Kermie's Girl (ushy-gushy fanfic)

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 97: The Stand-Out Stand-Ins

“So this is your brother, Jimmy,” Annie Sue said. She looked from one to the other thoughtfully. “You look a lot alike,” she said at last. Except for the mottling patterns on his back, Kermit and Jimmy in matching suits looked quite similar.
“I’m the better-looking one,” Jimmy said smugly, shooting Kermit a look to see if his barb had struck home.
“As long as you make a better target,” Kermit muttered, and Jimmy laughed.
“As long as they’re only shooting film,” he agreed. “So…what’s the plan. We take them on a false trail and have some big goodbye scene.” He looked at Annie Sue. “You want to fight or smooch?”
Annie Sue laughed but Kermit looked irritated. “Now look, Jimmy—!” he began, but Annie Sue was not offended.
“We could do both,” she said, giving Jimmy a look that shut him up. “Unless you’re only good at one…?” She let the question hang in the air and Jimmy gave a great belly laugh.
“Okay,” he said. “You win that round.” He turned to look at Kermit and saw his brother regarding him unhappily. “Oh. Sorry.” He looked a little abashed, but not too much. “So, what do you want us to do?”
They mapped it out. Watching them, Piggy thought that Jimmy could have easily been on the stage and screen alongside his brother. He was sharp, good-looking and funny. She was in the middle of these musing when Jimmy looked up and caught her eye.
“I’ll try to be as good a kisser as Kermit,” he said saucily, but Piggy shook her head.
“Not possible,” she said smugly, and Kermit flushed. Guiltily, Jimmy and Piggy exchanged looks. This was obviously hard for Kermit on many levels, and they weren’t helping.
“Sorry, Mon Capitan.”
“Sorry, Kerm,” Jimmy muttered. “I’ll behave.”
“I notice you don’t say how,” Annie Sue murmured, and Jimmy turned and flashed a big smile at her. The sight of it took Piggy’s breath for a moment, and Kermit stopped and looked at them assessingly. At that moment, with Jimmy looking up at Annie with open admiration and affection, the differences between the two couples were far more negligible than before. This might actually work.
“But you’ll have to keep the suit on,” Kermit cautioned, and Jimmy made a face.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, pulling at his collar. “I don’t know how you do it. Clothes, ties—ick.”
“Hormel says the same thing about ties,” said Annie Sue. She touched her blonde ringlets. “And I have to wear a wig,” she added. “Nobody would ever think I was Miss Piggy with this do.”
After a few more minutes of brainstorming and scenario checking, with Piggy occasionally adding succinct touches to their “script,” there didn’t seem to be much more to say. Either it would work or it wouldn’t, and the proof would be in the pudding, or rather, in the leaving.
“So—aren’t you even going to feed us?” Jimmy complained, and Kermit sighed.
“I’ll take you out tomorrow, after,” he explained. “If we all go out tonight, we might lose the element of surprise. Tonight we’ll eat in.”
Jimmy turned and grinned at Piggy. “So, you cooking tonight, Cookie?”
Piggy was nonplussed. “I’m dialing,” she said. “Real pigs don’t cook.”

The two-color cab pulled neatly up to the curb and a trench-coated figure got out.
“Look,” said Scribbler impatiently, throwing money randomly at the cabbie while he wrestled his carryon, his ticket and his phone. “I don’t care what you want right now.” He paused to pull the phone away from his ear. “Look—shut up already,” he said firmly. There was a squawk of protest from the phone but Scribbler seemed nonplussed. “I will hang up,” he said, and there was a sudden silence. “Okay,” he said, a little more cautiously. “We’ve been doing things your way, but now we’re on my familiar turf. Yeah, yeah—I know you’ve got the money, but I’ve got the know-how and I know how this game is played. I played it for years and I still have the swing.”
The voice on the other end of the phone was listening, and thinking hard. This was not the Fleet Scribbler that had been bullied and threatened into service—there was a new confidence about him now that made him intriguing…and far less easy to manipulate. But he might have something, so…. “Look—once she’s alone and he’s not there to interfere, I know I can pick up the thread again. We were…we were tight once. Let me work on it.”
There was a grunt, which Scribbler took for acquiescence.
“Good,” the once-star reporter said. “I’ll be in touch once I’m settled. Just stay out of my way and let me work.”

There are those that would argue that Piggy never made a bad entrance in her life. Whether they are correct or not, there’s little doubt that she never made a quiet one. In the grand tradition of a thousand show-stopping, heart-stopping, argument-stopping entrances, the faux Mr. and Mrs. The Frog made an entrance grand enough to count.
They came in fighting. Annie-Sue/Piggy came flouncing into the airport in high dudgeon, throwing snarky comments over her shoulder at the obviously irritated Jimmy/Kermit, who struggled with a veritable mountain of luggage. A hatbox toppled off Mount Fashion and spilled its feathered concoction onto the polished floor. Annie-Sue/Piggy stopped, stared and glared at the mortified Jimmy/Kermit, who struggled to get the contents back into the box and the box back onto the mound of luggage.
LAX is usually so bustling that it would be hard for any single incident or passenger to draw the attention of the entire crowd, but somehow Jimmy and Annie-Sue managed to attract and hold every eye within that entire wing of the airport.
No one noticed two trench-coated figures slip into the terminal in the wake of this spectacle, walking quickly but inconspicuously toward check-in. Almost two-thirds of the check-in line had turned to watch the glamorously-clad pig and her dark-suited companion as they battled their way across the terminal to stand in another check-in line with every sign of exasperation. Once there, however, the chic blond pig became suddenly emotionally, bursting into tears and letting her frog try to comfort her with pats and kisses. At least 2047 cell phones were surreptitiously recording it all, and all of the reporter-type loafers who had been lounging about the airport for the past two days—in case they had fallen for a false trail and she decided to leave early—surged to sudden action, talking anxiously into their cell phones and waving frantically to the cameramen (and possible camerasloths) who were popping through the door with alarming speed and in alarming numbers. Airport security began to edge nervously toward the scene, sensing a potential riot.
“It’s okay,” Jimmy/Kermit said anxiously, wrapping his arms around Annie-Sue/Piggy while she sobbed noisily. “Piggy, honey, don’t cry. It’ll be okay. You’ll be wonderful! You’ll be marvelous!” He did not know what experiences Annie-Sue was drawing on for her performance, but his own was coming straight from the heart. He tried to imagine what Kermit was going to say, and say those things as lovingly and believably as possible to the distraught sow in his arms. “I’ll miss you while you’re gone and I know you’ll miss me, but this is for the best. Broadway needs you, Piggy.”
Annie-Sue/Piggy sobbed louder, and all around them people began to murmur in sympathy and encouragement. It is hard to have a private conversation in a public place, and this conversation, which was both and neither, was drawing all the attention that a scene of this magnitude could command. Jimmy/Kermit looked up quickly, seeming surprised by all of the attention, and managed to look uncomfortable and stiff when he realized they were creating a stir.
“Um, Piggy,” he murmured. “Sweetie, we’re, um, people are staring.”
“Let them!” Annie-Sue/Piggy cried. “Oh, Moi is so sad to be leaving you, Kermie!” She boo-hooed becomingly into a little lace handkerchief.
Jimmy/Kermit looked more mortified, but increased his attempts to placate her. “Um, I’m, um, sad that you’re going, too, Piggy, but we…we sort of have to get your boarding ticket now so they can load up all your luggage.” He kept his arms around her but now he was trying to steer her toward the ticket gate. All around them, people stared in astonishment and murmured excitedly. Seeing a real live movie star was no big shakes at LAX, but seeing firsthand what was bound to be on the evening news, well…that was something else.
“Oh, Kermie! I don’t want to go without you!” Annie-Sue/Piggy wailed. The crying certainly added dramatic tension to what was already a show-stopper, but it also gave Annie-Sue some coverage. Although she was wearing one of Piggy’s show wigs and the long blond waves cascading down her back looked genuine (and fabulous!), they had decided not to chance too many up-close views of Annie-Sue/Piggy’s face. Piggy’s famous profile was hard to emulate, and while a beautiful pig is still a beautiful pig, they were all anxious that the gig not be up too soon.
‘I know, Honey,” Jimmy/Kermit said, and suddenly abandoned his own discomfort at being a public spectacle in favor of easing some of his faux wife’s misery. “Here, come here.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It helped that they were both wearing hats (Annie Sue’s being a cute little number that matched her jacket). It helped that they were both accomplished kissers. As a matter of fact, Jimmy was beginning to think his kissing skills just had to have improved, seeing as how he was getting so much practice…. It is possible that he lost track of things for, well, at least a second or two, but then Annie-Sue/Piggy was pulling herself together, and pulling away from him and fussing about her stacks of luggage again.
“I’ll never get all of my things to New York with me!” she cried, off on a fresh tangent. More than a few folks commented—rather loudly and rudely, Jimmy thought—that Miss Piggy seemed as concerned about leaving her luggage behind as she was about leaving her husband behind. This started a general murmur of conversation that swelled around them like a cloud of static, and made a perfect backdrop of the next phase.
“My ticket!” Annie-Sue/Piggy exclaimed. “Moi forgot her ticket!” Her satin-glove hands covered her face—more camouflage—and at least three men and one older lady nearby said, “It figures! See what he has to put up with?” Others countered hotly that she had a right to be distraught and if he really loved her he’d have reminded her about the tickets. Annie-Sue/Piggy chose just that moment to make a face at Jimmy from behind her hands that no one else could see. Jimmy almost burst out laughing.
“Oh, um, I got them, Piggy,” he began, patting his pockets in a comical fashion. “Let me just, um, find them. I put them, er, in my jacket pocket so I wouldn’t forget them….” The people on Piggy’s side of the argument—and there seemed to be no one whose opinion about the situation was entirely neutral—made “humphy” faces at the group expressing sympathy for Kermit. So there!
Several minutes were lost while Jimmy/Kermit searched desperately for the ticket, which finally made an appearance. Jimmy was glad that the ticket, at least, was real, so he could brandish it about with abandon. Thank goodness for Scooter! Jimmy’s discovery of the ticket was an excuse for Annie-Sue/Piggy to launch herself into his arms again and cover his froggy face with kisses. Jimmy/Kermit tried to remember exactly how big Kermit had said Hormel was, but it was difficult to think of anything at the moment.
Eventually, Jimmy/Kermit had been satisfactorily thanked for saving the day and they went back to worrying loudly about the luggage. Under cover of his hat, Jimmy grinned at Annie Sue. They still hadn’t used, “Omigosh! Where’s my purse!” “I forgot my cell phone charger!” and “Did you tell the airline about my special requests/Why didn’t you tell the airline about my special requests.” Jimmy hoped Kermit and Piggy were making good use of the distraction, and wondered worriedly how Kermit was doing. He knew Piggy had listened the other day—he hoped she had really heard him and wouldn’t make this any more miserable on Kermit than it had to be. He realized Annie-Sue/Piggy, becoming “suddenly aware” of the attention she was attracting, had pulled out a stack of autographed photographs and was handing them around with a mixture of boldness and coquettishness. Annie-Sue had been unwilling to actually sign photos as Piggy. “Why—they won’t want one when they know it’s just me,” she had protested, but Jimmy thought secretly that a picture of his sister-in-law was still a picture of his sister-in-law. Still, he reached over to help her, handing them out to any comers with what he hoped was the right touch of proprietary pride.
“C’mon, Piggy,” he thought fervently. “Make your getaway already!”

While Jimmy and Annie Sue led what looked like every tabloid photographer in the state of California on a merry chase, two figures stood at the gate where a plane was warming up. Once Piggy was ensconced in a first class seat, the plane—which had been held just for her—would take off. The airline had promised that Piggy would be buffered and protected at each of her two plane changes, partly for the thrill of being in on the secret escape and partly for the cargo-load of amazing swag that Marty had sent to bribe fellow flyers and employees alike into happy acquiescence.
The only thing to do now was to let go, but that wasn’t going as well as all their other plans. The The Frogs stood outside the loading gate, looking into the portal as though it held the key to the future. Though both of them held on to their determination to be brave, it was an even bet as to which one would succumb first.
Piggy looked down the tunnel, shook her head and turned to face Kermit.
“I’ve change my mind,” she said. “Moi is not going.”
“Oh yes you are,” Kermit insisted. “C’mon, Piggy--you promised—remember?” His tone was affectionate and warm, and indication that he remembered.
“Moi did no such thing,” Piggy said, but her blushing cheeks belied her words. “That didn’t count,” she mumbled. “Moi was under…duress.”
Kermit smiled and put his arm around her waist, subtly steering her back toward the archway. “Duress, huh?” he teased, but his attempt at humor back-fired.
“You—you told me it was up to me!” she accused. “Vous said the ultimate decision was up to me.”
“It was,” Kermit fired back. “You said yes.”
“But—but that was just because you and Marty ganged up on me,” she flared. “If you hadn’t….” Here, she faltered, finding it hard to accuse him of ulterior motives when she knew this decision would take such a toll on him. She rolled her eyes, fighting tears and showing sarcasm at the same time. “Why do you have to be so…selfless?”
Kermit chuckled grimly. “You’ve been watching too many vampire movies,” he accused. “I’m not being selfless—I’m being….” He caught himself before he could say stupid. “Sensible,” he finished lamely. Although at the time, Piggy had pretended to be happy and he had pretended to believe her, the days between her acceptance and her going had worn away any deception between them—through friction, if nothing else. “You know I’m right. You have to go. If you don’t, they’ll say I kept you from it—held you back.”
“But you didn’t! You wouldn’t!”
“Piggy…” Kermit’s voice was gentle, and tinged with sadness. “You know that, but other people….” He did not want to finish the thought.
Piggy made a rude noise. “What do I care about other people?!” she cried. In spite of himself, Kermit started to smile, and even Piggy’s angry and threatening look could not stem his amusement.
“These people you don’t care about—would those be the people who are going to buy your new calendar?”
“That’s not the same thing!” Piggy protested.
“Are they the ones storming the studio and drowning poor Marty in fan mail—those people you don’t care about?”
“That’s different!”
“And what about all those people who are going to line up around the block just to see your name in Broadway lights?”
Piggy started to speak, but caught her breath. “I—that’s not—I…I don’t know,” she cried, anguished. They had planned everything so carefully so they could have a decent goodbye, and now Kermit was spoiling it—or she was. She didn’t know anymore. “I…just…I don’t want to leave you.” It did not sound like enough to say, but she hoped Kermit understood.
He did.
“Honey.” Kermit closed the distance between them that her pacing had crated. “I’m not going anywhere. Broadway is calling—you answer them, and answer them nice. Don’t you think that’s part of my dream, too—to see your name up there in lights?”
“Oh, Kermit…”
If she could have, Piggy would have lied. Would have told him that she didn’t give a flying baby frig about Broadway and seeing her name in twinkling lights, but it was as impossible to fool Kermit as it had been to resist him.
“I—what if Moi…but what…oh, Kermit. I don’t know.”
“Guess!” said Kermit. “Take a chance.”
“But the movie…”
“The movie’s wrapped and you’ll just be sitting at home waiting for a tired and grumpy frog to come home from a long day in the studio. That’s no fun.”
Piggy slipped her hands beneath his frill. “Sometimes that’s fun,” she whispered, and Kermit smiled in spite of himself.
“Sometimes,” he acknowledged, blushing, “but not very often.” He gave her his sternest look—the one that he had used to battle pay raises and exorbitant costume costs. “Look, you can’t help me by staying home. And it’s the chance of a lifetime—the chance of a lifetime, Piggy! How often are you going to see one of those?”
Piggy wouldn’t look at him. She pressed her face into his shoulder and tried to remember what Jimmy had said about not pushing Kermit about this. “Once was enough,” she said, and Kermit knew at once that he had won the final round. He smiled and pressed a kiss into her hair, hoping he would not rue this victory.
They were silent for a moment, just standing with their arms tight around each other. It was nice, a moment they would both remember, would both touch back to time and again in the months ahead. Finally, Piggy spoke, and her voice was light, conversational.
“You can’t make me get on the plane,” she said. There was no challenge in her voice, just conviction. She knew she could win this one if she tried, but she was trying hard not to try.
Kermit sighed, and squeezed her close. His voice was equally confident. He could hold out. He could do this—for Piggy.
“Oh no,” he said. “When that plane takes off, you’re going to be on it.”
Piggy shook her head stubbornly, not looking at him, and unwilling to use tears to sway him.
“Now you listen to me,” Kermit said firmly, lifting her face so he could look into her startlingly blue eyes. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but if you don’t get on that plane, you’re going to regret it. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but someday, and forever.”
Piggy looked at him, laughing at his imitation Bogart, but her eyes were full of unshed tears. “But—you need me.”
His put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed her plump arms to warm them. “Of course I do, but right now—Broadway needs you more.”
Piggy looked toward the window where planes were arriving and taking off. Her voice was very small.
“And if they don’t like me?”
“Don’t like you? Are you kidding me? They are not going to like you—they are going to love you. But first—first you have to go and show them what you can do.” He walked her to the gate, his arm firm behind her waist and then gave her a little pat to send her on her way. She stopped and looked back at him. A few tears were beginning to spill.
“The problems of two people don’t matter a hill of beans in this big ol’ world,” Kermit said, this time doing a pretty decent Bogart. Piggy began to smile.
“Stop,” she said, touching his mouth with her hand. Without warning, her mouth replaced her hand and she kissed him with every ounce of devotion she possessed. That kiss would last him for a long time, which was a good thing because it would have to.
Before Kermit could recover, Piggy was gone out the gate and onto the tarmac leading to the plane. Kermit watched until the plane taxied slowly down the runway, took to the air and disappeared from view. He put his hand on the cold glass and heaved a sigh.
“Good-bye, Piggy,” he said softly. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

 

[The Count]

<333 the update. Points are being awarded for each of the following items:
1 "I'll behave," Jimmy said. "I noticed you didn't say how," Annie Sue muttered.
Nice re-using lines between Rowlf and Foo-Foo from their time in Vegas.
2 Camerasloths, enough said.
3 Annie Sue/Piggy the actress. No wait, that's far too early another chapter to compare to this performance. I'd imagine that the luggage is really Piggy's and will be forwarded on to NYC. After all, going through such an elaborate rousse only to send along empty suitcases and one vintage hat in a hatbox... Just to then have it all disappear in the ether of baggage claim limbo? Unless it's stuff Piggy wouldn't mind missing...
4 The entire Casablanca quotation... Good thing they already did that in The Muppets Go to the Movies.


A great chapter all around. The only thing left to say is...
Play it again, Ru.

 

[ReneeLouvier]

Lovely chapter, Ru. Can't wait for more.

 

[newsmanfan]

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I KNEW it! I KNEW it I KNEW it! I KNEW you were going for the end of "Casablanca!" LOL Perfect!!!

TOO d--d funny. I need to reread this one again later. A couple of times at least. The very public scene between Jimmy and Annie Sue was very pro, very melodrama, and very hook-line-and-sinker for all watching, no doubt! I wonder, did Fleet get into the airport in time to witness it? Was one of those trenchcoated figures skinny and short and have shades way too big? If so -- did he buy it? Or is he already on a flight to the Big Apple to set his next plot in motion? Hmmmmmm...

Er...I hope Hormel isn't the jealous type...Jimmy's become quite the ladies' frog of late!

LOVE the dialogue. All of it, both silly and melodramatic and sweet and serious. Very well done, as always!

And no...Jerry wasn't there. I'm recruiting him for a sewer hunt...
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[Muppetfan44]

All I can say is AWWWWWW!!!

I loved the Casablanca reference and it was so perfectly used here.

The whole Annie Sue/Jimmy charade was great too, they did a great impression of our fave couple.

This chapter really made me smile and sad at the same time. As always, can't wait to read more!

 

[Scooterfan5]

Loved the Casablanca reference. Watching it in film class for the first time! Great chapter Ru.

 

[newsmanfan]

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As requested by Lady Ru:

Or if the image isn't showing up properly:

http://newsiefan.deviantart.com/#/d4e9axs

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[The Count]

So... Waiting for an update... Me need some good piece of fic to tide me over.

 

[Ruahnna]

Chapter 98: Someone to Watch Over Me

The ability to act often means that you have to go on stage expressing one emotion while your own feelings are very much the contrary. Piggy had sung love songs with Kermit when she was ready to murder him, and played the grand-standing diva when she would have followed him anywhere. She was a professional, and she knew her part. She stepped into first class, flashing her diva smile and her plump little legs and struck a pose. Her blue eyes were wide, and she fluttered her lashes demurely as the other passengers erupted into claps and shouts of encouragement.
“Oh! Oh—how very sweet of you!” she cried. “Moi is so flattered!” She went down the aisle toward her seat touching her cool, satin-gloved hand to several waving or beckoning hands as she passed. When she was finally installed in her own comfy seat, she looked up at the steward and two stewardesses hovering nearby.
“Can I—can I get you anything?” the steward asked breathlessly. “A blanket? A pillow? Champagne?”
Piggy smiled brilliantly. “Champagne would be lovely,” she said. “Moi would love a small glass.”
He hastened off. The stewardesses were just as awed, but her perhaps a little less flummoxed by her presence. One helped Piggy untwist the end of her seat belt so it could be fastened and the other offered to take her coat and hat and store them in the overhead compartment. All the other passengers had been well-attended to while they waited for Piggy to join them, so all eyes watching this solicitude were benevolent and not envious. Finally, Piggy was left, er, alone with just the other passengers, whose interest was no less Frank for being friendly. (tee hee)
Piggy had a window seat, and on her left was a small little woman with glasses and mousy brown hair pulled back in a loose bun. Her old-fashioned dress was a small-print crepe de chin dress with a lace collar, and she had a large purse in her lap and was playing absently with the silver clasp. Though not old, she had a motherly-looking air about her that put Piggy at ease. She beamed at Piggy sociably if a little myopically.
“Did you get to have a nice goodbye with Kermit?” she asked, obviously worried. “I imagine it’s just about impossible to have a private moment.”
“Yes, thank you,” Piggy said, and felt the sharp, unexpected sting of tears. She smiled her thousand-watt smile, trying to power on through, but looked down in grateful surprise when her seatmate pressed a wad of soft tissues into her hand. She dabbed at her eyes in a business-like manner, aware of the scrutiny from all corners. “We did have a nice good-bye. We…he wanted me to have a safe trip.”
Her companion patted her arm gently. “It’s tough being the one to go,” she said sagely. “But I guess it’s no picnic being the one to stay.”
“Kermit is working so hard to make our movie wonderful,” Piggy said. “I wish there was something Moi could do to help.”
“Besides taking a starring role on Broadway?” another passenger said, smiling. “I imagine he’s pleased as punch for you.”
Piggy nodded eagerly, her blonde hair bobbing silkily against the seat back. “He is,” she said. She wondered idly if her seatmates had been pre-screened by Marty or someone at the airline. Everyone was being so nice!
“We were just delighted to hear that you were going to be on our flight!” a third lady gushed. “And it was just thrilling being in on the secret.”
At least half the inhabitants of first class were nodding and smiling in agreement.
“Well, sort of in on the secret,” grumbled a gentleman passenger, but he was smiling. “They wouldn’t tell us it was you.”
“I knew it was going to be you,” said an earnest-looking young man. He had a rumpled, distracted air about him, as though he were waiting to grow into his clothes, and he had been stealing shy glances at her since she sat down. Piggy smiled, thinking how much he reminded her of Scooter when he was younger. He saw the smile and blushed and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “They wouldn’t tell us which celebrity but I knew it was going to be you.”
“I hope Moi did not overly inconvenience anybody,” Piggy said, fluttering her eyelashes. She did not, in fact, give a rat’s patootie about inconveniencing anyone, but Marty had been strict about using her best manners. She did not, in fact, give a rat’s patottie about anything at that moment except getting through this flight without bursting into tears.
“Well, they certainly made it worth our while,” said one lady happily. “My husband will be glad to see me when I get back home, but he’ll be ecstatic when he sees what I’ve brought him.” She pulled a Muppet Show tee-shirt out of her “The Muppets” tote and held it up. There were murmurs of appreciation from all quarters. There was the whole cast, grinning happily for the camera, with her dashing frog in the very center, and her at his side—where she ought to be. If anyone noticed that her smile faltered a little, no one commented. Someone else held up a “The Muppets” metal coffee mug.
“Morning’s will be a lot easier to face with this baby,” said the businessman happily.
“How’d you get a coffee mug?” complained one young lady. “I got a water bottle.”
“Keep looking,” offered another passenger. “Everybody got both.” Half the heads in first class disappeared into their tote bags, followed by squeals and hoots of excitement.
“This bumper sticker is sooo going on my minivan,” said a lady with elaborately braided hair. “The kid’s will just love it!”
“I wish we’d gotten stuff from your new movie, too,” lamented the young man who had been so certain it would be Piggy who arrived on their plane. He promptly looked abashed, blushing and stammering. “I mean—I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything—this stuff is great—but, um, I’m…I’m just really looking forward to your, um, movie.”
“Vous are too kind,” Piggy murmured, easing his embarrassment.
“Speaking of looking forward,” said a white-haired gentleman with a luxurious white handlebar mustache. “Any idea when the, um, calendar will be coming out?” He grinned at her in a saucy manner, but it was friendly.
It was Piggy’s turn to blush, but she did so becomingly. “Moi just finished shooting,” she murmured. “But it should be out by the start of school next fall.”
“Any chance it will be a 16-month calendar?” he asked hopefully, and Piggy fluttered her eyelashes and demurred.
“We’ll have to see,” she murmured.
“Soooo going on my dorm wall!” said the young bespeckled man, then he practically dived, red-faced, into his tote-bag while Piggy smiled at him with genuine warmth.
“Just don’t get distracted from making good grades,” she murmured, and he surfaced to grin and say, “Yes, ma’am!”
Everything was going swimmingly as the plane skimmed gently over the clouds, and Piggy was just about to relax.
“Excuse me for a moment, honey,” said her friendly seat mate. “I’m going to use the necessary room but I’ll be right back.” She patted Piggy’s plump arm gently and walked rather haltingly down the aisle, obviously still adjusting to her flying legs.
Piggy said quietly for a moment and assessed her mental state. She had not broken down and bawled like a ninny in front of the crowd, no one was openly complaining about the delay and she was actually beginning to feel somewhat mellow—probably the champagne—when she looked up to see a very large shadow looming over her.
An undeniably handsome man, forty-ish, with salt-and-pepper just beginning to touch his temples, plopped familiarly into her seat-mate’s vacant chair.
“Finally rid of the little green ball and chain, huh?” he said, grinning large, perfect teeth and learning too close. Piggy was reminded forcibly why wolves usually got bad press in fairy tales. She bit back her first response—too unladylike—but his next words made her see red and robbed her of the power of speech. Marty and his manners lecture could just—
“Now that he’s out of the picture frame, how ‘bout you kick up those fancy high heels a little, Honey, and come have a drink with me when we land?” He grinned at her with what he obviously considered a seductive leer and Piggy felt rage wash over her like a wave. Her hands balled into satin-covered fists and she was about ten seconds from knocking this bozo into next week when her seatmate arrived to find her seat confiscated by this…this gentleman.
She took one look at Piggy stark and furious expression, then put a soft-looking hand under the man’s armpit and hauled him bodily out of the chair.
“Ow! Ow, ow, ooh! What are you doing to me—ouch with the Vulcan nerve pinch already,” the man whined as she propelled him into the aisle. The man looked down—at least a foot of height’s different between them—at Piggy’s erstwhile rescuer and sneered. “What do you think you’re doing?” he huffed, and Piggy almost launched herself over the seat to tackle him. But the diminutive motherly woman put out a soothing hand toward Piggy and took a deep breath.
“Taking out the trash,” she said firmly, and then “Hi-yahed” the unfortunate Lothario down the aisle and completely through the curtain that separated first class from coach. The other passengers stared for a moment, and then began to clap and whistle their approval, but she brushed off their congratulations.
“Oh, really,” she said. “It was nothing.” She smiled at Piggy broadly. “I’ve see all your movies,” she said and settled back into her seat.
“Um, thank you,” Piggy said, not sure what was appropriate under the circumstances but the woman waved that away, too.
“Don’t mention it,” she insisted. “Ever since the terrorist scare, they started confiscating my knitting needles and I get sort of antsy on long flights. That certainly gave me something useful to do with my hands.”
Piggy started to giggle, and the infectious sound of it spread all through the cabin. Soon, all the passengers were laughing and joking quietly like old friends, and Piggy, while still admired, was buffered and cosseted safely among them.
“Rest if you want to,” said her seat-mate. “I’ve had too much coffee to sleep, so I’ll be the dragon at the gate.”
And to Piggy’s surprise, she leaned back, closed her eyes, and slept from sea to shining sea.

“I’m, um, sorry if I’m not being a good host,” Kermit said. “I don’t really feel like company.” He was an honest frog, and felt compelled to explain his moroseness, but nobody at his table needed any explanation—or apology—from their quiet host at the head of the table.
Roberto had been understanding, then accommodating, then tyrannical, clearing the back room with a furor that sent even glittering luminaries and long-time regular customers scuttling toward the lobby with their leftovers in their elegant doggie bags. Having made a welcoming nest for one of his favorite customers (once removed), Roberto proceeded to hover solicitously hover over his favorite customer (once removed) and his guests.
“Oh, no thank you, really, Roberto,” Annie Sue said, patting her tummy. “I’m positively stuffed. Everything was excellent!”
Hormel smiled indulgently and held up two fingers to signal two desserts anyway, and Scooter did the same. Fozzie and Jimmy sat on either side of Kermit, who nevertheless looked solitary and rather forlorn at the head of the table, and Scooter took the opposite point with Sara to his left. Fozzie had a spasm of indecision, flipping frantically through the dessert menu, and his distress was so comical—and palpable—that Kermit actually smiled and patted him on the back.’
“The coconut cream pie is great,” Kermit observed, and Fozzie sighed in relief and ordered that. Jimmy, who had debated long and hard over the tiramisu or the banana pudding layered with homemade meringue, finally opted for the pudding and Roberto’s staff sprinted off to deal with the orders.
“So who’s going to run it tonight?” Kermit asked. His tone was polite and he at least tried to look interested. Gonzo traded looks with Camilla and his expression said plainly, He doesn’t really care. She clucked back sympathetically. They were all trying hard, but this was about the deadliest social engagement they’d been to in a while. Kermit had thought a nice, sit-down thank-you dinner for Jimmy and Annie Sue, and of course Hormel, and then Scooter and Gonzo and…well. It had just escalated, all of them hoping to cheer him a bit and none of it helping at all.
“Pretty much everybody,” Scooter said, sliding easily into second-in-command where scheduling was being discussed. “All the networks, and I heard ET is going to try to run something before the news, but there’s no such thing as a scoop on this.” He grinned, and others grinned back at him. There were at least 317 videos of Annie Sue and Jimmy already on Youtube and the number—and variety—of videos was growing. So far, not one single picture or video of Kermit and Piggy had surfaced.
“I think one of the networks is doing a commentary tonight,” Scooter said, grimacing. “They weren’t very happy about the bait-and-switch.”

When Jimmy had gotten the signal that Kermit was safely back in the cab, he and Annie Sue had stopped mid-argument and grinned at each other. Annie Sue had taken off her hat and turned and smiled at the crowd and all the pointed cameras. There were gasps of surprise and disbelief, and a few uncertain murmurs. Then Jimmy took off his hat—and jacket—and shirt—and made a funny face for the camera wearing only his loosened tie. Just to be sure they got the point, he turned around, runway style, and made sure that they saw the unmistakable mottling patterns on his back, abandoning all pretense of being Kermit. The crowd began to murmur, and the murmuring from the entertainment reporters began to sound whiny and mad. Jimmy took Annie Sue’s gloved hand and kissed it, bowing low to her, and she giggled and reached to take off the long, honey-colored wig she’d been wearing. Her own shorter, naturally curly do was attractive on her, but she no longer looked anything like Miss Piggy.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” Jimmy said cheekily. “My name’s Jimmy the Frog and I think I’ve met some of you before. My lovely partner today was played by none other than little Miss Annie Sue, whom some of you remember from my brother’s show, The Muppet Show. The little miss is now a little Mrs., and we’re just having a little fun here at the airport today so Miss Piggy could make her flight to New York to star on Broadway! Yaaaaay!”
Jimmy didn’t wave his arms above his head, but he sounded almost exactly like Kermit at that moment, pandering shamelessly to the audience. The airport passenger crowd clapped and cheered their approval for the performance, phones clicking and whirring. Jimmy thought idly that there were probably thousands of pictures of his, er, back floating around the internet and wondered what snarky thing Maggie would have to say about it. The other passengers were obviously delighted, although Jimmy thought the paparazzi might have gotten ugly if there hadn’t been so much scrutiny and so many cameras in the audience. But with the crowd eating it up there was nothing that they could do but stew and grumble to each other about the speciousness of entertainers.
Eventually, the crowd had dispersed, and Jimmy and Annie Sue had consented to wait around and answer a few questions for the reporters. At that point, Jimmy’s nicest manners were in evidence (Marty having made rather a point about the importance of same) and Annie Sue was just…just adorable. Jimmy thought rather guiltily that he could see why Piggy just couldn’t see Annie Sue as anything but a rival, although it seemed to have nothing to do with Annie Sue’s real intentions and overall nice-ness. They did enough smiling and waving for everyone to claim their shot, and then the reporters and their minions began to trickle—grousing and kevetching—away.
When they finally took their last teasing bows and walked out of the airport—no longer news—they were heartily tired of smiling and being pleasant, but the buoyant mood remained. They grinned genuinely and waved at Fozzie peering anxiously through the windshield. When Fozzie saw them emerge from the big glass doors, he made a happy and relieved exclamation and hopped out of the driver’s seat to open the door for Annie Sue. Jimmy clambered in after her. Kermit looked up from his editing notes. His bulbous eyes were bleak, but he smiled at them.
“How’d it go?” Kermit had asked.
And they told him.

Scooter had given way to Jimmy, who was relishing his retelling of the tale, with giggling little bursts from Annie Sue. Once or twice, Jimmy looked nervously over at Hormel, who sat perfectly at his ease with one beefy (um, porky?) arm around his wife, but if the enormous hog was discomfited by the day’s performance, he gave no sign.
When Jimmy and Annie Sue finished, Clifford stepped in. He and Scooter had monitored the internet response, which had been phenomenal, until Scooter had been so inundated by phone calls and emails that his equipment—from his phone to his computer—had completely stalled out. The sudden loss of technology had left Scooter a little at a loss himself, but an ancient land-line phone put him in touch with Marty, and they had swapped smug congratulations on how the afternoon had gone.’
“You coming to Roberto’s tonight?” Scooter had asked. “Sara and I are going to come.”
“Naw,” Marty said. “I think Kermit’s a little sore at me and I’m gonna give him a little breathing room.”
“Kermit’s not…sore,” Scooter blurted. “He’s just, you know, he’s….”
“It’s okay, Scooter,” Marty said gently. “I understand. Cheer up. It’s going to be bad for a while, but then it will get worse.”
Scooter gulped, but Marty laughed his gravelly laugh. “Kidding,” he said. “I’m just yanking your chain a little.”
“Well, don’t yank too hard,” Scooter shot back. “The ground’s shifting under our feet as it is.”
“I know,” Marty said, almost sounding contrite. “Look—call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Oh.” Scooter’s surprise was almost palpable. “Oh, er, sure,” he mumbled.
“Really,” Marty said. “Call if you need me. Piggy will have my hide if things go south here while she’s in New York.”
Deferring to Piggy’s divahood seemed to put Scooter back on firm footing. “True, that,” he said. He started to speak, then hesitate and stopped. Marty waited him out, wanting to hear what he might say. “Do you…do you really think it will get worse?”
“Look—Kermit’s a big frog, right? And he’s gonna have his hands full—which I guess means you’re gonna have your hands full, too, but he’s gonna be fine. Work will carry him through. Give him a couple of days of moping and then he’s gonna come back to life again and it’s gonna be fun, fun, fun in post-editing, right?”
“Right,” Scooter muttered, but he was smiling.
“So slurp some pasta for me,” Marty said, and hung up. Scooter had hung up the phone, thoughtful and amused. He took his leave of Clifford, gathered up his cloud of stymied personal technology gadgets and headed for the door. Sarah had promised to meet him with a jacket and tie, and he thought he’d pass muster—and the doorman—without too much bother. Though his technology could no longer cogitate, Scooter could, and he thought and thought about what Marty had said, and about what the last week had been like. He—almost—had a plan, but he wanted to check with Sara before doing anything rash.

While the big flat-screen in the lobby played and replayed the clips from ET of Jimmy and Annie Sue masquerading, and then coming clean for the crowd, Marty had manned things acerbically from his office, answering the phones whose numbers he recognized and waving a casual hand at three stunning swans who were dealing competently with the rest. Since Freida, Marty had not kept a regular secretary, but he knew this trio of sophisticated swan sisters and one or all of them were usually available to fill in during emergencies. They answered questions politely, or deferred them politely, or honked firm, no-nonsense responses to those whose manners were not up to par. Marty twirled lazily in his comfortably-shabby office chair, barked things into the phone when he answered it, and laughed uproariously with friends who had seen the clip and wanted to know how on earth… When ET finally went off and the read news began, Marty was bored with the whole thing. It had worked but it was over, and he needed to start thinking ahead again. Grimly, he smiled, watching the sisters reign tyrannically over his phone lines. Yep, it was time to start thinking in earnest about the next big thing.

Piggy woke up feeling refreshed but a little parched and dry from the recirculated air about an hour out of the Big Apple. Her cabin-mates had respected her privacy and need for rest, and she tried to be her expected, dazzling self for the last leg of the trip. It was not hard—they were inclined to be awed and entertained—and she made sure that everyone left with a signed, personalized photo of her most recent promotional picture. The stewardesses had shut the party down reluctantly but firmly to give them landing instructions, and they had listened and followed the rules obediently. The plane had landed without mishap, and they stood and stretched, zombie-like, reaching for their luggage.
The rather geeky young man who had been so prone to blushing before leapt to his feet and insisted of getting her luggage down. Piggy let him, preening prettily to reward this show of chivalry. When the rows began to disembark, she walked down the tubelike hallway and tried hard not to think of Kermit.
She knew a car would be waiting for her, to whisk her down to her hotel room, so she did not participate in the cut-throat baggage claim that those desperate for a decent rental car were forced to play. She hesitated just inside the terminal, then turned back to say one more thank you to her sweet little companion but stopped, staring as the woman transformed before her eyes.
Here seeminly diminutive companion reached back and pulled her hair free from its confining bun. It was still an unremarkable shade of brown, but it curled softly around her shoulders, which were now impressively squared. The woman reached up and took off her glasses, and Piggy saw sharp green eyes that had been hidden behind them. Those green eyes twinkled at Piggy’s dumbfounded expression and she held up a badge for Piggy’s perusal. “I’m Susique Monroe, Federal Marshall,” she said, “and a really big fan. When the airline contacted us because they were worried about security, I volunteered to be one of your escorts.”
Piggy gaped at the badge, then the slim, strong young woman before her.
“But, but…wait. One of my escorts?” she said, looking around. The bespeckled young man that Piggy had taken for a nerdy college student now towered above her, and his voice had dropped at least an octave.
“Miss Piggy,” he said, and bent low over her glove. “I’m Thomas. It’s so nice to see you again.”
Piggy stopped, flummoxed, peered at him closely when he looked up from her hand. “Have we…met?” she said. His face was almost familiar. Something was tugging at the corner of her memory, but vaguely.
He grinned, this time without the glasses obscuring his dark eyes, and Piggy’s blue eyes opened wide. “Oh!” she said. “Oh!”
“Do you remember a show you did at a children’s hospital...?” he began, but Piggy’s expression said she already remembered him.
“You were there with your little brother, weren’t you? He was getting a new kidney.”
“He was. And I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be home playing with my friends. Then you guys showed up, and made me realize, well, that I was being sortof a jerk.”
Piggy’s recollection of events was a little different, and he saw the skepticism in her eyes.
“Yeah, you really read me the riot act that day,” he said, grinning, “but I certainly deserved it. And after you yelled at me you let me come to the show.” He shook his head. “There I was, being a jerk, and you guys were giving up your time to come and do a show….”
“And how is little Zachary” Piggy asked, and her escort put his head back and laughed. “About to graduation from UT,” he said, grinning. “Doing great.” He looked back and his eyes met Susique’s. “He’s going to be my best man at our wedding next month.”
“Ooh! How nice for vous!” Piggy gushed, then remembered that she had been fooled, or at least misled. Piggy looked Thomas up and down, noticing the too-big dress shirt and slightly-too-short pants. “Nice get-up,” she said. “But surely the U.S. Marshall service didn’t send people to protect little ol’ Moi?” She sniffed. “A lady should be able to take care of herself.”
“Oh—we’re here as volunteers,” said Susique. “When Thomas told me he was going to do it, well…” She smiled up at Thomas in a way that made explanations unnecessary. “I wanted to come, too.”
Ah. Piggy thought, and her miff disappeared. “Well, vous were very kind to, um, escort me safely to New York.”
Thomas reached down and picked up Piggy’s carry-on, his muscles bulging beneath the shirt. “If you’ll allow us, we’ll see you safely to your hotel?” His expression was hopeful and Piggy relented. One of the trials of stardom was letting people wait on you hand and foot, and she had learned to tolerate it.
“Very well,” she said. “You may carry my luggage.” And she walked off without a backward glance. Thomas and Susique exchanged delighted expressions and hurried after her. Even in those heels, she could really book.

Sara leaned over Kermit shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. Kermit startled a little, then blushed and stammered.
“Oh, er, thank you, Sara,” he said. “Thanks for coming.” Kermit had never really gotten the hang of casual kissing. Like most frogs, he took his kissing very, very seriously. But he smiled at his assistant’s wife to be. “What was that for.”
“That was because I won’t see you for a few days,” Sara said, and then she turned and kissed Scooter just as soundly and a great deal more thoroughly. “And because I won’t see Scooter for a few days either, I’ll wager.”
Kermit looked at his assistant in surprise, and Scooter fought to keep his face appropriately stern. “If we’re done here, I’ve got a car waiting,” Scooter said. Kermit looked surprised, but the light that sprang into his eyes was unmistakable.
“We’re…we’re going back to the office?” Kermit asked, and his voice was just a little bit hopeful.
“Oh, absolutely,” Scooter said. “Remember—I own your schedule now.”
Kermit stood up with alacrity. “I remember,” he said.
Hormel had fought him for the check—and won—and Kermit had given in gratefully and graciously.
“Thank you,” he said, patting Annie Sue’s hand, and then blushed and stammered all over again when Annie Sue kissed him on the cheek. “Um, oh—um, thank you, um, Annie Sue. It was swell of you to come and help us.”
“It was swell of you to ask me.”
Scooter looked at his watch and pursed his lips, apparently impatient with all these goodbyes, and Kermit patted her hand once more and took his leave. Sara had to look away to hide her dazzling grin.
“I’m coming,” Kermit said, making for the door. “I’m right behind you, Scooter.”

 

[The Count]

Ah... Now I'm glad I stayed up super late. Been trying to catch the Dead Hensons version of The First Day of School on MCR with no luck yet. Yes, I have that song in my personal library, but it's the one where only the band members' names are given at the end—and apparently there's a second recording which is the one that plays on the station that has more names than just that at the end starting with David and Zack and Joe.

That aside... Thank Ru so much for the new chapter. Will have to add it to the clean copy I've got, but it's work that makes me smile. And I did recognize that salt-and-peppered haired nuisance, but I'm not spoiling it for others who haven't read yet.

Again, thanks and good night.