Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

The Count

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Yes, this is what this fic needed... Updates like heck, like it used to be back in the beginning.
Dunno when a detailed review may come from some of us, but a few things to get out there now.

Chapter 77, Some Auld Acquaintances Should Be Forgot. Mmm, you've hit double 7's, that's good, especially since that's my year, and that's always good in Vegas when you're playing dice games. 7's on a pair of dice? Yes, those were the dice the Muppet Babies had when playing a version of Monopoly in the classic episode Piggy's Hyper Activity Book.

You might want to keep in mind that it's "Sara" and not "Sarah", the latter being the protagonist of that mazing movie with the goblins and ghoulies made by Jim.

Rully like the bit with Rowlf and Foo saying goodbye *is careful not to launch into a song cue. You've made her a part of the story and given her a touch of character.

So Scribbler's starting to pick up some tidbits here and there of what may be going on... It'd lead us to further speculation about who his boss is and the nafarious shenanagans, but I have full faith that you'll unravel those in the course of fictional narrations.

Thanks for posting another stellar chapter. Now if you'll hexcuse me, this bat's gonna fall six feet under into his coffin.
*Knows his internal clock will wake him up in the AM anyway.
 

Slackbot

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This is one epic fic. When you started updating it again I went back to the beginning and reread it all. It took a while, but, wow, it was worth it.

I really don't know how to review something as big and chewy as this story. I really enjoy how you give attention to a lot of characters and create some new relationships, like Rowlf and Foo Foo. That would never have occurred to me. I don't like the idea od splitting Gonzo and Camilla up, but that's the 'shipper in me speaking, not the story critic. I'm certain you have a resolution in mind, and I plan to be here to read it.

I grin when I read about Scooter and Sara. I like the idea of him growing up and getting on with his life without leaving the troupe. That's another thread I'll watch with interest.

I'm too intimidated to say much more. So, to recap, thanks for the story thus far, and I look forward to future chapters.
 

Java

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Oh my, where moving on from Vegas!

Wonderful chapter. Looking forward to more.
 

newsmanfan

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----------------------------------------------------
Fantastic! So much gushy stuff here that I actually LIKE -- and yes, that's saying something. I am the consummate cynic most days...on the outside, anyway!

Howard and Thoreau! Rowlf and Foo Foo! Goodbyes, farewells, and pleasant dreams to you...whoops. Sorry. About to start singing there for a second! (See? Not just you, Ed.) Lady Ru, I am impressed as always. Dying to know who Scribbler's mysterious handler is, what machinations are moving into place against the Frogs, and whether Clifford will settle down with a cute lil mole daughter! Ha!

Keep 'em coming, please!
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Muppetfan44

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Ok, I apologize for the tardiness but here is my review of the wonderful updates to this story recently that I promised:

There was something wonderful, Piggy thought, about the two of them together, Uncle and Nephew moving in tandem with rhythm and grace. She smiled, watching from the wings and waiting for Kermit to call them all out. Tonight, after one talented little frog was zonked in his bed, she and Kermit would have the privilege and pleasure of putting Christmas gifts out for Robin. Watching him, moving in harmony with Kermit, Piggy felt like no gift would ever match what Robin had already given them.
LOVED this! So adorable. I love the feeling when you get to spoil the little ones that make you laugh and make you feel better without even knowing they're doing it. So glad that you found this and put it back in- one of the cutest parts of the story for sure!

Piggy would undoubtedly be occupied for some time yet, dealing with her pet dressmaker, but Kermit did not mind at all. He was grateful and pleased with Thoreau’s help with the show, and glad that something good—and profitable—could come out of the union. Maybe I’ll get a break on Piggy’s next Oscar outfit, he thought, then snorted.
Fat chance of that.. Still, whatever Piggy wanted, he intended to try to see that she got it, especially if what she wanted was…him.
Love how Kermit wants to spoil Piggy, even though he'll end up giving his credit cards a work out! Very true to Kermit's character, he may complain from time to time, but you know he loves it when Piggy is happy, especially over the little things!

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Piggy snapped. “Just call me, okay? And I’ll bring the entire cast and crew with me for the fashion show if you want.—got it? Need me, call me, get me—got it?”
Thoreau’s eyes were humble—a rare sight indeed. “Got it,” he mouthed. “Thank you, Sweetie. I couldn’t have…I wouldn’t have…”
Piggy took Thoreau by the shoulder and, for the second time that day, pushed him out of the room she was in.
“Go. Leave. Be creative—somewhere else.”
When at last she had her dressing room to herself again, Piggy leaned against the door and smiled to herself. They grow up soooo fast, she thought. It’s just getting them to leave the nest….
Ha! Love it when Piggy's fashionista shines through. This is definitely one of things that I am most looking forward to with the new movie!

Foo Foo merely grunted, so Rowlf reached out and tickled one little pink foot pad experimentally. Foo Foo squealed and let out a short, sharp bark of protest.
“No fair!” she said. “No fair no fair!”
“I wasn’t aware we were playing by official rules,” said Rowlf, reaching to tickle her back right paw.
“Stop! Stop! Uncle oh uncle!,” cried Foo Foo. After a moment, when he was convinced that she wasn’t faking, Rowlf let her up.
“A pleasure,” said Rowlf. “Dinner’s on you.”
Foo Foo sniffed, regaining her excessive dignity. “Fine,” she snapped. She turned and looked at him narrowly. “How did you find out I was ticklish?”
Rowlf shrugged. “Job application,” he said casually.
Foo Foo shook her head. “Piggy would never—“ she began, then let out a little gasp. “That little fink! That little frog fink! How did Kermit know?”
“The privileges of marriage, I guess,” said Rowlf. Foo Foo gave him a look, then sighed and leaned close to him as they headed out toward the strip. There were some privileges she was happy to live without.
Great moment! Love the playfulness between Rowlf and Foo Foo and how we discover that Kermit probably gossips almost as much as Piggy does, lol! Great moment!

The moments with Rizzo and Gloria Jean and Scooter and Sara, ush-gush fantastic as always!

LOVED the moment between Johnny Fiama and Sal!!! Even though Johnny can be rough on Sal sometimes, Johnny would be the first one there to cheer Sal up or threaten to use Sal to beat someone up to protect Sal himself, lol! These two are definitely one of my favorite friendship pairs and I wish they were used more often these days, they have such a great dynamic! And, I love those little umbrellas too, hehe!

This was a lot to take in—a lot to think about. An opportunity? Yes. Something to think about? Heck, yes. Would he be sorry if he said yes? Nooo. Would someone else be sorry? Without a doubt. Marty paced the room and thought. He thought and paced the room. He downed half the cup of now-cold coffee absently and thought and paced and thought some more.
No way around it, he thought. Have to be doneand soon. But he needed a little time to plot, a little time to plan. This was the deal that changed everything, and he just needed to be sure.
Oooooooooo.....very intriguing indeed! I wonder who the someone else is who would be sorry if he said yes; perhaps he is short, green and handsome according to one porcine diva perhaps? Totally excited to see what this could be, and who is offering the deal of the lifetime, according to Marty anyway. Awesome way to end a chapter, wanting us begging for more as always!

I really liked the next chapter too, with the title being so very appropriate: there are definitely some auld acquaintances that should be forgotten!!

What he underestimated was the power of the written word—the power to inform, to sway, to convince, to…mislead. He had been writing for months about the imaginary break-up of Piggy’s marriage, with the malicious intention of separating them. But he had also been writing for moths about how Piggy was overworked and underappreciated in her husband’s company, and how a rose like her ought not to wither in Kermit’s crummy old vine. Scribbler had underestimated the way that some people, if told something long enough, loud enough and frequently enough, would begin to believe it. And it was working. In the same way that predators try to separate the animal they wish to take down from the rest of the herd, Scribbler had been trying to separate Kermit but his most-prized lamb. No one was saying it would happen but, thanks to him, some people were saying it could.
Very chilling! I could totally picture predators trying to separate Kermit from Piggy, then going in for the kill, very powerful imagery.

Loved the exchange between Mabel and Clifford! Foo Foo and Rowlf's goodbyes were also very well written. Foo Foo will come to her senses eventually and let Rowlf catch her on a more permament basis, wink wink!

Robin digested this, obviously not satisfied. “I could stay,” he offered, but dubiously, and his voice was forlorn.
Kermit stopped walking and knelt in front of his nephew. He had to look up to meet Robin’s eyes. Definitely growing.
“If we need you, we’ll call. How’s that?” Kermit formed his froggy fingers into a fist.
That did it. Robin’s smile spread all over his face.
“Okay, Uncle Kermit,” he said solemnly. He formed his hand into a fist and bumped knuckles solemnly. “Just so you know I’ve got your back.”
OMG!!!! Love the fist pump, lol!!! One of my MOST favorite parts of the whole story! I could totally hear Robin say I got your back, yo uncle, then go for the fist pump, but in a totally adorable five year old way! That would be priceless!!

Well Auntie Ru you continue to move and entertain as always, and you never disappoint! Comedy, intrigue, danger and fist pumps- a fantastic combination in my book. Definitely cannot wait to read more!

Have a Happy 4th of July weekend everybody!
 

Ruahnna

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Um, I have to do a couple of things. Again. (Those of you easily bored and just skip this post and move on to the next story post immediately following.)

First confession: I've apparently been using the wrong version of the word "palette" when I talk about Kermit gritting his, um, teeth. The word "palette" is the thingy that painters use. The word I was TRYING to use was "palate," as in "hard palate." But the regular Word Spelling and Grammar Check is apparently not up to the nuances between palette and palate. So...mea culpa, mea culpa--again. I thought I had better share in case I inadvertently led some other writer to confuse these two very, um, common, er, everyday words.... So...anyhoo....glad we got that cleared up.

Second confession: In the last little bit, when Kermit was enjoying watching Scribbler's faceplant on the casino carpet, I had him watching it on his PDA. I SHOULD have said he was watching it on the NEW PHONE that Piggy insisted on getting him.

Third confession: I think it is important for the writer of the story to KNOW things about the story and the characters and the plot that the reader DOES NOT KNOW. And I think it is EQUALLY, if not MORE important that the writer does not unnecessarily BURDEN the reader with EVERYTHING they know. (I read of one published author who insisted--INSISTED--on drawing a map for every house she used in a story so she would not make mistakes. Let me say for the record that if you had to get a coherent map out of me before I could show you my stories, well...I would have nothing to share. Sheesh! I can't even remember duets and phones, or spell PALATE!) Anyway, the reason I said that writers have to know stuff and not bore the reader with it is that...I'm going to have to bore you with some of it, and I'm going to have to do it with a somewhat clumsy plot device that I typically wouldn't use. But I have to, so you will know some things that go with the story.

And yes, I DO really talk like this in real life--just with a Southern accent.
 

Ruahnna

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Chapter 78: Goodbyes and Bargains

“Saying goodbye stinks,” said Rizzo morosely. He hugged Mabel’s ample waist fiercely, then stood back for Gloria Jean and Gonzo and Amy Lu to do the same. The mother hen mole had texted Scooter early in the AM to let him know that there would be breakfast/brunch served to all comers until the last muppet left Vegas.
Kermit’s hug was one of the last, and he patted Mabel on the back and laid his cool, smooth cheek on the top of her head.
“Mabel—my cast, my crew and my stomach thank you. You’ve made our stay here so….” He faltered. Rousing speeches, yes. Annoyed rants, yes. Emotional content, er…. But Mabel stretched up to smooch him on the cheek anyway.
“You made my Christmas, Kermit. With the boys gone to Nashville for part of the holidays, I would have been at odds and ends.” She squinted at him. “Come back sometime, woncha? We need more family acts here on the Strip.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Piggy murmured, stepping in to join their hug.
Mabel broke the embrace at last. “C’mon, c’mon,” she said, herding them out of the backstage area. “Scooter’ll pop a gasket if you all miss your plane.”
Scooter looked gratefully at Mabel, and took over herding the crowd.
Mabel watched as they moved en masse down the hall and out of sight. She sighed, wiping her hands on her apron and turning.
“Wah!” she cried, both hands flying to her face. “FortheloveofPete, Mr. Strathers—you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Seymour Strathers smiled, only somewhat apologetically.
“I guess they’re…all gone,” he said wistfully.
“Yeah. Every last one of ‘em.” She turned and looked up at him. “I sure did enjoy this assignment, Mr. Strathers. It was nice of you to ask me to take care of ‘em.”
Seymour seemed to realize that some response was called for and roused himself with an effort. “It—it was my pleasure, Mabel. I wanted them to feel welcome here.” His voice sounded sad.
“They had a good time,” she said thoughtfully. “I know they make movies now, but I think they liked doing the show here a lot.” She squinted up at him. “I’ll bet they’d come again sometime if you asked them.”
Color flooded her employer’s cheeks and he turned to her, his eyes bright with hope. “Really? You think she’d—um, they’d come back again? Even with the problems with security?”
“Well….” Mabel was thoughtful, rubbing her chin. “I know it made a bump in the rode,” she said, “but nobody was actually hurt. Next year, all this foolishness with the tabloids’ll blow over and be old news. Mr. and Mrs. The Frog will still be bringing down the house.” She smiled. “And I think they’d come back again for some home cooking. That chef of theirs don’t half feed them.”
Seymour’s boyish face was smiling, but his eyes were distant. “Maybe next Christmas,” he mused, but he seemed preoccupied for a second. “Unless, or course, something changes.”
Though she could not explain why, Mabel didn’t like the way that sounded. She might have asked, but there were three Elvises suddenly standing there with her and the casino partner.
“Mercy!” cried Trey. “We came to make sure they didn’t take you with ‘em, Mabel.”
Ace got down on one knee and kissed Mabel’s apron. Deuce just grinned.
“Oh—you think I’m that easy?” she said, hands on her hips. “You think I’d just waltz out of town with any Tom, Dick or Pepe what asked me?”
Three pairs of blue suede shoes stubbed the floor.
“Um…”
“Er….”
“We were just…”
But Mabel just laughed, and linked her short arms through two of theirs. “I’m just teasing, boy,” she said dryly. “Come on back to my kitchen and I’ll make some jelly biscuits.”

Kermit would have sworn that he’d only blinked, but the next thing he knew, Piggy was squeezing his arm and smiling at him.
“The plane has landed, Sweetie,” Piggy said.
Kermit blinked and tried to stand, but nothing happened. He grimaced and unlocked his seat belt. “I guess I dozed off,” he mumbled.
“You were snoring,” Robin in formed him gleefully. Mortified, Kermit looked around, but he and Piggy and Robin were dead center of the little knot of performers, all of whom seemed not to care whether or not he had been sawing logs.
“I…er, recirculated air makes my throat dry,” he muttered, but the truth of the matter was he felt rested and refreshed. He stood up and helped Piggy maneuver her carryon down from the overhead compartment. Around him, the cast and crew were doing the same. Their was a familiar déjà vu feel to this arrival, and Kermit wondered idly how many times they had left together and come home together again.
There was the usual unorganized shuffle to disembark, to claim their luggage, to corral everyone into a cab. Kermit always felt like a substitute teacher on field trip day, grateful for Scooter and Howard and Piggy who kept people moving. Before he would have thought it possible, Kermit found himself, his bride and his nephew crossing the threshold into their home.
On Piggy’s orders, the house had been aired, the mail neatly stacked on the credenza, the mail messages retrieved and transcribed and the fridge stocked with something microwavable, but when Kermit would have made for the stack of mail, Piggy snagged him.
“Nope,” she said firmly. “Moi is not surrendering you to the mundane yet.” She started toward the stairs. “Moi is going to put on a bathing suit, and you—“ She pointed at Kermit. “And you—“ She pointed at Robin. “Are going to meet me in the pool in five minutes.” She smiled smugly, knowing that two frogs recently returned from Las Vegas would long for water, and plenty of it.
“Whoopee!” cried Robin, dropping everything and running for the pool.
And though Kermit was a little more dignified, he was right behind him.

When you are a child and come back to school in the fall after summer break, there is the indignant feeling that you have not really been gone at all—that summer was simply a longer-than-normal daydream and that you have been sitting in the same small desk for most of your life. That happens to adults, too, and frogs, and pigs and rats and bears and whatever. The next day found everyone back on the set without so much as a turned hair. Of course, those who had stayed regaled those who had gone with stories and pictures of their holidays, and those who had gone talked excitedly about the show and the things that had happened, both on stage and off. But production was back on with barely a lurch, and Kermit made a small hmm of satisfaction and got to work.
Movies are not shot chronologically. The demands of location, technical issues and talent availability sometimes mean that the ending is shot before the beginning, the middle is shot piecemeal and the close-ups and reshoots are all done at once. It takes a lot of concentration to keep it all straight in your head so that continuity remains undisturbed. Hair that is one length in one shot shouldn’t be longer or shorter in the next shot. Clothes and makeup should not change without warning, and live sets are sacrosanct. Kermit had arrived before anyone that morning, and by the time Scooter got there with two huge cups of java, had watched some 35 different scenes to remind himself of what his notes had meant. He and Scooter had gone over the new notes and mapped out a plan of action—all this in addition to the scenes that were scheduled to be shot today. Those had been scheduled before Christmas, and it was with a profound feeling of relief when they broke for lunch ten minutes ahead of schedule.
Piggy came over and smiled up at Kermit.
“Moi is going to lunch—are you coming with or are you working through?”
“Um, working through, I think,” said Kermit resignedly. He looked around for Scooter. “I’ll get, er, Scooter to—“
“Moi will get you something,” said Piggy. Kermit grinned. Piggy would soon tire of him working through, he had no doubt, but today he was happy to be coddled a little.
“Thanks, Piggy,” he said, and hopped down to kiss her.
He never completed the gesture. Piggy’s phone beeped shrilly, and she let out a little yelp of excitement.
“I have to take this!” she said, and bounced off.
Kermit sighed. It was probably Marty. Moss would never grow on Marty, and now that Piggy was no longer doing a live show, her agent was undoubtedly trying to iron out the kinks in the bikini calendar deal that Piggy had mentioned oh-so-casually last night. It had not helped Kermit’s negotiating skills that she had been wearing a fetching little striped bikini in the pool last night, and he sighed, gritted his hard palate and resigned himself to seeing copies of his wife’s superb form plastered all over bookstore and filling stations across the U.S.
But I’ve still got the girl, Kermit thought grumpily. They could hang her likeness on their walls, but the living, breathing glory of porcine pulchritude was going home with him. That made him feel marginally better. While he was sulking a little about the calendar, his phone rang, and he pulled it out and looked at it in surprise. It was Marty. For a moment, hope surged in Kermit’s chest. Perhaps Marty was having an attack of conscience, and wanted to ask Kermit what he thought about Piggy doing the calendar, but Kermit’s common sense kicked in almost immediately. Marty was Piggy’s agent, and he neither asked for nor needed Kermit’s permission to do anything. The other possible reason Marty might be calling was…bad news. While he hoped the tabloid’s had been shamed into silence, Kermit knew the real reasons they had been left mostly alone had to do with Scribbler’s abrupt removal from the casino and the abundance of tacky behavior that usually accompanied the usual round of Hollywood holiday parties. All this he thought while he stared at his new phone and tried to remember how to unlock it so he could answer the call.
Dumb luck prevailed where memory and skill had not, and Kermit caught the call just before Marty gave up.
“Hey Marty—this is Kermit.”
“Still trying to figure out the new phone?” Marty asked, by way of greeting, and Kermit flushed.
“Yep,” he said dryly, and decided to return friendly fire. “Did you call me to talk about the bikini calendar?”
Marty laughed, and Kermit indulged in a split-second fume.
\ “So she told you about that—finally. I was wondering when she’d fess up.”
“Last night,” Kermit said, and grinned. It was impossible not to grin when he remembered how…earnest her attempts had been to placate him. “If you’re calling to ask me what I think about it—“
“Look,” said Marty, suddenly serious. “We need to talk, you and me.”
“You and me and Piggy?” Kermit asked, bewildered now, and worried. “Or just you and me?”
“Just you and me, Kermit. I—“
“Another story?” Kermit gritted. He found he was grinding his hard palate.
“What? No. Oh—no. Nothing like that.”
“Oh.” Surprise seemed to have made him mute. He couldn’t think of what to say.
“No story,” Marty said. “Just…something I want to talk to you about. Can you get away, say, tomorrow afternoon?”
“We’re filming all day tomorrow. I really can’t leave, but…I could come by after—around eight?”
“Eight’s good. Let’s meet at my other office,” Marty said, and Kermit knew that meant the bar around the corner.
“Sure. Eight o’clock. Is—is everything okay, Marty? If I need to protect Piggy, it would help to know in advance. I don’t mean to be a worrywart, but—“
“No. Nothing like that.” He heard Marty sigh. “Everything’s okay, but I want we should talk—just you and me, okay, Kermit?”
“But nothing’s wrong?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong, Kermit. Frog Scout’s honor. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there.” Kermit stared at the little phone after the call went dead, lost in thought.
“Ooh! Kermie! Kermie—guess what?”
Guiltily, Kermit almost fumbled the little phone. “What?” he asked warily, but adjusted his tone at the excited look on Piggy’s face. “What is it, Sweetheart?”
“Do you remember the message I got last night from my old school friend?”
Kermit nodded slowly. He seemed to remember a chirpy message with a Southern accent asking Piggy to call. “Sure,” he answered. “Asking you to call her if you got back in town?”
“Yes—and I did this morning and she called me back! She’s still here and she wants to meet me for supper.” She looked at him, blue eyes wide. “You don’t mind, do you? I know you’re filming all day tomorrow, but I’m done by three….”
Kermit’s relief made him almost giddy. He would have an alibi for his meeting with Marty. “That’s great, Honey,” he said. “I’ll be home late anyway.” The sight of her, flushed and excited, made him feel protective and tender. “You even have time to shop before you meet.”
Piggy had the good grace to blush. “I had thought of that,” she murmured.
“Say yes,” Kermit teased, knowing she didn’t really need his permission. “I’ll fend for myself tomorrow night.”
“Love you, Mon Capitan!” Piggy cried, and bounced off again, dialing as she went.
Kermit watched her go and indulged in five minutes of unrestrained worry, but when the cast and crew began to return from lunch, he took his worry and stuffed it into the hard, tight, inaccessible place where he had been storing a lot of things lately. He could do this. He could. But tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough to suit him.
 

Ruahnna

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And yet again....


Chapter 79: What You Don’t Know--Yet

Piggy looked toward the hostess in time to see her dinner date arriving. A comfortable-looking woman in a leopard-print skirt and black sweater looked in the direction the hostess pointed, saw Piggy and waved. She slid into the little booth breathlessly, one hand attempting to smooth her unruly strawberry-blonde curls.
“Rain,” she muttered, then flashed a big grin. “I’m so glad you returned my call, Piggy,” she said earnestly. “I was worried I’d missed you, and I’m only in town until tomorrow.”
A waiter appeared as if by conjuring, took their drink order and promised to return to take their food order, but Piggy made an almost infinitesimal motion with her satin-gloved hand and he heeled obediently.
“Yes?”
Piggy ordered for them, thoroughly and without fuss. The waiter beamed at her choices, bobbed slightly and scurried away. Her companion watched in amusement.
“You’ve got them well-trained,” she commented dryly, and Piggy allowed a small smile of satisfaction to grace her lips.
“Practice,” she said smoothly. “When Moi lived in New York, we ate out almost every meal and you get in the habit of knowing what you want.”
Her companion leaned forward, her face cupped in her hands and a wicked smile on her face. “Speaking of knowing what you want….”
Piggy sighed and blushed a little. “Well….” she hedged.
“You promised!” her friend said. “C’mon, Piggy. It’s been ages. I haven’t seen you since our class. Remember how we promised to tell each other everything?” When Piggy looked alarmed and then away, her friend laughed and patted her hand reassuringly. “Okay—not everything. That would take too long. So tell me about this frog of yours.” Her face was serious, intent. “I’ve worried about you. I want to know you finally found true love.”
Piggy turned her electric blue eyes back to her friend, and there was no longer any doubt.
“Oh!” said her companion softly. “Oh, Piggy—I’m so glad. Tell me—people say he’s the nicest, um, frog in the business. I know what I read in the papers, but I don’t believe any of it. Was it love at first sight? Did he melt the first time he saw you?”
Piggy made an unladylike noise. “Not exactly,” she said. She smiled, her face luminous, but still she hesitated, looking unsure about what to say. “I don’t know,” she said, suddenly pensive. “With all the gossip flying, I don’t know if I should even be talking about…us.”
“Not to worry,” her friend said. She pulled a set of papers and a pen from her briefcase purse and laid them on the table. “I thought you might be nervous. I brought something along to reassure you.”
Food appeared as if by magic and was set enticingly on the table. The women smiled their thanks.
Quizzically, Piggy took the papers and looked at them, making an attractive little pucker between her eyes. “Is this…a contract?” She turned the papers over and looked at the back. “What kind of contract?”
“This paper says that I have the right to represent you in a real estate deal in our home state.”
“But—but I’m not buying property.”
“I know,” said her friend patiently. “I’m not expecting you to buy anything—or sell anything. But if you sign the paper, it gives me the legal right to represent you—and it gives you the right to insist that anything you tell me remain confidential.” Her old friend smiled at her. “There—if I repeat anything you tell me, I could lose my license. How’s that for reassurance?”
“Oh,” said Piggy, flustered. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” said her friend. “So just sign the stupid paper and spill your guts. Okay?”
That did it. Piggy giggled. She ignored the proffered ballpoint and pulled a lavender pen from her little clutch, then wrote, “Piggy the Frog” in great, loopy letters in purple ink.
“Feel better?” her friend teased.
“I—this is so silly.”
“Exactly. But I understand how important your privacy is to you, and I want you to understand that I get that. And you.” She grinned broadly. “So dig in, and tell me about Kermit. Not a pushover?”
“Are you kidding? Kermit had a shell as hard as a turtle--on the outside.”
Her friend looked at her expectantly. “And on the inside?”
“A complete softie,” Piggy said, “but not a pushover. In fact, sometimes it was fun to push all his buttons just to see where the elevator would land.”
“A little risky,” her companion said dryly. They appetizers were disappearing, the entrees steaming in readiness.
“True,” Piggy conceded, her expression dreamy. “Sometimes it didn’t work. Sometimes it backfired, and he avoided me for weeks.” She turned and looked at her friend, sighing happily. “But when it worked--oh, when it worked....”
“You’ve been together for a long time.”
“Yes,” Piggy said. “From the beginning.” She looked down shyly. “Oh, you know Moi was working before I met Kermit, but it wasn’t the kind of work I wanted to do. It was piecemeal, and some of it was stuff that I hope never surfaces on the late, late, late, late, late show.”
Her friend’s face must have registered some alarm, because Piggy leaned forward and put a hand on her arm.
“Nothing trashy,” Piggy said quickly. “Just stuff that wasn’t exactly great theater. B-movies with creatures from outer space, a couple of movies where I played some sort of Amazon in the jungle, a couple of waitress-with-a-heart-of-gold gigs. Those were easy, and probably the most emotionally believable things Moi did back then. I didn’t know much about my craft--I didn’t even realize it was a craft then. It seemed...it seemed like magic to me then, trying to figure out what worked and what didn’t.”
“But that changed with Kermit.”
Piggy’s face broke into a wonderful smile. “Yes, but first there was Marty.”
“Marty, your agent?”
“Yes,” Piggy said, dipping her biscotti into her vanilla coffee. She had largely ignored her entrée, but coffee and dessert had been pulled to center stage. “What a dear. Saw me in a commercial--he was there with one of his own clients--and came to talk to me afterwards. Said it seemed obvious that I didn’t have anyone looking out for me. Asked me if I needed someone to ‘handle” me.” Piggy looked up, and her eyes were frank. “Trust me, I’d had plenty of offers to get ‘handled,’ but I could tell he was different. He was--he was blunt. Told me he didn’t represent tramps and girls who were just hoping to get by on their looks. I wasn’t either of those things, but I was scared to death anyway. I just remember nodding and staring at him, this funny little man with the half-chewed cigar who looked and talked so tough. I guess I must have looked terrified, because he took me out for a cup of cocoa and a waffle afterward. It was the first decent thing that anyone had done for me since I’d started acting.”
Piggy looked down and played with the remaining half of her biscotti, finally snapping it in two and eating both halves hastily as though to be rid of the thing. She played with the ring on her finger instead, running it back and forth with the index finger of her other hand.
“Marty helped me find a decent apartment with another actress he knew. Nice girl--sortof deadly earnest--but very sweet. Was grateful for a room-mate, kept everything neat.” She smiled. “I wasn’t any tidier with my clothes then than I am now--but I had a lot less of them. It worked out real well until she went on the road with a musical, then I moved into a nicer place with a couple of other girls. That was--it was okay,” she said, obviously repressing something she’d been about to confide. “It wasn’t a particularly good match--too many fights about the bathroom and one of the girls professed to be a vegetarian, but....” Piggy shook herself, then favored her friend with a penetrating stare. “Moi is chasing rabbits again--what was I telling you?”
“Marty?” her friend said helpfully.

“Oh, yes. What a lovely man. He charged me ten percent, and insisted that Moi open a savings account and put another ten percent in it. That meant I was living on eighty percent of not much, but the work kept coming. Nice work, too. Always things that paid decent and gave me some exposure. Marty took me on meetings sometimes and let me show off my table manners. Taught me how to look interested but not eager, and introduced me to some very big players along the way. Most of them didn’t hire me, but they remembered me later. Some of them after I got my big start, but he was showing me how the game was played.”
“You played it pretty well, I’ll wager,” said her companion, giving a fair imitation of Piggy’s see-through-you look.”
“He said Moi was his star pupil,” said Piggy. Her cheeks colored slightly, but she smiled fondly at the memory. “No one had ever done anything nice for me before without expecting something costly in return. I had never been able to lean on anyone before, but there were times when Marty was there for me. One time, I got so sick I couldn’t leave the apartment. Marty and his wife came and got me--took me to their house and took care of me.”
Her companion registered surprise. “I didn’t know Marty was married.”
“Oh, sure,” said Piggy. “Frieda was a doll.”
“How’d they meet?”
“He saw her at an audition. Stopped her afterward, told her she was awful and ought to consider another line of work.”
“Oh my. I don’t imagine that went well.”
“I suppose not, at first anyway. She was pretty devastated, but I think she must have known he was right. He took her out for a cup of coffee and they talked most of the night. Next morning, she thanked him for the coffee and the advice and said was going to catch the next bus for home. He told her to stay, said he’d find her a job.”
“And did he?”
“Of course. She started out doing secretarial work--learned to type a little. When he decided it wouldn’t hurt her pride, he asked her to work for him. A little after that, he asked her to marry him. Told her it would save him money cause he wouldn’t have to pay her as much.”
Her friend laughed out loud. “You are making this up!”
“I swear I’m not. She took the secretarial job, but she put him off on the marriage proposal. Finally, after about a year of working with him, she marched into his office and said that she would marry him--but not if she had to take a pay cut.”
“Sounds like Marty had met his match.”
“Ohhh yeah,” said Piggy. “They were the perfect couple.” A shadow fell across her countenance, but she waved it away after a moment. “Frieda died about ten years ago--cancer.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah--it was a rough time. I thought he might retire, but it turns out that work was the only thing that saved him. If he hadn’t had to go to work everyday, I don’t know what would have happened to him. It was a difficult first year.”
“Did Marty and Frieda have any kids?”
Piggy smiled, a little sadly. “Just us--his show kids.”
“Does Marty have any family?”
“He has a twin brother, Maury, who lives in Pasadena.”
“Oh, good. Are they close?
“They bicker a lot, so yes, I’d say they were very close.”
“Speaking of bickering....”

“Moi is getting to that,” Piggy said with a pretty little pout. She smiled and sighed, her expression dreamy again. “Kermit,” she said softly. “How I met Kermit.”
The other woman sat perfectly still, waiting to hear what Piggy would say.
“Kermit was going to host this variety show,” Piggy said, all briskness and practicality. “This was another project with Jim, and Marty knew it would be good. The only thing was, they were planning to film in England.”
“Oh! How exciting!”
“And scary,” Piggy said. “If Moi was in England, I probably wouldn’t be able to get the commercial work that I had been getting--you know, girl in a grocery store, girl in a restaurant, girl looking at a car. That sort of thing. Those were my bread-and-butter back then. So if I took the show, it would have to be a good job, a good-paying job.”
Piggy smiled, and some memory flared behind her eyes that she did not stop to share. “Marty set up a meeting with Jim and Kermit and some of the other folks that worked on the show. There was Jerry Juhl, who wrote most of the stuff that Jim didn’t write. And, um, Jerry Nelson, who did--Oh, and a man named Frank Oz. He was wonderfully funny, and he and Jim had the most marvelous chemistry. You never knew what was going to happen when those two got together.”
“So, how’d the meeting go?”
“It was interesting. Moi was sitting across the table from Kermit, and he kept sneaking looks at me when he thought I wasn’t looking.”
“How did you know that?”
“Cause Moi was sneaking looks at him when I thought he wasn’t looking at me.” Her expression softened. “He...he liked me. I could tell. And he was very sweet.”
“I--they wanted me to audition, see what I could do. I didn’t have a lot of experience on stage, but I could do a lot of different things. I could sing and dance and I wasn’t afraid to take a fall to get a laugh.”
“What did you do for them?”
“I sang, did a little tap-dancing, then I saw Kermit lean over and whisper something to Jim.”
“Do you know what he said?”
“I had a pretty good idea, because then they asked if I could follow someone--you know, Fred and Ginger stuff.”
“I’m guessing I don’t have to ask who volunteered to be your partner,” her friend said dryly.
“No,” Piggy said with a little smile. “So we did that for a while--a pretty good while. They they wanted me to sing again, so Kermit and I sang a duet.”
“Do you remember what you sang?”
Another unladylike snort. “Anything you can do I can do better, from Annie, Get Your Gun.”
“Who picked that?”
“Frank did.” She blushed a little. “He took an interest in me, right from the beginning. He was always thinking up things for me to do on the show.”
“Well, I know you got the part, but--”
“Wait. I got a part. There wasn’t actually a starring role--just a spot in the chorus.”
“The chorus? What did Marty say?”
“After the meeting, Marty sat me down and gave me one of those looks--the kind of look that you give someone when you’re telling them something they don’t want to know.”

“And that was--?”
“He said, as my agent, that he didn’t recommend me taking the part they offered. It wasn’t a big enough part, not enough money, not enough exposure, I’d have to leave Hollywood, blah, blah, blah.”
“And--?”
“And then he said, as my friend, that he thought I ought to take it. He said he knew Jim, and he knew that whatever Jim did would be good, would be okay. And then he gave me the other look.”
“Which look was that?”
“The one that my Daddy used to give me. The one that said to watch myself.”
“Why--who was he worried about? Surely not Jim, and I can’t believe he’d be worried about Kermit.”
“He wasn’t worried about Jim. Or Kermit.”
“Then...oh. Oh.
“Yes. He was worried about me. I guess he could tell that Moi was pretty smitten, and he knew how I could be when I wanted something.” Piggy looked up, and a telling blush crept up her cheeks. “Sometimes I think back, and I can’t believe I did some of the things I did, said some of the things I said. But I was young, and full of confidence and sass and, I don’t know, the whole atmosphere of the show just invited zaniness. It was hard not to get caught up in the spirit of things.” Piggy stopped and looked at her friend. “And then one day, we were doing this glee club scene. Moi was just supposed to be part of the chorus, but then Frank pulled me aside and whispered in my ear.” She smiled broadly. “And I did it. I stepped out of the chorus, just like Fanny Brice.”
“What did Kermit do?”
“Oh, he was mortified, but I think he liked it, too. After that, he looked at me different, treated me different.”
“Did he ask you out?”
“Not right away, but he was always, I don’t know, hovering. Sometimes we had male guest stars, and there were always fellas backstage. If anyone paid too much attention to me, he interfered.”
“You dated him, though.”
Piggy shrugged.
“But I thought...”
Piggy tried to explain. “Sortof. Dinner after the show, sometimes dancing.” She shrugged again and smiled. “He was careful never to make it seem too planned. Kermit was a master at capturing impromptu moments and taking advantage of them.”
“Did he declare himself?”
“No,” Piggy said sadly. “He--that wasn’t his way. But I knew, and he knew I knew, and that was, well, that was how we carried on for a long time.”
Her friend raised her eyebrows. “Any actual carrying on?”
Piggy looked scandalized. “Absolutely not! I never--that wasn’t the way Moi was brought up. And, well, Kermit was old-fashioned, too. He would never have, um, wanted....” Piggy looked up, her eyes full of mischief now. “Well, he might have wanted, but he wouldn’t have respected me. It’s one thing to get a man’s attention--that’s fairly easy. It’s quite another thing to keep it. I never wanted to just catch his eye--I wanted all of him.”
“And now you have him.”
“Yes. All of him,” Piggy said with satisfaction.
Her companion was smiling now, looking fondly at her friend and her huge diamond anniversary ring. “I love happily ever after.”
Piggy smiled and swished the coffee around in her cup. “Especially the after part.”
And the only sound after that was giggling.

“Have a nice time with your friend?” Kermit asked, taking her violet wool coat and smart little tam and hanging them on the coat tree. He had met her at the door, his tie loose, his collar unbuttoned, his flippers freed from footwear, but it was obvious he’d only been home a few moments.
“I did,” said Piggy. “We hadn’t seen each other in ages, and it was sooo nice to talk to someone who knew me when.”
Kermit leaned in and kissed her. “I like knowing you now,” he said, and Piggy reached out and grabbed his necktie, prolonging the contact until she felt she’d received a proper greeting.
“Hmm,” she sighed. She took in his tired face, his business clothes. “What about you, Sweetie. Did you just get off work?”
“Busy day,” Kermit said. “I’m glad you didn’t have to sit home and wait for me.”
Later, Piggy would remember that he hadn’t actually answered her question.
“I like knowing you now, too,” she said, and took his hand in hers. She started toward the kitchen.
“Did you eat? I think Francois left some veggie chilli—“
“I’m not hungry,” Kermit said. “We ordered sandwiches.”
“You and Scooter?” she asked. “You’re going to get on Sara’s list.”
Kermit looked so uncomfortable, Piggy hastened to reassure him. She assumed he was upset about being on Sara’s short list, and the idea amused her. Dear Kermit! He was worried about getting Scooter in hot water at home. She pulled him into a warm embrace, glad to be snuggling her frog.
Piggy was almost right. Kermit was worried, but—for the time being—he simply enjoyed being snuggled by his wife. After the news he’d had today, he’d take all the comfort he could get.
 

Muppetfan44

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Ooooohhh, I know I say how much i love each chapter but this one was my favorite so far!!! I really like the neat backstory you have laid out for Piggy-it really shows how you think of her as a character and how multi-dimensional she can be. Love that her long-lost friend is a lawyer, :wink:. I really liked how you portrayed how her and Kermit met and the whole showbiz spin you put on everything, definitely seems like a very realisitic way that it could have happened.

So excited/scared for the news that Kermit got from Marty- what in the world could it be!!? Dying to read more! Thank you again for writing this story and please post more soon!!!!
 
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