Ribbit, Let's Play Leap Frog

It isn't early to me, but Halloween must be upon us as we had a visitor this evening. I was in the works of carefully selecting my short list of the Halloween Pack 2009 recipients... who was a good ghoul this year, that sort of business and something scurried across my path to the kitchen - and froze at about the same time I did. Me looking at it looking at me. I thought MOUSE! and began hysterically screaming, not because I'm scared of mice (I do however think they are highly infested disease carrying animals), no I was screaming because I was barefoot and while I wasn't sure exactly what it was, I knew it was not one of my dogs.

Mr. Morgan came running and I, still moronically screeching, but on a lesser pitch to my voice said "Don't move fast, I'm serious. It's... right.... there...."

Then it hopped towards the kitchen, for a bite to eat, and we both looked at each other in slow motion. A frog? Mr. Morgan said "Why is there a giant frog in our kitchen." It was not a question, it was most definitely a what the fuck moment. That I agreed with.

How did this frog get in and for the more immediate time, how do we get it out? We don't live in the boons, frogs don't just walk in and out as though it's Sunday breakfast time saying "Hey Frank, how's the family?" I won't exaggerate for the sake of it, because the wow moment really speaks for itself with no need for fluff. In the slow motion meeting of the eyes we wondered how much we'd had to drink. Did we seriously just see a frog? The sober puppy lunging forward gave us a good idea that we had not been slipped anything untoward.

Instantly I thought of having been making my Halloween packs and checked the memory rolodex.... and no, no I'd not turned any little children into frogs this week.

Yet.

That Kermit made the best wrong turn of his life by hopping into this house. There must be a white flag on our property that says "FRIENDLIES LIVE HERE" because we get a lot of stray shit, but the frog was quite a surprise as far as strays go. Little Kermit (for all Mr. Morgan's spout, it was not a huge frog but how much frog is too much when it's skittering across your bare feet).

So here we are, with this trespassing amphibian who made a dash for the dish washer. Oh silly frog, nothing good comes from under there and we caught him, defeated and clothed solidly in dirt, dust and possibly other dead frogs. I am extremely glad he was captured because nothing like running my dishes everyday knowing a frog corpse is under there.

Mr. Morgan and I are ... fucking idiots. Most people call it bleeding heart animal lovers. What were supposed to do with this Kermit? Let it get all gross and hungry just because it got lost? If that's the case, god knows I'd be in the grave many years ago lest some poor person took pity and fed me. Mr. Morgan swore it was the remains of the frogs we had before and I had to remind him that we had TURTLES, never a frog and trust me my darling husband, they did in fact finally die, this was not a descendant. Spry Frogger:

Which brought us to the retarded solution of driving the wayward frog to a pond where he could live out his life (this is late night, and less than sober). I think we both frankly felt guilty that he was so coated in dish washer grime - you can see it above if ya look - that we were forced to drive him. In a bowl, covered with a paper plate to freedom. Most people would have either made friends with Kermit, or killed him. No, we had to get retarded and return him to the wild and neither of us even questioned it, good match, even if .... still.... generally retarded. It's not like we have a kid losing it's brain over killing a frog, we just trap and release I suppose. He does the same shit to spiders, which I don't agree with. Kill them. On sight like a sniper then laugh at their leggy remains.

We do not know how Frogger got in. It is truly bizarre and speculating would just fuck with us. When the phone rang and I told caller about the frog, Mr. Morgan was mad. I had stolen his thunder. Well piss on that, I found the frog, it was half mine.

Just remember that your Labor Day weekend didn't kick off with driving down the road - still barefoot - holding a bowl of criminal frog and hoping to god it didn't get loose and have to search the car, looking more and more like drug addicts who dropped a pipe. "Honest officer, we were transporting a frog."

Click, you have the right to.....

- DM