Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

[ReneeLouvier]

Lovely latest chapter Ru! Can't wait it read more Hun!

 

[newsmanfan]

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This is GENIUS. Brava, yet again!

Lines I particularly like: "Time's fun when you're having flies," the whole "in the first place" bit, the "almost-out-of-patience look" Kermit has often given that certain furry blue monster --

And I am CUTE, too!


...right. That one. Also: "the (arguably) weaker sex" (how Newsie managed to avoid that left hook is testament to how fast he can move out of the way of internal theatrical disputes while still absorbing everything newsworthy, IMHO); "Marty muttered a non-Sesame-Stree word"; Scoop asking Fleet whether he was going to allow people to draw their own conclusions (VERY nice bit of conscience-needling there!); Scribbler feeling "reckless and sick and full of rage"; Clifford and Tricia finally "called the thing for what it was" (excellent!); #BOOTYFROG (**** at that one); "Other children and ideas are often born out of this sort of mood." (While I neither have nor wish experience in the kid dept., I can attest heartily to the buoyancy of a succesful creation spawning more!)

And so the ruckus begins! Wondering how the frog Fleet thinks he'll be able to wriggle out of consignment to Unwanted Paparazzi Hades after all that. Wondering if Piggy and Kermit can withstand the strain all the bad press will place upon them...

Ahem. It's Ru's story, right?

....yes?

And you feel the need to even ASK? Of COURSE they'll come out all right!

You're right. Silly me.
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[newsmanfan]

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And a quick double-post. (Hey. I don't get here often. Sue me.)

Whew! You went in a COMPLETELY different direction than I expected with the tender (and unexpectedly funny) phone call between K&P. Maybe it's a good thing the reality-goldigger is infamous enough that Piggy could so easily envision exactly how far "up in his gills" the woman became!

And Fleet's giving away his telling photo of what REALLY went wrong backstage? Good for him! Of course, since he'll never be able to take credit for discrediting himself, he's still lunch meat...

Big Mean Carl: Did someone say LUNCH??

*points toward skulking greasy-mopped tabloid hack* Thataway.

BMC: Thank you!

Curious how the rest of this will play out, even with the personal issue happily defused!

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[Ruahnna]

Chapter 146: What the Pig Heard

While there were advantages to being green when it came to blending, Kermit was more than a little thankful that he had learned the knack of not blending when it was important. He was not three steps out of the curtains before he could feel that he had every eye in the reporter queue on him. Almost to an animal, they watched him with predatory eyes, watchful less he make a break for it.
But Kermit did not break for it. He walked, calmly and amiably, into their midst and smiled up at them. To all appearances, he was calm, cool—almost smug—and there was no stink of fear on him. Not for the first time, Kermit was glad to be an amphibian.
“Um, hi ho, fellas,” he said. A couple of sharply-dressed women peered around their fellows, and Kermit smiled at them particularly. “Um, sorry—ladies, too. Someone said you might want to talk to me about our new movie…?”
Before the sentence had left his lips, the rank and file of journalists had closed rank behind him, sealing him off from the outside world, and Kermit had that split-second of claustrophobia that being in a crowded room sometimes gave him.
“Mr. The Frog, is it true—“
“Kermit, did you deliberately send Miss Piggy away so that—“
“Does your famous wife know that you appeared here with your—“
“In light of Piggy’s consultation with a divorce attorney this morning—“
He had braced for it, but the wall of sound coming at him nevertheless made him take a step backward. His face registered surprise and alarm, true, but bafflement was the foremost emotion on display.
“I’m sorry,” he said, urbane, polite, bewildered. “I’m not able to hear you when you all talk at once.” The pack stirred restlessly, not sure how to react to prey that did not show a propensity to run. Finally, a young man with a granite chin and an impressive brow stepped forward and shoved his microphone into Kermit’s face.
“Mr. The Frog,” he said sternly. “How would you characterize your encounter with Ms. Kardashian earlier this evening?”
Kermit, like Piggy, had mastered the art of conveying surprise without the use of eyebrows. (Overrated things, he’d always thought).
“Oh. Um, well, I guess I’d say that it was a pleasure to meet Karen today. She seems like a very nice girl, and I’m always glad to see someone so interested in children’s tele—what?” He tried to register all the voices talking at once, and shook his head. “What? Oh—it’s not Karen? I’m sorry. I thought she said…oh. How embarrassing. Sorry.” He smiled, looking abashed. “I guess I was a little distracted by the thought of seeing Piggy, um, I mean, Miss Piggy, my, um, wife. We were supposed to talk before the um—what?”
“What did Miss Piggy say about your meeting?” interrupted one of the women, her face fiercely combative.
“Oh, Piggy said everything’s going great in New York,” Kermit said. He smiled. “She said the show is going swell! She’s, um, getting great reviews playing Betty Rizzo.” He looked up, flashing his pollywog eyes shamelessly. “You, um, you guys knew she was on Broadway, right? I mean, everybody knows that, I think….” He beamed with pride.
“Yes, and while Miss Piggy is on Broadway, are you taking that opportunity to—“
“Yes,” said Kermit firmly, not letting the man finish. “I am absolutely taking advantage of the bachelor life to work, er, about sixty-five, ahem, or more hours a week on getting our new movie ready for a Summer release.” He coughed and looked embarrassed. “Um, Piggy never lets me work like that when she’s home—she likes me to be home with, um, her.”
“Haven’t you seen Fleet Scribbler’s article on his newspaper’s website?” one of the younger, less hardened journalists asked incredulously.
Kermit looked embarrassed, but agreeable. “Um, I’m really not that good at using the internet,” he said apologetically. “Scooter usually does that sort of thing for me, but I’m learning how to use my new phone.” He held it up, gingerly, between his thumb and one finger, as though it were some exotic species never seen before. “Piggy got it for me for Christmas,” he explained. “It, um, plays music and everything, but sometimes I can’t remember how to do that.”
“Don’t you even know—“
“Oh, I’m afraid I’m pretty old-fashioned,” Kermit said, cutting the reporter down with surgical precision. “I’m lucky, though. Piggy keeps me up-to-date. She’s wonderful at all that stuff.” He smiled, his guileless expression hiding a veritable ton of guile.
“What were you doing earlier with your arm around Ms. Kardashian’s, um, dress?” demanded yet another reporter.
Kermit looked uncomfortable for the first time. “Oh!” he said, then, “Oh—that.”
“Yes, that—“
“Yeah, what were you cozying up to her—“
“Cozying?” Kermit said, horrified. “I wasn’t cozying— The, um, arm around her, um….” As one, they leaned forward, ready to pounce at the first sign of blood in the water, waiting for his next words breathlessly.
“Oh, ha ha—that! Well, um, that, er....what happened there was really Piggy’s fault.” He smiled up at them, not at all put off by the fact that they had—to a person—stopped breathing.
“Miss Piggy’s fault—?!“ began an outraged journalist.
“How dare you try to—“ said one woman in a strangled voice.
“Um, yeah,” Kermit persisted. “That never would have happened if Piggy hadn’t—“
Kermit seemed unaware that he was in imminent danger from the coven of irate journalists, but his next words stopped them dead in their tracks.
“—bought me these beautiful cufflinks,” he said.
Several reporters blinked, a couple of them swore, and one of the women advanced a rude opinion about males in general and frogs in particular.
“What are you--?”
“If you expect me to believe—“
“Are you trying to tell me—?”
“For the love of news, just spit it—?”
“Cufflinks?”
“Cufflinks?”
“Whatdya mean, cufflinks?”
Kermit thrust his arms forward as though waiting for handcuffs to be slapped on his slender wrists, and the little amethyst dragonflies glittered on his cuffs.
“Piggy had them made for me,” he said. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”
Dumbfounded, they stared down at the frog’s hands, at the sparkling jewels in the shape of one of Kermit’s favorite snack foods.
“Piggy gave you—“
“But what does—“
“For the love of Edward R. Murrow, what do cufflinks have to do with you putting your arm around Ms. Kardashian?” bellowed one gentleman.
Kermit seemed startled by the man’s vehemence, and blanched back a little. “Oh—I didn’t have my arm around Karen, uh, Ms. Kardashian. My cufflink was caught on her dress.”
“On her dress?”
“Are you funning me?”
“Do you think we’re…on her dress?”
“Um hum,” Kermit said. He pointed to the little platinum antenna, stroking it gently with a finger. “This caught on the little beady things on her, um, dress. Who’d have thought, huh?”
“Oh for goodness sake!” one woman journalist heaved.
“I don’t believe it!” another groaned.
“I believe it,” said one reporter, younger and more optimistic about human (and amphibian) nature. “I told you guys this wasn’t what it looked like.”
“What it looked like?” Kermit said. His expressive face sequenced through puzzlement, dawning comprehension and—finally—blushing mortification. “Oh. Oh! You mean you thought…oh no. No no no. I wouldn’t….” For the first time, Kermit looked genuinely distressed. “I mean, the only woman I want to, um, cozy up to is Piggy. She’s the one for me.”
“But Miss Piggy isn’t here,” said a grim-faced reporter whose disapproving countenance reminded Kermit of Sam the Eagle.
For the first time since he’d come out from behind the curtain, Kermit let his real feelings bleed through to the surface. His voice became husky, and his eyes became suspiciously bright. He looked away and tried a brave smile, which came out rather tremulous instead.
“I know,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to tell me.”
You know, it’s hard being a tough reporter. You often have to plow into unpleasantness or danger and your sudden appearance on the scene is rarely welcomed by the object of your report, or the denizens of law enforcement. It is, in many respects, a thankless job, and those without thick skins usually don’t last. Even the thickest-skinned among this group—while still suspicious—was feeling just a tad mean and insensitive. Regardless of whether you liked the frog or not—or whether you thought the frog deserved the pig or vice versa—Kermit was a likable guy. He was modest, he was self-effacing, he was funny. It didn’t help that he looked little and defenseless among all those tuxedo-clad knees and without his pig by his side. Although there was still some irate feeling fueled by the impression that they were missing something significant, and the feeding frenzy that usually erupts when there is blood in the water—or scandal on the red carpet—more than half the pack no longer had the stomach for the hunt.
Still, one didn’t have to be a heel to get a good story. Half a column is better than none….
One of the veterans stepped forward, determined to get his class half full. “So, um, tell us about the movie. You’re editing now. Summer release, you say?”


Sara leaned against Scooter’s back and slipped her arms around his waist from their vantage point backstage.
“Just look at him go,” said Sara. Scooter nodded, folding his hands over hers.
“When I grow up, I want to be just…like…him,” said Scooter. He could not think why on earth he’d ever thought Kermit needed his help in dealing with the media. The technology, yes—but the press…. He’d forgotten how amazing savvy Kermit was about people, how he could bring out even his enemies best impulses if given a chance. He was getting that chance now, and the press was practically eating candied gnats out of his hands.
“What makes you think you’re going to grow up?” Sara teased near his ear. One of her soft hands teased his hair, stopping just short of a tousle.
“Sara--!”


Kermit seemed to rouse reluctantly from his sad reverie, but at the mention of the movie, he brightened. “Um, yeah,” he said. “It was supposed to be a Fall release, but we moved it up to Summer.” His smile grew a little less tentative.
“And is the movie on target? We heard there was some trouble with the film….”
“Trouble?” Kermit said, wide-eyed. “Well, we’re having a hard time getting it down under two hours,” he admitted, “because there’s so much good stuff. There’s this dance scene—“
Oh yes. The dance scene. Everybody had heard about the infamous dance scene. Even those reporters nursing a grudge found their ears perking up and leaned in toward him.
"—that’s really…well, it’s really something. Janice and Piggy and Camilla are under cover masquerading as—“
“I heard something about having to add a few more beads to the costumes in order to meet the industry rating standards…?”
Kermit blushed and one slim hand went to the back of his neck.
“Um, no,” he said, face flaming. “It wasn’t because of the rating….” He looked up at last to find all of the reporters looking at him with polite disbelief on their faces, and more than one of them had a faintly lascivious look in his eyes or a faint smirk on their lips. Kermit thought he’d like to punch them—all—in the kisser, but he managed to keep his fist from clenching. “At least, it never got that far,” he said. “We, um, got the costuming thing covered, and reshot the scenes in the club. But that’s…that’s a good scene…yeah. And there’s some great stuff when they storm the island—“
Once again, rapid-fire questions were coming at Kermit, some of them about the movie plot, more than a few about the costumes and a few touching on his relationship with Piggy. One of the women asked him bluntly if he planned any movies in the future starring anyone other than Miss Piggy but he shut that down with a little show of temper that seemed to raise him in the esteem of the others.
“Are you kidding? Why would I? When you have a big star like Piggy to work with, you don’t take her for granted!” Kermit snapped. “You thank goodness every day to be working with an actress of that caliber!”
There was a murmur of ascent, with a little bit of descent mixed in.
“Um, I heard Miss Piggy could be sort of…demanding?” one journalist ventured.
Kermit looked at the man in disbelief, and there was a moment—a moment—when no one was precisely sure which way this interview was going to end, but then—as though in spite of himself—Kermit’s mouth began to twitch. He grimaced, put a hand up to stop any comment and tried to master himself, but it was no use. His face broke out into a wide smile, and they could feel his blush from a foot away. He looked away, up, anywhere but into anyone’s eyes, his face bursting into a wry grin.
“Um, yeah,” he said shortly. “You could say that.”
And when they all laughed, Kermit—finally—joined them.


*****

Seymour sat in his luxury suite and brooded over the news coverage. He felt like he was missing something—something important. Surely, he thought to himself, Piggy can’t remain in this sham of a marriage now. Surely she realized that it was time to move gracefully on, into the comfort and protection of his arms….
He puzzled over Scribbler’s latest article yet again, wondering about the journalist’s role in all of this. The other day, in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t recognized his assailant—he’d been too surprised at being challenged. Later, on reflection, Fleet’s distinctive mop of silver hair and purple-hued skin had left little doubt about his identity. An online search for pictures had proven him correct and he’d glared at the reporter’s smirking picture above…dozens, hundreds of bylines. The little twerp had certainly written a lot of stellar news pieces about Piggy, and Seymour resented him even as he hungrily devoured all of the articles he could find. They’d apparently been close—no one wrote this much and this brilliantly and with this level of access unless there was something cozy going on. Seymour checked the timeline more than once. The stories began before Kermit and Piggy tied the knot, but covered everything from her pre-Muppet Show days to the show, to the movies, to that cursed frog…
But he hadn’t known about that the other day. Stunned by the untimely arrival of Piggy’s defender, furious about the failure of his plans, he’d done little more than escape with his identity still hidden—and more than a few dents and scratches—and had had to do his homework later. Now that he had, the question remained: What was Scribbler up to? He looked at the article again, grimacing. It didn’t actually say that Kermit was dating that Kardashian chick, but it sure as heck implied it. He looked at Kermit’s expression, imagining the tuxedo-clad amphibian flattened on a road somewhere, and something niggled the back of his brain. That look…that look…hmm. Readers were supposed to look at this picture and see a frog and his girl caught gazing at each other, all glittered up for the awards show. But the more he looked at the picture, the more he thought there was something…off about Kermit’s expression, something…familiar.
Forget the frog, his mind prompted. That’s the past. You’re the future. Figure what comes next so you can get on with happily ever after. No sense getting irritated…ah. Ah. Seymour inhaled sharply and looked at the picture again, nodding to himself. Kermit wasn’t looking up at that voluptuous woman with the half-exasperated affection he reserved for his—for Piggy—he was looking up at her the same way he had once looked at Seymour, with politely-veiled irritation and disdain. Once, when he had chosen to step out of the shadows backstage, when Kermit and Piggy had been dancing, then kissing, then…well, he’d stepped out, as much to stop them at their play as to announce his own presence and had seen that look—that exact look—in Kermit’s eyes. He sat back, thoughtful and unquiet. So Kermit wasn’t making up to the well-endowed brunette. He wasn’t stepping out on his pig. He wasn’t happy to either be or look like a playboy while Piggy was taking Broadway by storm. And if the frog wasn’t happy…chances are the pig wasn’t either.
He was silent for a moment, thinking hard. Was there any way he could use that information? If Piggy were miserable and lonely, she might welcome a familiar face, especially one that was associated with better times. Hmmm. She had invited him to come and see her show. Tickets were outrageously expensive and impossible to get, but he knew a guy….
Seymour began to hum, a happy, numbing sound, and started making new plans.


Piggy was humming, drifting around the tiny apartment without any clear intention. Her face was suffused with tenderness, erasing all but the faintest trace of tears on her porcelain skin. Talking to Kermit had undone hours and hours of worry, and while she did not look forward to the morning papers, it wasn’t morning yet. No sense borrowing trouble.
She got the coffee pot ready for the next day, beaming at the thought of how domestic she had become. She made coffee every day—by herself! She had even mastered toasting a bagel to perfection in the toaster and while she thought about it, she took the bagels out of the fridge and put them in front of the toaster. There was nothing left to do in the kitchen, and she padded down the hall toward the bedroom. She was thinking of Kermit, her dear sweet unworldly frog, and there was a momentary flash of indignation and rage that that…woman would try to move in on her fella, but Kermit hadn’t fallen for it, and that was what mattered. Piggy smiled to herself. She’d had a hard time making him fall for it the first time, and it had taken her less than two weeks of hanky-dropping and eyelash-batting and hip-wiggling to realize that those things weren’t going to do more than make him give her a furtive look and a wide berth. Kermit had noticed her, yes, but he hadn’t become really interested in her until he saw her perform.
Although he was usually modest and self-effacing, Kermit had a lot of talent. He could sing, he could act, he could play a variety of instruments. She remembered the first time she’d heard him play the banjo, the way his fingers danced over the strings. She remembered sitting with him in his beloved swamp, listening to the music he made underneath a blanket of stars. Speaking of blankets….
Piggy yawned. She was tired—no, she was exhausted. It had been years, at least, since she’d slept in her own bed, and she needed to be rested and beyond beautiful tomorrow for Thoreau’s big show. Remembering Kristen’s earlier remark, Piggy smiled. She opened the door of her bedroom…
…and let out a cry of joy. The larger of the two boxes from Kermit sat on the end of her bed. Howard and Thoreau must have left it when they collected her unmentionables earlier today. In all the bustle and fuss of the last 40 hours, she hadn’t even thought about it, but—oh! She rushed across the room and snatched the soft cotton shirt from the tissue paper, holding it against her cheek. It smelled faintly of starch and laundry detergent, but mostly of Kermit, and the sweet, swampy scent made Piggy sigh. She rubbed the shirt against her cheek, then buried her face in it, loving this visceral reminder of the frog she loved and the home they’d made together. She missed him. She missed snuggling into his arms in their big bed, missed his absent-minded table conversation in the morning, missed his good-natured kvetching about her stockings drying over the shower rod and the charges on their credit cards. But, even as a pang of loneliness pierced her, Piggy realized he misses me, too! She thought she could endure anything as long as she knew that.
Piggy slipped out of her robe and slid beneath the cool covers, turning onto her side and pressing her snout against Kermit’s t-shirt. She reached over and turned out the light. In the darkness, she sighed. And sniffled. And drifted off to sleep.


Tired as he was, Kermit had one more phone call to make. He hated to call this late, but he had learned his lesson earlier, and did not want anything else to creep up on him because he had hesitated or put off a difficult task. He hit the “Send” button.
Thoreau answered on the second ring.
“You’ve got some nerve,” said the designer. “What do you think you were doing—?”
“It wasn’t what it looked like,” Kermit said, interrupting Thoreau’s tirade. “Frog scout’s honor. And I’ve already squared it with Piggy.”
“What did she say?” Thoreau demanded suspiciously.
“I explained what happened.” Briefly, Kermit outlined what had actually happened, reluctantly explaining what the media had made of it, and moved swiftly on to his apology and explanation to Piggy.
“So she knows it wasn’t…that I didn’t….” Kermit trailed off, one slim green hand over his closed eyes while he spoke into the phone. “She’s forgiven me,” he said quietly, and any comment Thoreau might have made died instantly on his tongue. In all the time that Thoreau had known Piggy, Kermit had never apologized lightly or often. If he had done it, and was now admitting it, it was a big deal.
“I see,” said Thoreau, and waited.
“But…but now I need your help,” Kermit said.
Again, Thoreau waited. Kermit heard Howard say, “Is that Kermit? What’s he saying about—“ and then cut off abruptly.
“It’s about the dress.”
“Whose dress? Piggy’s dress?”
“What about Piggy’s dress?” Howard's voice said in the background. Kermit looked at his watch. He’d expected to catch Thoreau alone in his hotel room. What was Howard doing there at this hour?
“No. Not Piggy’s dress—her dress. The, um, other—“
“Right, right,” said Thoreau. “What about it?”
As succinctly as possible, Kermit explained.
“You did WHAT?!!!” Thoreau growled, his blood boiling. “You promised I would make something for that—that—“
“It was the only way,” Kermit said. His ego had taken quite a beating today, and he was not sure he had it in him to beg, but he tried. “Please…I had to. I’ll pay anything—“
“Not everything is for sale!” Thoreau snapped, expecting Kermit to fire back at him, but the beleaguered amphibian did not.
“I know that,” Kermit said tiredly. “I just…I didn’t know what else to do. Piggy was waiting for me, counting on me to….” He fell silent.
Thoreau counted to ten, then ten again, then took a deep, calming breath. “Fine,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it, but only because—“
“That’s not all,” Kermit said, and for a moment, he was deeply afraid that Piggy’s friend had hung up on him.
“Tell me,” Thoreau said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How much worse could it be?”
“I…I didn’t tell her about the dress,” Kermit said quietly. “I think it might be better…coming from…you.”
“You expect me—“
“No. No—I don’t expect anything. I’m asking. You can tell me to shove off and I will never, I promise never bring it up again, but I am asking you, for Piggy’s sake, to—“
“Oh for goodness sake,” Thoreau cried. “Stop groveling. I’ll do it.”
Truthfully, Thoreau had stopped him well short of what he was willing to do, and Kermit acknowledged it gratefully. “I won’t forget this,” he said. His voice was very quiet.
Thoreau’s sigh was deeper than words. “Hopefully,” he drawled, “we’ll all forget this--eventually.” He smiled, and it made his voice gentler. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Piggy in the morning. It will be—I’ll make it fine.”
It wasn’t fine. But it was done. Kermit was glad to have it over with.

 

[The Count]

Another delightful chapter.

So the press finally has some "real" quotes they can run with, and boy, will they run.
Like, won't their stockings split that way?
Dunno, you'd have to ask Piggy or Thoreau.

Ugh, the creep returns. What's worse, he's better armed and scheming something now. That can't be good. He does, however, get a small point in his favor for being the only one to recognize Kermit's true expression at the red carpet ruinations.
BTW: Nice you referenced back to when Seymour caught the power couple castlewalking in their Vegas backstage area.
*Leaves brownies from the array of desserts Mom's been making for that party tomorrow.

When Piggy went to her apartment's room and sought the bigger box Thoreau had left... I was thinking, "is she going for the shirt Kermit sent?" And there the pay-off was in the next action.
*Hope the diva dreams divinely.

Finally, you have the frog taking on an angered dressmaker.
UD: Bravo on the unquenched rage. Especially liked his "Not everything's for sale!" line.
But at least the damage has been almost put back to right, so I wait for the next chapter eagerly for where the story will go from here on out.

Thanks for posting as always.

 

[Misskermie]

Yaaaaay! New chapter!
Oh how awesome that is to read an awesome story before you graduate.
Thanks for makin' my day.


REVIEW GOSHNESS!
__________________
I daresay Kermit did a decent job clearing up that incident with the reporters...
But the whole "demanding pig" thing still worries me greatly...
I play it off as a joke now, but if it turns out to be a problem, I will automatically Whack Scribbler upside the head. It's instinct.

The Shirt Ru. Le Shirt!
It's so sweet how she buries her face in it, and sleeps with it, only because it smells of her frog prince... Er, rather king, because they're married.
And as long as she knows he misses her, she can go through with anything, that's very sweet... And I sure hope it's true... I know it's true, but we all know Miss Piggy sometimes, am I right?



Also, I love how that frog grovels. Gonzo hates to see a pig grovel, and apparently, Thoreau hates to see a frog grovel.
Ru, please gift us with the gift us with the gift of updates...

 

[lady piggy]

What a loverly chapter !!! Darn those misinformed reporters, hounding our little frog prince. I think kermit handled it rather nicely, he came of very believable and charming, AND when he said " KAREN" BAHAHAHAHA OMG IM LIKE DYEING. He so cute and old fashion, not knowing who she was or how to youse his phone.

Also i just love the part with piggy. It's nice to see piggy being able to handle being on her own in the big city. Also when shes remembering how she would try to get kermits attention it reminded me of all those times in TMS. Awww when piggy thought , " he , misses me ,too" . Wonderful as always !!!

 

[The Count]

So I reread the last few chapters to get through the drama on Oscar Sunday... And I have to give a tip of the hat to Dame Ru, clever what she did with the chapter titles: What the Reporter Saw, What the Frog Said, and What the Pig Heard. Too bad there's still some evil that has to be confronted in each.
She could make the next chapter smell no evil?
Eh, you'd have to hash it out with her.
Hash?
Yeah, there's some fritters in the kitchen from the party last night.

 

[Ruahnna]

Aw, thank you, Countie! I actually get a lot of pleasure out of putting titles to my chapters--sometimes it is the turn of phrase that helps me set the tone for the whole section. As long as I avoid the Pun Police, I'm good.

Knock, knock.
Ru: Um--gotta go!

 

[newsmanfan]

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Yeah, I noticed the titles too. Very noir. Then again, that frog DOES cut a dash in that trenchcoat and fedora...

So, SeeSaw is back. Just what we needed. And now he's squirming his way into the Broadway theatre, eh?

Too bad Gina doesn't work there. She knows how to rig boobytraps. I, uh...set one off accidentally once... *rubs head*

Yeah. What we need here is a creep pile-on. I nominate Rory and Bobo! Wondering when Piggy will realize who her assailant was and send the Muppet Hit Squad after the stalker. Clearly he's smart enough to prove very dangerous...

Was taken aback at Kermit's "gosh gee golly I'm just an innocent little hick frog from the swamp" act for the press. Amazing that he's been in the biz so long and nobody's twigged wise to this charade yet! But good for him that it WORKED.

The "Not everything is for sale" line was brilliant. Though I am snickering that Kermit didn't even guess why Howard would be in Thoreau's room. Then again, he's proven remarkably blind (willfully so perhaps?) to emotional matters in the past...? At any rate, glad Thoreau is loyal to Piggy and doing the odious task for HER sake!

With every chapter, you manage to bring up some NEW point of suspense. This long in, that's not easy to do! Brava chica!
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