The Frog

At a party this past weekend i solicited my friends for inspiration for this blog. I explained that i'd started a blog with the purpose of telling true stories of stuff that's happened to me, and i'd like suggestions or requests of things that we've done together. Cyndi of course immediately demanded what is affectionately known as The Story, which i expected. The Story will be told eventually, but i'm staving it off for a little while.

After we'd bantered for a bit and a few suggestions had been made, Cyndi stopped, i think maybe mid-sentence, and her face suddenly assumed the form of complete inspiration. "I have a story," she said with complete nephalism.

"What is it?"

"The Frog."

At first i wasn't sure what she was talking about. Maybe i'd blocked it from my memory because it's so depressing. But after she'd recounted it, i knew that the story of The Frog must be told. The Frog must be remembered.

It was summer, i assume 2002, give or take a year. Juli and Cyndi and i were out for a walk in the booming metropolis of Marshall, WI, sometime after dark. We'd taken a pause in front of the antique store, sitting on its short case of concrete stairs. We'd been sitting there for a while when a frog leaped out of the bush to our right. It sat on the sidewalk in front of us for a few minutes, and then made a couple more jumps toward the road. It repeated this pattern a few times, and was finally in the parking lane.

All three of us had been watching this frog make its journey in complete silence. When it had finally come to the parking lane, one of us said, "Somebody should go save that frog." But none of us moved. Cyndi claims that one of us started to make a move toward it, but i'm not sure i believe her.

The frog gingerly took a few more hops into the road. It was now right in the driving lane. I said, "If that frog gets hit by a car...i'm going to laugh, because it is going to make the funniest noise in the world. And then i'm going to be really sad."

I swear that none of us moved even after i had said that. Within one minute, a truck came barreling down the road at thirty miles per hour and that frog did not move. It may have been suicide. But i was right: it did make the funniest noise in the world. And all three of us laughed for a matter of seconds, then all three of us bowed our heads in shame.