Tongue-In-Cheek … Foot-In-Mouth

Toads are known throughout the animal kingdom for being grumpy.  I guess I can understand.  Hey, if I were covered in warts, had bad posture, and was forced to eat flies then I’d be irritable too.  And so would you.  And given that frogs are by nature cranky, if you provide them with any reason whatsoever to hate you, they will hate you, as they did my daughter Sara when she was five-years-old.

“Why did those testy tadpoles hate your sweet little innocent daughter,” you ask?   Because she liked to play with them, by which I mean she liked to pick them up against their will and hold them, hug them, kiss them, dress them in assorted Barbie theme clothing, and force them to partake in her never-ending tea parties.  And her gentle manhandling usually results in the frogs ending up in some frog hospital fitted in a body cast.  And evidently grouchy frogs become even grouchier when they are being gently manhandled by an eager five-year-old, and then dragged to a dumb tea party.

Now don’t misunderstand: I’m not the one saying that her tea parties were dumb.  It’s the frogs.  I just loved sitting on her bed surrounded by countless stuffed animals that are creepily staring right at me.  I enjoyed being made to wear a Power Puff Girl bib, a tiara, and bunny slippers.  Nothing gave me more joy than to allow her to use me as a test dummy wherein she routinely applied enough rouge and eye shadow on my face to make Bozo jealous.  And I was simply enthralled when she’d describe in great detail over and over again, how Johnny called her “a big dumb stupid rock head,” and how she will never talk to him again, but she might marry him.  She’s not sure.  But if Suzie dares to talk to Johnny she will talk to Johnny again because Suzie always tries to steal her boyfriends.

“So come on, Bill.  She’s only a little girl.  How rough could she be on the frogs?”

“How rough could she be on the frogs?”  Okay, I’ll tell you how rough she could be on the frogs.  Remember the Sampsonite luggage commercial that ran back in the early 1970s?  You know the one where the 500-pound male silverback gorilla was tossing around the suitcase in his cage?  The premise of the commercial was that the luggage was supposedly so incredibly durable that not even a gorilla could damage it, let alone professional airline baggage handlers who, being the professionals that they are, professionally place a professional lookout on the luggage carousel to ensure that no supervisors are in the area, and then the rest of the professionally baggage handlers punt every suitcase they can get their feet on, to see which one of them can kick the suitcases the furthest onto the tarmac.

“So, what does this have to do with your daughter, Bill?”

Most of you are unaware of the fact that my delicate daughter was originally cast for the part that the gorilla eventually got.  Unfortunately for the so-called “indestructible luggage,” within two minutes of being left alone with her, Sara had broken off the handle, smashed the locks to pieces, and had placed a crack down the middle of the suitcase slightly larger than the Grand Canyon.  Understand all this damage came from her hugging the luggage, and talking nicely to it about the tea party it was about to go to with her.  Needless to say, the director handed the part over to the gentler gorilla.  That’s how rough she could be on the frogs.

Anyway, I had it from a good source that our local toad community had had several exceptionally noisy “rrrrribbitttt” filled hopping-mad meetings trying to figure out how to get rid of her, by way of capturing her, and putting her to death, or in more accurate froglike medical terms, “croaking” her. To be honest, I couldn’t blame them, for in any given moment, scattered throughout our neighborhood, you could find countless bruised, battered, broken, and beaten up bull frogs all who received injuries resulting from her tender tea-party touch.

Admittedly, I didn’t help matters much. When I was out and about doing yard work and happened across a toad, I’d usually capture it and hand it over to Sara to “play” with.  Hey, the way I figure it, if she had toads to torture at her tea party, I didn’t have to go and she’d leave me alone.  Even though, to be honest, I really like that shade of rouge she put on me during our last tea party.  It brought out the green in my eyes.

So anyway, as you could imagine, word got out in the neighborhood frog population, and when toads would see me coming they’d frantically climb over each other, knock each other down, and hand each other over to me so that they could escape the terrible terrors of yet ANOTHER tea party.  Although these captured toads would be begging and pleading with me not to hand them over to Sara to “play” with, I still did.  (Snicker)

“Bill!  Have a heart.  Don’t give me to her. She’s dangerous!  My uncle Pete is still in traction. I’ll do anything, anything you want, just toss me into those bushes and pretend you never saw me.  It will be our little secret.  What do you say?  Huh?  PLEASE!  I’m begging you here!  Hey, you want flies?  I’ll give ya flies, all the flies you can handle.  Tadpoles?  No problem.  I don’t care if they’re my relatives; I know where they live; millions of them. I’ll point them out. I’ll point them all out; I’ll snitch and rat on every last one of them, just let me go!”

I felt really bad for this one particularly unlucky toad that I kept coming across and handing over to Sara.  The last time I saw him she was holding him tight, and bringing him into her room for yet anther tea party.  Better him than me.

“Oh, little Mr. Foggy-woggy.”  (Hug)

“Unbelievable, not another tea party!  Damn that Bill!” (Wiggle)

“Froggie, are you ready for another tea party?”

“NO! Get me out of here!  Help! Help! Someone call the Frog Police!” (Squirm)

“I love you.” (Kiss)

“Yuck!”

“You’re so cute.”  (Squeeze)

“Aaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“And your stomach is so white and soft.”

“Stop poking me in the kidney! Get away from me before you break something AGAIN!  I’ve barley healed from the last tea party.”

“I’m going to straighten out your legs so they will fit into this Barbie outfit.”

“Hey!  Ouch!  Knock it off!  They’re bent that way for a reason. Cut it out and take this outfit off of me!  Do I look like an airline attendant to you?  Well!”

“Would you like some tea with Winnie, Tigger and Piglet?”

“No!  I hate Winnie, Tigger and Piglet.  I hate EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE WORLD, especially tea!”

“Here you go, ‘froggie’.”

“Listen, even if I did like tea, and I assure you that I don’t, do see my hands?  Look, no opposable thumb; all my fingers are straight.  Couldn’t hold a teacup if I wanted to.”

“Now sit right here ‘froggie’ next to Mrs. Potato Head.”

“AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!  Good Lord!  Look at the size of that head!  Great!  Now I’m gonna have nightmares for a month.  I hope you’re happy.”

“Sit right here, froggie.”

“Don’t call me ‘froggie’, my name is “Herman,” and get me out of this hard uncomfortable chair!  I don’t have any butt cheeks.  See?”

“Sit right down here.”

“Hey, stop with the pushing, and easy on my tailbone, sister!”

“Oh, I love you froggie.” (Hug)

“Again with the hugging, and my name is ‘Herman!’ not ‘Froggie!’”

“I love you froggie.” (Hug. Squeeze. Kiss)

“Oooooouchhhh!”  (Squirm)

Fortunately for toads, Sara began taking a real liking to worms, which is very unfortunate for worms because worms are not exactly prime candidates for the Olympic Swim Team given that they lack arms and legs.  As a result, they do way less actual “swimming” and far more “sinking” and eventually “drowning” at her tea parties.

Note: There were no frogs hurt during the making of this story.  Okay one, but its legs tasted real good.  Ha!  Only kidding!