Ruahnna
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Chapter 19: Pique of the Day
Chapter 19: Pique of the Day
Piggy’s pique had not survived on the set, but when they returned to her apartment she found it returning. She had rushed home and changed into something far more suited to an evening at home than what she had worn at work all day, but came out of the bedroom to find Kermit talking animatedly on the phone. She smiled, bemused, and went into the kitchette to see what might be possible for dinner.
In the end, Piggy’s imagination ran out and she decided they could order pasta. Kermit was still on the phone, so she looked through the stack of delivery menus until she found one that seemed appropriate. She turned to Kermit, who was now deep in conversation—and tying up her phone. Piggy hesitated. She didn’t want to interrupt, but she wanted to order the food. The day had been long, and she was tired and hungry. Oh! She could use the pay phone in the hall!
She was halfway across the living room area when she realized that she would have to get dressed again to go out into the hall. She waited, but Kermit now had the phone cradled on his shoulder and was making notes on a piece of hotel stationary, alternately nodding and shaking his head.
“No!” Kermit said firmly. “No ducks! I was very specific abou—what?”
Someone on the other end obviously made a point. Kermit shrugged.
“Well, penguins would be okay, but—“
More tinny noise from the phone. Piggy looked at the menu, then at her lingerie. Her hostess gown wasn’t flimsy, but it would never pass for street wear. Still, how likely was it that someone was going to be out in her end of the hall in the space of time it would take her to run down and use the phone? She looked at her husband again. He seemed oblivious to her situation, laughing at something that had been said.
“Yeah, right!” said Kermit. “Well, you tell them I—what? By Wednesday? No—I don’t think—“
He had turned around and spied her, and he smiled that sweet lop-sided smile that always made Piggy feel like melting. His eyes took in her outfit, and the way she fit into it with approval. Piggy was then certain that she could not go out in the hall dressed like this.
Smiling, she held up the menu and tapped it lightly with one satin-gloved hand. Kermit nodded and held up a finger in the universal wait-a-minute gesture. Piggy waited, but not patiently. After another three minutes of waiting, Piggy sailed past him into the kitchen. Kermit watched her majestic exit from the living room with appreciation, but he also got the point. The interminable telephone conversation was terminated, and he joined Piggy in the kitchen, where they perused the menu and ordered supper.
The wait for the food to arrive was spend much like it had been the first evening in Kermit’s apartment—snuggled up in the kitchen and making the most of the first real moment of togetherness they’d had since they arrived on the set early, early that morning. Piggy’s irk dissipated, and she sighed and put her arms around Kermit’s shoulders.
“Kermie,” she asked. “Where do you want to live?”
“No further than six feet away from you,” he murmured, giving her a self-satisfied smooch.
Piggy giggled, but was not deterred. “I’m serious,” she said. “When we go back home, what kind of—“
The phone rang. Piggy answered the kitchen phone with a cheery, “This is Moi,” but after a moment or two she made a face and put her hand down over the mouthpiece. “It’s Gonzo,” she mouthed. “Something about needing ducks for—“
“I’m on it,” Kermit said, retreating back into the living room and snatching up the phone there. “Hey, Gonzo—it’s me, Kermit. No—no, that was me. He already talked to me and I said no. Look, I thought I was very clear that we were not going to—huh? No—no, I don’t think…well, if we didn’t light them, I suppose we could….”
Kermit wandered away, tethered by the phone cord, and Piggy sighed and put her pucker away. So much for an evening at home. She thought about redoing her nails while waiting for the food, but couldn’t get very enthusiastic about it. She wandered into the bedroom and brushed her hair until it shone and fell in little soft wisps around her shoulders. That made her feel better, and she put a surreptitious dab of French perfume in a couple of likely places. The perfume made her think of Paris, which made her think of Kermit, and she went back into the living room again, hoping to find him waiting with open arms. He was still on the phone.
Piggy opened her mouth to object, but someone knocked on the door.
“Italian Delights Delivery,” called a voice. Piggy got her purse and went for the door. Some of her irritation was salved by the awestruck and flabbergasted reaction of the just-post-adolescent delivery boy when she answered the door. He’d obviously had no idea about the recipients of his delivery. He took the money without looking at it, tried to stammer something. Benevolently, Piggy sighed, then reached around to the little end table just inside the door for the convenient stack of autographed pictures she kept handy. She scrawled a feminine script across the bottom, “Love Miss Piggy” and added a defiant “Kissy, kissy, kissy” because Kermit was still on the phone before thrusting it into the young man’s hands. She still had to pry the carryout bag from his numb fingers.
“Ub uhn wha?” the young man babbled. Piggy took his arm and gently steered him back out into the hall, smiling at his befuddlement. When she came back into the room, Kermit was off the phone and smiling at her.
“You still got it,” he teased, and Piggy put the bag of comestibles on the floor and struck a sultry pose.
“Well,” she said. “Why don’t you come over here and show me what to do with it?”
Kermit hastened to obey.
They were happily lip-locked when the phone rang again. Kermit half-turned toward the sound, but Piggy cupped his face in one soft hand with a no-nonsense grip and looked into his bulbous eyes.
“Forget the phone!” Piggy growled, and set her lips on heavy stun.
For a period of several minutes there was little sound in the room but the hollow ringing of the phone, which went unheeded and unanswered.
“What phone?” murmured Kermit after a pleasant interval. It was doubtful he could have given his name if he’d answer the devise.
Piggy was mollified, and snuggled up against him in a very satisfactory way.
“You hungry?” she asked.
Kermit nodded mutely, gazing into her eyes with a dreamy expression on his face. Piggy reached for the bag, but Kermit’s arms tightened around her.
“Maybe we could eat…later,” he suggested. Piggy thought they could.
Chapter 19: Pique of the Day
Piggy’s pique had not survived on the set, but when they returned to her apartment she found it returning. She had rushed home and changed into something far more suited to an evening at home than what she had worn at work all day, but came out of the bedroom to find Kermit talking animatedly on the phone. She smiled, bemused, and went into the kitchette to see what might be possible for dinner.
In the end, Piggy’s imagination ran out and she decided they could order pasta. Kermit was still on the phone, so she looked through the stack of delivery menus until she found one that seemed appropriate. She turned to Kermit, who was now deep in conversation—and tying up her phone. Piggy hesitated. She didn’t want to interrupt, but she wanted to order the food. The day had been long, and she was tired and hungry. Oh! She could use the pay phone in the hall!
She was halfway across the living room area when she realized that she would have to get dressed again to go out into the hall. She waited, but Kermit now had the phone cradled on his shoulder and was making notes on a piece of hotel stationary, alternately nodding and shaking his head.
“No!” Kermit said firmly. “No ducks! I was very specific abou—what?”
Someone on the other end obviously made a point. Kermit shrugged.
“Well, penguins would be okay, but—“
More tinny noise from the phone. Piggy looked at the menu, then at her lingerie. Her hostess gown wasn’t flimsy, but it would never pass for street wear. Still, how likely was it that someone was going to be out in her end of the hall in the space of time it would take her to run down and use the phone? She looked at her husband again. He seemed oblivious to her situation, laughing at something that had been said.
“Yeah, right!” said Kermit. “Well, you tell them I—what? By Wednesday? No—I don’t think—“
He had turned around and spied her, and he smiled that sweet lop-sided smile that always made Piggy feel like melting. His eyes took in her outfit, and the way she fit into it with approval. Piggy was then certain that she could not go out in the hall dressed like this.
Smiling, she held up the menu and tapped it lightly with one satin-gloved hand. Kermit nodded and held up a finger in the universal wait-a-minute gesture. Piggy waited, but not patiently. After another three minutes of waiting, Piggy sailed past him into the kitchen. Kermit watched her majestic exit from the living room with appreciation, but he also got the point. The interminable telephone conversation was terminated, and he joined Piggy in the kitchen, where they perused the menu and ordered supper.
The wait for the food to arrive was spend much like it had been the first evening in Kermit’s apartment—snuggled up in the kitchen and making the most of the first real moment of togetherness they’d had since they arrived on the set early, early that morning. Piggy’s irk dissipated, and she sighed and put her arms around Kermit’s shoulders.
“Kermie,” she asked. “Where do you want to live?”
“No further than six feet away from you,” he murmured, giving her a self-satisfied smooch.
Piggy giggled, but was not deterred. “I’m serious,” she said. “When we go back home, what kind of—“
The phone rang. Piggy answered the kitchen phone with a cheery, “This is Moi,” but after a moment or two she made a face and put her hand down over the mouthpiece. “It’s Gonzo,” she mouthed. “Something about needing ducks for—“
“I’m on it,” Kermit said, retreating back into the living room and snatching up the phone there. “Hey, Gonzo—it’s me, Kermit. No—no, that was me. He already talked to me and I said no. Look, I thought I was very clear that we were not going to—huh? No—no, I don’t think…well, if we didn’t light them, I suppose we could….”
Kermit wandered away, tethered by the phone cord, and Piggy sighed and put her pucker away. So much for an evening at home. She thought about redoing her nails while waiting for the food, but couldn’t get very enthusiastic about it. She wandered into the bedroom and brushed her hair until it shone and fell in little soft wisps around her shoulders. That made her feel better, and she put a surreptitious dab of French perfume in a couple of likely places. The perfume made her think of Paris, which made her think of Kermit, and she went back into the living room again, hoping to find him waiting with open arms. He was still on the phone.
Piggy opened her mouth to object, but someone knocked on the door.
“Italian Delights Delivery,” called a voice. Piggy got her purse and went for the door. Some of her irritation was salved by the awestruck and flabbergasted reaction of the just-post-adolescent delivery boy when she answered the door. He’d obviously had no idea about the recipients of his delivery. He took the money without looking at it, tried to stammer something. Benevolently, Piggy sighed, then reached around to the little end table just inside the door for the convenient stack of autographed pictures she kept handy. She scrawled a feminine script across the bottom, “Love Miss Piggy” and added a defiant “Kissy, kissy, kissy” because Kermit was still on the phone before thrusting it into the young man’s hands. She still had to pry the carryout bag from his numb fingers.
“Ub uhn wha?” the young man babbled. Piggy took his arm and gently steered him back out into the hall, smiling at his befuddlement. When she came back into the room, Kermit was off the phone and smiling at her.
“You still got it,” he teased, and Piggy put the bag of comestibles on the floor and struck a sultry pose.
“Well,” she said. “Why don’t you come over here and show me what to do with it?”
Kermit hastened to obey.
They were happily lip-locked when the phone rang again. Kermit half-turned toward the sound, but Piggy cupped his face in one soft hand with a no-nonsense grip and looked into his bulbous eyes.
“Forget the phone!” Piggy growled, and set her lips on heavy stun.
For a period of several minutes there was little sound in the room but the hollow ringing of the phone, which went unheeded and unanswered.
“What phone?” murmured Kermit after a pleasant interval. It was doubtful he could have given his name if he’d answer the devise.
Piggy was mollified, and snuggled up against him in a very satisfactory way.
“You hungry?” she asked.
Kermit nodded mutely, gazing into her eyes with a dreamy expression on his face. Piggy reached for the bag, but Kermit’s arms tightened around her.
“Maybe we could eat…later,” he suggested. Piggy thought they could.