It’s just like roasting marshmallows. She kept her face neutral and tried not to think about it. Even when Kermit made a small “hmm” of interest and took one himself. Piggy took to contemplating the night sky again, serving two purposes at once. When Kermit’s grub had been toasted to a light brown and consumed, Kermit shifted his banjo onto his lap and let his fingers dance over the strings.
As it had the night before, a ripple of excitement went through the crowd and various instruments were produced as if by magic. Kermit began to play, “It’s in Every One of Us,” and other instruments—and voices—picked up the tune. Piggy knew this one, and she began to sing softly along, careful not to let her strong voice consume the others. Kermit heard her singing and smiled at her, letting his voice join too.
Just as the song ended, the tin of grubs made a sudden appearance right on Piggy’s lap.
“Want one?” said an almost-familiar voice. Piggy stammered out a hasty “no thank you,” but Kermit’s head snapped around and he looked at his sister in astonishment.
“Mags!” he said, suddenly joyful, but something in Maggie’s eyes made the sudden light in his dim.
“Hello, Mit,” she said coolly. She had, at least, called him by his old pet name, but to Piggy’s protective ears it did not sound friendly. Piggy sat still, not certain what to do, but Maggie turned on her suddenly, and the abrupt movement made the soft white grubs dance in the tin. “And hello, sister-in-law.” No, Piggy thought, definitely not friendly. She refused to be baited, however, and smiled back with her best determined smile. “Hello, Maggie. How nice to see you.”
But Maggie was turning away, back toward Kermit. Again, the gesture made the tin and its contents tumble less than a foot from Piggy’s face, and Piggy made grim eye contact with Maggie to avoid looking down.
“Heard you’ve been busy,” she said to her brother. “Swimming, playing hide-and-seek in the swamp….” Her voice was light, but mocking, and her eyes flashed an unmistakable challenge.
Kermit sat up straighter, trying to stare her down. “Yes,” he said carefully. “We’ve had a nice time here at home. Too bad you couldn’t join us.”
“Things to do,” said Maggie airily. “People to see—oh!” She turned to Piggy as though just remembering something, and the tin in her hand spilled several limp grubs onto Piggy’s skirt. Piggy picked them up without expression and dropped them back into the tin, but her eyes were glinting dangerously. “Oh,” said Maggie again. “Don’t you want one?”
“No thank you,” said Piggy, her voice polite through gritted teeth.
“Ohhh,” said Maggie sagely, as though suddenly understanding. “I get it—you’re watching your figure.”
Piggy spread her hands helplessly and smiled up at Maggie, batting her eyelashes. “Not really,” she said sweetly. “Why should I, when I have soooo many other people willing to watch it for me?” She favored a log of young male frogs with a devastating smile—so devastating in fact that one of them white-eyed and fell over backwards. Seeing it, Maggie’s eyes narrowed angrily and she started to say something else—something else that might not have been turned aside so easily.
Kermit almost choked, but he stepped in quickly to shut this argument down before it could go somewhere where he couldn’t stop it.
“Why don’t you sit down, Maggie?” he said stiffly. “We were just about to play.”
Maggie looked at the banjo in his hands for a moment, then flicked her eyes toward Piggy.
“Figured you’d be too busy to play this trip,” she said. “I figured you’d have your hands full already.”
“Maggie.” Kermit’s voice was low and warning. There were many eyes on them now and, although he was uncomfortable, Kermit was willing to rise to the occasion if necessary. Suddenly, without any warning, Maggie grinned broadly.
“Well,” she said brightly. “I guess I was wrong.” Once again, her eyes flicked to Piggy. “I guess we’re all allowed a few mistakes….”
“Mags,” Kermit said firmly, but she had scored her hits and was gone like quicksilver.
Kermit sat back down, his back tight with tension, but he began to plink out a merry tune on the banjo. He was, perhaps, pulling the strings just a little too hard, but it was hard to complain. Tentatively, others joined the tune, and soon the clearing was full of happy, cheerful sounds. Piggy smiled tightly and looked at the sky and tried to recapture her previous good mood, but it was gone—irretrievable.
After a few minutes of breathtakingly beautiful night skies, Piggy felt her breathing return to normal and the whole thing began to seem almost funny. Almost. Almost at once, however, Piggy’s humor became tinged with despair.
What was she thinking? Piggy thought miserably. She was so…different, so out of place here. What would Kermit say if she told him that she couldn’t stand the thought of swallowing a grub, no matter how perfectly toasted over the coals? What would Maggie say if she could have seen Piggy’s distress and fear this afternoon over a couple of perfectly civilized snakes. Once again, Piggy longed for the safety and security of the city and their safe, modern apartment where food arrived from the deli and taxis did not stop if you wore inappropriate (if highly fashionable) footwear. Piggy stared at her gloved hands and tried to blink back tears, grateful for the smoke that occasionally wafted her way from the bonfire.
Kermit seemed aware of her shift in mood, for he smiled at her worriedly and nudged her with his shoulder. Piggy rallied and smiled back up at him, but her mouth was tremulous. Her new husband longed to put the banjo down and put his arms fast around her but it was impossible at the moment. Skillfully, moving with precision and grace, his slim fingers flew among the banjo strings while the notes escaped to fill the swamp with song.
“Pretty Polly” followed “Black Mountain Rag” and other musicians joined in or scrambled to keep up. Kermit switched often between songs with words and those without, and kept the tempo ever-changing by switching from merry to plaintive and back again with agility. Around them, little frogs that were barely more than tadpoles were drowsing in the arms of parents, and Piggy saw Robin curled up on the soft, spongy ground near his grandfather’s flippered feet. The sight of his sweet, familiar little form hit Piggy with a jolt, reminding her that she and Kermit had a life away from here, a life of their own. It was cheering, and Piggy clung to the sight of Robin like a lifeline, watching his slow, steady, untroubled breathing.
“Last one,” Piggy heard Kermit say. “Any requests?”
“Froggy Went a’Courting!” came a muffled voice. Kermit laughed and began to strum the familiar tune. It was, for obvious reasons, a local favorite, and Kermit played the longer musical introduction that would be expected by this crowd. He was almost to the first verse when the implications of what he was about to play hit him like a bolt of lightning, and—without explanation—he launched into a replay of the intro, buying him some time.
There were some topics that did not bear repeating under any but the direst of circumstances. Although initially blind-sided by the request for the old favorite, Kermit could see pretty plainly the trap that Maggie—undoubtedly!—had so cunningly set for him. His mind searched frantically for some means of escape.
There was no one here (with the exception of some of the tadpoles) who had not seen Kermit’s on-screen flirtation with Miss Mousey. Like Piggy, she had been strong, self-confident and sassy. But while initially intrigued, Kermit had figured out fairly quickly that she moved in faster circles than he was comfortable in. Exit one frog. And shortly after that, enter one entrancing and beautiful pig. Also strong—very strong—and self-confident and sassy, but a better match all around. Kermit had liked Piggy’s softness, her occasional burst of feminine incomprehensibility. He found she cut the treacle in his sentimentality, and softened the edges of his grumpiness as though born to it. Though it had taken him years to admit it, Kermit had realized long ago that a life without Piggy was going to be lonely—and not very much fun.
“Frog went a-courtin', and he did ride, Uh-huh. Frog went a-courtin', and he did ride, Uh-huh. Frog went a-courtin', and he did ride--With a sword and a pistol by his side, Uh-huh,” Kermit sang.
Kermit continued to play, his fingers dancing, while these thoughts whizzed furiously through his head. He darted a quick look at the far side of the clearing and, after a moment, was able to discern Maggie’s smirking face looking not at him, but at Piggy, in order to see the effect of her little barb more clearly when it landed. Kermit felt his anger swell, but he pushed it down grimly. He would not let Maggie use him to hurt Piggy—not even unintentionally.
“Well he rode up to Miss Piggy's door, Uh-huh. Well he rode up to Miss Piggy's door, Uh-huh. Well he rode up to Miss Piggy's door. Gave three loud raps and a very big roar, Uh-huh.”
There was a murmur of approval from the crowd and Piggy, who had seen long before Kermit had where this song selection was leading and steeled herself against any outward reaction, turned in surprise and looked up at her husband with melting eyes.
The murmur turned into an “Awww” as Kermit paused between verses to claim a smooch from his blushing bride. Nobody cat-called. Nobody said “Ewww.”
When Kermit had sufficiently regained his equilibrium, he looked casually over to where Maggie had been standing, but she was not there.
“Said, ‘Miss Piggy, are you within?’ Uh-huh. Said he, ‘Miss Piggy, are you within?’ Uh-huh. Said, ‘Miss Piggy, are you within?’ ‘Yes, kind sir, I sit and spin,’ Uh-huh.”
“Not likely,” Piggy said, just loud enough to get an appreciative chuckle from those closest to her, and she felt herself warmed and welcomed by their amused faces.
“He took Miss Piggy on his knee, Uh-huh. Took Miss Piggy on his knee, Uh-huh. Took Miss Piggy on his knee. Said, ‘Miss Piggy, will you marry me?’ Uh-huh.”
“Uh-huh!” repeated Piggy, and everyone laughed. Many of Kermit’s brothers and sisters and cousins were staring at Kermit surreptitiously, not sure what to make of this suddenly different older brother who flirted shamelessly with his wife in front of everyone. Was this Kermit? Their Kermit? Who had steadfastly resisted all entanglements while living in the swamp? Who had seemed committed to bachelorhood for so long? It seemed hard to imagine they were one and the same. But the proof, as they say, is in the pudding and the contentment on his face and the face of his ladylike pig told a story that was impossible to deny. Not that anyone was trying.
Kermit ended the song, pushing his banjo around to his back and standing up as though strung with an over-riding energy. He smiled at Piggy and reached for her hand but—just at that moment—Maggie appeared out of nowhere and almost between them. She thrust the tin of grubs under Piggy’s face once more, and her voice was mocking.
“Sure you won’t have one, dear?” she dared. “A bedtime snack?”
Piggy’s happy mood—so carefully reconstructed—was falling to shreds. Piggy looked at Maggie calmly, and her smile was broad but not at all friendly.
“Why thank you,” she said sweetly. “I don’t mind if I do.”
Piggy put her satin-gloved hand into the tin, pulled a soft, limp, white grub out and popped it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed.
Maggie stared, as did Kermit.
“Thank you,” Piggy The Frog said daintily. “That was delicious. But I’m all in now. Ta!”
Piggy excused herself while Maggie stood staring in slack-jawed amazement.
Once the darkness had swallowed his wife up, Kermit turned on Maggie angrily.
“You!” he said hotly. “What was that all about?”
“Oh go soak your head!” flung Maggie. Kermit would have gone after her, but he went after Piggy instead.

Piggy was half-way across the clearing when Kermit caught her arm, turning her to face him. His expression was bemused and a little incredulous.
“Piggy, did you—did you really eat that, um, bug?”
Piggy’s face was defiant. “What if I did?” she challenged.
“Whoa, whoa,” said Kermit, holding his hands up to ward off any hostilities. “I’m just, you know, I’m just asking.”
She stuck out her chin pugnaciously.
“So…did you, you know, actually eat that night crawler?”
Without warning, Piggy grabbed his shoulders and kissed him with refreshing thoroughness. She pulled back and glared at him, her eyes blazing. “You tell me!” she flung, and stalked off majestically. Stunned for a minute by her anger and—sheesh, that kiss!—Kermit ran after her. He took her hand, slowing her progress but not stopping her. She pulled him after her for a few more feet then stopped, her chest heaving.
“Hey,” Kermit said, stepping around in front of her. Gently, he rubbed her arms until her breathing calmed, then took her carefully into his arms. Grudgingly, Piggy let him enfold her, but gradually she relaxed into his embrace, letting him hold her close.
“Look,” said her husband quietly. “Maggie can be a total pill but you, I mean, you didn’t have to eat that bug just because she—“
“I didn’t, okay? I didn’t eat it,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his neck. Her voice sounded bruised and Kermit knew she had a stubborn, pouty expression on her face—the one that usually made him want to kiss her. He mastered the impulse, just holding her against him.
“You…you didn’t?” he asked, not wanting to start an argument. “Cause it looked like—“
“I know what it looked like!” Piggy cried, pulling away. “I—I used sleight of hand.”
Kermit looked at her quizzically. “Like—like magic?” he asked.
“Yes,” Piggy answered irritably. “I, um, used to be a magician’s assistant.”
Kermit pulled back in surprise and stared at her. Was there no end to the things he didn’t know about Piggy? ”When was this?” he asked. “Before you met me?”
“No,” Piggy muttered. She looked heavenward, obviously struggling with herself, then gave a little shrug. “Um, do you remember that summer I told you I was doing summer stock?”
“Um hum,” Kermit said nodded. “Up in Minnesota?”
“Yes,” Piggy admitted. “I—my job fell through. I spent the summer working with Marvo the Magician.”
“Marvo the Magician,” Kermit repeated, not able to take it in. “But—but Piggy, you sent me pictures of you in costume. You told me you were playing Juliet!”
Piggy glared at him. “I had a second job waitressing at the Renaissance Fair,” she snapped. “That’s where the picture came from. Happy now?”
Kermit started to laugh. Indignantly, Piggy tried to pull away, but he held her tight, smiling at her in bemused adoration.
“Unhand me you—you frog, you,” she huffed, but without much conviction. Kermit pulled her even closer. “Not a chance,” he said softly, and kissed her pouty mouth. After the briefest of intervals, Piggy’s arms twined around his shoulders and she returned the kiss with interest.
Apparently, Piggy wasn’t the only one who could do a little magic. Kermit wrapped his arms around his pig and made the entire world disappear.

 

[The Count]

Simply amazing and astounding... A double chapter... And it's so great it deserves its own review... But not tonight, been up with the constant craziness over in MopFam and some sleep is sorely needed. Will come in soon, unless Layla beats us all to it of course.

Edit: Quick question though... You say that Kermit finally admitted that life "ith" Piggy would be lonely. Um, barring the potential possibility of being lonely while being with someone you love at your side, is it supposed to be written that way? Or shuld it be "without" instead? Just poiting that out so you can go back in and make small edits to your post like I'm doing tomine now.

 

[TogetherAgain]

<GRINS>

Oh, what a chapter... <eyes clock> I'll say more some other time...

 

[The Count]

Hello Aunt Catherine.. Was wondering if we could get the missing chapter titles for the segments so far posted in this excellent story of yours. That, and maybe another chapter? Please?

 

[Ruahnna]

Titles for chapters

I'm very embarrassed, because I titled these about a week ago--but apparently never posted them. Here they are:
Getting Swamped
Piggy tried to still the frantic fluttering of her heart. The closer the train got to Kermit’s hometown, the more nervous she became.
Trying to Blend
Piggy put on her hat once they cleared the station, and its wide brim and trialing ribbons generated considerable awe in the children.
Putting Down Roots
The first unpleasant surprise came when Piggy stepped off the paved road. Lost in polite conversation, Piggy found herself unaccountably rooted to the spot.
A great little spot
Piggy sat on a log next to Kermit and tried to keep smiling. Everywhere she looked, there were frogs.
A Place to Change
They had, at least, addressed the issue of a place to change for Piggy.
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.
Lost and Found
“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.
Offerings
Once Kermit had satisfied himself that Piggy was truly un-traumatized by the day’s events, he went off to make himself useful.
Sometimes, you just have to eat the things that bug you
Piggy would think of Kermit’s words more than once during the evening but, luckily, she had more weapons in her arsenal than could be gained through physical training.

 

[The Count]

Mmm... Merci madam, will take these and add the chapters' bodies to have all your thrilling tales on file.

 

[Ruahnna]

A Pig of Many Talents

Kermit’s desire to please had manifested itself in more practical ways than moonlight kisses. After breakfast the next morning, which Kermit ate with gusto and Piggy politely ignored, he wasted no time in taking Piggy’s gloved hand in his and half-pulling, half-dragging her toward what looked like a wall made of branches and vines about an eighth-mile down the path from the clearing.
“What do you think?” he asked. His eyes were shining with excitement.
Piggy looked at him uncertainly. “Um…” she began.
Once look at her befuddled expression, however, told Kermit he would have to illustrate. He reached out and grasped hold of the viny curtain and tugged. The wall peeled back, revealing a sun-dappled space the size of a very small room, or a very large closet. He ducked under and stepped inside. Curious now, Piggy followed. When the greenery fell back, Piggy found herself in an almost enchanted little hideaway.
Sunlight came through, but not much else. While she could seem glimpses of the outside world through cracks between vines, no one from the outside could see in.
“It’s not exactly the honeymoon suite…” said Kermit, and looked up hopefully for signs of approval.
“Oh! A room!” Piggy said, suddenly understanding. She half-turned, looking around her.
“Our room, if you like,” her husband said. “I know it’s not what you’ve become accustomed to, but—“
“What I’ve become accustomed to,” said Piggy softly, “is being with you.”
Kermit smiled with pleasure and relief. “Terrible, the bad habits you pick up,” he teased.
“A wonderful vice,” responded his wife. “Even better than—“
“—chocolate?”
“Don’t push your luck,” Piggy growled. “I was going to say Chez Roberto’s.”
Kermit laughed and reached to take her hands in his.
“Have I mentioned how wonderful you have been on this whole trip?”
“Not today,” said Piggy. “But I’ve got time now…”
They did not, in fact, have time right then. What might have ended in a kiss ended with the chirp and bellow of several young voices.
“Kerrrrrmitttt!”
“Unnn-culllll Kerrrrrmitttt!”
“Are you in there, Uncle Kermit?”
Kermit looked at Piggy, who stared back at him. They put their puckers away.
“Um,” he said, and his expression said there was more but he was reluctant to say it.
“Um?” she asked crisply. Her tone said plainly that he’d best be forthcoming.
“I, uh, forgot we promised to go swimming,” said Kermit.
“We?” said Piggy.
“Um, me, maybe,” admitted Kermit. “I guess I forgot to mention it.”
“Good guess,” said Piggy dryly.
“Yeah, well—“
“And we are going swimming with…?” Piggy asked.
“Um, about six dozen of my nieces and nephews.”
Piggy’s smile did not dim, but inwardly she sighed. It will be fun, she told herself. Just me and Kermit and a pond full of kids. “Give us a second, kids,” Kermit called. He looked at Piggy. “Is it—is this okay? Do you mind?”
Piggy shook her head. “Not really. And at least I’ll have a place to change this time.”
“Good,” said Kermit. “Let’s get your stuff moved down here, then we’ll go swimming.”
Piggy nodded, wanting to be agreeable. She led Kermit take her hand and followed him out into the sunlit path. Six dozen wasn’t a bad guess, but 12 dozen might have been more accurate. Piggy felt momentarily overwhelmed, the only pink face in a sea of blue and green and brownish hues. Also, she towered over everyone, and it was a little disconcerting. She was glad to see Cee Cee’s eager face in the crowd. Involuntarily, Piggy squeezed Kermit’s hand, and he returned the pressure warmly, reassuring her with his touch.
“Um, hi ho guys,” said Kermit. “Look, we’re going to move Piggy’s things down here to this little shelter. This is going to be our room while we’re staying here in the swamp. Once we do that, she can change into her bathing suit and come swim with us.”
“What’s a bathing suit?” asked one puzzled youngster.
Piggy and Kermit exchanged startled glances. It had been a while since the question had occurred to Kermit, but of course, he was used to people and animals wearing clothes for various activities. Piggy regained her composure before he could think of how to respond.
“Well,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s a, um, costume that you wear to go swimming.”
“In the water?” asked one skeptical fellow. “You wear it in the water?”
“Well, yes,” said Piggy haltingly. “You put it on instead of your regular, um…clothes.” Piggy realized with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach that, to this crowd, that probably sounded unusual at best, and probably downright odd.
“How come?” asked a little girl with straight, shining hair cut in a bowl cut.
Piggy looked at Kermit helplessly, but if anything, he looked more aghast than she.
“Yeah, how come you have to wear a costume?”
Piggy was now the only red face in a sea of blue and green and brown, and she looked decidedly flustered. Kermit had no idea what he was going to say, but he was determined to rescue Piggy from her embarrassment, if that were still possible.
“Well, um, you guys have seen the show, right?”
Lots of nodding heads.
“Well, you know sometimes I wear clothes to play a role on the show.”
“Like your reporter trench-coat on Sesame Street?” asked one very slender adolescent frog.
“Yes—exactly,” said Kermit. “A costume helps people know who you are and what you’re going to do.”
Too true, Piggy thought. She knew well the power of making a statement with fashion.
“Well, um, here in the swamp, it isn’t really necessary to wear clothes. We all, you know, kind of do the same things, so clothes aren’t really important here.”
Under other circumstances, Piggy might have argued with him. Clothes were always important. But she was grateful for his handling of the situation, so she smiled and nodded.
“But where Piggy and I live most of the time, people and, uh, pigs and, well, rats and other animal usually wear clothing of some sort because it’s the social custom.” Kermit finished strong, hoping his confident assertion would hold.
“You don’t,” pointed out one of Kermit’s nieces.
Kermit smiled and tried to appear grateful for the observation. “That’s true,” Kermit said, outwardly calm. “But sometimes I do. I wore a tux when I got married,” he offered, turning to smile at Piggy.
This is like a board meeting, thought Piggy suddenly, where’s he’s trying to sell a bunch of executives on an idea. Only the crowd was tougher. She smiled back at him and waded in to bolster his claim.
“Yes—and Kermit looked very debonair in his tuxedo. He dressed up special because it was a special day.”
“So that’s why you’re going to wear a bathing…what was it?”
“A bathing suit. Sometime it’s called a bathing costume,” said Piggy sagely.
“A bathing suit. That’s why you’re going to wear a bathing suit.”
“That’s right.” She smiled, glad they had reached an agreement—or at least an impasse. “I’m going to put on my bathing suit because this is a special day; it’s the day I get to go swimming with all of vous.”
It had slipped out. Piggy had tried so hard to keep from lapsing in to French, but it just slipped right out. Several little frogs looked startled.
“That’s French,” said Cee Cee with great importance. Several little frogs said, “Ooooh,” almost reverently.
“Wow,” said one of the little boys. “I didn’t know you could speak French.”
Kermit opened his mouth, planning to tease Piggy a little, but the fire in her eye made him think better of it.
“She’s a pig of many talents,” he said instead. “Including swimming. Now some of you come and help me carry her luggage—the sooner Piggy finds her bathing suit, the sooner we go swim.”

 

[The Count]

And the sooner you get back here, the sooner we can hug you for the new update. Ooh, I love how Piggy thinks this is just like business meeting. And the myriad of mudskippers and toadies and froglings. Also liked how you repeated the line of Piggy being the only distinctive color other than those surrounding her at the time.

A room of their own? Oh I like that, quite clever Kermit. Also like the fact that the greenery allows for sunlight to come in, but not much else and others can'tsee inside though the ouple might gt a view of the land from inside their little cozy corner. It's like the big glass doorlike windows atmy house.

Also loved the way Kermit explains things to his nephws and nieces, and how they pick up on things like we do... Like that trenccoat he wears when he's a reporter on Sesame Street.
Loved it... Post more please!

 

[The Count]

Hmmm... *Lazily, wonder whatcherupto down in those swamps ashore miss Cath. Sure hope for an update a-soon.
Maybe I'll just sit here and dream of going back to that blue bayou where the sailin' boats and those froggy folks, if I could only see...
A familiar story moonrise to sleepy eyes, how happy I'd be.