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Leyla
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This chapter is dedicated to Lisa...
...'cause she totally deserves it! Hugs to all my new MSN buddies! And hugs to everyone who commented on the last chapter and the story in general! You make it all worthwhile!!
And now... mood swing.
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Piggy was trying to sleep… had been, off and on, since she’d arrived at the boarding house, hadn’t, since the drug-induced lullaby the hospital had forced on their hysterical patient. She’d surprised herself with her own relief at being back amongst the madness, though being cloistered away in her room wasn’t exactly the same as being among them, she could hear the everyday brouhaha all around her, and it made her feel better.
When they left for the theatre, at first in a slow trickle and finally en masse, they took the life of the place with them, leaving her alone, and pretending not to feel it. She snuggled deeper into her blankets and squeezed her eyes shut. Frustrated, Piggy began counting her slow breaths in order to distract herself from the knowledge that the show was going on without her.
It didn’t work.
Unwilling to surrender just yet, she turned and tossed and eventually turned on some music to drown out the silence of the empty rooms around her.
It didn’t work... very well.
With a sigh, she leaned over and pulled open the bottom drawer of her end table. Inside lay a sizable pink photo album, ornately decorated with ribbons and pearls and a lacy fringe around the sides. It was, in short, the girliest album she could find, and well suited to driving away any which one of the boys who might be tempted to violate her privacy. Having the book decorated so elaborately was kindness in itself anyway, acting in much the same way as the bright colours on a poisonous insect. If Piggy ever caught anyone going through her things without her express, and highly unlikely to be given consent, said adventurer would find themselves facing a painful lesson.
Absurdly elegant gold script announced it was “The Happy Memory Book” to the whole world in the same manner someone would announce the Queen of England. Piggy ran fingers lightly over the cover and enjoyed the softness of it. She’d started it after a particularly nasty argument on the set of The Great Muppet Caper and it had taken on a life of its own. The album was something of a project of hers, something to keep her hopes up, and something to distract her while she waited impatiently for her frog to realize he was her frog.
Miss Piggy opened the book and began lovingly leafing through the pages, each one of which had little notes, mementos and photos taking up every inch of space. It focused largely on Kermit, but there were items from the others as well. Here, for instance, was a photo of Robin playing a harmonica; he’d been so delighted with that gift. Beside it was a picture of the Frog Scouts, taken shortly after they’d finally managed to get him back after a terrifying run in with Doc Hopper. Kermit was in the picture too, standing in the background, beaming proudly, but with relief and anxiety warring in his expression; he refused to let Robin out of sight for a long time after that.
On another page, there was a tiny little plastic bag filled with sand. Tears, like those little droplets of tears that stop before they can escape, welled up instantly in her vibrant eyes at the sight of it. A souvenir of another intense argument she and Kermit had had, when she’d let him down by letting difficult circumstances get to her in a desert. She smiled tearfully touching the bag, feeling the little grains through the thin plastic.
“I should have been taking care of you that day,” she whispered sorrowfully, unheard.
Beside the sand was a picture of the two of them together, happy and relaxed, which Gonzo had snapped out of the blue. He’d retained a little bit of interest in cameras from their stint on a movie and occasionally liked to surprise people. It was one of the few pictures Piggy had of them together that wasn’t a publicity shot, and she was very grateful to Gonzo for silently handing it to her on a bad day. She’d put them together, as a reminder of their friendship, and his forgiveness. When things were rough, this page of her book always strengthened her resolve to be his backrest, and to be his staunch defender always in a world that was darker than she felt he understood.
There were only a few pages left, she noted, so she would soon need to start a new volume. The realization of it was more than a little disheartening. She had thought to be starting a wedding album for them long before finishing this one. Miss Piggy had been waiting for so very long for Kermit, and it wasn’t getting any easier.
What would he say, if he found out what happened? What if she kept scars, her body reminding her forever of the accident? They wouldn’t do her career any good, that much was certain… and that would, in turn, make things harder for Kermit. She could try to hide them; Piggy was good at hiding things, but it was easier to hide the scars that weren’t visible. Hollywood was not a forgiving place for those marked physically, but just about everyone in the industry was trying to keep darker memories out of the limelight.
Miss Piggy closed the album and slipped it back into the nook, thoroughly miserable from this last effort to escape into sleep.
It hadn’t worked… spectacularly.
Frustrated, Piggy decided to escape what now felt like a prison cell as much as the hospital room had. She dressed quickly and left her bedroom, closing the door behind her. With an unhappy mien she wandered through the house, which suddenly seemed so much larger than usual. A grandfather clock that looked like it had survived a war was ticking aggressively in the living room reminding her ceaselessly of the aggravating peace and quiet.
“Oh, please,” she muttered aloud to the empty room when the stillness got to be too much to endure. “Somebody blow something up.”
She didn’t get her wish, surprisingly enough; what she did get was, from Piggy’s point of view, much more interesting than an explosion.
The phone rang.
Not previously inclined to talk to anyone, she darted to the nearest receiver and snatched it up desperate to here another voice, even that of a perfect stranger. Piggy didn’t expect anyone interesting; everyone in their circle would know that it was Show Night, and the place to reach them was the theatre.
It therefore came as a perfect shock to hear the peaceably cheerful voice of her beloved.
“Heigh- ho! Hey, Piggy, is that you?”
Kermit sounded happy to hear her voice.
On any other occasion, she’d have been ecstatic to have a phone call from him all to herself. Today, however, she was horrified.
“Oh, uh, um… is it- oh, yes. Hello, Kermie, it is moi.” She pulled on a layer of self-possession like slipping on an old coat. “How-how are you doing dear on your,” she huffed primly, “grand adventure in Europe?”
Kermit hesitated for a second before responding. Piggy meanwhile was frantically trying to come up with constructed explanations as to why she was not at the show. Why is he even calling now?!
“Well, it’s been- fine, Piggy. Uh, listen, I didn’t get a chance to, uh, say goodbye when I left….” His froggy voice held a thread of awkwardness and Piggy could see his endearing expression with crystal clarity from thousands of miles away. If she wasn’t so flustered, she would have sighed. “We had that… discuss- argument.” He settled on the word honestly.
Piggy had completely forgotten about that. “We’ll, uh, these things happen, Kermie dear.” Now he wants to talk to me? Oh brother, what did I do to deserve this?!
The Kermit voice cheered up considerably at her response. “So you’re not mad anymore? I mean, everything’s okay between uh, us?” Some of the awkwardness in his voice surged forward towards the end of the phrase.
Piggy was too distracted to enjoy it.
“We’re fine, Kermie, we’re always fine. Vous know that, my love.” Don’t you need to be going somewhere?!
“Oh, good. So…um, you’re okay then?”
Piggy nearly dropped the phone.
Reeling she tried to recover, laughing nervously. “Of course, silly Kermie, why wouldn’t moi be fine?”
“Well, I thought it might bother you, at least a little bit, that we fought before I left. I mean, you wouldn’t even talk to me yesterday when I called.” He was starting to sound faintly disgruntled.
“Oh. Oh… yesterday. That was… only a trifle, Kermie.” I can’t handle this now!
Now Kermit was really irritated with Piggy’s airy reassurances “Hey, it wasn’t so little then… I mean you did, karate chop me!”
Piggy laughed again. “Oh honestly, you get flustered over the littlest things!” Somebody shoot me.
Kermit was quiet for a moment, frustration obvious in his breathing. Miss Piggy rubbed her head unhappily, wondering how they’d managed to start arguing again. She elected to change the subject.
Kermit had come to the same decision, and they spoke over each other.
“So why are vous calling?”
“So how was the show?”
There was a moment of confusion as they tried to rewind and figure out what they’d said.
“To see how the show went.” Kermit replied first, as Piggy tried to figure out what to say. It was still going!
“Um…” she began, as Kermit continued.
“I’m sure it went great and all. I have complete trust in you guys, I just want to know the details. How were your numbers? Let’s see that was the torch song and ‘Bahama Mama’ right?”
“Um…”
“Gee, it’s awfully quiet over. We’re usually on the roof by now.” There was a short pause as Kermit considered the lack of chaos in the background. When he spoke again, it was heavy with worry. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Piggy had to say something. She had to say something fast or Kermit would just continue to fret. But what? What?!
“Piggy?”
“Everything’sfineIhavetogonowbyeKermie!”
And she hung up on up him.
...'cause she totally deserves it! Hugs to all my new MSN buddies! And hugs to everyone who commented on the last chapter and the story in general! You make it all worthwhile!!
And now... mood swing.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Piggy was trying to sleep… had been, off and on, since she’d arrived at the boarding house, hadn’t, since the drug-induced lullaby the hospital had forced on their hysterical patient. She’d surprised herself with her own relief at being back amongst the madness, though being cloistered away in her room wasn’t exactly the same as being among them, she could hear the everyday brouhaha all around her, and it made her feel better.
When they left for the theatre, at first in a slow trickle and finally en masse, they took the life of the place with them, leaving her alone, and pretending not to feel it. She snuggled deeper into her blankets and squeezed her eyes shut. Frustrated, Piggy began counting her slow breaths in order to distract herself from the knowledge that the show was going on without her.
It didn’t work.
Unwilling to surrender just yet, she turned and tossed and eventually turned on some music to drown out the silence of the empty rooms around her.
It didn’t work... very well.
With a sigh, she leaned over and pulled open the bottom drawer of her end table. Inside lay a sizable pink photo album, ornately decorated with ribbons and pearls and a lacy fringe around the sides. It was, in short, the girliest album she could find, and well suited to driving away any which one of the boys who might be tempted to violate her privacy. Having the book decorated so elaborately was kindness in itself anyway, acting in much the same way as the bright colours on a poisonous insect. If Piggy ever caught anyone going through her things without her express, and highly unlikely to be given consent, said adventurer would find themselves facing a painful lesson.
Absurdly elegant gold script announced it was “The Happy Memory Book” to the whole world in the same manner someone would announce the Queen of England. Piggy ran fingers lightly over the cover and enjoyed the softness of it. She’d started it after a particularly nasty argument on the set of The Great Muppet Caper and it had taken on a life of its own. The album was something of a project of hers, something to keep her hopes up, and something to distract her while she waited impatiently for her frog to realize he was her frog.
Miss Piggy opened the book and began lovingly leafing through the pages, each one of which had little notes, mementos and photos taking up every inch of space. It focused largely on Kermit, but there were items from the others as well. Here, for instance, was a photo of Robin playing a harmonica; he’d been so delighted with that gift. Beside it was a picture of the Frog Scouts, taken shortly after they’d finally managed to get him back after a terrifying run in with Doc Hopper. Kermit was in the picture too, standing in the background, beaming proudly, but with relief and anxiety warring in his expression; he refused to let Robin out of sight for a long time after that.
On another page, there was a tiny little plastic bag filled with sand. Tears, like those little droplets of tears that stop before they can escape, welled up instantly in her vibrant eyes at the sight of it. A souvenir of another intense argument she and Kermit had had, when she’d let him down by letting difficult circumstances get to her in a desert. She smiled tearfully touching the bag, feeling the little grains through the thin plastic.
“I should have been taking care of you that day,” she whispered sorrowfully, unheard.
Beside the sand was a picture of the two of them together, happy and relaxed, which Gonzo had snapped out of the blue. He’d retained a little bit of interest in cameras from their stint on a movie and occasionally liked to surprise people. It was one of the few pictures Piggy had of them together that wasn’t a publicity shot, and she was very grateful to Gonzo for silently handing it to her on a bad day. She’d put them together, as a reminder of their friendship, and his forgiveness. When things were rough, this page of her book always strengthened her resolve to be his backrest, and to be his staunch defender always in a world that was darker than she felt he understood.
There were only a few pages left, she noted, so she would soon need to start a new volume. The realization of it was more than a little disheartening. She had thought to be starting a wedding album for them long before finishing this one. Miss Piggy had been waiting for so very long for Kermit, and it wasn’t getting any easier.
What would he say, if he found out what happened? What if she kept scars, her body reminding her forever of the accident? They wouldn’t do her career any good, that much was certain… and that would, in turn, make things harder for Kermit. She could try to hide them; Piggy was good at hiding things, but it was easier to hide the scars that weren’t visible. Hollywood was not a forgiving place for those marked physically, but just about everyone in the industry was trying to keep darker memories out of the limelight.
Miss Piggy closed the album and slipped it back into the nook, thoroughly miserable from this last effort to escape into sleep.
It hadn’t worked… spectacularly.
Frustrated, Piggy decided to escape what now felt like a prison cell as much as the hospital room had. She dressed quickly and left her bedroom, closing the door behind her. With an unhappy mien she wandered through the house, which suddenly seemed so much larger than usual. A grandfather clock that looked like it had survived a war was ticking aggressively in the living room reminding her ceaselessly of the aggravating peace and quiet.
“Oh, please,” she muttered aloud to the empty room when the stillness got to be too much to endure. “Somebody blow something up.”
She didn’t get her wish, surprisingly enough; what she did get was, from Piggy’s point of view, much more interesting than an explosion.
The phone rang.
Not previously inclined to talk to anyone, she darted to the nearest receiver and snatched it up desperate to here another voice, even that of a perfect stranger. Piggy didn’t expect anyone interesting; everyone in their circle would know that it was Show Night, and the place to reach them was the theatre.
It therefore came as a perfect shock to hear the peaceably cheerful voice of her beloved.
“Heigh- ho! Hey, Piggy, is that you?”
Kermit sounded happy to hear her voice.
On any other occasion, she’d have been ecstatic to have a phone call from him all to herself. Today, however, she was horrified.
“Oh, uh, um… is it- oh, yes. Hello, Kermie, it is moi.” She pulled on a layer of self-possession like slipping on an old coat. “How-how are you doing dear on your,” she huffed primly, “grand adventure in Europe?”
Kermit hesitated for a second before responding. Piggy meanwhile was frantically trying to come up with constructed explanations as to why she was not at the show. Why is he even calling now?!
“Well, it’s been- fine, Piggy. Uh, listen, I didn’t get a chance to, uh, say goodbye when I left….” His froggy voice held a thread of awkwardness and Piggy could see his endearing expression with crystal clarity from thousands of miles away. If she wasn’t so flustered, she would have sighed. “We had that… discuss- argument.” He settled on the word honestly.
Piggy had completely forgotten about that. “We’ll, uh, these things happen, Kermie dear.” Now he wants to talk to me? Oh brother, what did I do to deserve this?!
The Kermit voice cheered up considerably at her response. “So you’re not mad anymore? I mean, everything’s okay between uh, us?” Some of the awkwardness in his voice surged forward towards the end of the phrase.
Piggy was too distracted to enjoy it.
“We’re fine, Kermie, we’re always fine. Vous know that, my love.” Don’t you need to be going somewhere?!
“Oh, good. So…um, you’re okay then?”
Piggy nearly dropped the phone.
Reeling she tried to recover, laughing nervously. “Of course, silly Kermie, why wouldn’t moi be fine?”
“Well, I thought it might bother you, at least a little bit, that we fought before I left. I mean, you wouldn’t even talk to me yesterday when I called.” He was starting to sound faintly disgruntled.
“Oh. Oh… yesterday. That was… only a trifle, Kermie.” I can’t handle this now!
Now Kermit was really irritated with Piggy’s airy reassurances “Hey, it wasn’t so little then… I mean you did, karate chop me!”
Piggy laughed again. “Oh honestly, you get flustered over the littlest things!” Somebody shoot me.
Kermit was quiet for a moment, frustration obvious in his breathing. Miss Piggy rubbed her head unhappily, wondering how they’d managed to start arguing again. She elected to change the subject.
Kermit had come to the same decision, and they spoke over each other.
“So why are vous calling?”
“So how was the show?”
There was a moment of confusion as they tried to rewind and figure out what they’d said.
“To see how the show went.” Kermit replied first, as Piggy tried to figure out what to say. It was still going!
“Um…” she began, as Kermit continued.
“I’m sure it went great and all. I have complete trust in you guys, I just want to know the details. How were your numbers? Let’s see that was the torch song and ‘Bahama Mama’ right?”
“Um…”
“Gee, it’s awfully quiet over. We’re usually on the roof by now.” There was a short pause as Kermit considered the lack of chaos in the background. When he spoke again, it was heavy with worry. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Piggy had to say something. She had to say something fast or Kermit would just continue to fret. But what? What?!
“Piggy?”
“Everything’sfineIhavetogonowbyeKermie!”
And she hung up on up him.
