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Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

ReneeLouvier

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I'm curious who the second red-haired lady is! Awesome chapter Ru, can't wait to read more! It's nice and playful and light, except for that first bit between Clifford and Floyd; but it's still all great!
 

The Count

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Huh? Red-haired woman? That might just happen to be a red herring Sara.
*Whistles innocently, not revealing my hunches or insider information just yet.
 

Fragglemuppet

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Well, I finally made it!
:smile: Let's see... I have a lot to say; hope I get it all down.First of all, I loved the picnic scene way back in the beginning! So blissful and friendly. And even after the articles became a problem, and they all gathered at the house... Ah heck, I just love all those scenes where you see the muppets all bonded together as a family!
 

Fragglemuppet

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Sorry to double post, but it was too late to edit my last one. I just wanted to say that I do have a lot more I wanted to say, but it will have to waiy 'til I get home from work, and my computer isn't being such a pain!
:grouchy: In the meantime...

More please!
 

The Count

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Chapter 48: Comings and Goings
Posted by She is our guest: Thankfully, Kermit was not out on stage when it happened, and it was over before he got there.
Ah, and the frog is kept neverthewiser. *In Kermit voice: Oh good.

Posted by She is our host: The Electric Mayhem members were just beginning to gather
for a quick run-thru of the encore piece, and Dr. Teeth was preparing to settle his bejeweled figure at the keyboard when there were sharp sounds of discord—but
not from the musical instruments.
What's this we hear? A rouckous row between the bandmates?

Posted by No matter how weary, no matter the cost: He looked up and, sparing only a split-second loss of momentum because he was trying to shut his gaping mouth, he vaulted
over the railing and ran to where Floyd Pepper and Clifford seemed on the verge of blows.
Uh-oh, here comes trouble...

*Posted by *Ding-Ding! Round 1: “Get offa my—“
“I wasn’t hurting your—“
“—got no right to—“ Floyd was almost shouting.
“Man, what is your problem! I was just—“
Hello fight fans, we've a got a good one for you tonight.

Posted by The woman in stripes: Dr. Teeth interposed his barrel chest between the two panting males. He put one hand on Floyd’s chest, and the other one on Clifford’s and pushed, slowly
but inexorably, until there was space between them to move.
“Everybody calm down,” he said firmly. “No need to get un-mellow.”
And so the honorable referee steps in to conduct the proceedings.

Posted by Round 2: “That guy was messing with my bass!” Floyd said hotly. “And I think he’s tryin’ to mess with my—“
“I wasn’t messing with your bass,” Clifford said angrily, then attempted to regain his calm with effort. “I was playing it. Seeing how we’re all part of
the same show I didn’t think you’d mind if I used it.”
“Well I do!”
Clifford looked genuinely surprised. “Sorry,” he said, his face somber. “My bad.”
Dr. Teeth looked from one to the other, wondering what had compelled Floyd to take exception to Clifford’s use of his instrument. This was not like his
band-mate and friend, and the good doctor know something must be behind it. He resolved to have a chat with one or both of the men when he could get them
alone.
Clifford puts up a sincere sorry to protect him from Floyd's accusations. Dr. Teeth ends the fight in record time! Will both the guys be OK? Don't know, only the mysterious author knows fer sure.

Posted by Ring Rumbler: In the meantime….
“Look, we’re all friends here,” he insisted. “No penalty, no foul, okay?”
“Hey, no problem,” Clifford said amiably. “We were just trying to work out the bridge for the last song and I grabbed your bass to try a coupla cords.
I did not mean to get on your turf, man.”
Floyd looked at him in surprise, but Clifford’s face was completely guileless.
Maybe that'll teach you to ask before borrowing or messing with someone else's axe Clifford.

Posted by RuMinations: It made him wonder if he was just being a jealous idiot after all. Or if
Clifford was a better liar than Floyd would have guessed. That last made his hands tighten unconsciously into fists.
The man with the golden hands and the golden tooth watched the fine interplay of emotion and got the merest glimmer of a thought. Hmmm. Worth checking
into, he thought.
Troubled times, but I have faith that Dr. Teeth will finesse this as finely as the bars on his electric keyboard.

Posted by Ru-Ru-RunAround: Kermit poked his head around from backstage. Dr. Teeth blinked at him sleepily, but Floyd was staring at his frets with great concentration, and Clifford
seemed to be intent upon adjusting the one of the amplifier hookups. Kermit picked up on the energy in the space, but not the reason for it.
Oh Kermit... Always a second late and a worry short.

Posted by the big Rouxs: “Everything okay?” he asked. Dr. Teeth grinned broadly and stepped forward to meet Kermit, effectively blocking their boss’s advance into the small circle.
Uh no Kerm. We're all god, just get back to whatever it is you were doing man.

Posted by RuFul: Floyd was glad Kermit was not looking at him. His cheeks were flushed with shame and embarrassment. As if Kermit didn’t have enough to worry about without
him causing a dust-up backstage…! He sneaked a look at Clifford, whose own profile seemed taut with worry or consternation. Floyd did not know what to
think anymore. He only thought—only felt that something was happening around him that he could not fathom; though none of his conclusions seemed likely,
he still could not dismiss them. He was not a complicated man at heart, but there were deep eddies in his hard-rocking soul that would have challenged
a poet or a theologian to explain. On some deep level, he had always counted on Janice knowing that part of him so well he did not have to express it verbally.
Now that that felt threatened, Floyd wondered if any part of his life would ever make sense to him again.
Aw man. What the heck's going on with one of Jerry's guys?
To quote the immortal Floyd Pepper: This is a bummer of epic proportions.

Posted by Cathutious: Dr. Teeth was running expert interference; the little green boss-man left without being the wiser about his misbehavior. Floyd looked at Dr. Teeth’s back,
wondering if it would be possible to confide in his long-time band-mate...
*Gets urge to sing "Trussssst In Me", but I'll tread here carefully.

Posted by RuMancer: but at just that moment, Janice appeared. She walked with Zoot, Animal walking
calming at heel without straining at the leash. Janice looked up, caught sight of Floyd and—mid-sentence—handed Animal off to the saxophone player so she
could walk up to Floyd and put her hand on his arm.
Aw, I always love whenever you bring in a Floyd and Janice moment.

Posted by RuMage: “Hey, Babe,” she said, then her soft hand registered the tension in his arm. “Oh!” She looked up, searching his face, but Floyd half-turned, shunning her
scrutiny.
“It’s nothin’,” Floyd muttered. “Just…tense about all this, um, reporter stuff.”
Don't lie to your girl Floyd, it's ungentlemanly.

Posted by RuMantics: Janice did not remove her hand. She put her other hand on Floyd’s cheek, turning his face back so she could see his eyes. Of their own volition, the bushy
eyebrows rose, softening in response to her look of concern. Her hand on his cheek felt satiny smooth and soft, and Floyd leaned into the feel of it unconsciously.
Janice stepped closer, pitched her voice for his ears only.
“Don’t worry,” she soothed. “Everything’s gonna work out okay.” Oh, how Floyd wanted to believe her!
1 You hit me with the feel of Janice's hand. *Melts a little.
2 *Drifts off in Janice's reassurances to her base-playing beau.
3 Believe her Floyd... Believe her and she'll surprise you in ways you didn't even know possible.


Posted by Cath Call: “—don’t see her yet, do you?”
“Nope.”
“We couldn’t lose her here in the airport, could we? Are you sure you had the flight information written down correctly?”
“I’m sure! Stop being such a worry wart!”
“I’m not worrying.”
“Hmphf.”
“I’m not! Sheesh!”
Kermit, that you? Oh no, these arguers will be revealed later, along with the person they're waiting for.

Posted by Now Arriving, the Grand Diva: In another part of the same airport, another anxious conversation was taking place.
“Wish I’d have thought to make a poster,” said Scooter worriedly. Sara had remembered to make a poster for him.
Oh yeah, I remember that back from the earlier part of the story.
“What if she doesn’t see us?”
Seeing as how he had Sweetums with him, this seemed highly unlikely, but Scooter’s worry had managed to fill the space allowed for its contemplation.
*Sings: Here she comes, here she comes! Here she comes, here she comes!

Posted by Ru-ed Herring: “What’s her hair like?” asked Fozzie. Kermit had been unable to meet this special guest, and he had sent Fozzie to bring the warm welcome of all of them.
“It’s red.”
Are you sure?
“Red red? Or dark red?
That's what I heard, but you could be wrong.
Or, um, strawberry blonde?
Yeah, I think it's more that color, or is it like honey?
Boy, I wish I had eaten breakfast!” Fozzie muttered.
Well, you could always go get a cup of coffee at the airport's little cafe.
“Um, red like mine.”
Fozzie and Sweetums turned to scrutinize Scooter’s flaming auburn hair. “Um, sortof,” Scooter mumbled. “Look, I don’t think we can miss her if we—“
Not sure Scooter knows what to expect.

Posted by Matchmaker, Matchmaker: “Hello, fellas,” came a cool, sultry voice. Two faces looked up, one down, but all were transfixed by the beauty and poise of the woman that stood before
them.
Oh, could it be?

Posted by Make me a match...: Nobody spoke, and the woman’s expressive mouth twisted a little in bemusement.
“I’m guessing you’re from Rainbow Productions.”
Three heads nodded mutely. The woman’s smile broadened, and her eyes crinkled pleasantly at the corners.
“And you’re here to pick me up.”
So expressive with that beautiful smile and lightened eyes. She seems to know about the Muppets enterprises, wonder if she'll be able to help them with their current pressing predicament.

Posted by Find me a find: Scooter found his voice at last. “Yes ma’am,” he stammered. “Yes. We’re from the Muppets and we’re here to pick you up and take you back to the hotel.”
“Oh, good!” said the woman heartily. “I was afraid I’d have to take a taxi.”
“Oh, no ma’am,” said Scooter. He shook his head to clear it and tried to but his game face on. “I’m Scooter Grosse,” he said, sticking out his hand. She
took it gravely. “I’m Mr. the Frog’s Personal Assistant and, um, gopher,” he managed, smiling a little at the last.
“I believe we spoke on the phone.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her laugh was musical, deep and throaty. “Please!” she protested. “I know I’ve put a lot of tread on my tires, but if you keep calling me ‘ma’am’ I’m gonna
feel old!”
*Falls in love with the sound of this mystery woman's laugh. She seems to have a good sensible frame of mind. Looks like the gang will have their hands full with their new guest.

Posted by Catch me a Catch: Scooter had the good grace to blush and laugh. “Oh, no ma’am—I mean, no. You do not look, um, I mean—this is Fozzie Bear. Mr. the Frog couldn’t come himself
so he thought….”
Fozzie was too spellbound to put out a paw, but she took it anyway and pressed it between long, slim fingers. “A pleasure,” she intoned seriously.
“Habeda habeda whuh?” said Fozzie. Scooter gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs. “I mean, um, that it’s a very great pleasure—“ He blanched, then snatched
his hat off his head and held it between his hands. “I mean, it’s so nice of you to come here. To see us. And write about, um, Kermit, er, Mr. the Frog
and Miss Piggy.”
Yeah Fozzie, I'd probably have the same reaction. And he's still the same lovable bashful bear, grabbing for his hat, his personal safety blanket.

Posted by Catherine the Great: Sweetums stepped forward, towering over the slim redhead. “Ahm Sweetums,” he said with great dignity. “Ahm gonna drive you safely back to the hotel.” He
proffered his arm.
Delighted, she took it, and they walked toward the waiting car. After about six steps, she turned and looked at Scooter and Fozzie over her shoulder.
“Coming, fellas?” she asked. They hastened to follow.
*Reacting to this lady reporter's sashaying away with Sweetums and calling back to the two just standing there.
Ooooooh! *Melts down into puddle.
Vonderfully bewitching as always.

Posted by Clever Cath: The other anxious patrons of the airport had also collected a stray passenger, and the three of them made their way to the parking lot talking with great
animation.
Who could these three be? Starting to wonder exactly why these patrons are being purposefully secretive.

Posted by Chatty Catty: “--can’t believe I’m actually here! The flight was so—“
“Just wait until you see the show! It’s so amazing! And there’s this one song where everybody—“
“—didn’t know we’d get to see it twice, but we ended up—“
Guess they're still raving about the Christmas show in Vegas by the Muppets.

Posted by Catarina Wit: At the parking lot door, there was a slight commotion, as seven intent parties all attempted to squeeze through the double doors at once. Everybody looked
up. Six eyes blinked wide, Scooter made an apologetic gesture, and Fozzie stammered out “excuse us.” The lovely reporter waiting patiently, her hand resting
lightly on the crook of Sweetums’ elbow, but she smiled at the look of gape-jawed amazement on the faces of the three strangers.
“Just guessing,” she said, as they started for the car, “but I’d say those three were fans.”
Scooter and Fozzie craned back the way they had come.
“You think so?”
At that moment, there was a sharp squeal of sound from inside the terminal.
“SQUEEEEEEEEEE!” came the noise. It carried on the hot air, then cut off abruptly, as though the source of the sound had been clamped closed.
The four blanched, pulled up short by the wail, and gave and almost comic double take back the way they had come. All they saw were their would-be door-mates
laughing out loud and hastening madly down the sidewalk toward the parking lot.
Ah! And there you are! It was Prawny and Toga picking up their third half, Layla. Yaey for more MCers making it to see the show.


Posted by Rowlfie's Girl?: His presence had not been needed that afternoon. Though amiable at all times, Rowlf had tired of the even the laid-back companionship of his crowded room
and was enjoying the relative solitude of backstage. He sat in front of the piano and played idly, switching without pattern or effort from Brahms to Basie
and Bach again.
Just remember his Bach is worse than his bite. That's a musical joke there. Sorry if you have to sniff it out.
*Rowlflike laugh.

Posted by Bow-Wow-Wow!: “Hey there, big fellow,” came a sultry little voice. Rowlf looked around in surprise.
“Well, hey yourself, sweet thing!” he retorted. He leaned forward and rubbed noses with Foo Foo, taking a few surreptitious sniffs in the process. Gosh—she
smelled good! But then, she always smelled good.
Another member of the Muppet clan shows up. It's feeling more and more like the family's getting back together again. Uh-oh, better stop now before I break out into song.

Posted by Caths 'n' Dogs: “When’d you blow into town?” he asked, doing a flashy crescendo. “Trip okay?”
Foo Foo smiled and hopped nimbly up on the piano bench. She fluttered her eyelashes.
“Just now,” she answered with a yawn. “I just caught a greyhound and, boy--!”
“Are your legs tired.”
“—was he cute!”
“Hey!” said Rowlf, indignant, but then Foo Foo snuggled up against him in a conciliatory manner. Rowlf began to play something slow with a nice, lazy beat
and Foo Foo let out a sigh and pressed her cold nose against his shoulder.
*Chuckles at the joke. *Imagining the scene at the piano bench with the cuddled canines.

Posted by Cath got your tongue: “Heard the show was a hit already,” Foo Foo said lazily. “You guys must have really wowed ‘em.”
Rowlf shrugged but looked pleased. He switched to a little ragtime, paws dancing on the keys. “It’s a great show,” he admitted. “Gotcha a backstage ticket
for tonight if you’re not too tired.”
“I’d love to,” Foo Foo said, then yawned again, apologetically. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I am truly bushed.” She looked tired, Rowlf noted absently, but
there was no mistaking the playful energy that she exuded like French perfume.
Well of course she's bushed... She's a poodle after all.

Posted by RuMates: Rowlf stood and picked up her little suitcase, which she had leaned daintily up against the piano.
“Come on then, Sleepyhead,” he teased, placing his big paw fondly on the nape of her neck. “Let’s get you up to your room so you can catch a little shut-eye.
I got rehearsal here in a few—well, half an hour, anyway. We’ll catch up after the show.”
Foo Foo looked up at him and smiled. “And I’ll be staying…?”
“Um, with Piggy and Kermit in their suite,” Rowlf said. You couldn’t see him blush, but she was aware of the rise in his body temperature. “I’m, um, rooming
with the guys,” he explained. He trained hard to mask it, but the wistfulness in his voice made Foo Foo want to melt into a puddle. Silly dog, she thought.
Foo Foo made a small “oh” with her mouth and nodded gently, then she smiled up at him with impish delight.
“Don’t worry, Rowlf,” she teased. “I’ll bet we manage just fine.”
Rowlf felt a slow, silly smile spreading across his face. He stretched out and rubbed noses again, then sighed contentedly. He hefted her suitcase, feeling
like Hercules. To heck with grey clouds! From where he sat, life was good, and getting better all the time.
Oh Rowlf... Guess it's true, looks like he's been smitten by a pretty furry face. But can you blame him?

Two things...
1 You brought in that mystery woman as the lovely lady reporter? Hmmm, from what was written in the last chapter, I was expecting a lady lioness Muppet to join the cast of new characters you've created Cath. Oh well, guess I'll put that one away for when it's time comes.
2 I know this is your fanfiction and stories from differing authors can clash, especially when written by different people. But I've rully gotten to add and love Wanda the Cat from Beth's stories as Rowlf's fiancee/wife (read Book 4: In Love and Harmony). Although, this doesn't necessarily mutually exclude her, you could play upon Rowlf's infatuation with Foo-Foo while in Vegas and then mutually break it off with no hard feelings leaving his heart open to the possibility of finding true love again which he does when he meets Wanda.
Just a suggestion, use it or discard it, s'up to you.

Now then... More please!
 

Fragglemuppet

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Okay, as promised. Hopefully I remember anything...

First of all I love the character of Thorau, and I had a feeling that when he and Howard met they would become very good friends in no time...
:wink: I also like how he is slowly becoming a part of the muppet family, and helping not only Miss Piggy, but everyone.
I also love Mabel, a true muppet! And I'm greatly surprised no one else has used her so far.
I'm very intrigued by this whole thing with Scribbler, and although I've changed my opinion, was I the only one who thaugh it may have been supernatural at one point?
Since MCR is playing 'Feelings' at the moment, I think it is an appropriate place to point out how much I love Beaker,
:eek: and am glad you're treating him so well and giving him so much attention here.
I, like Ed, am also not of the ushygushy persuasion, and though I've gotten used to your style, I am very glad you are also including plenty of nonrommantic stuff in here as well.
Also, I'm also a Rowlf/Wanda fan, so I think unless you're really committed, it would be more satisfying if Rowlf were just to do a bit of flirting with Fufu, and nothing serious were to come of it.
Speaking of relationships, hope the messes with Gonzo/Camilla and Floyd/Janice work themselves out soon.Couple more scened I want to point out...
Dr. Teeth rushing to break up Floyd and Clifford... I don't know why; I just liked it!
Then again with the family thing, with all the muppets grumbling over the latest bad review, and then trying to protect Kermit from it. Beautiful!
I think that's everything!

More please!

Edit: I'm sorry, but I just spent at least 2 hours trying to send a simple e-mail, and as you can see that was just a very long post which isn't usually my style, so I think I'm entitled to a few typoes!
:attitude: I need a bubblebath...
 

Ruahnna

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Chapter 49: Made to Order

Chapter 49: Made to Order

Mabel regarded her eager customer fondly. “What’ll you have, honey?” she asked, peering myopically at the little green amphibian before her.
“What do you have?” asked Robin. He had a fork in one hand, a knife in the other. “I could eat a whole…a whole net full of butterflies!
Mabel laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “We’re fresh out, but let’s see what else we have. We have some leftover scrambled egg-substitue.”
“What’s in it?”
“Never quite wanted to know,” she admitted.
Robin looked skeptical. “Um, what else?”
“Some nice pasta in an Alfredo sauce.”
“Whose Alfredo?” Robin asked warily. Mabel almost laughed, but then she remembered the stories she’d been hearing about their chef back home, and she did not argue with Robin’s distrust. She had a sudden inspiration.
“Oh! How about a PB&S?”
Robin brightened visibly. Could it be…? “Really?” he asked. “I didn’t know you could make those!”
“Sure thing! Coming right up!” said Mabel. “White or whole wheat?”
“Whole wheat.”
“Good boy. Want it toasted?”
Robin thought about it for a minute. “Yeah,” he said. “But don’t make it too dark.”
“Gotcha,” Mabel said solemnly. “Triangles or rectangles?”
“Triangles.”
“Want a pickle?”
“What kind?”
“Dill or bread and butter.”
Robin debated for a moment. “Dill,” he decided.
Within moment, she put a plate in front of him. The sandwich was cut with surgical precision down the diagonal middle of the bread, and the dark bread was just barely browned. Robin picked it up eagerly. He took a big bite and munched happily.
Gonzo and Rizzo passed by the open door and, as had become their custom, poked their noses into the kitchen to see what sorts of gastronomic opportunities presented themselves. The smell of peanut butter carried well, and they came in, sniffing deeply.
“I hope that’s not the last of the peanut butter,” said Gonzo hopefully. He turned soulful eyes on Mable, who wasn’t having any of it.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I never run out of peanut butter. It holds the world together, doncha know?”
Gonzo pulled up a chair and sat down, beaming up at her. “Then I’ll have what I had the other day!” After only a moment, she delivered a sardine, peanut-butter and salsa sub with a sarsaparilla soda. Rizzo shuddered, and looked at Mabel.
“Weirdest thing you ever made?” he questioned. Mabel laughed out loud.
“Are you kidding? There’s a guy and his Great Dane come here every year who eat stuff that would curl your tail and his furry blue toes.”
“Really?” asked Rizzo. He sat down in front of a short stack of peanut butter and banana sandwiches and tucked in with relish. He did not remember to ask for a drink, but Mabel put a strawberry-kiwi fruit punch in front of him without comment. “Thnk yu,” Rizzo said, trying to pry and enormous bite of sandwich off the roof of his mouth with his tongue
“You’re welcome,” Mabel said. “I have to say, they aren’t much for table manners, but, boy, they are great tippers.”
Scooter poked his head in the door. He waved and Mabel winked at him.
“We’re back!” said Scooter excitedly. “Mission accomplished.”
“Good,” said Mabel. “You let me know if she wants anything and I’ll send it right up, okey dokey?”
“Okey dokey!” repeated Scooter. “Do I need to get something for—“
“Already sent somethin’ up,” Mable insisted. “A frog’s gotta eat, don’t he? And we can’t have the Missus getting peaked, can we?”
There were a lot of unexpressed comments in the little kitchenette, but everyone busied themselves with food. Mabel smiled. She had expected a comment out of someone, but they let it pass. Mabel put her long nose in the air and smiled with self-satisfaction. She still had the touch!

Piggy did not feel calm, but she certainly appeared calm in comparison to Thoreau, who was running around her suite in an absolutely pitiable state, lengths of material trailing behind him as he rushed from her closet to the couch, to the armchair, and back to the closet. He appeared to be trying to transform the suite’s sitting area into the interior of the Taj Mahal, with only limited success.
“Omigosh! Omigosh!” he panted. “This is terrible! I mean, this is wonderful, but I’ not ready for this. It’s too sudden—I’m not ready! I need at least a week to get ready for something this big!”
Already strung on nervous energy, Piggy began to feel decidedly uneasy. Although the press had not always been kind, they had always been eager, and the diva facet of her personality felt equal to the task of giving an interview. What the deuce was Thoreau making such a fuss about? “Will you knock it off! You sound like you’re about to get pinned!” she snapped irritably. “It’s just an interview. What is the big deal?”
What is the big deal? What is the big deal?” Thoreau cried. “Do you not realize the significance of this interview?”
Piggy’s gloved hands framed her ample hips. “I assumed the significance is that we get that parasite Scribbler and his defaming rag off our backs? What else is there?”
Thoreau came over to Piggy and took her face gently between his hands. For someone who worked in textiles on a daily basis, his hands were soft and smooth. He looked into Piggy’s eyes earnestly.
“You really don’t know? Sweetheart! But you, who know so much about fashion and chic—you must know what it means to have her write about you!“
“The reporter?” Piggy asked, confused. “How do you know who the reporter is if—“
The doorknob began to turn. Thoreau let out another shriek and ran for the closet, but morbid curiosity made him peek toward the door. Through his fingers.
Oh.” He looked at Kermit as though he had dog poo on his flipper. “It’s just you.” He turned away and went back toward the closet to pick up his swatches.
Kermit put his hands on his hips.
“Oh yeah?” he said. “Well, ‘just you’ happens to live here, and if you don’t—“
“Sweetie…” Piggy greeted him like she usually did, with a kiss to take the sting out of a bad day, or sweeten the ending of a good one. She looked at Thoreau helplessly. “He’s a little stressed about the interview.” She looked at Kermit, her blue eyes wide. “Are you…do you feel, you know, nervous about the interview?”
Kermit shrugged and looked a little uncomfortable. “No,” he said. “I mean, I don’t think there’s anything to get upset about, but I guess I am a little awestruck.”
The blue eyes got wider. “But…but who is it?” Piggy asked. “Who is coming to interview all of us?”
Kermit looked at her blankly for a moment. “Oh!” he said. His expression was chagrinned. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“You did not,” Piggy said, a warning light in her eyes. She grabbed Kermit’s shoulders and pinned him with a gaze. “Who is coming?”
“Don’t be nervous,” said Kermit earnestly. “Marty said she’s very down to earth, in spite of being so famous and everything.”
“Marty?” Piggy cried. “You’ve talked to Marty? About who? Who did Marty send?”
Kermit smiled and put his arms around his wife. He kissed her on her snout, bemused. “Aw, Honey—don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be—“
Piggy grabbed Kermit’s face between her hands. He blue eyes had gone steely and she pinned him with the weight of her stare.
“Who,” she growled, “is coming? Tell me before I--!”
Kermit looked surprised. His bulbous eyes were solemn.
“Brenda,” he said.
“Brenda…?" Who the heck is Brenda? Piggy was beside herself with exasperation. If Kermit didn’t spit out the name in the next five seconds she might just--
Kermit’s next words stopped her in her tracks, made sense of Thoreau’s hysteria
“Brenda Starr.”
 

Ruahnna

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Since a couple of people have asked, I will go ahead and comment. I do adopt some aspects of others' stories (and gratefully so), but I will usually chose my own precarious route to where I am going. Nevertheless, fear not, Rowlf and Wanda fans--and fans of anybody else's anything else I may have inadvertantly run roughshod over! I'm only hoping to tell my little story--not everyone else's! Have at it! The more the merrier, I say!

I'm so glad that people are enjoying Thoreau and Mabel (who are my very own creations). They allow me to feed and costume the muppets in grand fashion, something I would love to do in real life! They are not meant as replacements for Hilda and Chef, whom I adore.

Other than starting most of my stuff with a happily married frog and pig--which I will hasten to point out, I did not start! That was Jim! So blame Jim, if you must blame someone! (And check out the happy married couple on the 30th anniversary special if you doubt me!)--I really try to treat the characters with the same love and respect that they would receive from Jim. Were I ever fortunate enough to find my self face-to-face with the muppets, I would simply be proud to count myself among their fans, and hope they would count me among their friends.
 

The Count

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Aw, that's OK Cath. You do your best and that's all we ask And like I said, it's purrfectly OK, this is your story and not someone else's. GuessI'm just sort of trying to connect all the threads. That might be what ends up happening somewhere else in my writings which I should return to.

Loved the chapter. PB and S? Sardines for Gonzo, but would it've been swamp mint jelly for Robin? Heh, interesting to note that Rizzo got the same kind of sandwich Elvis used to eat, though the man himself prefered them deep fried. Oh, a Scooby-Doo reference! *Laughs at Kermit trying to keep Piggy guessing by saying the reporter's Brenda Starr. Is that a pseudonym to keep Piggy guessing though?

Oh please! Post more soon!
 

Ruahnna

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Chapter 50: Planning Ahead

Chapter 50: Planning Ahead

Scribbler was very alert. In fact, he was wishing for a great deal less awareness of self that he currently had, but there was no turning back the hands of time, was there? For a moment, that thought consumed him, and a great aching sense of loss threatened to overwhelm him, but it was replaced almost at once by the trickle of alarm and excitement that he had felt when he’d first seen her go by.
In the pursuit of his job, Scribbler had learned to blend. While he could be as in-your-face as any other story jockey, he had learned the benefit of keeping your presence low-key. That explained what he’d been doing in one of the casino’s many little pubs, picking at a sandwich and sticking with iced water today. He’d had quite enough situational stimulants to do him, and he was determined to stay more focused from here on out. The stir arrived slightly before she did, but on the tail of a interested murmur from the people in the pub, Scribbler looked up to see a beautiful head of flaming copper hair go by. It was cut up-to-the-second chic, and the natty little suit she wore announced professionalism and legs that wouldn’t quit. But it wasn’t her beauty or her wardrobe that caught Scribbler’s attention.
He’d had bylines—heck, he got a byline now, pathetic though it was—but he had never had the privilege of having his face appear next to his column. The woman walking by probably had enough of them to paper the inside of the White House, and she had enough journalism awards to redecorate every room in said residence.
Before he quite realized it, he has risen to his feet. He wanted to call out—wanted to say, “Hey! Hey! You are an inspiration to every news reporter on the planet!" but a sudden awareness of his place on the lowest rungs of his profession made him slump and sit back down. He…he would love to have met her back in the day—back when people knew his name, even if only slightly—but again, the inevitability of time moving forward struck him. Nothing for it now.
But what to do? What to do? He would have to tell his boss. There was no getting around it. He could not pretend that he had not seen exactly who (or perhaps what) had been escorting Brenda Starr through the Palace. That Grosse kid—Kermit’s personal assistance. And the comedian, Fozzie Bear. He could not remember Sweetums name, but he did not much relish an introduction under present circumstances. He stood for a moment longer, torn with indecision. He—he would have to pass this information along—and they would have to plan. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but whatever it was it most certainly wasn’t going to make his job any easier.
Scribbler stood, reached for his glass, and downed it in one shot before he remembered that he had stuck with water. The surprise made him swallow air, and he coughed and sputtered a little. Later, he would wish he poured the contents over his head, waking him to his senses before it was too late.
But again, there was that pesky no going back thing. C’est la vie.

Brenda Starr had seen her escorts to the door and closed it behind them. She smiled, remembering their polite and somewhat old-fashioned manners. Marty was right—she was going to enjoy this. She made a more thorough examination of her room, checked out the closet and the bathroom. Hotel rooms now cam with irons, she noted with approval, but it looked like she’d have to request an ironing board. I’d like to request an ironer, she thought ruefully, but years on the trail of the hottest story around had made her mostly self-sufficient. That thought made her smile, and she thought fondly of Basil. Darling Basil. He had finally made her rethink the entirely self-sufficient route, and they had been happily married for years. She wished he could have come—thought he would have enjoyed a trip to Vegas, but duty had called, and he had kissed her cheek, then her upturned lips, and gone out to make the world a better place. I’ll call, he had promised. Brenda knew he would.
She took off her jacket and hung it neatly in the closet. In a remarkably short period of time, she was unpacked and ready for work, but the sight of the plastic glasses perched conspicuously on the sink made her realize how thirsty she was. She looked for an ice bucket before remembering that they didn’t provide them standard in Las Vegas. She dug out her wallet and went looking for a soda machine. Those they had.
When Brenda exited the room, a young lady was checking in to the room next door. Her dark blonde hair was long and artfully swept back. Her complexion was smooth and radiant. There was elegance in every move, and she looked like some hot-house orchid suddenly blooming among daisies. Ms. Starr admired the cut of her dress. Several men walking past admired the cut of her jib.
With an unerring sense for story, wondered who she was--what she was doing here. She heard her speak to a passing maid, requesting something in a lightly accented voice. Brenda’s eyes narrowed with interest, and she seized the obvious opportunity.
“Hello," she called in a friendly manner. “Did you see the soda machine on the way up?
A miniscule pucker formed between the young woman’s brows, but then she smiled and shook her head.
“I’m afraid not," she said. “Perhaps the end of the hall?
The ace reporter nodded while her brain raced to place the accent. “Probably.” She was passing by the woman’s room now, noted the amount and type of luggage without seeming to. “I’ll let you know if I find it.” She stopped, almost impulsively, and held out her hand.
“I’m Brenda," she said. “Brenda Starr. Looks like we’ll be neighbors.”
The eyes widened just a little as she recognized the name, but the smile was friendly and warm. “I’m Autumn," she said lightly. “Autumn Transylvania.”
“Pleased to meet you, said Brenda.
Honored to meet you, Ms. Starr," returned Autumn. “I have so enjoyed your work.”
Brenda met her fame and the reaction it elicited with the same aplomb she usually exhibited. She laughed and shook her head.
“Brenda," she insisted. “I’m really just the girl next door.”
Four eyes strayed toward Brenda’s door, and then both women burst out laughing.
“So it would seem," said Autumn. “Do let me know if you find that soda machine.”
“Will do," Brenda said. She walked down the hall, feeling pleased with herself. Something about that name—that voice…. A thought was niggling the back of her consciousness. She tried to pin it down, but it flitted away into the recesses of her brain. Ah well, thought Brenda ruefully. It can’t get far. It will come back. A smile bloomed on her face. And so will I.
But first, a soda and a little more reading. Her assignment proved to be interesting, and she always liked to be prepared.
 
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