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Leyla
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Hmm, well... what can I say... it seemed like fun!
Be gentle, I hardly remember the Muppet show from my childhood, I'm rediscovering it now.
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“Vous are being unreasonable!”
“I’m being unreasonable?!” he repeated incredulously.
“Exactly!” she growled, but not without satisfaction. “Finally, we agree on something!”
Kermit stared at her in stupefaction, mouth opening and closing in a fruitless attempt to find the words that would allow him to regain control of the situation.
A situation that started, like many before it, with a capitol “P.”
“Piggy,” he began, tension evident in every inch of his small green frame. The crowd of Muppets surrounding him leaned in expectantly, keenly waiting for the drama to unfold. “Piggy, you can’t honestly expect me to-” The irate blonde swept forward suddenly, her eyes blazing with blue fire. As one, the spectators scattered backwards; no one wanted to be within arm's reach when Piggy was this upset. Those farthest away from the centre of the conflict were at ease enough to discuss the matter in a civilized fashion.
“Five bucks on the pig!”
“Ten.”
“Five on the frog!”
“Jou must be kidding, alright?”
“Tactics, man, it’s all about the tactics.”
“TACTICS! TACTICS!”
“Remember, guys, this doesn’t effect the monthly pool!”
“Rizzo, you can’t change the rules in the middle of-”
Kermit tuned out the tide of voices washing over his ears with a skill born of long practice. He needed to focus on the problem before him. Truthfully, that wasn’t all that difficult to accomplish. Piggy was eminently capable of making sure she was being heard. Pausing, she sent a furious glare around at the undeterred onlookers before resuming her intimidating approach. Kermit watched carefully, assessing her mood in a split second.
Level 6, he decided, not angry enough to chop just yet. Chancing the risk that he might be wrong, the frog held his ground… and his breath.
“Why,” she hissed, almost inaudibly, when she was near enough for him to feel her breath, “are you doing this to me?” Another flash of those blue eyes, and Kermit winced as a pang of regret hit him. Not often, but every once in a while, Piggy would let slip the hurt which was underlying the outrage. He hated when she did that; it was the equivalent of an emotional Karate chop, and it was devastatingly effective. Any temptation of giving vent to his frustration in a tirade expressed more clearly in frantic arm waving than in words, vanished abruptly.
“Piggy,” he sighed, rubbing his head, trying to formulate his words carefully, “I am not doing this to you. It’s just how things worked out this time around.” Kermit was relieved when the volatile actress sighed mournfully. Level 2, much better. Muppets, some relieved, some disappointed, began drifting off to find other sources of entertainment. “I tried to talk to them; I really did.” She glanced away from him now, mood shifting like quicksilver, rapid and difficult to track. At least Piggy was listening. “It’s… they really only wanted one person on the tour and so…” Kermit trailed off, hoping for some sort of response. She still wasn’t looking at him. Reluctantly, he forged on ahead, “It’s not really going to be much fun, you know, rushing around, trying to make everyone happy, answering the same questions over and over until you just want to scream.”
“Still,” she murmured, genuine regret edging in on pathos, “Paris… in the spring.”
“I won’t be seeing it, Piggy. Living out of a suitcase, never having a minute to myself, it’s going to be exhausting.” Miss Piggy shrugged, non-committal. “I’ll be back soon. It’s only for a couple of weeks.” Kermit offered a sympathetic smile. She had settled rather quickly; this was going better than he’d anticipated.
Suddenly, she looked at him askance. “Why didn’t vous tell moi about this until now, Kermie?” Storm clouds began to gather again in her expression. “Looks like everyone else knew. Just how long have vous known about this tour of Europe?”
Time for the frog to backpedal as fast as his metaphorical legs could carry him. “Uh, well, you see, Piggy, uh, darling-” Pet names weren’t going to help him now, he realized too late. The invitation had been very specific about leaving “the pork” in the theatre. Two years ago the acerbic host had had a rather unpleasant encounter with the diva during an in-depth interview. Kermit did not entirely blame Piggy for her reaction to the biting questions and sly implications, but it did make things awkward when they needed to do promotions.
“When!” It was not a question; it was a demand.
“Er, I guess it’s been about a month, heh, but I wasn’t sure until-”
“What’s her name?” The question threw Kermit for a loop.
“Huh? I mean, pardon?”
“The girl you’re taking to Paris with vous. What’s her name? Does moi know her?” Where is she getting that from?! Piggy spun away from him sharply, tapping her foot angrily on the floor. Eight and a half… uh oh. Kermit wished he’d never agreed to take on this charity marathon. He was beginning to wish he’d never left the swamp. Peaceful, calm, completely pig-free…
“Piggy, you’re being ridiculous! I’m the only one going! There’s nobody else!” He had started to yell before he’d even quite realized it. “And even if there was, that’s none of your business, pig!”
Is that a nine and a half or a ten?
Whack!
Ah, ten.
Echoing footsteps and a slammed door heralded Kermit’s finding himself sprawled in an all too familiar position on the wooden floor. It was made slightly less familiar by Rizzo hovering over him looking less than impressed. Odd seeing the little guy from that angle.
“You couldn’t have kept it at twelve, could ya?” The rat shook his head in disgust. “If you’d jumped on that plane yesterday-”
“Rizzo.”
“I’m just saying-”
“Rizzo.”
“You couldn’t have ducked?”
“Rizzo.” Kermit scrunched his face up in annoyance. “You want to try ducking, you just go right ahead.”
“Sheesh, grumpy,” Rizzo trundled off as Kermit crawled to his feet.
The frog glanced between a clock and the firmly shut dressing room door, wondering if he should try to resolve things one more time before leaving. There wasn’t much time and she needed to cool off. Piggy didn’t tend to hold her anger for long, however…
“Hey, boss, you okay?” He nearly leapt out of his skin at the cheerful voice coming from behind him. Kermit didn’t answer the question directly.
“Scooter, either Piggy or myself is crazy. I’m just not sure which one.” If it were only possible, the go-fer’s smile would have broadened.
“Aw, don’t worry, everyone knows you’re both crazy!” Kermit frowned at him with all his might. Heedlessly, Scooter continued on, “Gee, I mean, everyone around here is crazy. You oughta know that, of all people.”
Be gentle, I hardly remember the Muppet show from my childhood, I'm rediscovering it now.
-------------------------------------------------------
“Vous are being unreasonable!”
“I’m being unreasonable?!” he repeated incredulously.
“Exactly!” she growled, but not without satisfaction. “Finally, we agree on something!”
Kermit stared at her in stupefaction, mouth opening and closing in a fruitless attempt to find the words that would allow him to regain control of the situation.
A situation that started, like many before it, with a capitol “P.”
“Piggy,” he began, tension evident in every inch of his small green frame. The crowd of Muppets surrounding him leaned in expectantly, keenly waiting for the drama to unfold. “Piggy, you can’t honestly expect me to-” The irate blonde swept forward suddenly, her eyes blazing with blue fire. As one, the spectators scattered backwards; no one wanted to be within arm's reach when Piggy was this upset. Those farthest away from the centre of the conflict were at ease enough to discuss the matter in a civilized fashion.
“Five bucks on the pig!”
“Ten.”
“Five on the frog!”
“Jou must be kidding, alright?”
“Tactics, man, it’s all about the tactics.”
“TACTICS! TACTICS!”
“Remember, guys, this doesn’t effect the monthly pool!”
“Rizzo, you can’t change the rules in the middle of-”
Kermit tuned out the tide of voices washing over his ears with a skill born of long practice. He needed to focus on the problem before him. Truthfully, that wasn’t all that difficult to accomplish. Piggy was eminently capable of making sure she was being heard. Pausing, she sent a furious glare around at the undeterred onlookers before resuming her intimidating approach. Kermit watched carefully, assessing her mood in a split second.
Level 6, he decided, not angry enough to chop just yet. Chancing the risk that he might be wrong, the frog held his ground… and his breath.
“Why,” she hissed, almost inaudibly, when she was near enough for him to feel her breath, “are you doing this to me?” Another flash of those blue eyes, and Kermit winced as a pang of regret hit him. Not often, but every once in a while, Piggy would let slip the hurt which was underlying the outrage. He hated when she did that; it was the equivalent of an emotional Karate chop, and it was devastatingly effective. Any temptation of giving vent to his frustration in a tirade expressed more clearly in frantic arm waving than in words, vanished abruptly.
“Piggy,” he sighed, rubbing his head, trying to formulate his words carefully, “I am not doing this to you. It’s just how things worked out this time around.” Kermit was relieved when the volatile actress sighed mournfully. Level 2, much better. Muppets, some relieved, some disappointed, began drifting off to find other sources of entertainment. “I tried to talk to them; I really did.” She glanced away from him now, mood shifting like quicksilver, rapid and difficult to track. At least Piggy was listening. “It’s… they really only wanted one person on the tour and so…” Kermit trailed off, hoping for some sort of response. She still wasn’t looking at him. Reluctantly, he forged on ahead, “It’s not really going to be much fun, you know, rushing around, trying to make everyone happy, answering the same questions over and over until you just want to scream.”
“Still,” she murmured, genuine regret edging in on pathos, “Paris… in the spring.”
“I won’t be seeing it, Piggy. Living out of a suitcase, never having a minute to myself, it’s going to be exhausting.” Miss Piggy shrugged, non-committal. “I’ll be back soon. It’s only for a couple of weeks.” Kermit offered a sympathetic smile. She had settled rather quickly; this was going better than he’d anticipated.
Suddenly, she looked at him askance. “Why didn’t vous tell moi about this until now, Kermie?” Storm clouds began to gather again in her expression. “Looks like everyone else knew. Just how long have vous known about this tour of Europe?”
Time for the frog to backpedal as fast as his metaphorical legs could carry him. “Uh, well, you see, Piggy, uh, darling-” Pet names weren’t going to help him now, he realized too late. The invitation had been very specific about leaving “the pork” in the theatre. Two years ago the acerbic host had had a rather unpleasant encounter with the diva during an in-depth interview. Kermit did not entirely blame Piggy for her reaction to the biting questions and sly implications, but it did make things awkward when they needed to do promotions.
“When!” It was not a question; it was a demand.
“Er, I guess it’s been about a month, heh, but I wasn’t sure until-”
“What’s her name?” The question threw Kermit for a loop.
“Huh? I mean, pardon?”
“The girl you’re taking to Paris with vous. What’s her name? Does moi know her?” Where is she getting that from?! Piggy spun away from him sharply, tapping her foot angrily on the floor. Eight and a half… uh oh. Kermit wished he’d never agreed to take on this charity marathon. He was beginning to wish he’d never left the swamp. Peaceful, calm, completely pig-free…
“Piggy, you’re being ridiculous! I’m the only one going! There’s nobody else!” He had started to yell before he’d even quite realized it. “And even if there was, that’s none of your business, pig!”
Is that a nine and a half or a ten?
Whack!
Ah, ten.
Echoing footsteps and a slammed door heralded Kermit’s finding himself sprawled in an all too familiar position on the wooden floor. It was made slightly less familiar by Rizzo hovering over him looking less than impressed. Odd seeing the little guy from that angle.
“You couldn’t have kept it at twelve, could ya?” The rat shook his head in disgust. “If you’d jumped on that plane yesterday-”
“Rizzo.”
“I’m just saying-”
“Rizzo.”
“You couldn’t have ducked?”
“Rizzo.” Kermit scrunched his face up in annoyance. “You want to try ducking, you just go right ahead.”
“Sheesh, grumpy,” Rizzo trundled off as Kermit crawled to his feet.
The frog glanced between a clock and the firmly shut dressing room door, wondering if he should try to resolve things one more time before leaving. There wasn’t much time and she needed to cool off. Piggy didn’t tend to hold her anger for long, however…
“Hey, boss, you okay?” He nearly leapt out of his skin at the cheerful voice coming from behind him. Kermit didn’t answer the question directly.
“Scooter, either Piggy or myself is crazy. I’m just not sure which one.” If it were only possible, the go-fer’s smile would have broadened.
“Aw, don’t worry, everyone knows you’re both crazy!” Kermit frowned at him with all his might. Heedlessly, Scooter continued on, “Gee, I mean, everyone around here is crazy. You oughta know that, of all people.”
