Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

[ReneeLouvier]

Yes...please!!! I want to see....how badly I did. XD

 

[The Count]

Just so long as it gets posted ASAP Cath... Rully looking forward to Opening Night, if some more people/friends from Hensonville made it to Vegas... And just what Lady Luck or Lady Love might hold in store for them there.

 

[TogetherAgain]

This is turning out to be a very good fanfic day for me. Yes, indeedy. It's also eliminated any chance of me getting to bed early.

Getting to bed early? Oh really, Leyla... don't even THINK about trying it... I know from experience, days like today, there's no way to gorge yourself on freshly-posted-fanfic and go to bed early. Unless you can read in your sleep.

 

[Leyla]

A girl can dream, Lisa...

 

[The Count]

Sleep? Lisa, you actually know what "sleep" is? Thought you gave that up for some fanfictional fasting or some such.

And of course you can read in your sleep... Do it every night myself, when I happen to have perfect vision. Just only that I can read in my sleep, not actually read something that's on the screen or printed when sleeping... Or awake for that matter.
Eh... At this point... Why make sense when I can make dollars instead.

 

[Leyla]

I hate being so far East. It's almost 2AM here.

*Props eyelids open with sticks.*

I also complain way too much. (Blushes sheepishly) Sah-ree!

 

[The Count]

Well... If it's not up by now, then it'll be here tomorrow... Er, later today.
There's some room on the dorms' common room's couch if you want to crash there for a while Leyla. Though the dorms are really for the residents, we can have some visitors there from time to time.

Who knows, maybe after the coming anniversary shake-up you'll want to join, your call though.

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 20: Funny doin's back stage

Fozzie had been more than elated to shed his backstage responsibilities once Scooter had come to the rescue, but force of habit and the still-remembered adrenaline rush he’d received when Pepe had arrived made him stop some ten feet away from the big cardboard box that had appeared as if by magic backstage. He looked around, but there was no one else in sight.
“Scooter?” he called. “Pepe?”
“Si, si,” Pepe answered, hauling a laden dolly toward Piggy’s dressing room. “What? Hi am working, hokay?” He strained, all fours arms bulging with effort but barely moving the heavy load.
“What is this?” Fozzie asked, pointing to the huge box. “Where did it come from?”
“Look, they don’ tell me nothin’ hi don’t have to know, hokay?” Pepe complained. He made a great show of pulling on the dolly until Fozzie eventually walked over and gave it a shove in the right direction. “Hi just unloaded hit, Hi don’ know wha’ hit is.”
“Who does it belong to?” Fozzie persisted.
“Crazy man Honeydew, hokay? Hold that door for me!”
Thoughtfully, Fozzie complied, but once Rizzo disappeared into Piggy’s dressing room, Fozzie was once again alone with his curiosity. He approached the box cautiously, and when he put out his hand to pull back the cardboard flap, the whole box panel swung open. Fozzie jumped back, hat over his face again, but nothing untoward happened. When he straightened, however, there was a sound like a gas leak. It was the air leaving Fozzie’s lungs in a whoosh. Reverently, like a man in a dream, Fozzie walked up to the shiny metal contraption that was revealed.
“Honeydew’s Funny-o-meter,” Fozzie read, mesmerized. “Guaranteed to make you up to 50% funnier than ever before. Stand in front of laser beam. Press here.” He touched the cool metal side and let out a sigh of longing. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. Standing this close, he could even see the fine print. “Use under competent supervision. May cause hair loss and momentary unconsciousness.” For a moment, Fozzie spirits sank, but it was a moment only. Looking around quickly to make sure he was still alone, the earnest comedian looked at his furry hands ruefully, touched his furry cheeks nervously.
“Kermit is counting on you,” he told himself firmly. Before he could change his mind, he stepped in front of the laser and pressed the button.

“Is like a smorgasbord,” Pepe thought happily, taking as long as he could possibly take unloading the boxes of clothing into Piggy’s room. Since her dressing room was by far the roomiest, all the girls had gathered in there to model and get Thoreau’s terse nod of approval on everything they were wearing. The current subject of the dressmaker’s scrutiny looked positively terrified, and Pepe found himself smiling. “So young,” he thought. “So unsuspecting. But Scooter, he is a man of good taste. If she was my woman--”
At this precise moment, Laura May interposed herself between him and the object of his observation. One look at her stern face would have given a meeker man pause, but Pepe had it on good authority that Laura May was currently unencumbered by a boyfriend. He tried his most charming smile.
“His is hot in here, Laura May, or is that just ju?”
“Out,” Laura Jean said firmly, but Pepe thought that he might have seen a glimmer of a smile in her eye. Even if he was delusional, the fact that she did not bodily hurl him from the room was hopeful, no?
“Out,” Laura Jean repeated. “Now.”
And Pepe went.

“Well,” Thoreau said thoughtfully. “It’s just for one number, right? I suppose she could wear one of your old dresses, Piggy.” He snatched an emerald green dress off the hanger and tossed it to Sara, who pulled it over her head obediently. Having been put through her paces like a show poodle, Scooter’s sweetie was beginning to resign her self to the inevitable. Sometimes, she was learning, it was better just to do what they told her to do than try to argue. Thoreau looked her over critically, whirling his finger to indicate she should spin, then let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s not awful,” he said, pulling down the corners of his mouth. “But we’ll have to take it in.”
All motion in the room ceased. Piggy had been putting on her dress for the finale in front of the mirror, but she stopped abruptly and her head snapped up to stare at Thoreau in the reflection of the glass.
“What?” she growled. There were several nervous intakes of breath from the other ladies in the room as Piggy spun, ready to go to war, but Thoreau met her angry gaze guilelessly. He reached around Sara and grabbed a handful of fabric from the bodice back in his hand. With far less material in play, the dress made a more convincing attempt to mold to Sara’s very agreeable—but definitely less fully-endowed—figure. Thoreau gave Piggy an expert once-over, lingering on her generous curves.
“Piggy—you can loan her the dress, but you can’t loan her…everything.”
Piggy blushed, appeased, and resumed dressing. Sara realized she’d been holding her breath, and began to breathe again with relish.
“Ah, divas,” Thoreau said fondly, pinning two quick darts in the back of the dress. “Don’t you just love ‘em.”

“I don’t know,” Rizzo was saying breathlessly. “I found him like this and hollered.”
Even though it was perfectly obvious from the rise and fall of Fozzie’s chest that he was breathing fine, Gonzo knelt down and felt for a pulse. It seemed strong and steady, so Gonzo patted Fozzie firmly on the cheek a few times. Fozzie sat up, putting a hand to his head.
“Did it work?” he asked foggily.
Rizzo and Gonzo looked at each other. “Did what work?” Rizzo said. “Whatcha talking about, Fozzie.”
Fozzie said up suddenly, looking around him in confusion. “What am I doing on the floor?” He looked wildly around him. “Where—where is it? Did it—did it work?”
Again, Rizzo and Gonzo exchanged looks. “Where did what go, Fozzie?”
“The thing,” Fozzie said. “The big shiny thing that….” He trailed off, because even in his diminished state, he could see that there was nothing near him.
“Let me help you up there, buddy,” Gonzo said, suiting action to words. “Maybe you should see Dr. Honeydew.”
“NO!” Fozzie blurted, looking alarmed. “Then he’ll know that I….”
They looked at him patiently.
“—that I feel just fine, thank you. I feel great.”
“Are you sure, man?” Rizzo persisted. “Cause you’re talking kindof funny.”
To his astonishment, Fozzie clapped both hands over his mouth. “Oh my gosh,” he breathed. “It worked.” Before Rizzo or Gonzo could say anything more, he had taken off at an excited run toward the dressing room. In the silence, the roomies looked at each other and shrugged.
“Seems okay,” Gonzo said. He was, perhaps, not the best judge of behavior. Rizzo looked after Fozzie for a moment longer.
“You think? I thought he was acting a little funny.”

“Wow—look at you, cutie pie!”
Sara blushed almost as red as her hair, but she was not deterred from her mission.
“Um, Scooter,” Sara said nervously. “I really don’t know about this. I’m not used to being on stage—I’m more of a back-stage kindof person. I don’t know anything about acting.” She looked at him pleadingly, and Scooter thought with deep satisfaction that he was going to enjoy getting lost in those eyes later—but first things first. He put his arms around Sara and pulled her close.
“No acting necessary,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to do anything to be my dream girl—you already are.”
Now the big dark eyes were suspiciously bright, and Sara had to bite her lower lip to still it’s trembling. “That was very unfair,” she said sulkily, but she let Scooter kiss her once more before clomping back to the ladies dressing room in her still-not-broken-in character shoes..
“I learned from the champ,” Scooter said smugly, then scurried back to talk to the sound guys.

 

[Leyla]

Ah, 'tis true that. Still, I'm restless enough that I can't sleep just yet. Is good, whatever happens. I'm reading Swamp Call again. Is fun!

Thanks for the invitation, mon ami, I've been sorta thinking about it actually... but I'm kinda shy, believe it or no, and I'm not sure I'd fit in.

I'll just hook the knapsack off my back and curl up on your porch if you don't mind.

Edit: Oh, she ziffled me! Yay for Ruahnna!

 

[Ruahnna]

Apparently, I'm a big fat liar. I'm dying here of sleep deprivation and I'm not quite done with opening night. Tomorrow. Opening night tomorrow. Happy birthday, Sara!