Thursday, September 17, 2015

The Tale of the Slimy Frog

The Shrews of Shreve picnicked upon the grassy hills of their nookie knoll. A river of tarps ran with water and soap, dumping children and inflatables into a dirty creek dam. The day was warm with blue skies of water and drifts of chalk-drawn clouds. The bullfrogs bulled and hippity-hoppity hopped from one end of the small pond to the other. A snake slithered between the cool rocky sides, playing hide n seek with toes and the hands of frog catchers. One lone frog drifts aimlessly through the scum, sprawled out. Frog legs and all. A dragonfly commandeers its domain by circling the pond plants in a graceful path. The goats bleat over and over, crying out their confusion and hunger and desire for attention. They match the horse, who stands surrounded by girlish faces and reaching hands.

Hands grow covered with colorful streaks as sweet candy melts in dampness. Fire crackles, hot dogs cook, and a red welt pushes to the top of forehead bumped against metal. A slimy frog harasses the frog pond, catching frogs and terrorizing tadpoles. He slips down the blue river slide and splashes across the creek to the other side. Toting a fashionable pink inflatable, he breaks distance records. Bumps and mud spring from the ground as water splooshes over the bone-chilling water.

The slimy frog goes in for the kill and wraps his thick arms around an unsuspecting victim. Squeezed between two slimy frogs, the victim fights back and squirms for freedom. The slimy frog lays a wet smacker on the victim’s neck and released. Devious grin puffs the frog’s puckered lips.

The edu-ma-cated celebrates
With guests, goats, and food galore
Frogs bellow their congrats.

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