Filming rocked along, and the weekend came—and went. Piggy had not intended to film her close-ups that weekend, but when Kermit insisted he’d take the weekend off with her if she didn’t want to come, Piggy grudgingly consented to come down to the studio and let them have their way with her. It was just like Kermit, she huffed to herself, to lay a guilt trip on me for not wanting to come, but his puzzled reaction to her deciding to come to the studio with him confused her even more. As the day wore on, Kermit’s attentiveness and deferential attitude began to give her the spooks.[/FONT][/COLOR] “What—am I terminal or something?” she had growled, when he asked her politely for take number 18 on a can’t-miss-it shot. “What? What are you…talking about, Piggy?” Piggy put her fists on her hips and glared at him. “Stop it,” she warned. “Stop what?” Kermit looked confused, which only inflamed her already frayed temper. “Stop this…whatever it is you’re doing. I’m here already. I’m working. Let’s just cut out the guilt trip and get this done.” “But…but I’m not doing anything,” Kermit insisted, although he looked very guilty. “You got that right, buster,” Piggy fumed. “How about a little direction?” Now Kermit was irritated. As usual, the cast and crew had wandered over in droves, drawn like filings to a magnet at the sound of one of the famous (or infamous) The Frog rows. “You actually want me to give you direction?” he snapped. “That’s a first!” “Oh! Oh! Well, it never stopped you from giving direction to me before—whether or not I wanted it!” “Well—do you…do you want me to tell you what to do?” he sputtered. That stopped Piggy dead in her tracks. “No! I mean…I mean yes! You’re supposed to be the director so I want you to….” She hesitated. She could not bring herself to say “help me” in front of all these people. “I want you to help me give the camera what you want!” she yelled. People were now beginning to wander over from the next soundstage. “What I want is--!” Kermit stopped, dragged in a deep breath and stared at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes blazing, her hair spilling around her shoulders like flames. “That!” he roared. “That look—that rage, that…that brilliance.” His eyes did not leave her face but he shouted over his shoulder. “Get the camera’s going—this is it! This is what we’ve been wanting.” And Piggy, furious and fuming, looked like a goddess in the dailies.
“A very angry goddess,” Kermit murmured later while they sat in the dark theater and watched the film roll. His arm was around her and her burnished head rested on his shoulder. “Moi was ready to murder you to get you to stop being so…accommodating.” She looked up at him, her eyes shrewd. “What was with you today, anyway? What were you thinking about, Mon Capitan?” Kermit was a terrible liar. He said nothing, clearing his throat nervously, and Piggy took it for embarrassment. “It’s hard coming back, isn’t it?” she said, patting his chest gently. “But it is nice to be home, isn’t it?” She sneaked a kiss against his neck, making Kermit turn red and wonder if the guys in the film booth were watching them. “It’s nice to be back where we belong.” “Um, the tabloids are probably going to have a field day with our, um, our…” “Knock-down, drag-out argument?” Piggy supplied. Kermit sighed. “Yes.” “Let them,” Piggy said. Kermit looked down at her, surprised at her sangfroid. “You don’t seem to mind.” Piggy wriggled a little closer and Kermit smiled and tightened his arm around her. “Do you remember what I did when I finally got done with my close-ups?” Piggy asked. Kermit put his hands over his lips, remembering. “Do I?” he laughed. “You put a crick in my neck.” “Well, if someone leaks the story about the fight,” Piggy said slowly, “Scooter has strict orders to leak a picture of that.” “Scooter, um, has a picture of…that?” he asked weakly. “Several.” “Sheesh.” For a moment, Kermit sat absolutely still, thinking about what it must have looked like—the argument, the passionate embrace. He felt his whole body flush. Why oh why did so much of their relationship have to end up in the papers. He was silent for so long that Piggy looked up. “You don’t mind, do you Kermie?” Kermit said nothing, but when she turned her face up to his, it was no trouble at all to kiss her, no trouble at all to remember what he’d been thinking about earlier. He was thinking about where Piggy really belonged.
They did not work on Sunday. Kermit only spoke to Scooter about seven times, which was way less than normal, but when Monday morning peeked over the horizon, Kermit went to the studio and Piggy stayed home. There was no longer any reason for her to go to the studio. Her bits were done, her close-ups shot, her schedule cleared. She returned her husband’s goodbye kiss sleepily and rolled over and went back to sleep. By the time she was up, squeaky clean and sweet-smelling from a bubble bath and dressed in purple silk capris and a sky-blue-pink crop top, it was almost noon. She was on her second cup of coffee when her phone buzzed. “Ooh! Marty! Moi is sooo glad you called!” As usual, Piggy was talking almost before the phone was to her ear. “I want to talk to you about the calendar! Moi was thinking—what? Oh. Oh! Is it about the calendar? Oh. Oh! Not that sitcom—I told you I don’t-- Oh. Well….” She paused and listened. And listened. “Eight o’clock? What about six? Kermit’s working today but Moi isn’t so…oh. Oh. Sure. Fine. Eight o’clock. Do I need to dress?” She paused and took the phone away from her ear. “Vous are so rude,” she murmured. “Moi meant will we have company? Is this just us?” She laughed warmly. “Just family—how sweet. Vous are too kind.” Whatever Marty wanted to talk to her about didn’t require Piggy to “dress.” Translation: it would just be them, talking and evaluating the merits of whatever Marty had found that interested him and might interest her. But a whole day of leisure had left Piggy restless, and in the end she could not resist glamming up for her meeting. She had called Kermit earlier in the day, gotten Scooter instead, and eventually left Kermit a voicemail. She’d received his return voicemail while she’d been on the house phone, and finally contented herself with sending him a text explaining about her meeting with Marty. She had left him a note in the kitchen, food in the fridge and a big lipstick kiss on his mirror to greet him when he came home to an empty house. Kermit had offered to send a company car for her, but she had declined. When the taxi driver arrived to take her to her meeting, he was not one of her regulars, and he gaped, openmouthed, at her chic lilac linen suit, matching fishnets and high-heeled mary janes. She gave him a moment to collect himself, allowed him to open the door for her with a flourish, and stepped into the cab. On the way, Piggy thought about the bikini calendar. Marty had taught her early on that having your own calendar was better than being one of several lovely faces and figures. When Kermit had first gotten a corner office, one of the long-time executives had tried to tweak him by hanging one of her calendars in the men’s bathroom. Kermit had walked in one day (or so she’d heard), seen it and commented mildly. “You ought to let me take that home. I’ll get my wife to sign it for you.” That had nipped the teasing right in the bud, but what the other executives couldn’t know was how insanely jealous Kermit could really be. Before they had gotten married, almost any sign of genuine interest by another male had gotten a rise out of Kermit. For her part, Piggy had not allowed that there was any reason for Kermit to talk to, sing with or make polite small talk with any other woman at all. Except maybe Hilda. Piggy pursed her lips and smiled, remembering. They had not always been especially nice to each other while dating, but once they had gotten past the point where they pretended not to care, they had both tried to make up for it. For some couples, working together was the death knell of the relationship. For others, the inability to work together was the culprit. She and Kermit had managed—albeit barely, at times—to work together and stay together—no mean feat in Hollywood. And the work and the relationship just seemed to get better—a miracle in Hollywood. In Piggy’s eyes, they had just the right amount of time together and time apart to keep things sparking. There had been that time, about two years ago, when Kermit had suddenly seemed untethered to his life. He’d become a grouchy workaholic, and an absentee husband, going through the motions of affection and regard like an automaton. In spite of herself, Piggy felt the sharp sting of tears and blinked rapidly. She was becoming ridiculously sentimental. That wasn’t going to happen again—not ever. They were going to be happy and loving and together for the rest of their lives.
“Hey, Piggy. You look great Honey.” Marty opened the door for her and took the unlit cigar out of his mouth to kiss her—an effusive greeting from Marty.[/FONT][/COLOR][/SIZE] “Aha,” Piggy preened. “Vous are too kind.” She looked at his face. “What? What’s up?” “A new opportunity,” Marty said, but his eyes and his voice gave nothing away. Given Kermit’s weird behavior yesterday and her unhappy speculation in the cab, it was easy to jump to conclusions. “I don’t care how much they’re offering, Marty—I am not posing without my—“ Piggy broke off suddenly, startled to see Kermit sitting quietly in the corner. “Kermit—what are you doing here?” Her heart began to thud very fast—if they thought the news was so bad that they had to spring it on her together then it must be really terri— As if sensing her frantic thoughts, Kermit hopped up lightly from his chair and came over to take her hand. “It’s okay, Piggy—it’s not bad news.” “Oh….” Color rushed back into Piggy’s pale cheeks. “Then what—“ “This is Marty’s show. I’m just gonna sit back down and let Marty talk.” But when Kermit started to turn around, Piggy clung to him. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and they walked over to the couch together. “I got an offer I want to talk to you about.” Piggy looked at Kermit, who smiled. “Look, the new movie’s about to wrap, and I know we’ve been looking for just the right project. We still got the calendar to do, the publicity still in negotiation and it’s time for us to make some decisions.” Marty leaned against his huge desk, and for a second, Piggy gazed at his homely, rugged face with great affection. Lately, she could hardly think beyond the next week, but Marty was looking out for her, looking ahead for her. “Sometimes, an offer comes along that just too good to pass up.” He took the unlit cigar out of his mouth and grinned. “What do you say to a starring role on Broadway?” For a moment, Piggy just stared, her eyes widening in surprise. “Broadway?” she said breathlessly. She looked at Kermit joyfully. “Broadway wants us?” Marty avoided the question. “You know there’s been a big revival of Grease, right? They even did that reality show.” His mouth twisted sourly on the words “reality show.” “Well, it looks like they came to their senses and are finally looking at some real talent.” Piggy hesitated. “Not…Sandy?” she said, trying on the idea of playing the shy, blonde good girl on in her head. It didn’t want to fit. Marty let out a snort. “Not likely. Not that you wouldn’t be wonderful in that role,” he said hastily when she narrowed her blue, blue eyes, “but that’s not what they want you for. What’d’ya think about playing Rizzo?” Piggy squealed, actually jumping off the couch in her excitement. “Oh! Ooh! I would love to play—wait.” She fixed Marty with a steely stare. “We’re talking about the Pink Lady, not the rat, right?” Marty laughed out loud, and Kermit chuckled. “Of course,” Marty said. “Rizzo should be so lucky,” Kermit teased. “Oh—but, that’s wonderful!” Piggy said, putting her hands to her flushed cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to be a Pink Lady. Oh—and the songs! The songs! Moi would have a solo!” She turned to Kermit, elated. “We’re going to be in a Broadway musical!” She turned back to Marty excitedly, jumping up and down. “Who is Kermit playing? Is he Kenickie? Or Danny? Or—ooh! Ooh! Dick Fontaine!?” There was a deafening silence that seemed to suck the air out of the room. Piggy stopped jumping up and down, felt the blood rush from her face. “Oh…oh no….” she said softly. “No—it can’t…I don’t—“ “The job offer is for you, Piggy,” Kermit said smoothly. “I’m not going.” He willed his voice to be light, off-hand. “I have to stay here and do post-production on the movie.” Her voice came out like a growl. “You told them NO?!” she gritted. Kermit’s voice was flat, brooking no argument. “They didn’t ask,” he said simply. “They want you, Honey. I think you should do it.” “But…but….” Piggy suddenly became aware of the depth of their deception—Marty making the offer in front of Kermit, implying it had been for both of them; Kermit not disabusing her of that perception until she’d given her own reaction away. She felt suddenly alone in the world and furious. Her satin-gloved hands balled into fists and she considered hurling Marty’s desk through the door before storming out, but in her heart of hearts she knew that she could not withstand both of them at the same time. She gritted her teeth and made her hands unclench, then forced her lips into a grimace of a smile. “But…that is a very interesting offer,” she said slowly, and Kermit and Marty exchanged a look. Piggy’s cheeks burned, knowing herself to be the subject of their secret conversations. She walked over and took Kermit very firmly by the arm, dragging him out of the comfort of Marty’s leather chair and walking him to the door with every appearance of solicitousness. In truth, she was leaving bruises on his arm, but he did not comment. “Kermit, Sweetheart, vous are too kind to be with me with I got the good news, but I want to talk to my agent—alone.” Kermit looked at Marty again, clearly worried by this show of acquiescence, but Piggy fluttered her eyelashes at him in a coquettish manner that disconcerted him. “It is so vulgar for a lady to discuss money in front of others,” she said demurely. “Now, run along outside for a moment and let me talk to Marty about his very interesting job offer.” She pushed him out the door and turned on Marty like a warship turning for battle “How could you! How dare you! I trusted you! You broke faith with me—and you are supposed to be my agent. You have no business discussing my work with—“ “Piggy, Piggy—sweetheart, sit down and hush.” Piggy looked mutinous for a moment, then sat sullenly and—to the surprise of both of them—burst into angry tears. Marty looked down at her fondly and handed her a pristine linen handkerchief. “Look, honey,” he said gently. “You know and I know that what I did was wrong, but I’m not a bit sorry I did it and I’d do it again.” Piggy stared at him balefully. “And there’s something else you and I both know,” he added. His voice, for all its gravelly gentleness, had a quality of steel to it. Piggy looked away, but shook her head quickly. Marty sighed. “Don’t shake those curls at me, honey,” Marty said affectionately. “You know it won’t work. You know and I know that if I’d have told you about his job offer alone, you wouldn’t have taken it.” “Yeah? Well, who says I’m taking it now?” Piggy huffed angrily, but she couldn’t look Marty in the eye. “Kermit thinks you ought to take it,” he added mildly, but he was watching closely for her reaction. “Oh, Kermit,” Piggy said shortly. “He’s my husband, not my agent. What does he know?” She was focusing on a spot about six inches to the left of Marty’s face. Abruptly, he shifted, catching her eye and holding it. “He knows a lot,” said Marty. “And I’m no dummy either. You should take the job, Piggy. It’s the chance of a lifetime.” “But—but I can’t just—“ “Now look—be reasonable. Once this movie wraps in a coupla weeks, that frog of yours is going to be up to his little green gills in post-production stuff. What are you gonna do then—sit home knitting?” “I don’t knit,” Piggy said with great dignity. “A great loss to the world,” said Marty dryly. “Look—I’m your agent. You know what I’m going to say.” Marty took one of her soft hands between his two rough ones. “Would you like to know what Marty, your friend, thinks?” Wordlessly, Piggy nodded. Marty was silent for a moment, trying to think how to proceed. “Piggy—I think you have to take the gig.” “Wh—what?” She raised her tear-stained face to his, astounded. “Not what you expected?” Marty sighed. “Look, Piggy. I’ve known you a long time. I know almost as much about you as that frog of yours, but here’s something I can tell you that he won’t. If you don’t take this job because of him, it will hurt his pride in a way that I don’t think he will recover from.” “But, I—I don’t understand,” Piggy wailed. In her heart, she did understand, but she fought the knowledge bitterly, not wanting to know. “What if I just—“ “Honey—if you pass on this opportunity—the opportunity of a lifetime, so you could hang around and boost his ego and mend his socks and—“ “Stop it!” Piggy cried. “Stop!” She wiped savagely at her tears, and Marty waited until she had finished. His voice was almost tender. “Here’s the thing, Piggy—here’s the real thing.” Marty waited—waited until Piggy was looking up at him with her eyes huge and trusting. “If you don’t take the job—if you let this opportunity pass you by, Kermit will know. He’ll know you didn’t take it because of him. And that,” he said with finality, “will kill him. It will kill his pride, and that will kill him inside as sure as I’m standing here.” “But—but what am I supposed to do? Just…leave him? Like the tabloids are saying?” Piggy was indignant. “How can I?” Marty let out a long breath. “That’s not going to be much fun,” he admitted. “But the alternative is even worse—for both of you. If you go, people will say what they’re going to say. But if you stay, people will know that you stayed because of him. They’ll say he’s holding you back—“ “But he isn’t! He wouldn’t!” “That’s another thing we both know, Piggy, but I can’t see that it helps us any. C’mon—there’s no easy way here, so take the way that pays the most.” He was trying to make her smile, but instead, Piggy burst into bitter sobs. “I can’t! I won’t leave him now. He needs me!” Marty walked over and put one of his gnarled hands on Piggy’s back and patted gently. “Of course he needs you,” said Marty gently. “But he needs you, Piggy—not some Donna Reed impersonator whose going to hover over him like he can’t take care of himself.” “But how can I just go?” wailed Piggy. “How can I just…leave him here—alone?” Marty laughed and rubbed a spot on her back with a dry palm. “Kermit’s not alone. In fact, he’d probably like a little more time alone that he gets. He’ll be here—surrounded by work and friends and everything familiar.” He put his hand under her chin and turned her face up to look at him. “Everything but you, doll. And you won’t be any good to him here if you hurt his pride.” He paused for a moment, not liking what he had to say next, but knowing it might make all the difference. “If you leave, they’ll blame you. But if you stay….” Piggy looked up, horrified. “They’ll blame…Kermit. No….” she cried, anguished. Marty’s eyes were kind, but unyielding. “That’s about it. So…what do you think, kid? What’s your answer going to be?” “I don’t know. I don’t know,” Piggy said frantically, but in her heart she did. “Kermit wants you to go. Like he said, Piggy—this is Broadway—the big-time. Isn’t this part of the dream he’s always talking about?” “It was supposed to be our dream,” she said softly. “Not just mine.” “Make it yours,” Marty advised sagely. “Take Manhattan by storm.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at her fondly. “C’mon, Piggy honey—you know that I’m right.” “Drat you anyway,” muttered Piggy, but she was dabbing at her makeup now. “You going to take the job?” he asked. He didn’t have to, but he asked anyway. “I would like to talk to my director first,” she said stiffly. ”Then I’ll give you my answer.” “Fair enough,” said Marty. “I’ll send him back in.” He turned toward the door. “Marty—wait,” said Piggy. He watched her benevolently as she dabbed her eyes and fanned her flushed face. With great fondness and respect, Marty watched her transform herself from a distraught and weeping woman to a saucy and irrepressible diva. “Okay,” she said at last. “All better.” “Better than better,” he murmured, and put his hand on the doorknob. “Marty!” He turned again and looked at her, his bushy eyebrows raised in a question. “Thank you, Marty. I don’t know what Moi would do without vous.” Marty chuckled and rammed his unlit cigar back into his mouth. “Learn to knit?” he suggested, and left the room. Marty opened the door to reveal Kermit waiting with every appearance of patience on the other side. Kermit came in smiling, and Piggy felt her breath catch in her throat, but she fought for normalcy and returned his smile. He did his best imitation of Piggy’s poker face, but it was useless. He was a miserable liar and no amount of hoping would change that. Hoping didn’t seem to be enough for much of anything lately. Nevertheless, Kermit entered the room with a determined wrinkle between his bulbous eyes and fixed Piggy with a stern look. “Piggy, we both know what you ought to—“ “I’m taking it,” Piggy blurted, momentarily shattering the look of composure she had clamped down after the argument with Marty. She watched as Kermit’s eyes flashed pleasure, shock, disappointment and—finally—shining through all the other emotions—pride. Kermit fairly glowed with pleasure as he stepped forward and clasped her satin-gloved hands tightly. “Piggy…Honey….” He smiled that lopsided grin that had turned her world upside down so many times. “This is it—you’re going to Broadway!” Piggy let out a breathy giggle and bussed him on the cheek. If Kermit realized it was to hide her eyes from him, he didn’t show it, but Marty did, nodding approval from where he stood. She took Kermit’s hand and pulled him forward to sit again in one of the sumptuous leather chairs. “Well,” Piggy said brightly. “Vous will be so busy with post-production that Moi would simply be a distraction.” “You can say that again,” Kermit murmured, but his expression said he had never minded being distracted. “And then when the film is all in the can, vous can come and visit me in New York.” She smiled at him, fluttering her eyelashes coquettishly. She hoped Kermit would be so stunned by her ready acquiescence that he might not notice that Piggy was not in the moment with him. If anything, Piggy was doing her best imitation Miss Piggy—the one she trotted out for meetings and contract negotiations. From across the room, Marty smiled and shook his head. Somebody out to give this little Piggy an Oscar he thought wryly. Or maybe a Tony. “Of course,” Kermit jumped in enthusiastically. “I’ll be able to get done sooner and then I’ll come see you.” He did not mention what would happen after that—probably because he had no earthly idea. Piggy was grateful to note that Kermit’s own eagerness for her to accept the offer seemed to have dulled his senses enough for her to coast under the radar. Marty had no doubt that, given time to compose herself and rehearse, Piggy would be able to sustain the illusion of excitement that Kermit appeared all-too-willing to believe. Tough kid, Marty thought, not for the first time, and stepped in to give her a little maneuvering room. “If this doesn’t call for a little celebration, I’ll eat the bear’s hat,” Marty said. “I’ve got a standing reservation at Chez Roberto when I want it. What say we go down and gnosh a little pasta and vino?” Even in her chaotic emotional state, Piggy found herself smiling. Only Marty could finagle a drop-in invitation at Chez Roberto whenever he wanted it. “Ooh!” she cooed, feigning excitement. Kermit saw her smile, and he smiled too. Despite her performance, Kermit saw the signs of tears beneath her carefully corrected makeup and his heart lurched within him, but she was taking such pains to hide her distress that he did not comment, playing along with her. He felt mean, letting her fool him, but he hardened his heart and stiffened his resolve. It was for the best. “Sounds like a great idea.” He stood and offered Piggy his arm. Piggy stood up with a flash of thigh and a flex of her calf muscles, still performing, but her warms hands on his arm were both possessive and protective. She fluttered her lashes a little and her voice, when she spoke, was husky. “Marty usually has good ideas.” She would have gone anywhere at that moment to avoid being alone with Kermit, where the truth of her emotional state would surely have shown. Crowds were good, crowds were safe. Kermit pulled his arm free, but only so he could wrap both of his arms around her and kiss her. He felt her trembling, not sure if it was fear or anger or excitement, but her lips answered his faultlessly. “And after that,” Kermit teased against her skin. “We’ll see if we can come up with some good ideas of our own.”
So, that little chapter with stuff we had to know . . . loved it, and I'm so intrigued that I want even more details than that. I'm a little scared about that contract Miss Piggy signed without really reading just because it's here friend. Does it really say what she was told it says? Is this going to come back and haunt her?
Kermit and Marty... oh my. What a way to catch Miss Piggy unprepared. And now she's not ready to be alone with her frog... I'm definitely ready for more story when you can share it!
Thank you, Java and everybody else who is reading! The contract that she signed with her old friend was actually called an Exclusive Right to Represent. It really is a Real Estate Contract and the point was exactly as presented--to make confidentiality legally binding--and that's all it's going to be used for since Piggy's not in the market for real estate at the moment. It's not going to haunt her because her old friend is a true friend. Speaking of old friends--we're going to meet a few coming up....
Okay, folks, here we are, so bear with me...
* walks in, Whatcha doing?
Oh hey Fozzie... Just sitting down to review some of the latest chapters of Ru's Kermie's Girl.
Fozzie: Oh... Can I stay?
Sure, just get comfortable and we'll start.
Chapter 78: Goodbyes and Bargains.
Posted by Cat: "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."
Fozzie: Oh, so the cry of "Wah!" was because Mabel got surprised by Mr. Strathers.
Yeah, I just got that now too.
Fozzie: I'll miss Mabel. She helped me fend off those hecklers by working on my A-material.
Posted by Ernie, or is that Erine: "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."
Fozzie: We sure did... Have a good time, that is.
Posted by Ruge: "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?"
Hmmm... Did I detect a miniscule slip there Seymour? Fleet's assesment might be money after all.
Posted by Roux: "That chef of theirs don't half feed them."
Fozzie: Which one, Chef or Angelo?
Whichever one's doing the cooking that night.
Posted by I'm full of homonyms today: "Unless, of course, something changes."
*Fozzie wide-eyed: Wha-ha?!
*Cue spooky organ music.
Posted by Well, you try coming up with witty little nicknames for each quotation: "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?"
Fozzie: So that's what Pepe was doing.
Him and Rizzo and Clifford and everyone else she won over with her personality. (And her cooking too.)
Posted by and her stories make us all hungry, for updates: "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."
Fozzie: Jelly biscuits?
They're kind of like doughnuts, but crisper and flakier.
Fozzie: Mmm, I could sure go for some now.
Didn't have breakfast?
Then go over to Jim's Coffee House and get some.
Fozzie: You sure?
Yeah, now c'mon, get some stuffing for that rumbly tummy of yours.
Fozzie: You want anyt, jelly doughnuts I mean?
Ask if they've got Boston screams, I prefer those better.
*The bear scurries off after the chuckle at the pun.
Posted by Welcome back to the fic: "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."
Nice save Kerm. Too bad noone's buying.
Posted by We hope you enjoy the story: "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.
Posted by And come back to read more soon: "Whoopee!" cried Robin, dropping everything and running for the pool. And though Kermit was a little more dignified, he was right behind him.
Love that sort of childish joy of Robin's. And Kermit's grown-up compliance helps belie his own smile, and ours at feeling that way sometimes.
Posted by Sleepy Jean: "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."
And here's another of those occasional picture-postcard example of the lovely narration that has come to tint this as one of the major Muppet fics at the forum.
Posted by Lights,: "Movies are not shot chronologically. The demands of location, technical issues and talent availability sometimes means 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 thirty-five 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."
Now if only more people in the biz realized this, maybe we'd end up with better choices at the box office than just a couple that generate interest for small fan groups. Not that there's nothing wrong with those occasional movies, heck, I'm sooo looking forward to Deathly Hallows Part 2. But there are things that make me question their decision to be so completist with these last two films for the fan community versus decisions in the other HP movies.
Posted by Camera,"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."
Another neat little snipet... This shows how Kermit's green-eyed monster can be abated with some calmer thinking the second after the first thought rears it's ugly head.
Posted by Action!: "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."
And here we have that proverbial leur waiting to trap its prey ever so neatly. Whatever could Marty have been calling about? Will Kermit have to protect Piggy, or himself from something troublesome? Will there be some other surprise in store for the Rainbow Productions power couple?
Sorry to leave on a cliffhanger, will come back to do the other chapters in due fashion... Very much liked Kermit's line about fending for himself while Piggy's away with friends, we sometimes end up dong just that when Mom's either running late or off on a meeting with her friends.
*Hangs "Back in 15 Minutes" sign, then goes to meet Fozzie for that Boston scream doughnut and a cup of hot choc.
Okay, first, I have to say: I have never understood Miss Piggy.
Not saying I dislike, not at all; I've simply never understood her. Reading this fic, especially the past three chapters...suddenly she makes SENSE. She's not just a two-dimensional diva with a frog fetish...she's a PERSON.
Delving so deeply into the whys and wherefores of a character that someone who doesn't get why they tick suddenly sees the light...is a magnificent accomplishment and one you, Lady Ru, ought to be justly proud of! I am amazed at the length and depth and heart and soul which you've put into this fic, and especially Piggy and her relationship with Kermit. Outstanding! So for me, these latest additions are all about What Makes Piggy Go.
Addressing your earlier comment, Lady Ru, about typos and misused words: yeah, I've noticed a few, but honestly your story is so danged GOOD that I'm able to process right over 'em without a hitch in the flow...which says a lot from this perfectionist! Sure, watch out for those sneaky homonyms, synonyms, and howyourmamaandthem's...but your focus is rightly on the story itself, and it's all good.
There are a number of lines in the past few chapters which I LOVED. Unfortunately it would take another hour to comb back through and list them all! But yes. Marvelous!
So what will happen with Piggy and Kermit separated? Will Mabel see them again? Will you give me Marty's number if he represents literarily journalistic clients? (I REALLY need an agent...) And WHO, WHO is Scribbler working for? Aaaaaah!
Love it! Keep 'em coming!