Muppet Fan-Fiction: Weddings Are Disastrous

[AnimatedC9000]

*sits down with a pillow, a blanket, her laptop, some pencils, some paper to draw on (heck, some are already drawn on), some Muppet DVDs, her laptop, a remote control, a Wii remote, her headphones, her Kermit & Fozzie dolls, a cup filled with Dr. Pepper, and a bowl filled with popcorn* I'm ready.

 

[theprawncracker]

*blink* I... uh... erm... At least you're comfortable. *clears throat* *goes back to writing*

 

[Muppetfan44]

Yay!

Excellent! Totally looking forward to it!

 

[theprawncracker]

Chapter 16

Thank goodness, Kermit thought to himself, it’s Friday.

Part of the frog wanted to walk up to one of the many Muppets in the theater that afternoon and say, “TGIF, eh buddy?”

But that part of him quickly realized a good chunk of the Muppets in the theater that afternoon would’ve broken out into song about the four letters.

So he kept to himself.

Friday means a lot of things in the world of Kermit the Frog. The day after the weeks show, the day before Saturday (leftover night), three days before Monday, and, most importantly, Friday Kermit is with Fozzie.

Yup, Fridays with Fozzie is held every Friday. (The name just happened to be a coincidence actually—Saturdays and Sundays with Sam Eagle was already patented by Sam’s failed public-broadcasting patriotic expression show.) Friday is when Kermit and Fozzie get together in the relaxed atmosphere of the empty theater, and I quote, “every Friday [to] talk about life. It’s not profound—just two friends sharing time and dreams.”

Today, however, Friday did not exclusively belong to the bear.

Kermit had scheduled appointments with his dad and with Uncle Deadly. Well, not appointments really, more like chat sessions. What these chat sessions were about, however, the frog was blissfully unaware.

And so was the writer.

But, worry not fair readers, he was about to find out (and so are you, and so am I, so quit jumping up and down like that…).

Kermit held open the door to the small coffee shop on the corner of This Street and That as his dad walked in, clutching his hand-carved cane; a cane he didn’t really need—unless you considered looking incredibly wise and all around neat a need.

Kermit waited patiently while his dad surveyed the small amount of tables in the room. He finally decided on one in a corner—but still by a window—with a nod. He led the way towards it, and Kermit followed.

The two frogs sat down across from each other, and Dad the Frog laid his cane against the wall behind his chair. “So son, what’s on your mind,” he asked Kermit with a smile.

This game had been played between father and son since Kermit was a tadpole. He smirked accordingly and said his line, “You asked me here, dad.”

“I know that,” Dad said, “that’s why I asked you here—to see what’s on your mind.”

Kermit knew that, of course, but he’d never tell his dad that (even though he was positive his dad knew that he knew that too). “Well right now I’m trying to figure out how to balance work, family, friends, a wedding, and Miss Piggy on my shoulders all at the same time.”

Dad picked up a sturdy cardboard menu up off the side of the table and absently gazed over the selections. “Sounds heavy,” he said, not breaking his sight with the menu. “Tell me more.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Kermit said with a sigh of relief. “Well, I’ve got a go-fer threatening to quit because I let a little girl help him do his job, a hungry blue monster eating me out of house and home, I think Sam and Aunt Marge are up to something, I know Bunsen and Beaker are up to something, Croaker is petitioning his tuxedo, the band’s demanding a number in next week’s show, I feel like I’m neglecting Robin, the theater’s always a mess now that everyone’s staying there, I don’t know how I can keep up with everyone for over three more months, I have no idea where I’m getting married, Piggy insists on picking the honeymoon spot, money’s tight, and this movie script is almost more trouble than it’s worth!” Kermit spat out accidentally.

“I—er, that is to say, um…” Kermit stumbled over his words.

Dad the Frog did not look up from his menu. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm,” he said softly.

Kermit gulped tensely.

“You know son,” Dad finally said. “I’ve always wanted a beard.”

Kermit’s nictitating membrane blinked furiously. “I beg your—what?” Kermit spat.

“I know it’s impossible,” Dad said with a shrug, finally putting the menu back. “But I do think the rugged look would suit me. It would certainly surprise your mother.”

“Well yes it—Dad, did you—I just—were you listening?” Kermit stammered.

Dad gave Kermit a smirk. “Of course I was son,” he said. “I agree with you about Marge and the eagle… but I think Robin understands.”

Kermit took a breath. “Dad,” he said, letting out said breath. “I just told you that I’m writing a—” Kermit looked around the coffee shop for any eavesdroppers. “—a movie script.”

“You did, yes. I was wondering when you would tell me.”

Kermit’s mouth dropped open. “How did you—”

Dad tapped his head with his finger. “Instincts, son,” he said. “Not just animal instincts either.”

“What other kind of instincts?” Kermit pried curiously.

Dad shrugged. “Beats me, whatever kind of instincts Gonzo has I suppose. He’s the one who told me.”

Kermit’s face scrunched tightly. “I expected Fozzie, to be honest with you,” he said sarcastically.

“Oh, he told me too,” Dad said. “Gonzo just dropped out of the ceiling first.”

Kermit groaned. “I should’ve guessed… and I assume Grover—”

“Mm-hm,” Dad said calmly. “Though it took me awhile to figure out he was calling after me. I’ve never been called ‘froggy daddieeee’ before.”

“Did they mention who else they told?” Kermit asked.

“No one son,” Dad said, “—well, that’s not entirely true, your mother was there with me too. Don’t you trust your friends to keep your secrets?”

Kermit smirked. “Give it four months,” he said, “you’ll see my reasoning.”

“Well you can’t do that,” Kermit said, feeling like a kid again, “you guys are sleeping at the theater—I’ve been staying at the Boarding House.”

“Which, in all honestly, son,” Dad said, “doesn’t seem fair. As your father, I think I’ll have to occupy your room. With your mother of course.”

“If I give you special treatment, I have to do the same for everyone else,” Kermit said.

“Welcome, my son,” Dad said, “to the world of parenthood.”

Kermit scrunched up his face again. “Dad!”

“That reminds me, son,” Dad said. “Did I ever tell you about the birds and the bees?”

“Yes, actually,” Kermit said. He cleared his throat. “‘Don’t give a bird a smack,’” he quoted, “‘or you’ll wind up being its tasty snack. Speaking of which, don’t eat a bee, or your throat will really itch, so don’t complain to me.’”

“That last part never had a very polished rhyme scheme,” Dad said.

“It gets the point across well enough,” Kermit said.

A waitress finally came over to wait on the two frogs. She pulled out a pad and a pen and Kermit ordered, then she turned to face Dad. “And for you sir?” the waitress asked.

“Just water please,” Dad said.

As the waitress walked away Kermit looked askance at his father. “Just water dad?”

“Son,” Dad said, “simple is good.”

~-~-~-~-~

Kermit walked his dad back to the Boarding House (he really was going to let him and his mom stay there from now on) and then walked back by himself to the theater in the crisp summer evening.

As the frog walked, he passed numerous passers-by (obviously, that’s why they’re called passers-by—you have to pass them) and waved to each one. Not star-struck at all (not anymore at least), each of them waved back cheerfully to Kermit and gave a casual, “Good luck with the wedding, Kermit,” or “Loved the show,” or even a simple “How’s it going?”

Kermit loved this town.

He spied the neon red sign lights of the Muppet Theater from a couple blocks away. With a huge grin, he put a spring in his already springy step and advanced to the theater.

He pushed open the front door—which was hardly ever locked—and walked down the aisle to the front row where he spied a furry brown bear sitting, wriggling something around in his hands.

“Happy Friday Fozzie,” Kermit called as he made his way past the rows of seats cluttered with over-night (over-month?) bags and suitcases.

Fozzie turned back. “Oh, hi Kermit!” Fozzie said, still fiddling with something in his paws.

Kermit took his usual seat next to the bear. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“A bicycle seat,” Fozzie said nonchalantly.

Kermit chuckled. “Fozzie, why do you have a bicycle seat?”

“Well I was riding my bike over here,” Fozzie started.

Fozzie, you don’t have a bike, Kermit thought. “Mm-hm?” Kermit asked.

“And well, I rode right into this metal bar in the middle of the road!” Fozzie said.

“A metal bar in the middle of the road, huh?” Kermit asked.

“Right in the middle of the road!” Fozzie reiterated. “And so I hit it, and my bike just fell apart.”

“Fozzie, that’s terrible!” Kermit said.

“I haven’t even gotten to the punch-line yet,” Fozzie said.

“No, I meant—” Kermit smirked to humor the bear. “So your bike just fell apart?”

“Just fell apart, Kermit!” Fozzie said. “Do you know why?”

“I have no idea,” Kermit said.

“It couldn’t handlebars!” Fozzie delivered. “Ahh! Get it? Bike? Handlebars? Ahh! Wocka! Wocka!”

“Fozzie?”

“Yes Kermit?”

“That’s terrible.”

“I know,” Fozzie sighed, “but I’d much rather hear that from you than Statler and Waldorf.”

“Careful,” Kermit said, “they might still be here.”

Fozzie nodded. “They could die here and no one would really be able to tell the difference.”

“Actually that might’ve already happened,” Kermit said. “They’ve just been reincarnated in the same box every night as punishment.”

Fozzie gasped and looked up at the ceiling then back at Kermit. “He can do that?” Fozzie asked in a nervous whisper.

Kermit shrugged. “Probably. I suppose it depends on what you believe.”

“What do you believe Kermit?” Fozzie asked.

“I believe you need a new joke to open with if you’re doing a monologue on the show next week,” Kermit said.

Fozzie bit his bottom lip. “What do they call that belief?”

Kermit frowned at his own answer before he even said anything. “Punishment.”

“Sounds painful,” Fozzie said.

“Believe me, it is,” Kermit said.

Fozzie tossed the bicycle seat into the row behind him. “Were we supposed to talk about religion this week, Kermit?” he asked.

Kermit shrugged. “We’re never really supposed to talk about anything.”

Fozzie looked around, puzzled. “But, Kermit,” he whispered to the frog, “isn’t that why we have a script?”

“I wish I had a script,” Kermit sighed.

“Oh, here,” Fozzie said, reaching under his seat and pulling out a collection of bound papers with a cardstock cover. “You can have mine. I never use it anyway.”

“Fozzie, put that back!” Kermit chided. “I was talking about a script for the new movie.”

“You mean the one on the big screen?” Fozzie asked.

Kermit scrunched up his face. “That’s the only one,” he said.

“Oh, I know,” Fozzie said sheepishly, “but that part just makes me so happy.”

“Well… yes, that one.”

“Oh,” Fozzie said with a nod. “But I thought you were supposed to write that script.”

“I am Fozzie.”

“Then why do you want someone else to give you one?” Fozzie asked.

“I don’t, I just—well, it’s hard to balance work and relationships,” Kermit said.

“But you’ve always said that you and Miss Piggy have a professional relationship,” Fozzie said.

“I’m a professional, and she thinks we’re in a relationship,” Fozzie and Kermit said in unison.

“Did you write that joke Fozzie?” Kermit asked with an annoyed grimace.

“I don’t know,” Fozzie said honestly. “Did you like it? In that case I did.”

Kermit shook his head. “The point is, Fozzie, that I’m just a little stressed out right now.”

​

“Have you considered getting a massage?” Fozzie asked.

“I don’t think my body can handle it,” Kermit said extending his floppy arms.

“Really? Because Statler and Waldorf really recommend it,” Fozzie said.

“Oh do they?” Kermit asked.

“Yeah,” Fozzie said. “They’re tough critics! Get it? Massage? Tough? Ahh!”

Kermit scrunched up his face. “Do you really think I should get a massage, Fozzie? Or did you just want to lead me into that joke?”

Fozzie scratched his head. “A little bit of both,” he said innocently.

Kermit shook his head. “What am I gonna do with you Fozzie?”

“Hmm,” Fozzie said, thinking this over, “put me in the song spot for next week?”

“I was just thinking we could just grin and bear it,” Kermit said with a smirk.

Fozzie frowned. “Alright, you grin, I’ll bear it—I’m good at that,” he said.

“Is that anything like cab’it?” Kermit asked.

Fozzie shrugged. “It keeps me movin’ right along.”

“Cute,” Kermit said. “Cute reference.”

“Was that supposed to be a song cue, Kermit?” Fozzie asked in a whisper.

“Beats me,” Kermit said. “You’re the one with the script!”

~-~-~-~-~

After Kermit and Fozzie finished their Friday chat the streetlights had come on lighting up the sidewalk and the rest of the town. Kermit hugged his friend the bear and Fozzie began his trek back to the Boarding House to tell everyone it was safe to come back to the theater for the night.

Meanwhile, Kermit was heading up to the roof.

Kermit climbed a rusty ladder on the side of the theater, careful off a missing rung near the top, and made his way to the edge of the roof.

He leaned over the edge of the building and peered out into the night. The street below was calm—not a car in sight.

Kermit inhaled and took in a breath of fresh night air. Summer air always seemed to taste a little bit sweeter than in other months of the year.

Behind Kermit the door leading down back into the theater brushed open and closed silently. A dark, hunched figure creeped its way along with roof sneakily. (Yes, I know you all know it’s Uncle Deadly—but c’mon, this is a fun scene!)

The hunched figure stood directly behind Kermit and two bright yellow eyes emerged from the darkness surrounding them. They stared down at the frog and two clawed arms reached up above his head.

“Do you have to do this every time we talk, Uncle Deadly?” Kermit asked suddenly.

The monster behind the frog fell back as its mouth fell open. A grumble exuded from its snout as it reached into its jacket and pulled out a single match, and then the creature proceeded to strike the match on its snout.

Uncle Deadly held the singular flame in front of his face eerily. “Party pooper,” he said to the frog.

Kermit and Uncle Deadly moved over to the back edge of the roof and sat against it. Uncle Deadly produced a small china tea set from somewhere. He poured Kermit a cup of the steaming liquid and handed it to him. “One lump or two?” Uncle Deadly asked.

“Depends,” Kermit said. “Are you actually going to hit me on the head this time?”

“Well, I was going to…” Uncle Deadly sighed.

“I’m glad I said something then,” Kermit said. “So what’s on your mind, Uncle Deadly?”

Uncle Deadly took a sip of his own cup of tea. “How goes the wedding preparations?”

Kermit blew on his tea. “Mostly fine,” he said. “I still have no idea where we’ll be getting married—but that’s a minor detail.”

“Napkin color at the reception is a minor detail, frog,” Uncle Deadly said.

“You don’t know Miss Piggy very well, do you?” Kermit asked with a smirk.

“I don’t have the pleasure,” Uncle Deadly responded. “Do you have an idea of where to marry yourself to the pig?”

“Oh sure, loads of ideas,” Kermit said. “The theater, the backyard of the Boarding House, a parking lot…”

“A parking lot?” Uncle Deadly asked suspiciously.

“We wouldn’t have to hire a chauffer,” Kermit said.

“Ah,” Deadly nodded. “Good point.”

“Any suggestions?” Kermit asked.

“I’m afraid I’m biased, frog,” Uncle Deadly said with a wink.

Kermit nodded. “I understand that,” he said. “But I feel like if we do have it at the theater it’ll seem more like entertainment than a meaningful ceremony.”

“Entertainment follows you wherever you go, Kermit,” Uncle Deadly said. “I don’t think it’s that easy.”

Kermit frowned. “Point taken.”

“Could you fit all of your desired guests in the backyard?” Deadly asked.

“I think so,” Kermit said. “I wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors though.”

“You already live next to them,” Uncle Deadly said. “That is disturbing enough.”

Kermit looked at the phantom next to him. “I think you just answered my question of where to have the wedding,” he said.

Uncle Deadly finished off his teacup. “I had to,” he said.

“Beg pardon?”

“Miss Piggy did pay me to get a decision out of you,” Uncle Deadly said with an evil smirk.

Kermit scrunched up his face. “Good grief.”

 

[AnimatedC9000]

Ah, Fridays with Fozzie. Good times, gooooooood times...

Love all the references, as well as Kermit's conversations with all three of them. Can't wait for the next chapter!

~ AnimatedC

 

[The Count]

Thank you Prawny, I needed that to feel somewhat better today. More please.

 

[Leyla]

Chapter 16

Thank goodness, Kermit thought to himself, it’s Friday.

Part of the frog wanted to walk up to one of the many Muppets in the theater that afternoon and say, “TGIF, eh buddy?u201D

<grins> Oh, great opening line, Prawnie. I like Kermit's sort of... weariness here. Comes across very natural and realistic. Makes me love the frog.

But that part of him quickly realized a good chunk of the Muppets in the theater that afternoon would’ve broken out into song about the four letters.

<laughs> Ah, Sesame Street.

So he kept to himself.

Friday means a lot of things in the world of Kermit the Frog. The day after the weeks show, the day before Saturday (leftover night), three days before Monday, and, most importantly, Friday Kermit is with Fozzie.

I personally think Fridays with Fozzie is one of the best concepts Jim Lewis has ever come up with, and this was a ver cute introduction for it.

Yup, Fridays with Fozzie is held every Friday. (The name just happened to be a coincidence actually—Saturdays and Sundays with Sam Eagle was already patented by Sam’s failed public-broadcasting patriotic expression show.) Friday is when Kermit and Fozzie get together in the relaxed atmosphere of the empty theater, and I quote, “every Friday [to] talk about life. It’s not profound—just two friends sharing time and dreams.”

Again, really sweet introduction... but watch out for your tense changes, Prawnie dear. You don't usually make that mistake, which is why it really stood out to me here.

Today, however, Friday did not exclusively belong to the bear.

Ah, poor busy Kermit.

“I know that,u201D Dad said, “that’s why I asked you here—to see what’s on your mind.”

Kermit knew that, of course, but he’d never tell his dad that (even though he was positive his dad knew that he knew that too). “Well right now I’m trying to figure out how to balance work, family, friends, a wedding, and Miss Piggy on my shoulders all at the same time.”

This is a nice scene with Kermit and hihs dad. I always like seeing Kermit get to unburden himself a little bit with someone hhe trusts. He normally has to be the one everyone goes to, but everyone needs some time to look to someonen else.

“You know son,u201D Dad finally said. “I’ve always wanted a beard.”

Yeah, I love Kermit's dad.

“Mm-hm,u201D Dad said calmly. “Though it took me awhile to figure out he was calling after me. I’ve never been called ‘froggy daddieeee’ before.”

Ha! Great line!

Don’t you trust your friends to keep your secrets?u201D

Kermit smirked. “Give it four months,u201D he said, “you’ll see my reasoning.”

I can't argue with Kermit here.

“Son,u201D Dad said, “simple is good.”

Thanks for this line, and educating me as to its origin!

As the frog walked, he passed numerous passers-by (obviously, that’s why they’re called passers-by—you have to pass them) and waved to each one. Not star-struck at all (not anymore at least), each of them waved back cheerfully to Kermit and gave a casual, “Good luck with the wedding, Kermit,u201D or “Loved the show,u201D or even a simple “How’s it going?u201D

Kermit loved this town.

Awww. Kermit hobnobbing with the people. That's very sweet!

“A bicycle seat,u201D Fozzie said nonchalantly.

I shoulda known something was up with Fozzie... and so should Kermit have! Too casual...

“Fozzie, that’s terrible!u201D Kermit said.

“I haven’t even gotten to the punch-line yet,u201D Fozzie said.

Too funny! As usual, their relationship is far funnier than the actual joke.

Fozzie looked around, puzzled. “But, Kermit,u201D he whispered to the frog, “isn’t that why we have a script?u201D

“I wish I had a script,u201D Kermit sighed.

Hang on a sec, there's some hohles in my fourthh wall here.

“Oh, I know,u201D Fozzie said sheepishly, “but that part just makes me so happy.”

Me too, Fozzie!

Kermit shook his head. “The point is, Fozzie, that I’m just a little stressed out right now.”

“Have you considered getting a massage?u201D Fozzie asked.

“I don’t think my body can handle it,u201D Kermit said extending his floppy arms.

Again, I'm filled with affection for thhe little frog that could.

Kermit scrunched up his face. “Do you really think I should get a massage, Fozzie? Or did you just want to lead me into that joke?u201D

Fozzie scratched his head. “A little bit of both,u201D he said innocently.

And now I love the bear. Sweet sweet sweet!

Kermit shook his head. “What am I gonna do with you Fozzie?u201D

“Hmm,u201D Fozzie said, thinking this over, “put me in the song spot for next week?u201D

“I was just thinking we could just grin and bear it,u201D Kermit said with a smirk.

Fozzie frowned. “Alright, you grin, I’ll bear it—I’m good at that,u201D he said.

Aren't they a great team, folks?

“Is that anything like cab’it?u201D Kermit asked.

Fozzie shrugged. “It keeps me movin’ right along.”

“Cute,u201D Kermit said. “Cute reference.”

VERY!

“Was that supposed to be a song cue, Kermit?u201D Fozzie asked in a whisper.

“Beats me,u201D Kermit said. “You’re the one with the script!u201D

Came back to the script joke, I like that!

Kermit climbed a rusty ladder on the side of the theater, careful off a missing rung near the top, and made his way to the edge of the roof.

I like this scene a lot... the quietness... there's a lot of peace around Kermit in this chapter, and I think he needed it, and so did the story. I also really like the detail of the rusty ladder. Why should the ladder escape muppet destruction!

Kermit inhaled and took in a breath of fresh night air. Summer air always seemed to taste a little bit sweeter than in other months of the year.

Beautiful observation.

Behind Kermit the door leading down back into the theater brushed open and closed silently. A dark, hunched figure creeped its way along with roof sneakily. (Yes, I know you all know it’s Uncle Deadly—but c’mon, this is a fun scene!)

I didn't! But I'm easily distracted! Fun scene with Uncle Deadly, and my most favourite part of it was that Kermit, who's rather run down right now... is more than a match for his little tricks. That made me very happy.

“Do you have to do this every time we talk, Uncle Deadly?u201D Kermit asked suddenly.

The frog can learn! Hurrah!

Uncle Deadly took a sip of his own cup of tea. “How goes the wedding preparations?u201D

Kermit blew on his tea. “Mostly fine,u201D he said. “I still have no idea where we’ll be getting married—but that’s a minor detail.”

“Napkin color at the reception is a minor detail, frog,u201D Uncle Deadly said.

“You don’t know Miss Piggy very well, do you?u201D Kermit asked with a smirk.

There's somethihng wonderfully absurb and charming about Kermit and Uncle Deadly have this sociable tea time up on the roof. I reall like it. I want to be there. I like the odd comfortable quality of their relationship.

“I’m afraid I’m biased, frog,u201D Uncle Deadly said with a wink.

Kermit nodded. “I understand that,u201D he said. “But I feel like if we do have it at the theater it’ll seem more like entertainment than a meaningful ceremony.”

Kermit wants it to be a meaningful ceremony! I'm so glad he values that!

“I think so,u201D Kermit said. “I wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors though.”

“You already live next to them,u201D Uncle Deadly said. “That is disturbing enough.”

Uncle Deadly has a LOT of sense for a muppet.

Kermit looked at the phantom next to him. “I think you just answered my question of where to have the wedding,u201D he said.

Uncle Deadly finished off his teacup. “I had to,u201D he said.

“Beg pardon?u201D

“Miss Piggy did pay me to get a decision out of you,u201D Uncle Deadly said with an evil smirk.

Kermit scrunched up his face. “Good grief.”

HAHAHA! PRAWNIE!
THAT WAS GREAT! WHAT A FUN LAST FEW LINES! OH! I'm SO proud of you! And of Piggy! I was BAFFLED why she was leaving all to Kermit entirely! HA! That's great! Perfect! Thanks for this story! Keep going!

 

[TogetherAgain]

<Hugs the Prawnie>

I love the fact that you posted this very Friday-oriented chapter... on a Friday.

And I would say more, but you know most of what I had to say anyway, and Leyla said most of the rest, and I don't really remember what little is left, so...

<<<MORE HUGS!>>>

MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

 

[theprawncracker]

Chapter 17

Ten Muppets.

Mickey told Kermit he could bring nine guests—so, plus him, that meant ten Muppets.

Sesame Street had taught the frog something.

Nine guests, Kermit thought to himself. Well Miss Piggy is obviously one, Fozzie is most definitely two, Gonzo is three, and Camilla counts as four.

Kermit was sitting at the head of the dinner table in the Boarding House and he looked down at everyone adorning it. Well, he thought again, Mickey said no one from Sesame Street—copyright infringement worries the mouse.

Kermit stirred the mashed potatoes on his plate absently as he considered the weight of this party. “…a great way for you to meet faces in the business,” Mickey had said. Kermit decided that he needed to take guests that people in the business actually wanted to meet.

That ruled out Animal. Probably Bunsen and Beaker too—for safety reasons.

Rowlf, Kermit thought, Rowlf makes great impressions on people. Rowlf can come.

Kermit looked at two of the shorter denizens of the table. Rizzo and Pepe. Kermit weighed the pros and cons of the pro-con artists in his head. Rizzo is a rat and Mickey is a mouse… alright, Rizzo can come. Mickey probably ordered enough food for that… And if Rizzo comes, Pepe has to come too… oh well, he certainly leaves… an impression on people.

Robin! Kermit’s mind shouted at him. Sweet Robin, of course people in the business would want to see Robin’s exuberant talent! Child stars are all the rage these days. Oh, Robin would just l—

Kermit’s mind stopped abruptly. It’s a party, Kermit, it told him. Alcohol plus a late night equals a poor environment for Robin.

Eight. Kermit looked up and down the table again. Two more.

Scooter’s always handy to have around, Kermit thought. And he’s a pretty good dancer—Mickey did say there would be dancing. Alright, Scooter makes nine.

One more… Kermit’s mind told him. One more. This was always the hardest part—narrowing down just one more.

Clifford? Kermit asked himself. Clifford would want to bring Skeeter, mind said. That would be… eleven.

Clifford was out.

Sam? Kermit’s mind considered. “No,” Kermit said aloud, shaking his head.

“No what Uncle Kermit?” Robin asked from his seat next to his uncle.

Kermit gulped. “Erm… no way can I possibly finish these mashed potatoes,” Kermit lied. “Would you like them Robin?”

Robin shrugged. “Sure,” he said, “just don’t tell anybody you’re not finishing your own food. Grandma won’t be happy.”

Kermit smiled. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said. The frog picked up his plate and started scooping the potatoes onto Robin’s plate.

“Kermie!” shouted the cringe-worthy voice of Aunt Marge, causing Kermit to drop his plate, sending food everywhere. “Eat your vegetables!”

Kermit sighed. “What on earth was I thinking Aunt Marge?” he asked sarcastically. “Could someone pass me some napkins?”

“Oh don’t worry Kermit,” said a low and slow voice from beneath him. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Steve?” Kermit asked, looking down beneath him.

“No, it’s just me, Beauregard,” said the fuzzy brown janitor of unknown species as he cleaned the spill on the floor.

“Oh, hi-ho Beau!” Kermit said. “You’re always around when I need you.” Kermit stopped and stared forward. “Erm, say, Beau,” he said, “can you drive a limousine?”

~-~-~-~-~

The weeks remaining before Mickey’s party passed in a blur and it was finally the night of the big gala.

“Ahh, a gala… simply divine, no?” Miss Piggy asked, brushing her hair.

“Pft,” Skeeter sounded. “For you maybe.”

“Brawk baw,” Camilla clucked snootily.

“Rully,” Janice said with a ponytail bobbing nod, “Camilla’s going too.”

Skeeter rolled her eyes and slid off the edge of Miss Piggy’s bed onto her feet. “Did you just call us in here to rub in that fact?” she asked. “Because I’m sure I could find something better to do with myself.”

“I doubt it,” Kermit’s sister Maggie mumbled, flipping through a magazine on Piggy’s nightstand.

“Oh of course not,” Miss Piggy said sweetly. “I always wanted vous to help moi get ready for tonight’s festivities!” she said. “Do you still give manicures?”

“You’re wearing gloves!” Skeeter said.

“That doesn’t mean moi’s cuticles shouldn’t look wonderful,” Piggy said.

“Brawk,” Camilla nodded swiftly. “Bawk brawk, bagawk.”

Maggie nodded. “She has a point.”

Skeeter shot a glare at the frog. “And you, Camilla, have talons, not nails,” Skeeter said, hands on hips.

“Brawk?” Camilla asked.

Skeeter groaned and turned to walk out of Miss Piggy’s bedroom.

“Moi has no idea what to wear tonight either,” Miss Piggy said. “I would love your opinion.”

Maggie giggled and rolled her eyes.

Skeeter stopped and turned around. “My opinion?” she asked. “You want my opinion?”

“A bride has to trust her bridesmaids with her life,” Piggy said. “And for moi... whatever I wear to this party is a matter of life or death.”

“Oh fer sure,” Janice said. “Fashion can be, like, career suicide.”

“Which is why we frogs just go naked,” Maggie said.

“Brawk,” Camilla agreed.

Skeeter smirked. “Alright Miss Piggy, show me what you’ve got.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Piggy said. She walked up from her vanity and stepped lightly towards her simple closet. She wrapped her lavender gloved fingers around the doorknob of the closet. “Stand back dears,” she said to her bridesmaids.

“Say what?” Skeeter asked.

“Trust moi,” Piggy said.

Miss Piggy pulled hard on the right door of the closet and it burst open. Nothing happened. She walked over and pulled open the other door as well. Still, nothing happened.

“…Nothing happened,” Skeeter said.

“You’re surprised?” Maggie asked.

Piggy laughed airily. “Flip that light switch,” she said.

Skeeter looked at the yellow wall next to her. A single light switch looked back at her. “Alright,” she said. Skeeter reached out with one finger and flipped up the switch.

Something happened.

A metal bar extended out from the wall inside the closet and curved around to meet the wall again. Suddenly, a whoosh of shuffling clothes sounded through the room. Seemingly hundreds of plastic-wrapped clothes filed along the bar and filled the closet.

“Isn’t it quaint?” Piggy asked finally, brushing past the clothes as Skeeter, Maggie, Janice, and Camilla stared in disbelief. “Bunsen was a dear and installed it for moi—and then I had one of moi’s people come back and fix it.”

“It’s… this is… unbelievable!” Skeeter said finally.

“In more ways than one!” Maggie added.

“Far out,” Janice mumbled.

“We big name stars have to keep our many, many fine furnishings kept well,” Piggy said, flipping her hair behind her back and diving headlong into the rack of clothes.

She pulled out a few dresses and dangled them on her arms. “So,” Piggy said cheerfully, “which ones do vous like?”

“I like them all!” Skeeter said.

“Oh,” Piggy said gruffly and frowned. “That is unfortunate.”

“What?” Skeeter asked. “Why?”

“I was gonna go with the dress you didn’t like…” Miss Piggy grumbled.

~-~-~-~-~

Limousines always made Kermit nervous.

In fact, all cars always made Kermit nervous.

Especially long cars.

They were the hardest to dodge.

But Kermit straightened his white bow tie and decided it wasn’t worth getting nervous over. He had a party to go to.

Beauregard stood next to the door in a tuxedo—though he was still wearing his nappy gray hat. He reached his big brown hand forward and opened the back door of the limo for the Muppets standing on the front lawn of the Boarding House.

Gonzo and Camilla stepped forward first. The weirdo decked out in his finely pressed tuxedo, a stalwart white daisy pinned proudly on his left coat collar. Camilla was wearing a glimmering pink gown that reached to the top of her orange legs. A necklace of shining pearls dangled from her neck and finely manicured talons adorned her feet.

Gonzo helped Camilla into the limo and Beauregard tipped his hat to the hen. “Ashanti, mademoiselle,” he said.

Rowlf followed Gonzo and Camilla’s lead and walked towards the car wearing his own tuxedo—proudly displaying his hound dog attitude. He pulled awkwardly at his pant legs. “This is gonna take some getting used to,” he muttered.

The dog climbed into the limo too and smirked. “I hope the windows roll down,” he said. “I love to feel the wind in my ears.”

Pepe and Rizzo darted past Kermit, Miss Piggy, Fozzie, and Scooter as they ran towards the limo. “Suh-weet!” Rizzo shouted. “Let’s hope the bar’s stocked! Ha ha!”

“Si, si,” Pepe said eagerly. “We need a little pre-party party, hokay!”

As rat and the shrimp scrambled into the car Kermit turned to Scooter. “You did take all the alcohol out, didn’t you?” Kermit asked.

Scooter nodded. “You bet chief, just like you told me to.”

“Just like I told you to?” Kermit asked.

“C’mon boss,” Scooter said as he started walking towards the limo. “You can trust me, it’s not like I’m unreliable like Prairie Dawn…”

Kermit frowned. “Scooter!” he shouted at his tuxedoed go-fer.

“Just kidding boss,” Scooter lied as he climbed into the car.

Fozzie looked at the two remaining party attendees next to him. “Oh, right,” he said quickly. “Excuse me.” The bear made his way towards the car, tipping his own hat to Beau as he got in.

Kermit put his hands around his back and looked up at Miss Piggy. “Ladies first, Miss Piggy,” he said with a smirk.

Miss Piggy looked down at her fiancé. “Oh Kermie,” she said sweetly, yet roughly as she grabbed Kermit’s arm out from behind him and wrapped herself around it. “You’re such a gentleman.”

Kermit smiled. “And you, Miss Piggy, are no doubt going to be the most beautiful woman at the entire party.”

Miss Piggy smirked. “Just keep that cheesy grin for the paparazzi, frog,” she said.

Kermit frowned. “I… I don’t think I can do that, Piggy.”

“What?” Piggy asked raucously.

“If I keep the grin, how can I show the world this?” he asked, leaning upward and kissing Miss Piggy on the cheek.

Miss Piggy’s eyes gleamed. “Vous can just alternate, I suppose,” she said, returning the kiss.

“Hey, get a room, you two!” called Floyd from the porch of the Boarding House.

“A ballroom, baby!” Dr. Teeth added with a laugh.

“Ball-room! Ball-room!” Animal chanted, trying to break free of his chain and join the party.

Kermit turned around and smiled at the porch. Everyone (literally) was either watching from the porch or watching from the windows of the house.

“Don’t wait up for us,” Kermit called to them.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Gordon said. “Half of our group’s already asleep.”

Kermit shook his head with a smile. “Goodbye everyone!”

“See ya in the tabloids, Mit!” Maggie called after her brother.

“Ya’d better get goin’, Kerm,” Clifford said, still sore about not getting to go. “Entertainment Tonight’s already got live coverage from the party—if you want a TV spot you’d better hurry!”

“Bye Uncle Kermit!” Robin called, waving to his uncle from the burly arms of Sweetums.

Kermit waved back to his nephew, and to the rest of the group, and, arm in arm, he and Miss Piggy entered the limousine.

 

[TogetherAgain]

<GLOMP!>

MAGGIE!

Maggie Maggie Maggie! Is awesome. <Ahem> <HUGS!> BEST Maggie I've seen in a LONG long time. (I haven't written her in a while. But still! BEST Maggie I've seen in a LONG time.)

Also, I simply ADORE the Kermit-Robin interaction. (Are we surprised here? No. But it's still worth saying.) Also, the counting. You, sir, are very good at counting to ten. Oh, and Kermit weighing the pros and cons of the pro-con artists is also worth mentioning. Because it is fun. And the fact that you used the word raucously. That makes me VERY happy. Oh, and Robin waving from the arms of Sweetums is SUCH a cute image! WHEE! Makes me happy. Maggie's farewell, too, of "See ya in the tabloids, Mit!" Did I mention how good you are at writing Maggie? Oh, and RIZZO! The little laugh as he ran into the limousine! PERFECT! I love that little laugh of his and I so often forget he has it and you used it! YAY!

LOOOOOOVE the last line of the chapter, too. It makes me very happy.

OH! I can't believe I almost forgot to mention! KERMIT HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH HIS MIND! Oh BOY do I know the feeling! And I glomp you for that. OH! AND! AND AND AND!

<Ahem>

"Steve?"

YOU ROCK MY SOCKS OFF! ...Wait... where ARE my socks? ...I LOST MY SOCKS! Because you rocked 'em off. YAY!

MORE PLEASE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !