Part Two: Ribbit! Or Frog Legs for Dinner!

It was another morning of doing laundry and again I spied movement in the infamous window well.

Lots of movement.

There were about 20-30 little frogs hopping around down there.

Photo courtesy of

"Oh no!" I thought. "How are they going to get out of there? They are trapped! If I don't RESCUE them, they will DIE!"


So I donned my red cape, metal cupped bra, blue panties and red go-go boots, (okay maybe the outfit was all in my mind,) and grabbed one of the kid's sand pails, and marched determinedly to "the hole."

With experience under my belt (see my last post) I felt no trepidation as I looked down the hole at all those tiny green babies whose lives were depending on ME, Wonder Woman, to save them.


(They never DID ask permission to put Lynda Carter's head on my body for this picture!)

My thoughts were to gather the frogs into the bucket, then empty the bucket in the open field behind my house. Freedom for the little frogs and I'm a hero, or really, a legend in my own mind.

I jumped into the hole and started scooping up the little froggies, WITH MY BARE HANDS, I might add, and tossing them in the bucket.

Well, those little suckers didn't appreciate my effort 'cause they were jumping out as fast as I was putting them in, like sailors abandoning a sinking ship.

C'mon, didn't they realize I was trying to SAVE them, damn it?

I tried the old "scoop-and-dump-into-the-bucket" rescue a couple more times, and those green imbecilic amphibians were not going for it. Well, my momma didn't raise a dummy, (SHUT.UP.), so I stopped that rescue effort and moved on to the next best thing.....

I scooped the little idiots up and began flinging them out onto the lawn. Hey, if they hopped back into the hole, it was their suicide, you know?

I didn't have to worry about that, though.

You know why?

They probably died a more bloodier death.

How do I know?

Well, I don't know for sure. I'm guessing.

Because right after I tossed handful after handful of baby frogs onto the grass, (I can't throw very far - I throw like a GIRL), my neighbor came by with his LAWNMOWER and cut his grass.


So death by sling-blade.

Not this one.

(Billy Bob Thorton playing Karl Childers in Sling Blade)
photo courtesy of

But by my slinging, and the neighbor's blade. *sigh* I did try, though. Really.
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