Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

[Misskermie]

Bobo saw it! Oh no!!!


Don't tell.


More please Ru.

 

[Ruahnna]

Thank you, Jerry, for Fleet and Robin and all the other characters you shared. This is a day to be grateful and sad.

 

[The Count]

*Bumping back to the top of the heap where this deserves to remain as we await the next chapter's posting.

 

[Ruahnna]

For those of you who see that I posted and rushed over expecting story--I apologize. I will make it up to you, and if the sorry demigods of writing are benevolent, I WILL post more story before I sleep. But I have news to share and I want to share it HERE--with YOU GUYS--before I share it on Facebook or anywhere else.

You know I've been in school. I went back to school in January to get the classes I lacked for my state's teacher certification. (Yes--that IS my real age on my profile.) I finished up the CLASSWORK portion of my program on August 19th.

I started school again today--as a classroom Reading teacher in middle school. The call came last week. I cannot think of anything more exciting to share with you--my readers--than the fact that I'm going to be working with young folks who want to do better what you do already. If you have stayed with me this far into the story, you know that my writing is personal, but I am somewhat private (my facebook page is practically anonymous), so this is not something that I usually or casually do.

Don't feel compelled to write me back IN HERE!--we will frustrate the folks who are just trying to read the story--but share my excitement at this new challenge and opportunity.

Story on the way--I absolutely promise.

 

[The Count]

*Makes note to check back in later tonight if/when new story gets posted.
*Sends Aunt Ru some black cherry lemonade to congratulate her.

 

[Twisted Tails]

For those of you who see that I posted and rushed over expecting story--I apologize. I will make it up to you, and if the sorry demigods of writing are benevolent, I WILL post more story before I sleep. But I have news to share and I want to share it HERE--with YOU GUYS--before I share it on Facebook or anywhere else.

You know I've been in school. I went back to school in January to get the classes I lacked for my state's teacher certification. (Yes--that IS my real age on my profile.) I finished up the CLASSWORK portion of my program on August 19th.

I started school again today--as a classroom Reading teacher in middle school. The call came last week. I cannot think of anything more exciting to share with you--my readers--than the fact that I'm going to be working with young folks who want to do better what you do already. If you have stayed with me this far into the story, you know that my writing is personal, but I am somewhat private (my facebook page is practically anonymous), so this is not something that I usually or casually do.

Don't feel compelled to write me back IN HERE!--we will frustrate the folks who are just trying to read the story--but share my excitement at this new challenge and opportunity.

Story on the way--I absolutely promise.

That's okay! Already, this month will be extremely busy for everyone. I am glas I was busy, becuase I am studying math and then I will have the COMPACT math tests to take. Oh boy! I hope I pass it. I will for now give you pink lemonade for your hard work. If I pass my math, I would a nice gift need even if it's imaginery. Hehehe!

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 130: Letting Him Know Who’s The Boss

True to his word, Moishe had taken good care of Piggy’s friends, and after a few moments of polite small talk after she left the cab, the cabbie turned around and looked at them over the seat.
“I’m glad to see somebody up here to look out for her,” he said. After a moment of startled surprise, Howard and Thoreau chimed in. Eventually, they were all three talking at once, but Moishe had been driving a cab in New York so long this hardly bothered him.
“—just sorry we couldn’t come for opening night,” Howard finished. “Although I heard she was just wonderful.”
“She’s not wonderful, she’s perfect,” Moishe said. “My Sylvia just loved her—bawled her eyes out when she sang that torch song.”
“You don’t mind the wig?” Thoreau said, his voice disapproving.
“Naw, I don’t mind the wig. I mean, sure, it’s not as classy as her ‘do, but I’ll wager you couldn’t find a hairdo what would make her look bad.”
“True that,” said Howard, and Thoreau nodded.
“So how long you known Miss Piggy?” Moishe asked, looking at them now in the rearview mirror as he moved the cab smoothly through traffic.
“Ages,” said Howard, then clapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh frog, don’t tell her I said that.”
Thoreau snorted. “Nothing wrong with the truth,” he said. “And nothing wrong with a grown-up woman. I’m getting tired of these little twenty-something diva wannabees,” he sniffed, but Moishe had stayed with Howard’s comment instead.
“Speaking of frogs, where is he, anyway? Poor little gal’s been pining her heart out over him.”
“Did she say that?” Howard asked anxiously, exchanging worried glances with Thoreau.
“She didn’t have to say it,” Moishe said. “She’s living it. So what’s he doing, anyway, that he can’t get up here to see her?”
Here, there was a parting of the ways. Howard’s loyalty was firmly with Kermit, who was doing the right thing for Piggy’s career—both by insisting she come up here (and the story of how he’d won that round had been going around the rumor mill pretty furiously—at least inside the studio) and by staying to get her latest film ready for the big screen. Thoreau, on the other hand, was brand loyal to Piggy first, and had—at times—found Kermit to be inflexible to the point of annoyance when it came to work. More than once, he’d had to bring fittings to Piggy because that frog wouldn’t let her steal away from the set to come to the studio. Still… (and here Thoreau’s face softened, and he stole a covert look at Howard sitting beside him)…Kermit was doing pretty darned good to stand up under all the pressure at work and still keep Piggy’s happiness at the top of his list. His face felt hot, and he dared another peek at Howard’s profile. As if sensing the scrutiny, Howard’s hand patted his knee reassuringly, his palm warm through the linen-wool blend of Thoreau’s expertly pressed trousers, but he did it absently while he continued to chat with the cabbie. Thoreau felt his cheeks flush with pleasure and kept his face averted. He had suspected, but never known before, how passionate pigs could be, and he spared a little sympathy and respect for Kermit, who seemed to be holding his own in their marriage.
“He’s doing what Piggy would want him to do,” Howard said firmly. He looked at Thoreau, daring him to contradict him, and the designer finally nodded.
“Howard’s right,” he said slowly. “Kermit’s a good guy but he’s always overworked. Now that Piggy’s gone, he’s just trying to get things to a point where he can break away and come to see her.”
“And he’s a good guy?”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely. The best.” On this, there was no debate.
Moishe grunted. “He really as nice as they say? If he was, he’d be a saint.”
“He’s no saint,” said Thoreau, then smiled at Howard’s sharp look. “But I understand he’s on pretty good terms with a few of them,” he added dryly.
Howard smiled, mollified.
“Okay. Just so long as Miss Piggy idn’t putting her eggs in the wrong basket,” Moishe said.
“Not at all,” Howard said.
“She’s not,” Thoreau admitted.
“Glad to hear it.”
“We’ll try to light a fire under Kermit—get him up here sooner if we can,” Howard said.
“Good,” Moishe grunted. He pulled in at the curb in front of their hotel. “Here you go, gentlemen. And, um, thanks for letting a buttinsky like me have a say, okay?”
“Glad to know you care,” said Thoreau. He and Howard fought over the bill. Howard won, but Thoreau retaliated by giving the cabbie an enormous tip.
“Aw…gee. I can’t take this,” said Moishe, staring at the big bill.
“Exert yourself,” said Thoreau dryly, then smiled the most charming smile in his repertoire. “It does us both good to know she’s in good hands.”
Humbled, Moishe touched his cap. “I’ll do my best,” he said, and drove away.

Piggy sailed into her dressing room with exactly enough time to look stunning by the time the matinee curtain was ready to be raised. She had been rather indulgent today, lingering over the early luncheon and scooting into the theater at rather the last minute. Bobo had been a surprise, but she would deal with that later—first with Marty, and then with Kermit. She would use the bear’s presence to reassure her husband—and wage war on her upstart, insufferable agent! Her face softened in spite of her ire. Dear Marty. Worried about her. She would try to go easy on him, but he was getting entirely out of hand. She had almost forgiven him for tricking her into this role, but she was still touchy about being manipulated, and she needed to set him straight and let him know who was boss around here.
“Piggy, honey, are you about ready to go on?” Darcy asked, adjusting the laces on her saddle-oxfords. She straightened, pulling her sweater down and her bra straps up.
Kristen raised her eyebrows and made a droll face at Piggy. “A place for everything and everything in its place,” she quipped, and Darcy stuck her tongue out at them.
“Moi is ready to be catty and devastatingly alluring,” Piggy answered Darcy, and smiled sweetly.
“Aren’t we all?” Stacey sing-songed, her hand on the doorknob. “Looks like I’m going to be the teacher’s pet, because you are all going to be tardy,” she teased, but she looked a little anxious as she looked out the door. “C’mon, girls! It’s showtime!”
“Showtime, schmotime,” Darcy kvetched. “I don’t know which is worse—breaking in new shoes or breaking in new underwear.” She tugged again on her straps, grumbling.
“Oooookaaaaay,” said Kristen, standing and herding them all toward the door. “That was more information than I needed to get into character.”
“Oh—you have to get into character to play a goodie-two-shoes?” Trudy asked innocently, and it was Kristen’s turn to make a face at one of her cast-mates.
“I’m thinking about being a goodie no-shoes,” Darcy whined, but she shook her foot to get the shoe to settle in and clomped toward the door.
“Come on, you guys,” said Stacey. “I’m getting antsy.” The other ladies surged toward the door, Piggy among them. She found Kristen near her shoulder as they bustled to their places.
“Rory was looking for you earlier—he seemed worried about something. Everything okay with him?” she asked.
“His mother-in-law is visiting,” said Piggy, checking the lay of her short wig and fiddling with the ear holes. The left one was not quite where it ought to be, and it tickled. “But I heard she’s nice. Isn’t she?” she asked worriedly.
“Chad’s mom? She’s a doll! Helped a friend of mine out of a real pickle once. So that’s not it.”
Piggy hesitated. “He…he was upset about Moi being, um, mugged yesterday,” she ventured. And mad at me about not telling the truth.
“Tell me about it,” said Kristen. “Brother Bear to the rescue,” she teased, and Piggy brightened at once.
“Ooh! That reminds me. A friend of Moi’s started working here today—doing theater security.”
“Big brown bear? Friendly—a little annoying?” Kristen murmured out of the corner of her mouth.
“A lot annoying,” Piggy said, and giggled. They were at the curtain then, and there was no more time for talking after that.


Sara had come through the door bubbling with excitement about an upcoming assignment. She’d been assigned to interview a famous fashion photographer, and wondered fleetingly how a blue-jeans kind of gal like her ended up hobnobbing with high-fashion gurus lately. Well, I’ll just be ”faux” fashionable, she thought cheekily, and maybe wear her good silk blouse with her fashion-forward jacket—and her old blue jeans. She came in the door smiling and was greeted with the site of Scooter checking the casserole in the oven and putting the finishing touches on the table. He was wearing one of her aprons—a non-frilly one—and grinned at her when she came in.
“Pitterpat,” she said. “A man who cooks.”
“Don’t forget I give amazing footrubs,” he said, and walked over and kissed her.
Sara had been expecting the usual, “Hi Sweetie—glad you’re home” kiss, but when Scooter’s arms and lips refused to release her, she let out a happy sigh, unslung her purse and camera from her shoulder and put her arms around him so she could answer him in kind. That killed a good five minutes of small talk, and left them much better acquainted than a conversation would have done.
“Mmmm,” said Sara. “I heard something about food?”
Scooter nodded, but did not steer her toward the table. Instead, he walked her gently but firmly to the couch and sat her on it. “In a minute,” he said, sliding down to his knees in front of her. “I need to tell you something first.”
Sara looked at him, suddenly full of some inexplicable dread, but he was smiling, so she forced herself not to jump to conclusions. She sat still and let Scooter take her two hands in his.
“Something happened today,” Scooter said.
“Oh! Oh no! Is Kermit--?” Sara began, but Scooter shook his head.
“It’s not about Kermit. It’s about…it’s about me,” her fiance said, and smiled.
“You’re not—he didn’t--?”
And here Scooter actually laughed, glad for the air that he'd sucked into his lungs, which felt curiously flat and heavy. “No,” he said dryly. “I wasn’t fired.”
“Then…what?” Sara asked. “Tell me what happened today.”
And Scooter did.


“Please say I have kp or something,” Clifford begged, poking his head into the kitchen. “I swear, my ears are going to start bleeding if they don’t stop screaming out there.”
Mable laughed and put him to work cracking out ice.
“Yeah—they can get pretty loud,” she said, smiling indulgently. “And then they crank up and play.”
“Pretty nice about the record deal,” said Clifford. He very carefully did not look at Mabel.
“Yes,” said Mabel. “I guess they’ll be on the road for a while.”
“Um hum. Most of a year,” Clifford said. “It’s really great.”
When your hands are full of ice trays full of water, there is nothing you can do to prevent a sweet little motherly mole from hugging the stuffing out of you. Mabel pressed her cheek against the bottom of his shoulder blade and gave his middle another squeeze from behind, then moved off and started making another pot of coffee.
“You’re a good guy,” said Mabel. “A big softy and a good guy.”
“Don’t be so sure. I could still turn out to be a real cad,” said Clifford, but he sighed when he said it.
“I know it,” said Mabel. “You could. But you won’t. But a year’s not so long—right? And you can come and stay in Tricia’s room while they’re gone.”
Clifford sighed again. “Drown my sorrows in lemon bars.”
Mabel just laughed. “If it makes you feel better, I could throw in the occasional chili con queso, or coconut cream pie.”
There was silence in the little kitchen. “From scratch?” said Clifford. “I mean, I’m easy, but I’m not a pushover, right?”
And they both laughed.


“Like, this cruise is soooo romantic, Honeybunch,” murmured Janice. She leaned into Floyd’s embrace and brushed her satiny-soft cheek against his bushy sideburns. They were dancing by the light of the moon, which hung heavy and mysterious and beautiful over the horizon. There was no music, save the soft lap-lap of the water against the hull, but the lovers hardly noticed. “The stars are so close you could just reach out and touch them.”
“Um hum," said Floyd. His voice was low and husky. “There was a poem my grandpa used to say for me,” he said. “About a tall ship and a star.”
“Hmm. I know that one,” said Janice. She felt weightless in Floyd’s arms, safe and protected and warm. “It’s about a sailor who loves the sea.”
“That’s the one. A good one, but lonely.”
“Um hum,” said Janice. “Beautiful and lonely.”
“You’re beautiful,” Floyd said, pulling back to look at her. She smiled up at him and kissed him.
“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re lonely,” Janice teased.
Floyd smiled and shook his head, swaying with his lady in his arm. “I’m never lonely with you around.”
“Good answer,” said Janice, and kissed him again.
When at last they broke apart, Floyd looked at her, his dark eyes full of mischief. “I like poetry as well as the next guy,” he said dryly, “but in my never-to-be-humble opinion, that sailor just didn’t know everything there was to ask for.”


“Marty? I know you’re there. Pick up the phone. Marty? I swear I will send the bear packing if you don’t—“
“I’m here, I’m here,” said Marty, putting the old rotary phone to his ear. He had a cell phone, but here in the shabby elegance of his office, he liked some things old-school. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
“Funny you should say that—“ Piggy began, her voice just on the verge of boiling over.
“Look—before you go all Hi-yah on me, let me just say I know I’m a foolish old man who worries, but I’m trying to do what’s right, okay? So cut me some slack, all right?” He heaved a sigh and listened to her listening to him. “Besides, Kermit was already mean to me today. He told me I should have asked you first before I sent Bobo up there.”
“He did not,” said Piggy severely. “He’s probably dancing right now, he’s so happy I’ve got my own personal grizzly to watch over me.”
“Bobo’s a brown bear,” said Marty mildly. “And I don’t know anything about Kermit dancing. He seemed pretty subdued when we spoke.”
“He…he was?” Piggy asked, suddenly worried. “He’s not unhappy is he?”
“He’s miserable without you, wasting away to nothing,” Marty said, laying it on thick.
“Vous are such a liar,” Piggy said. “I’ll bet you he’s been ordering pizza or going through Flyburger every night while I’m not there.”
“Well, you know him better than me, Doll,” Marty said, and Piggy heard the triumph in his voice.
“Do not think for one minute that I have forgotten about vous and your little tricks,” said Piggy. “Moi refuses to be distracted by Kermit’s unhappiness.” She was quiet a moment, trying to think how to ask what she wanted without giving ground. “Was he…was he very happy that Bobo is following me around and making sure I don’t trip over my fan mail?” Her voice was very small, pleading for reassurance.
“He was beside himself,” said Marty. “But look—hear me, Sweets. He had nothin’ to do with this. Nothin’. Capiche? This was all my doing, but I told him so he wouldn’t worry. That’s all. Other than that, he’s been minding his p’s and q’s. He knows you’re a tough girl who can take care of herself, but he wants to be there and he can’t. So humor an old man who can’t even enjoy a good cigar anymore, why don’t you?”
“I’ve never known you to smoke a good cigar,” said Piggy archly, and was rewarded when she heard her tough old agent smile. Dear Marty. Such a worrywart.
“C’mon, be a good kid, okay?” he wheedled. “Don’t pester the bear. Let him do his job.”
“Which is?”
“Boots, um, paws on the ground, okay? An extra set of eyes watching out for you. Just so I can sleep at night.” Marty waited. He waited for her to tell him about the chloroform, and the man who had tried to grab her, but she didn’t. He had hoped she would, but she didn’t, and—if Marty had acknowledged it, which he wouldn’t—that felt like a punch in the kidneys. He knew he was right to have done what he did, knew he’d been right to trick her, if necessary, and gang up on her to get his way, but he was paying for it. She didn’t trust him anymore—not totally—and he would have to work to earn her trust again.
“If Moi were you,” said Piggy warmly, her voice low and affectionate. “I would sleep with one eye open from here on out.”
“Yes ma’am,” said Marty with a laugh. “You’re the boss.”

 

[Twisted Tails]

Ruhanna! I understand you get personal to one Muppet at a time, but moi LOVES this chapter. The part with Floyd & Janice! I rully loved the scene. It played perfectly.

Well, I know Piggy's telling the truth. She is the boss!

Otherwise, great job! You deserve another glass of pink lemonade and a toast to you for getting this chapter rully well done fer sure.

 

[The Count]

Okay, I'm finished cleaning up 130, now for some thoughts.

Should we feel guilty for holding Piggy from arriving any sooner at the theater?

The scene with the girls getting ready for their next matinee, it reminds me of the segment from one of the chapters in Vegas where the Muppet chorines were in the same throws of panicked preparation after Janice exited their company, it's somewhere in either 50 or 51.

Nice play around going from mocking Kirsten as a 'goodie two-shoes' to Darci grousing about being a 'goodie no-shoes'.

*Laughs with Mabel's assessment. So the screaming is because this is after the little man from the club left with the recording contract signed by all interested parties, and the girls were minding their manners, but as soon as he left it was like, 3-2-1-Beep.
Girly Shriek Sirens, activate!
Chin up Cliff, at least you can keep in touch with Trish while she and her fellow kittens are away playing.

The segment with and , what can I say? That's probably one of the prettiest scenes yet.
Too bad I only know about the story of Arturo and Catalina, either that or the one about Brandy. But still, this was a definite highlight.

Oooh, Piggy's all business with her agent man.
*Likes the nod to one of the frog's favorite eating establishments.
*Feels that the pig's getting grizzly herself.
Am I wrong for thinking when Marty said that Bobo's job would be "Boots, er paws to the ground" he meant something like "boots to" a colorful term for donkeys?
*Wonders how he'll work to regain the diva's trust.

Thank you for posting, we always appreciate it and try to let you know about it.

 

[Misskermie]

I loved the Piggy and Marty part.
Especially when Piggy told him to sleep with one eye open!
She is INDEED, the boss!

More please!