Frog Killer
I am responsible for the death of a grey tree frog.
Yep.
Killed him in my car.
DEAD.
And why was he in my car, you ask? Well...I'll tell you. I'm not really sure. All I know is this: I was driving home from work at 1am on Sunday morning, 45 miles of country roads ahead of me...I'm blaring the stereo and wailing my heart out, windows down and enjoying the cool night air. About 10 miles out of Rock Hill, I reached for my lip balm from the passenger seat, but couldn't find it, so I flipped the interior light on. I grabbed my lip balm (I go NOWHERE without my lip balm, it's like blood. I'd die without it, I swear!!) and something from the back seat caught my eye as I flipped the light back off.
It was something living...alive...another LIFE in my vehicle when I thought I was alone.
NOT. GOOD.
I think, in that split second it took for me turn the interior light back on, I was the closest I've ever been to pooping my shorts. Seriously, next stop blowout...like a defense mechanism. It's probably written somewhere in the human care manual: 'Humans will poop on their attackers if provoked in a means to distract, giving them time to escape. However, this defense is only effective assuming the human hasn't passed out from sheer terror.'
I turned slowly and peered into the back seat...nothing...*sigh of relief*...and then my eyes refocused on the headrest of the passenger seat...where the pointiest, boniest frog butt I've ever seen... just a mere 8 inches away from my nose. (I drive a Ford Focus, so it may have been closer...all I know is almost shit my pants...AGAIN!)
Yes it was just a frog, but in that second all I knew is there in fact WAS another living creature in my car with me, and he did not belong! All my brain processed was a string of warnings 'INTRUDER! FOREIGN BEING! TWO MORE EYES THAN ACCOUNTED FOR IN THIS VEHICLE!!! AGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!' Rather than...'Be aware, there is a pointy frog butt in your facial vicinity', to which I could have responded to calmly. Instead...I nearly ran off the damn road as a result of heart-failure.
**Yes I was still driving You know...back roads, pitch black darkness, possible killer in the back seat...you just don't pull over in these situations unless you have to.
Once I regained control of the wheel, and the car was moving slowly and in a straight path as opposed to 'whirling dervish' style... I calmed myself (all the while keeping one eye firmly locked on the froggy butt who was ACK! turning his body to face me...*heart rate increasing* and tried to decide what to do.
Now, I am not afraid of frogs or toads in the least. What I am afraid of, is them jumping into my hair or on my face...or pretty much anywhere without warning. THAT, will most certainly cause me to kill myself. And as I'm driving, I'm imagining my own death by car crash...no one would see a frog...just a dead me. No signs of foul play....no evidence of cause of accident. They'd determine I'd fallen asleep, or been careless...either way I'd be dead and I'd have no chance to defend my awesome driving skills (*snort*) I'd be labeled a bad driver...forever...ALL BECAUSE OF A DAMN FROG BUTT.
That's it...he had to go.
Now the question was how do I get him out of the stupid car??? Great. No cars on the road...or at least no headlights (can't be too sure in the country...). No driveways visible...dammit! No where to pull over. He turned to face me. All I could think was 'That little f--ker is gonna jump on my FACE and I'll die...DIE!' No time to find the perfect spot, so I just stopped in the middle of the dang road and turned and stared him down...trying to figure out how to grab him. Knowing it would be an impossible task. And once he jumps, I may not be able to find him, and I'll be forced to drive the next 30 miles in terrifying anticipation of his slimy little butt leaping on me unaware.
I moved my hand swiftly toward him from the front...and MISSED him!!! Dammit! He landed on Nate's car seat.
*great, now I get to explain frog poo on the carseat!*
I grabbed at him again...and missed a SECOND time!
*what happened to me? I used to be so good at frog-catching...I SUCK at this*
GAH!!! Headlights over the hill...panic sets in...could be those howling lunatics from 'Wrong Turn' ( I always think that) and I decide froggy will have to share the ride home with me. I'm sure he wasn't as afraid as me for those 30 miles. Every little brush against my leg, or arm...took a few weeks off of my life span. The whole way I dreaded the arrival home, where I'd have to find him...or else he'd perish in the car and then I can only imagine the smell of 100 degree dead frog butt. I might die from that also.
Got home without incident, but couldn't find him. I left the windows down hoping he'd jump out, but apparently frogs are not very smart. What the hell was he doing in the car in the first place? I went out the next morning and he was hiding underneath the carseat strap, near death. I took him in and cooled him down, keeping him from drying out all afternoon, but he died anyway, and I was very sad that he'd suffered in the heat.
I'd looked forward to sharing my story of the bony-assed hitch-hiking little amphibian who nearly killed me, that I got to set free, but sadly the story is not all smiles and fun. I guess it's all fun and games till Mo kills a frog. Poor little fella.
Yep.
Killed him in my car.
DEAD.
And why was he in my car, you ask? Well...I'll tell you. I'm not really sure. All I know is this: I was driving home from work at 1am on Sunday morning, 45 miles of country roads ahead of me...I'm blaring the stereo and wailing my heart out, windows down and enjoying the cool night air. About 10 miles out of Rock Hill, I reached for my lip balm from the passenger seat, but couldn't find it, so I flipped the interior light on. I grabbed my lip balm (I go NOWHERE without my lip balm, it's like blood. I'd die without it, I swear!!) and something from the back seat caught my eye as I flipped the light back off.
It was something living...alive...another LIFE in my vehicle when I thought I was alone.
NOT. GOOD.
I think, in that split second it took for me turn the interior light back on, I was the closest I've ever been to pooping my shorts. Seriously, next stop blowout...like a defense mechanism. It's probably written somewhere in the human care manual: 'Humans will poop on their attackers if provoked in a means to distract, giving them time to escape. However, this defense is only effective assuming the human hasn't passed out from sheer terror.'
I turned slowly and peered into the back seat...nothing...*sigh of relief*...and then my eyes refocused on the headrest of the passenger seat...where the pointiest, boniest frog butt I've ever seen... just a mere 8 inches away from my nose. (I drive a Ford Focus, so it may have been closer...all I know is almost shit my pants...AGAIN!)
Yes it was just a frog, but in that second all I knew is there in fact WAS another living creature in my car with me, and he did not belong! All my brain processed was a string of warnings 'INTRUDER! FOREIGN BEING! TWO MORE EYES THAN ACCOUNTED FOR IN THIS VEHICLE!!! AGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!' Rather than...'Be aware, there is a pointy frog butt in your facial vicinity', to which I could have responded to calmly. Instead...I nearly ran off the damn road as a result of heart-failure.
**Yes I was still driving You know...back roads, pitch black darkness, possible killer in the back seat...you just don't pull over in these situations unless you have to.
Once I regained control of the wheel, and the car was moving slowly and in a straight path as opposed to 'whirling dervish' style... I calmed myself (all the while keeping one eye firmly locked on the froggy butt who was ACK! turning his body to face me...*heart rate increasing* and tried to decide what to do.
Now, I am not afraid of frogs or toads in the least. What I am afraid of, is them jumping into my hair or on my face...or pretty much anywhere without warning. THAT, will most certainly cause me to kill myself. And as I'm driving, I'm imagining my own death by car crash...no one would see a frog...just a dead me. No signs of foul play....no evidence of cause of accident. They'd determine I'd fallen asleep, or been careless...either way I'd be dead and I'd have no chance to defend my awesome driving skills (*snort*) I'd be labeled a bad driver...forever...ALL BECAUSE OF A DAMN FROG BUTT.
That's it...he had to go.
Now the question was how do I get him out of the stupid car??? Great. No cars on the road...or at least no headlights (can't be too sure in the country...). No driveways visible...dammit! No where to pull over. He turned to face me. All I could think was 'That little f--ker is gonna jump on my FACE and I'll die...DIE!' No time to find the perfect spot, so I just stopped in the middle of the dang road and turned and stared him down...trying to figure out how to grab him. Knowing it would be an impossible task. And once he jumps, I may not be able to find him, and I'll be forced to drive the next 30 miles in terrifying anticipation of his slimy little butt leaping on me unaware.
I moved my hand swiftly toward him from the front...and MISSED him!!! Dammit! He landed on Nate's car seat.
*great, now I get to explain frog poo on the carseat!*
I grabbed at him again...and missed a SECOND time!
*what happened to me? I used to be so good at frog-catching...I SUCK at this*
GAH!!! Headlights over the hill...panic sets in...could be those howling lunatics from 'Wrong Turn' ( I always think that) and I decide froggy will have to share the ride home with me. I'm sure he wasn't as afraid as me for those 30 miles. Every little brush against my leg, or arm...took a few weeks off of my life span. The whole way I dreaded the arrival home, where I'd have to find him...or else he'd perish in the car and then I can only imagine the smell of 100 degree dead frog butt. I might die from that also.
Got home without incident, but couldn't find him. I left the windows down hoping he'd jump out, but apparently frogs are not very smart. What the hell was he doing in the car in the first place? I went out the next morning and he was hiding underneath the carseat strap, near death. I took him in and cooled him down, keeping him from drying out all afternoon, but he died anyway, and I was very sad that he'd suffered in the heat.
I'd looked forward to sharing my story of the bony-assed hitch-hiking little amphibian who nearly killed me, that I got to set free, but sadly the story is not all smiles and fun. I guess it's all fun and games till Mo kills a frog. Poor little fella.
posted by Mo at 10:56 AM
1 Comments:
now i have to leave my blog stalking and pee. See what you made me do! I'm all preggo and defensless and you keep typing this stuff! What kind of person are you?
amphibiacide! for shame!
Post a Comment
<< Home