Getting Swamped

[The Count]

*Whistling... Sittin' on the dock of the bay till updates get posted.

 

[The Count]

Um... Can we get some more of this vonderful story please? Hope to get some soon.

 

[The Count]

*Sing 2 for the show...

Um, if I bring this story back out from the mental Mississippi mud of a morass, could you please do us the grace of providing an update? We deserve some downhome comfort cookin' from Jane and there's the little matter of Margaret's rowd with Kermit that needs patching up.
Oh, if more story comes, please let it get posted soon!

 

[The Count]

*Singing...

Gonna read this story again.
Gonna nag for some more again.
On Blue Bayou.

Hoping that Kermit's OK.
Fending off his sister's dismay.
On Blue Bayou.

And those writer folks.
With their stories a-float.
If I could only read...

A familiar update.
To keep me up late.
How happy I'd be.

On Bluuuuueeee... Byyy... Yooouuuuuuu!
Post moooooree... Pleeeeeassee... Aunt Ruuuuuu!

 

[BeakerSqueedom]

Oh I have just them all and they are perfect! I am amused on how affectionate Kermit is towards Miss Piggy! I get all toasty when I read this story because it reminds me of how adorable romance really is. :3

 

[BeakerSqueedom]

I meant to say "I have just read them all" XD

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 11: Swimming with the Froggies

Chapter 11: Swimming with the Froggies
Actually, swimming with the crowd of young frogs proved to be marvelous fun. It was, Piggy observed, a little like finger painting. As a child, she had disliked getting dirty, but once you were already in the gooey paint up to your wrist, then all inhibitions were swept away. She bobbed and dived like a porpoise, showed off her swim strokes and did not worry about her hairdo. At any given moment, she was bumping one or another small, soft body in the water, but it was par for this particular course, and she just laughed it off like they did. Cee Cee had been fascinated by Piggy’s somewhat fluffy bathing suit with its little skirt and sparkling bow in the front, and Piggy—always ready to discuss fashion—had outlined the maillot’s merits without much prompting.
Kermit was a big favorite with the kids, something she had already observed, but here—here in the water he seemed so much more like one of them, so much more of this world than the one she shared with him. She watched him swim, streaking beneath the water and popping out to startle and delight his nieces and nephews by the log-full. At one point, he popped out of the water right in front of her, stole a kiss without warning and disappeared beneath the water in the space of about two seconds. Piggy blinked in surprise, then laughed. Late in the afternoon, when everyone was tiring enough to suggest an end to the days festivities, Kermit pulled himself out of the water and sat dripping beside her on the bank. Her hair was drying in curly little tendrils and she looked relaxed and peaceful.
“Tell me,” she said. “I know there are all your nieces and nephews and cousins, but who is who? Whose boys are those?” she asked, pointing to three almost identical young tadpoles.
“Those are Matthias’ boys,” said Kermit. He scanned the crowd thoughtfully. “In fact, most of these are belong to Matthias and Shirley.”
Piggy looked at him, unable to comprehend. “Most of these belong to one of your brothers?”
Kermit nodded, smiling. “Yeah,” he said. “Frogs tend to have large families.” He looked at her and his eyes grew teasing. “Can you even imagine having a family this size?”
The words had slipped out without context but, once spoken, the implications made themselves felt. Piggy looked at Kermit and he looked back at her and—for a moment—they were each imagining the possibility of a family this size. After a moment, Piggy smiled timidly and blushed, but her eyes were fixed on his.
“Yes,” she said softly, not able to say more.
Kermit reached out and put his hand over hers warmly. “Honey,” he said softly. “Oh, Sweetheart.”
But as was proving to be the pattern, they were not destined to bring this conversation—or any other—to its appropriate conclusion. As usual, something came up.

In this particular case, something actually came down. One moment, the pond was full of noisy and cheerful children, and the next there was an enormous splash, shrieks of terror and a tsunami-sized wave crashed over Piggy. She was already wet, but the shock of it made her gasp, and gasping while you’re being tsunamied isn’t such a great experience for non-swamp dwellers. Piggy coughed and sputtered, lifting her streaming hair out of her face. Kermit was doing the same, but there was fire as well as mud in his eye, and he stood up and glared at the grown frog who had cannonballed rudely into their midst.
“Orville!” he bellowed. “What the swamp do you think you’re—“
KER! SPLASH!
A second missile, identical to the first, landed in the water, and tsunami number two rolled over the erstwhile swimmers. Kermit was knocked backward from the force, then tottered drunkenly on the edge before falling with no grace at all into the murky water. Piggy admired his form, if not his entry into the water.
Kermit can up sputtering and hopping mad.
“What is the matter with you two idiots!” he thundered. “Did you even look before you leaped? There are children here!”
“Yeah,” said Norville cheekily, spitting water up into the air. “But none of them fell in.”
Kermit whirled around and glared at missile number two.
“You could have landed on someone!” Kermit insisted. “Go find your own swimming hole. This one is taken.”
Completely ignoring their older cousin, Orville and Norville climbed, dripping, out of the water and plopped down cozily on either side of Piggy. Piggy put her lovely snout in the air, but did not shrink away. She had their number from the other day, and was determined not to be rattled by anything they threw at her.
“Well no wonder this swimming hole is so popular!” said Orville charmingly. At least, the words were charming, but the condescending attitude spoiled the effect. “Look at the view!” He suited action to words, giving his cousin-in-law a once-over twice that was uncomfortably thorough. On the other side, Norville was doing the same. Piggy felt herself growing warm.
But not as warm as Kermit. He righted himself in the water and came up furious. Steam was practically rising off of his skin and he looked like he could have melted steel with a look. Orville and Norville might be annoying and opportunistic, but they weren’t stupid. They hopped up from their perch beside Piggy with an insolent wave and a “Au revoir, ma cherie” and vaulted for the trees. By the time Kermit reached Piggy’s side, he could only mutter in annoyance at their retreating backs as they looped through the trees. Not for the first time, Kermit thought they must be part monkey. There had been many rumors that their great-grandmother had actually been a tree frog, rumors that had never quite been dismissed.
“Idiots!” Kermit muttered. He suddenly became aware of the many, many little eyes that were watching him and hastened to adjust his face to something more appropriate. “I mean, that was very dangerous, you know?” He was speaking in his Sesame Street voice, and Piggy’s expression softened in response. Kermit made such a good fath…um, uncle Cousin. Whatever. Her mind groped for the right word—then any word—if only it would distract her thoughts from where they had gone for the second time that day. She felt her cheeks flush, knew her face must be pink.
Kermit saw the blush and, misunderstanding the reason, knelt before her and took both of her hands in his.
“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “Sorry about those two…um,” He looked behind them. Little aural organs behind him, little aural organs before him. Little aural organs everywhere, and lots of wide eyes watching. His voice dropped till he was almost whispering. “Don’t let them, um, get under your skin, okay?”
For answer, Piggy just smiled and held her hands out. Obediently, Kermit hauled her to her feet, and there was a moment—one delicious moment—when, in spite of the crowd of onlookers, her body was close to his, her mouth close to his own aural organs.
“Not to worry,” Piggy whispered impishly. “That’s still your job.”
While Kermit struggled to gather his composure and wipe the stupid grin from his face, Piggy turned and regarded her adoring pre-adolescent audience with genuine concern.
“Everybody okay?” she asked. Lots of nodding heads. “Nobody got jumped on?” Lots of shaking heads. Good,” she said in her best imitation Sesame Street voice. She pushed her sopping hair out of her eyes with both hands, then held her hands out before her. “Who wants to hold my hand on the walk back home?”
She didn’t have to ask twice. And though Kermit wanted to most of all, he had to wait his turn.

 

[The Count]

*Simply stares at the picture of swamp swimming painted by Cath in this chapter.

Loved everything, from playing in the pond to Kermit and Piggy thinking about families to the rude interruption caused by the twins. They'll get theirs in time, though I'm intrigued to find out about how Margaret's taking this and the resolution with that little stormfront.

Thanks for the update, post more when you can.

 

[The Count]

Ho-hum... Sitting on the dock of the bay. Watching the fics rol away. Hopin' Cath will come back someday. And post more that'll make me say 'Yaey!'.

 

[green stuff]

Oh, I've just caught up with this story, and all I can say is,

More please, ma'am?