Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

[Java]

What a wonderful chapeter. Scooter and Sara... they gotta learn to be quiet.

More please!

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 30: Revelations

“—and he said they were delighted with the crowd. They had to turn people away, Kermie—and this is their biggest theater.” Piggy’s voice was hushed.
“That’s terrific, Piggy,” Kermit whispered. He lowered Robin gently to the bed and began to tiptoe furtively out of the room.
“Uncle Kermit?”
With a sigh, Kermit turned around and came back to sit on the edge of Robin’s bed. Though Robin had been absolutely zonked when Kermit retrieved him from back-stage, snoring solidly on Kermit’s shoulder as he and Piggy made their way through the casino to the elevators, he had roused a little when Kermit had tucked him in. Kermit put a hand on the side of Robin’s head and smiled at him.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Kermit said, smiling gently at his nephew. Robin smiled sleepily back and let out a big yawn. He blinked a few times, looking more awake by the second, then peered up at Kermit uncertainly.
“Um,” Robin began, then trailed off nervously, looking away.
“Bad dream?” Kermit asked.
“Huh uh. I just, um….”
“Tummy hurt?”
“Um, no…I just, um….”
“Something on your mind?”
“Yeah.” Robin’s voice was rich with relief. He looked up at Kermit, his eyes big with concern. “Mabel said I ought to talk to you.”
Kermit pressed his lips together, surprised. “Did you…did you do something backstage you weren’t supposed to—“
“No!” Robin said, indignant. “It’s about those newspaper stories.”
Years of dealing with the unexpected had honed Kermit’s reactions, and while he would never have a poker face, he was able not to show his complete dismay and astonishment. He let out a slow sigh, but managed a weary smile.
“Robin the Frog, Ace Detective,” he murmured.
“What? Oh, I’m not really a detective, Uncle Kermit. I just—I just saw that something was, um, wrong with Aunt Piggy when she was reading the newspaper—the one she tore up.”
“Um hum,” Kermit said encouragingly. “What did you see?”
Robin looked up at his uncle guiltily. “Um, she tore up a picture of you and she seemed mad.”
“Yeah,” Kermit said, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “You might say she was upset. Did you see what the paper said?”
Robin looked up, then quickly away. “Um, not that paper,” he whispered.
Kermit looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
Robin’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “Aunt Piggy tore up the paper in our room, but I, um, but I…I went and looked at it in the newspaper stand at the store.”
Smart kid, Kermit thought. We should have anticipated this.
“So…you saw the article about your ol’ Uncle Kermit and Aunt Piggy. What’d you think?”
“Well—it wasn’t very nice!” blurted Robin. “They said you guys were, um, not, um, happy with each other anymore.” He was quiet for a moment, and Kermit thought his eyes looked bright. “Like mom and dad,” he finally whispered. “Are you—are you guys going to get, you know, divorced?”
Piggy came into the room then. She’d been lurking in the doorway, but she came in quickly and reached for Kermit’s hand across the bed, then both of them enfolded Robin in a warm embrace.
“No, Honey,” she said. “Nobody is getting a divorce.”
Robin looked hopefully but doubtfully from one to the other. “But—but the newspaper said you didn’t like Uncle Kermit anymore.”
Piggy looked at Kermit helplessly. “Robin—it’s not true,” she said simply. “Somebody is making up stories about us because, well, because we’re public figures. That doesn’t mean the stories are true or that Kermit and I are going to get a divorce.” She patted Robin’s back gently. “I love Kermit. “We’re a family. I would never leave him.”
“Never ever?’
Now Piggy’s eyes were bright. “Never ever,” she said.
Robin turned his face into her shoulder, holding on tight. “I’m glad,” he said fervently. “Uncle Kermit needs you!”
“I sure do,” Kermit said firmly, snuggling up to both of them. “Somebody’s got to keep me out of trouble.”
“Uncle Kermit!” Robin protested, but he turned and smiled at his uncle, letting him tuck the covers firmly around him. Kermit regarded his charge fondly.
“Sleep tight,” he said quietly. “And Robin?”
“Yes, Uncle Kermit?”
“No more snooping, okay? You have any questions, you come to me, all right?”
“All right. No more snooping.” He gave Piggy a sly little look out of the corner of his eye. “And no more confetti?”
Piggy said, “Oh!”
“Bed!” Kermit insisted, but he was smiling. Robin giggled sleepily, closed his eyes and slipped almost instantly into the arms of slumber. Kermit got up and slipped wearily into Piggy’s arms.
“This parenting stuff is hard,” Kermit complained. Piggy smiled and rubbed his shoulders.
“Yes,” she agreed, “but you’re doing fine.” She kissed the top of his head. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”

There was a message blinking on his phone when he got back to the room, and he didn’t need three guesses to know who it was. He dialed the code to retrieve his message and immediately had to hold the received away from his ear.
“Scribbler, you idiot—are you crazy or just stupid? What were you thinking? If you don’t call me the instant you get this message you will find yourself out on your—“
Scribbler hit the delete button hastily, took a deep, calming breath and dialed.
“What?” came the impatient growl on the other end of the phone.
“Scribbler here,” he started. “My phone’s been dead and I just got—“
“You had better have a good explanation for that asinine review you sent in or you are so—“
“Keep your shirt on,” Scribbler said heatedly. “If you’d let me explain you’d—“
Once again, Scribbler had to hold the receiver away from his ear to avoid the stream of hostile adjectives bursting against his eardrum.
“Calm down,” he said reasonably, or at least as reasonably as he was able. “I have a perfectly good reason for what I did.”
“Well you’d better or else I’m going to—“
“Do you want to know what I’ve got or just bust my chops? ‘Cause if I’m fired I’ve got better things to—“
“Oh all right! Tell me this brilliant plan of yours,” the voice snarled. Ha ha, Scribbler thought smugly. Advantage, me.
“Look—I was there, okay? You should have seen the show. It was sold out and the crowd went crazy every time sh—“ He caught himself, but the silence on the other end of the phone made him wince. Advantage lost. “Every time the curtain opened. I write a bad review of that show and we lose what little credibility was still have.” He waited for a stream of heated invective, but none was forthcoming. Thank goodness! At least he wasn’t going to have to fight that battle tonight.
“So, it’s been a while since they’ve done a live show, right? They’re nervous, they’re anxious, so—“
“So we should hit them while they’re vulnerable!”
“No,” Scribbler said patiently. “That won’t work.”
“What do you mean it won’t—“
“The more we attack them, the tighter they band together. It’s always been that way with them—all of them. Adversity…I don’t know…it brings something out in them that—“
“Do I detect a note of admiration in your voice, Scribbler?” The voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Scribbler flushed. “No!” he shot back defensively. Oh, what a liar I am, his conscience prompted miserably before he stuffed it back into one of the growing dark places in his soul. “I’m just trying to explain my strategy for—“
“Spare me your strategy and just tell me what you think you’re doing!”
“We can’t touch them when they’re together,” he practically shouted. “But if we play nice, back off a little, let them get comfortable and relax, then we can…” He paused for effect, but his thunder was stolen.
“Separate them.” The voice was almost a hiss.
“Yes,” Scribbler admitted, slumping with exhaustion. “If we help talk them up, it’s only a matter of time before somebody puts the reviews with the rumors and tries to steal her away.”
“From him.”
“Yes.”
There was a pause, and the sound of a smile that made the hairs stand up on the back of Scribbler’s neck. “And if that happens, we’ll have one very vulnerable frog.”
Scribbler hesitated, but some response seemed called for. “It will definitely hurt him,” he said hesitantly.
There was a self-satisfied laugh on the other end of the line.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” the voice growled. “I want to destroy him! But first things first….” There was a pause, and Scribbler stopped breathing.
Nice job, Scribbler, he thought to himself. Brilliant job, Scribbler. Smart fellow!
“Well, Scribbler,” came the voice at last. “You’re not quite as dumb as you look.” There was a laugh, a click, and the sound of a dial tone. For a moment, Scribbler had a momentary vision of a red phone on a red wall, flames dancing merrily around the room while little pitchforks—
“Geez, I’m tired,” he said out loud, anxious for the sound of a human voice. His own barely seemed to quality. He took off his hat and hurled himself facedown onto the bed, for all practical purposes dead to the world.

 

[The Count]

Loved the update... Good glimpses at Kermit and Piggy easing Robin's fears about what's happening... And Scribbler putting forth the reality of his plans for furthering his yellow journalistic career.

Post more when You've got it... Tired myself, plus I'm back in that uncertainty mode.
Drop me a line if you can, we'll talk, you know... No big whoop.
The number is 555-4444.
*SNL references... If you remember the sketch called Coffee Talk that is.

 

[ReneeLouvier]

Oh wow, awesome update, Ru!!! Can't wait to read more!

 

[christyb]

Great update Ru! And congrats on the lasik surgery (sorry I wasn't lying when I said I was way behind in everything ).

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 31: At the disco

“Hey, nice moves there Mr. King Prawn,” Rizzo shouted over the noise of the disco.
Pepe “humphed” and ignored Rizzo pointedly.
“Aw, c’mon,” Rizzo said. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”
“All hi know is that is that, if hi had two womens hi would—“
“Keep them both for yourself,” Rizzo finished firmly. “And don’t think I don’t know it. That’s why I invited Beaker.”
Pepe sniffed.
“And besides, Laura May just broke up with her boyfriend. She needs a little TLC.”
“Hi can give TLC—hi am a tender loving crustacean.”
“Whatever,” Rizzo said, lifting the two juice drinks in his hands to avoid being bumped by two particularly enthusiastic dancers. “But look—they brought their friends with them, and there are lots of girls here.” He looked at Pepe significantly. “Showgirls, Pepe.”
“Si, si,” Pepe admitted. “There are some nice-looking womens, h’okay.”
“Soooo, let’s see if you’ve still got all those moves you’re always talking about.”
“H’what? Hi am a king prawn, h’okay? Hi have moves jou can only dream about!”
“Talk is cheap,” Rizzo said, putting the drinks down on the table and smiling up at Gloria Jean. She smiled back at him and inclined her head toward the dance floor. Rizzo took her hand and they hit the dance floor with a vengeance. Pepe scrunched his face up in annoyance.
Hi will show them, he thought to himself. He marched up to a table populated with five stunning young women.
“H’okay,” he announced confidently. “Who wants to be the lucky womans?”

“Oh, c’mon Honeybunch,” wheedled Janice. “Let’s get out there!”
“Now babe, you know I don’t dance. I am strictly a musician who lays down the tracks for others.”
Janice put her hands on her hips, not buying it. “I’ve seen you dance,” she insisted. “You just don’t like to.” She scanned the floor, seeing couples they knew all over the place. “Look at Clifford and Camilla,” she demanded. “They’re dancing like there’s no tomorrow.”
At the sound of Clifford’s name, Floyd Pepper surged to his feet, grabbed Janice’s hand and practically dragged her out onto the floor.
“All right, baby,” he crowed. “Get ready for some furious foot action.”
Janice giggled and followed his lead. “Oh wow,” she said. “Like I love it when you take the lead!”

“So was your eggplant parmesan any good?” Thoreau asked, dropping down into the seat across from Howard.
“Excellent,” the choreographer insisted. He lowered his voice. “The bread was a little soggy, but the entrée was great.”
“Super—I’ll have to try it sometime.” He looked around the room with satisfaction. “I can’t believe the crowd! I think three-fourths of the cast is here.”
“Yep,” said Howard. “Everybody’s blowing off a little steam. Tomorrow morning will come before—“
Howard broke off, his ears perking up visibly. His mouth fell open.
“Oh. My. Gosh,” he said. “Is that—“
“Donna Summers! She Works Hard For The Money!” Thoreau shot out of his chair and ran for the dance floor. Howard had to scramble to catch up.

“Just look at her,” Gonzo sighed miserably. “Poultry in motion.”
Bunsen Honeydew followed the line of Gonzo’s sight and observed Camilla cutting a rug and a very fine figure out on the crowded dance floor. She was dancing with Dr. Teeth now, strutting her stuff with abandon.
“Why don’t you ask her to dance,” he asked. “She doesn’t seem to have a regular partner.”
“I know,” Gonzo wailed. “I was her regular partner, but I guess I blew that.” He put his chin in his hand and slumped down on the table. “She won’t talk to me.”
The doctor regarded Gonzo for a moment, then looked back at Camilla. “Dancing’s not talking,” he said firmly. “What have you got to lose.”
Gonzo brightened a little. “Nothing, I guess,” he said, then stood up and slicked back his hair.
Dr. Teeth was giving Camilla a courtly little bow and moving away when Gonzo stopped behind the fetching young chicken and cleared his throat. Camilla startled and turned around quickly.
“Um, I was wondering if I might have the pleasure of this dance,” Gonzo said, his eyes hopeful. There was an awkward silence, and Gonzo found he was holding his breath, then Camilla inclined her head. Why not, her attitude seemed to say. They took the floor, waiting for the DJ. When the music did begin, it was slow, not fast. Camilla looked uncertain, but Gonzo put a hand on one soft, feathery wing.
“Please,” Gonzo said. “Just a dance. That’s all.”
Camilla looked at him for a long moment, then stepped forward gingerly and put her head on his shoulder. Carefully, like a man afraid to wake up, Gonzo enfolded her in his furry blue arms, letting the music surround them.
“Thank you,” Gonzo whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an—“
Camilla shook her head, silencing Gonzo efficiently, but Gonzo was sure—he was certain—that she snuggled just a little bit closer.

 

[ReneeLouvier]

Oooh! Awesome, Ru! Such a cutesy little chapter!

 

[The Count]

*Ziffled by Sara.

Aw... That's great Cath... Fun and energy from the dancers out on the floor... And then you hit us with a soft point getting Gonzo and Camilla back together.

One can only hope that chicken can forgive the whatever just as easily given the breakup in Melissa (Java)'s fanfiction.
Post more when it's ready please.
31 spectacularly stunning stories in the fanfic library.

PS: Ru, when you can, LMK if you got my E-mail... And please send a list of your stories, would like to get thoroguhly caught up with your track record so to speak.

 

[Ruahnna]

Okay--here's the run-down:

Kermie's Girl (of course)
Getting Swamped (very embryonic at this stage, but more on the way)
Somebody's Getting Married (more coming)
Cold Flippers, Warm Heart (hot lips)
A Pig Out of Water
Rainbow Ode (a poem written for Jim, retitled "Rainb'ode")
Hey There Gorgeous (does not fit into my continuity, but was fun)
Can't Help Lovin' That Frog of Mine (set during TMS)
You're Not the Boss of Me
Fancy Footwork (THis is actually going to show up later in Kermie's Girl--it's part of a larger story)
That's Some Pig (Get a Room) (Ditto)

 

[The Count]

*Gasp! Bringing this one back up topside... Desperately in need of updates. That, plus I need to have it close to draw as a source of style inspiration.