Froggles

Dunno if this is gonna be a book as much as a short story/fairy tale. Actually, I don't know if it's anything. And my friend Philly contributed a LOT.

This one time?  At band camp?

 

Erm, I mean: Once upon a time, there lived a beeYOOOOOtiful frog, on the outskirts of an enchanted kingdom.

 

He desperately wished to get into the kingdom because rumor had it that the tadpoles in the moat had the hottest tails going and the flies were supposedly copious, huge, lazy, and succulent. He’d heard tell that a good-size frog such as himself could live a whole day on just ONE of the enchanted flies and that getting a girlfriend (or 17) was easier than falling off a log.

 

He was bound and determined to see for himself.

 

And taste, as well. 

 

And copulate also. A lot, hopefully.

 

Alas, this kingdom was protected by a very powerful spell; nothing could get inside, although some, if they worked VERY hard, could get out.

 

No innsie-outsies, though, so hardly anyone ever tried to leave.

 

So our plucky little hero—let’s call him, I don’t know, howzabout…Maynard?—spent all day every day circling the enchanted kingdom, searching doggedly for the proverbial chink in the magical armor.

 

Up and down he hopped against the barrier of the spell, circling, circling, stopping only to catch and suck dry a fly or if he was lucky, an anorexic dragon fly or a butterfly on the verge of death (he was all about the flies, you see). Such paltry fair only made him yearn more desperately to enter the kingdom and gorge himself stupid.

 

Ugh, and the girl situation? As handsome as Maynard was (and he really was a dreamboat, by frog standards), he couldn’t seem to get a femme. They were all SO stuck up, you wouldn’t believe it, and they all wanted to focus on their careers and not have children yet.

 

Maynard felt the need to procreate.

 

So he went on with his quest, circling the kingdom all day. Near dusk, when the sun went sideways, he would admire his own reflection in one of the many fetid (not in the good way) puddles surrounding the kingdom.

 

He truly was a handsome frog; even he could tell that.

 

One day (there’s always a “one day,” isn’t there?) as he was performing his searching ritual, he experienced the shock of his life.

 

As he jumped against a place he was sure against which he’d jumped before, he whooshed!! through the spell, and landed SPLASH in the lushest, greenest, wettest, swampiest swamp he’d ever seen.

 

Verdant, it was.

 

Ecstatic and suddenly ravenous, he cast his bulbous eyes in all directions, and spotted a huge, juicy-looking, bright green bottle fly.

 

As he took a hop in its direction, the fly whirled around and said, with the brightest of smiles, "Hello!"

Maynard was astonished; in all his years (though he WAS still relatively young), a fly had never spoken to him.

 

He froze, goggling at the fly with his large goggly eyes, having no idea how to proceed.

The pretty green fly looked Maynard up and down, and then chuckled merrily.

 

“Welcome to the Magical Kingdom at last! I’ve been  watching you circling the magical boundary with such dedication, I thought I would let you in."

Our poor Maynard was very confused, and decided he needed a bit of a think.

 

Unfortunately, thinking for Maynard involved standing on his head, which he proceeded to do post haste (and between us, he let out a little froggy fart). His poor little amphibioid brain was swimming with the idea of a fly who not only could speak but who knew and apparently controlled the magical barrier.

"I see that I have confused you" sighed the fly "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Boris, and yes, I do know the magiks of this kingdom and verily I wield a small measure of control over the barrier.”

 

Maynard continued to goggle, upside down.

 

“So what interests you in this place?" Boris, ever polite, twisted his shiny green head upside down in an attempt to make eyes contact and focus poor Maynard’s brain.  "Did you know that you can speak here as well?"

"I can?" Maynard exclaimed, upside-downedly.

"Of course, we can all speak in the Magical Kingdom" laughed Boris. "Perhaps you can start by giving me your name?"

"Maynard" croaked Maynard.

"Welcome Maynard. Do you think you could come back upright? I don’t technically have a neck, but this IS a little uncomfortable.”

 

“OH, sure, yes, of course,” burbled Maynard, and he rocked back onto his hiney (yes, and I’m sorry to say he farted again, but Boris, being a fly with impeccable manners, ignored it, once again).

 

“Much better,” said Boris, twisting his own head back upright. “So why have you been trying so hard for so long to get in here?"

"Well, DUH, have you SEEN the food and the girls out there? I’m practically starving to death and I’m SO lonely! I’ve been hearing about the lush bogs, the finely-tailed tadpoles, and the succulent flies for YEARS. I want to have some kids, you know? And eat WELL for once, and relax in a better grade of pond scum, and this is the place to do it. Have a goal, stick to it, I always say.”

 

Maynard gave a quite arrogant nod of his head at that last.

"Oh, yes, it’s true, the bogs are very lush, the tadpoles very shapely and friendly, and there are many large and lazy flies around, for sure.”

"So I see,” drooled Maynard, giving Boris the eye.

 

“I’ve actually been told,” he croaked in his most soothing croak, “that a frog could live a whole day on just ONE such fly."

Boris looked askance at Maynard. “That is most likely true, Maynard, but do you think you could eat a fellow talking, thinking, feeling creature such as me?”

“Wha…? Erm. Hmmm” mumbled Maynard.

 

Boris gave Maynard a few moments to fully think over what had just been said.

 

"You see, Maynard," said Boris gently, "we are all friends here, and friends do not eat friends. Such is the magic of this Kingdom."

Maynard was horribly perplexed and getting even hungrier. "Well, then…how…what does everyone eat?" he sputtered.

"Most eat the berries and the leaves from the tree of knowledge, and we drink from the fountain of wisdom" smiles Boris.

 

“And you?” asked Maynard.

 

Boris blushed a pretty sky blue and said softly, “Well, all living creatures must…evacuate…from time to time, and, um…yeah.”

 

He rolled his thousand eyes skyward, and flushed a deeper shade of blue.

 

“Wha? OH! Oh, ok, I get it, that’s cool, man, don’t be embarrassed,” allowed Maynard.

 

“Yes, well,” said Boris, and allowed a small smile as his color went back to normal.

Suddenly something occurred to Maynard. "But I eat flies!" he exclaimed.

Boris nodded sadly and said, "I know, and unless you can change, you shall be expelled from this magical land. Forever."

 

“DAYUM,” cursed Maynard (most rudely; it made poor Boris blush again).

 

“I must think on this,” muttered Maynard, with no small amount of attitude. Here was all he’d ever wanted, and it was just…NOT.

 

“Of course. I understand,” said Boris (he’d been there/done that before, but that’s another story).

“I’ll leave you to your pondering,” said Boris, and he took to wing.

 

“Wow,” thought Maynard. “This kinda sucks, in the bad way.”

 

He decided to explore a bit, and see if this magical kingdom was worth sacrificing a lifetime of succulent fly meat for (Boris really WAS quite tempting).

 

First, he'd try a berry, then he'd check out the chicks.

 

Maynard was, as many frogs are, a pretty simple soul.

Author's Note

During one particularly insomnomaniacal (my word) night, I inexplicably started telling myself this story, and got up to type it. This is chapter one of...dunno. Also and again: MAJOR contributions by my friend Philly; I'd only gotten to the frog seeing the fly, but I have fleshed it out and decided it needed a juicier ending, so we shall see...

Reviews

[littlered]

A imaginative story, fun, light and charming. With some home truths, that captures, the mind with humor and affection.

[Philly]

It's so much better than the original blog Juli, and I loved the way in which Maynard thinks - note to self, must try thinking like that.

I do hope that Maynard really gets the girl or hundred.

Love ya

Philly