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Muppet Fanfic: Something worth waiting for
- Thread starter Leyla
- Start date
theprawncracker
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Hey, if County and Marty can bump fics so can I. 
Layla ushy gushy honey pie, may we have more please? 
And if that didn't work, *fires penguins out of MY penguin cannon* And Prawnie said: "Let there be fan-fic!"
Layla ushy gushy honey pie, may we have more please? And if that didn't work, *fires penguins out of MY penguin cannon* And Prawnie said: "Let there be fan-fic!"
TogetherAgain
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And there was fanfic.
...Or at least, THERE'D BETTER BE!
<throws penguins>
<has bad aim>
<hits self instead>
Ow...
...Or at least, THERE'D BETTER BE!
<throws penguins>
<has bad aim>
<hits self instead>
Ow...
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2002
- Messages
- 31,305
- Reaction score
- 2,947
Yeah... But at least I have an excuse. Unsubscribed to everything thinking it'd solve my E-mail notification problem if I came back and resubscribed to the threads I wanted.
Hasn't worked, will talk to Phillip.
But it's a good exercise bringing old stories back to the surface... Helps people who haven't read them yet to find brand new worlds of fanfiction goodness.
And nag the authors who have yet to finish their respective works. *Wink, Layla.
19 nifty books marked for us to read again.
Hasn't worked, will talk to Phillip.
But it's a good exercise bringing old stories back to the surface... Helps people who haven't read them yet to find brand new worlds of fanfiction goodness.
And nag the authors who have yet to finish their respective works. *Wink, Layla.
19 nifty books marked for us to read again.
Leyla
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2006
- Messages
- 619
- Reaction score
- 15
Sorry for the long, long delay in updates, friends... I'm run ragged right now, and I have at least another week before things have a chance to settle.
Enjoy anyway...
Talking to the Swedish Chef was one of those grueling, migraine-inducing tasks that Piggy tried to avoid whenever possible, much like cooking and manual labour. It wasn’t that she disliked the odd little man exactly, but, like nearly all of the Muppets, Miss Piggy had learned through painful experience to be wary of him… and his dishes.
Camilla fluttered her wings anxiously as she clucked rapid-fire at him and he listened with great interest. The hen was careful not to get too close to the Scandinavian maniac, the porcine diva noted wearily.
“Just tell me what the bird is saying, will ya?” she muttered when he peered at Piggy for just a little too long.
No. Piggy didn’t dislike the Chef… not exactly. On one occasion when she’d been complaining that whoever was responsible for the development of the all-celery diet should be impaled repeatedly with his own celery, the Swedish Chef had, in his usual, excessively jovial manner, offered to help Piggy in her, completely unnecessary, dieting endeavors.
She must have been delerious to have accepted such an offer.
The resulting case of, thankfully, mild botulism is better left un-described, but her furious complaints and utter misery did put somewhat of a rift between them. The tension had lasted through some months, until he’d attempted to use Piggy herself in a recipe. Naturally, she had foiled his efforts with pork chops of a different variety… though, arguably, no more dangerous than the originals.
It wasn't that the Swedish Chef’s efforts to turn her into a culinary disaster had settled matters between them directly… but he had woken up Kermit’s protective instincts, and after nearly a week of basking in the frog’s solicitous attention, Piggy had forgiven the Chef entirely.
“Und der Piggy was knock knockened in der noogin by der crazee kook.” Her forgiveness didn’t make communicating with him any easier however. Piggy would have been more than happy to forget the whole thing, forget having ever tried to listen to the chicken, but Camilla was proving persistent to a fault.
Getting frustrated himself, the Chef ran off and returned shortly thereafter, having shanghaied Beaker into their efforts, causing Piggy to seriously consider whether winning Kermit’s affection was really worth the mental anguish of not strangling a small handful of his associates.
“Mee mee, me mee mee meee mee moo moo mee.”
He would surely understand, wouldn’t he? After all, there were days when Piggy knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he, the head honcho, the boss, the frog himself would be perfectly agreeable to sending a few annoyances over to Piggy’s less than tender ministrations… before he throttled them himself. Camilla’s distraught cluck drew Piggy out of her vaguely murderous reverie.
“I know but…. Look. Is this really that important, Camilla dear? Can’t we just wait for Gonzo to come back?” The little white hen, if anything, looked even more distraught and nodded insistently.
“Meeee! Meee me me meeee mee mee monzo?”
As if she was sharing Piggy’s thoughts, Camilla shot a look brimming with skepticism at Beaker, whose voice, the diva decided, had all the soothing harmonies of an electric violin played with a power sander, accompanied by a veritable choir of fingernails on chalkboards.
All four of them were near tears when Animal stalked past, eyes darting back and forth like some wild thing on the hunt for something wilder… which, to be honest, was more or less the case. Seeing the mismatched group in borderline hysterics, he stopped, tilted his head, wagged his hairy eyebrows at Piggy, and then bellowed, “QUIET!!” at Beaker.
The skittish part time scientist and full time guinea pig complied immediately, ducking his narrow head into his lab coat, as was his wont when he was alarmed, which was nearly always, and for good reason.
Piggy stared at Animal, uncertain what the drumming creature would do next. “WEIRDO SAD! PIG MAD!” Animal pronounced wisely. “PIG FIX GONZO…. NOW!!!”
With that, his eyelids dropped heavily over the barely shuttered madness that lay beneath them, and he ambled off in search of one or more of the five basic staples of life.
Cautiously, Piggy looked at Camilla.
“Is that-“ The hen had collapsed against the lady pig’s leg, weeping and nodding in relief.
“Oh,” she said quietly, before waving away the Chef and Beaker and shifting her leg slightly away from the hysterical chicken. “Camilla, it- it was an accident. Moi am not angry with Gonzo. Really.” She sighed heavily, “I just want to forget all of this ever happened so I can get on with moi’s life!”
Camilla’s answering comment required no translation… thank goodness.
“Well, I don’t care what you think!” Piggy snapped. “It’s the truth! I am NOT angry with that freak and he doesn’t need me to talk to him!" She took a breath and spoke more calmly, more coolly." If Gonzo needs someone one to fix him, might I suggest a psychologist?”
Changing tactics, the chicken cast Piggy a pleading, puppy-“frog” eye look that would have rivaled anyone’s save perhaps, for little Robin’s, who had become something of an expert.
“Fine,” she growled, relenting at last if only to free herself from the confounded girlfriend of a confounded… whatever. “Moi will talk to him. Alright?”
With that promise given, Camilla, at last, granted Piggy a reprieve from the clucking, snarling, meeping and Swedish gobbledy gook. Left alone again and to her own devices, Piggy felt the melancholy that had fled in all the chaos returned swiftly to plague her once more. She sighed moodily and, after a few minutes of waiting for Gonzo to come rampaging by and seeing no sign of him, retired to her bedroom.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey, listen. I really appreciate you opening your home to me like this.”
“C’est notre plasir,” came the fluid reply from the doe-eyed, raven-haired woman.
Kermit had never pretended to understand French, but his host kindly translated. “It’s our pleasure. Welcome to our home.” Marcel LaPierre had been quick to offer Kermit a chance to come over and watch the show with them when Mr. Caraway had made it known that the frog wanted to see it as soon as possible. “Mireille understands English, but she is shy to speak it, Mr. Frog.”
“Please, call me Kermit,” he said in reply, offering a friendly smile that took in the couple as well as the chubby faced toddler that stood staring at him in fascination. The little one reached forward suddenly, pointing with grubby, moist, baby fingers, his innocent face breaking into a child’s smile of pure, untroubled delight, but before Kermit had a chance to wonder just where those fingers had been, Mireille scooped up her son and blew a quick raspberry on his round belly. “Au bain, Chou,” she crooned, whisking him off for a quick bath.
“Nice family,” Kermit commented as Marcel slipped a tape into his VCR.
“Thank you. We are all great fans of your work, yours and your friends’, including little Sami there.”
“Well, thank you very much for the hospitality. I’m glad you recorded the show. I wouldn’t have been able to see it otherwise. Really, you have no idea how much this means to me.”
“It is my pleasure…Kermit,” he smiled. “Ah, look, it is starting.” Quickly, Marcel took up the chair next to that which he’d offered to Kermit and together they watched the latest episode of the newest reincarnation of “The Muppet Show.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Enjoy anyway...
Talking to the Swedish Chef was one of those grueling, migraine-inducing tasks that Piggy tried to avoid whenever possible, much like cooking and manual labour. It wasn’t that she disliked the odd little man exactly, but, like nearly all of the Muppets, Miss Piggy had learned through painful experience to be wary of him… and his dishes.
Camilla fluttered her wings anxiously as she clucked rapid-fire at him and he listened with great interest. The hen was careful not to get too close to the Scandinavian maniac, the porcine diva noted wearily.
“Just tell me what the bird is saying, will ya?” she muttered when he peered at Piggy for just a little too long.
No. Piggy didn’t dislike the Chef… not exactly. On one occasion when she’d been complaining that whoever was responsible for the development of the all-celery diet should be impaled repeatedly with his own celery, the Swedish Chef had, in his usual, excessively jovial manner, offered to help Piggy in her, completely unnecessary, dieting endeavors.
She must have been delerious to have accepted such an offer.
The resulting case of, thankfully, mild botulism is better left un-described, but her furious complaints and utter misery did put somewhat of a rift between them. The tension had lasted through some months, until he’d attempted to use Piggy herself in a recipe. Naturally, she had foiled his efforts with pork chops of a different variety… though, arguably, no more dangerous than the originals.
It wasn't that the Swedish Chef’s efforts to turn her into a culinary disaster had settled matters between them directly… but he had woken up Kermit’s protective instincts, and after nearly a week of basking in the frog’s solicitous attention, Piggy had forgiven the Chef entirely.
“Und der Piggy was knock knockened in der noogin by der crazee kook.” Her forgiveness didn’t make communicating with him any easier however. Piggy would have been more than happy to forget the whole thing, forget having ever tried to listen to the chicken, but Camilla was proving persistent to a fault.
Getting frustrated himself, the Chef ran off and returned shortly thereafter, having shanghaied Beaker into their efforts, causing Piggy to seriously consider whether winning Kermit’s affection was really worth the mental anguish of not strangling a small handful of his associates.
“Mee mee, me mee mee meee mee moo moo mee.”
He would surely understand, wouldn’t he? After all, there were days when Piggy knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he, the head honcho, the boss, the frog himself would be perfectly agreeable to sending a few annoyances over to Piggy’s less than tender ministrations… before he throttled them himself. Camilla’s distraught cluck drew Piggy out of her vaguely murderous reverie.
“I know but…. Look. Is this really that important, Camilla dear? Can’t we just wait for Gonzo to come back?” The little white hen, if anything, looked even more distraught and nodded insistently.
“Meeee! Meee me me meeee mee mee monzo?”
As if she was sharing Piggy’s thoughts, Camilla shot a look brimming with skepticism at Beaker, whose voice, the diva decided, had all the soothing harmonies of an electric violin played with a power sander, accompanied by a veritable choir of fingernails on chalkboards.
All four of them were near tears when Animal stalked past, eyes darting back and forth like some wild thing on the hunt for something wilder… which, to be honest, was more or less the case. Seeing the mismatched group in borderline hysterics, he stopped, tilted his head, wagged his hairy eyebrows at Piggy, and then bellowed, “QUIET!!” at Beaker.
The skittish part time scientist and full time guinea pig complied immediately, ducking his narrow head into his lab coat, as was his wont when he was alarmed, which was nearly always, and for good reason.
Piggy stared at Animal, uncertain what the drumming creature would do next. “WEIRDO SAD! PIG MAD!” Animal pronounced wisely. “PIG FIX GONZO…. NOW!!!”
With that, his eyelids dropped heavily over the barely shuttered madness that lay beneath them, and he ambled off in search of one or more of the five basic staples of life.
Cautiously, Piggy looked at Camilla.
“Is that-“ The hen had collapsed against the lady pig’s leg, weeping and nodding in relief.
“Oh,” she said quietly, before waving away the Chef and Beaker and shifting her leg slightly away from the hysterical chicken. “Camilla, it- it was an accident. Moi am not angry with Gonzo. Really.” She sighed heavily, “I just want to forget all of this ever happened so I can get on with moi’s life!”
Camilla’s answering comment required no translation… thank goodness.
“Well, I don’t care what you think!” Piggy snapped. “It’s the truth! I am NOT angry with that freak and he doesn’t need me to talk to him!" She took a breath and spoke more calmly, more coolly." If Gonzo needs someone one to fix him, might I suggest a psychologist?”
Changing tactics, the chicken cast Piggy a pleading, puppy-“frog” eye look that would have rivaled anyone’s save perhaps, for little Robin’s, who had become something of an expert.
“Fine,” she growled, relenting at last if only to free herself from the confounded girlfriend of a confounded… whatever. “Moi will talk to him. Alright?”
With that promise given, Camilla, at last, granted Piggy a reprieve from the clucking, snarling, meeping and Swedish gobbledy gook. Left alone again and to her own devices, Piggy felt the melancholy that had fled in all the chaos returned swiftly to plague her once more. She sighed moodily and, after a few minutes of waiting for Gonzo to come rampaging by and seeing no sign of him, retired to her bedroom.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey, listen. I really appreciate you opening your home to me like this.”
“C’est notre plasir,” came the fluid reply from the doe-eyed, raven-haired woman.
Kermit had never pretended to understand French, but his host kindly translated. “It’s our pleasure. Welcome to our home.” Marcel LaPierre had been quick to offer Kermit a chance to come over and watch the show with them when Mr. Caraway had made it known that the frog wanted to see it as soon as possible. “Mireille understands English, but she is shy to speak it, Mr. Frog.”
“Please, call me Kermit,” he said in reply, offering a friendly smile that took in the couple as well as the chubby faced toddler that stood staring at him in fascination. The little one reached forward suddenly, pointing with grubby, moist, baby fingers, his innocent face breaking into a child’s smile of pure, untroubled delight, but before Kermit had a chance to wonder just where those fingers had been, Mireille scooped up her son and blew a quick raspberry on his round belly. “Au bain, Chou,” she crooned, whisking him off for a quick bath.
“Nice family,” Kermit commented as Marcel slipped a tape into his VCR.
“Thank you. We are all great fans of your work, yours and your friends’, including little Sami there.”
“Well, thank you very much for the hospitality. I’m glad you recorded the show. I wouldn’t have been able to see it otherwise. Really, you have no idea how much this means to me.”
“It is my pleasure…Kermit,” he smiled. “Ah, look, it is starting.” Quickly, Marcel took up the chair next to that which he’d offered to Kermit and together they watched the latest episode of the newest reincarnation of “The Muppet Show.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------
theprawncracker
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EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! Oh LEYLA!! How amazingly LOVELY!!!!!!! Oh my gosh the way Piggy kept trying to have conversations with Chef and Beaker and Camilla! And then Animal comes in and saves the day!! How AWESOME!!! Then Gonzo!! OH GONZO!!!!!!!!!!! Oh it's so heartfelt...OH GONZO!! And then THIS:
Oh it's just...HILLARIOUS!!!! AND WOOOOOOOW!!!! I love it ALL! (((HUGS))) and keep cool, you'll be fine this next week and get an update to us when you can!Darth Layla said:
TogetherAgain
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I could squeal in delight over this chapter.
Or I could NOT reveal to my parents that I have my computer on after 9:30 at night, which as you know, is not supposed to be allowed.
Your choice.
...I thought so.
I'll come back and squeal some time tomorrow, hopefully. Till then, just know that I love it! And MORE PLEASE!
Or I could NOT reveal to my parents that I have my computer on after 9:30 at night, which as you know, is not supposed to be allowed.
Your choice.
...I thought so.
I'll come back and squeal some time tomorrow, hopefully. Till then, just know that I love it! And MORE PLEASE!