Morning peeps! So, I've gone back and made some changes to the fic - mainly removing some really long sentences or unneeded paragraphs. Um...how do I make those changes here though? I've noticed that the edit option kinda disappears after awhile on a post. Here's a bit more for ya so I can go and update my site and blog
“I wasn’t the only one there,” she huffed, sending equal parts annoyance and frustration at three of her accomplices. Kermit noticed that neither Scooter, Fozzie, or Gonzo were looking at her or
him, for that matter.
“Granted,” he replied, acknowledging that she wasn’t the only one at fault for this. “However Mr. Black seemed to think you were the ringleader.” Trying – and failing – at not rolling his eyes, Kermit muttered, “I can’t imagine why.”
To the group he announced, “Hey guys, how about we start the new year off right? How about we
don’t kidnap any celebrities this year? I know, a lofty goal to be sure, but I’d like to cut down on our restraining orders.”
“We’ve always managed to stay under twenty,” Scooter supplied, helpfully.
“And that’s supposed to be uplifting, how?”
“Well,” the assistant replied. “The highest we’ve ever had was only seventeen.”
Kermit just looked at him, incredulously. “Still not helping,” he muttered. “How many do we have now?”
“With Jack Black, that’s six.”
“All recent!?” Kermit exclaimed.
“I don’t remember making that many people mad in the last twenty four hours,” Fozzie volunteered.
“No,” Scooter said, using his finger to scroll through supposedly a list of their current restraining orders (though Kermit sometimes wondered if he was playing a game or something on that thing). “Just Jack Black. Three of them are in regards to Animal –“ here everyone nodded in understanding; the Mayhem’s drummer could be…unpredictable, even with his stint in anger management.
“And one’s against Gonzo for that Winnebago and Waffle house incident.”
“That one still in effect?” Dr. Teeth asked, his eyes growing wide at the prospect.
“Well,” the dog shrugged. “They had been pretty angry.”
“And I apologized!” Gonzo exclaimed. “Repeatedly! I even sent them a gift basket!”
“Most people don’t accept feathers and scorch marks as a gift,” Piggy haughtily replied.
Gonzo crossed his arms and glared at the diva. “Shows what you know,” he said, speaking in the same holier than thou way that she had done just moments ago. “
I sent them flowers as well.”
“Really?” the bear comic asked. “What kind?”
“Venus flytraps.”
“Your honor,” Piggy smirked, leaning back in her chair. “I rest my case.”
“Moving right along,” Kermit said, shooting looks to the four closest to him. “The point is we are
not going to kidnap people this year, right?”
“Right, Boss.”
“Of course not, Kermie.”
“No worries, Kermit.”
“You got it.”
“And to think,” Rowlf whispered to the Mayhem frontman. “All we did was stop that riot in the orchestra pit.”
“Sometimes my furry friend,” Dr. Teeth replied. “I think we get the wrong end of the conducting stick.”
“Next point of business,” Kermit started, taking a deep breath. “What’s the plan?”
“Meaning?” asked Scooter.
“Well,” the frog began. “We have a budget and we’ve got offers. What do we plan to do with them?”
“Well, what’re the options?” Gonzo asked.
“Another show or another movie.”
“I did some crunches over the weekend,” Scooter said. “We’ve got the money for both, technically. Veronica said she could find us a spot on the schedule if we were to do a show and the guys upstairs said, as long as they got a script, they’d green light any project for us.”
“What do you think, Kermit?” Fozzie asked.
That was the million dollar question and Kermit hadn’t been sure what his answer would be. While both projects held merit and both had their ups and downs, he hadn’t really made his mind up about which way to go.
“Honestly?” the frog whispered. “I don’t know. The prospects are good for both, but…”
“But?” Piggy prodded.
The answer was right there on his tongue and in his heart, but he was having trouble voicing the idea. It was shellfish, plain and simple; looking at Piggy – before his eyes wondered over to the others – his answer was basically carved in stone.
Doing a weekly show would keep them together.
There would be no reason for Fozzie to go back to Reno, no purpose for Gonzo to need to rebuild his plumping business, no point for Scooter to go back to Google, and definitely no reasoning for Piggy to go back to Paris.
“Whatcha thinkin’, Kermit?” Rowlf asked, honestly. He had known the frog longer than all of them combined and something in the green face seemed to speak not only the answer, but the reasoning behind it.
“I’m thinking TV show,” he whispered. “It means a weekly schedule or course and more weekly meetings, but…”
“A TV show would be great!” Gonzo exclaimed. “It’s a chance for me to fully explore my limitations.”
“You’re a limitation,” Piggy muttered.
“Excellent!” Dr. Teeth agreed. “It’ll give us the change to musically explore the realms of artistry. Besides, my furry friend here is getting a bit lax.”
Rowlf looked at his musical companion. “I know you aren’t talking about me,” he scoffed. “Remind me how the fifth symphony goes again, cause I’m sure that you played more wrong notes than right ones.”
The keyboardist took the ribbing as he did everything else, by laughing. “I told you my hand cramped.”
“Right,” the dog drawled. “I’ve used that excuse before too.”
“Hey Kermit,” Fozzie asked, hesitantly. “If we do another show, I’ll have to up my charges; you know how Gags is about getting paid.”
“You’re actually paying him?” Scooter asked. “I thought he got paid by the number of laughs you got.”
“I’ll have you know I get plenty of laughs to cover all charges,” Fozzie responded.
“I have a pie chart that says differently,” the assistant retorted. “You actually owe
us money.”
“What do you think?” Kermit asked, leaning towards Piggy. She had been quite silent as the rest bickered and fought amongst themselves and that in itself gave off warning bells.
“Vous are well aware that Moi enjoys the admiration of the viewing public,” was her reply. “Regardless of the medium.”
“It means you’d have to stay.”
“I already said I would,” she whispered back. “Nothing’s changed on that front.”
“So I take it we’re going with a show, Kermit?” Scooter asked, bringing their attention back to the head of the table.
Kermit looked at them each in turn before settling on his answer. “Yeah,” he whispered, before stating it more clearly. “Yeah. Weekly show it is. That of course brings us to anything we might need for one. Scooter, do we need anything for the theater?”
“Nothing that I can see, Chief,” the page replied. “I can go over the structure when we break from here, but everything should be good to go.”
“Oh good,” the frog nodded. This could actually work. “Fozzie? Need anything?”
“No sir, Kermit,” the funny bear commented. “I’m right as rain, though I could probably use an umbrella. Get it? Wocka wocka!”
The group muttered some good natured moans and groans before Kermit continued.
“Gonzo?”
“Off the top of my head,” the stuntman replied. “I could probably use some brushes in order to clean Gladys and Mavis. I couldn’t afford to get stuck like last time.” Gonzo’s love and affection for his canon – any canon – clearly showed when he took time out to actively clean them himself instead of, oh hiring a professional to do so. “I could also use four bags of flour and three hundred and fifty bags of marshmallows.”
In any other normal circumstance, no one would ever bother to ask what Gonzo meant by that; however, Kermit must have missed his friend more than possible because his curiosity overrode his common sense. Heaving a regretful sigh, Kermit said, “Throwing caution to the wind, I’m going to ask why you need three hundred fifty bags of marshmallows.”
“What else am I going to put down my pants?”
“Too easy,” Piggy murmured, earning a snigger from Rowlf on the other side of her.