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I’m a frog. Yep. When I get irritated, I smack my green face with my webbed hands and slide them down like something’s peeling away.

Aw, man. This is depressing. Listening to humans complain is a big bummer. I just can’t take it. And I’m sensing you’re getting the wrong idea about me to boot. One of you is out there trying really hard to understand where I’m coming from, but I’m telling you, man, you’re not going to know what it’s like to be me.

Because I’m not a Muppet. I don’t have human characteristics. I’m not fuzzy, or soft, or wrapped in fabric, or fabricated in any sense. I’m slimy. I’m a friggin’ frog, dude!

And the other bit that’s bringing me down is your harsh judgment, the one you’re making right now. Claiming I’m a hypocrite, because I’m complaining about complainers. I’m also sure you’re disagreeing with me, thinking I do have people problems as well as people skills. That I’m personifying myself.

But that’s impossible! I’m frogging myself in the best way I know how. I’m totally frogged here!

Just forget it. You’re going to think what you think, and I’m going to be stuck wading amongst the sludge and lily pads, having my own thoughts, while your scientists go out and tell everyone we don’t have emotions or self-awareness. What a bunch of malarkey.

“What’s up?”

The alligator, again, ignores me. He’s so rude. Like the females out here.

“Full moon’s out.”

Nothing from the ladies.

But I’m not going to let them, or the gator, or any of the rest of you get to me. I’m going to sit back and chill. Take ‘er easy. Because I don’t need to be a part of your world. I really don’t. I have my pond. I have my mental notes for self-betterment.

Don’t sweat the small stuff.

Change my diet.

Stop shouting.

Don’t be afraid of the humans.

Man-oh-man, it’s hot. Humid. But I’m keeping my hands off my face, especially away from my mouth. It’s bad enough we’ve got you all making cement walkways and trampling through our lands in tennis shoes, I don’t need to worry about contracting a disease from the dry toad down the road on top of it. Not to ribbit like a bigot, but I can’t stand his big head and tiny body.

God, that sounds awful. My prejudice and his croaking. Wish I’d keep it straight where my ears are so I could cover them more often.

Hey, I might sound like a stereotypical frog to you, but I didn’t bring myself to this level. This state. It’s all that out there, surrounding my private pool.

Some days, you just wish you were poisonous, you know?

But I’m not, and there are no real wishes to change me. No true wish to make me a knight or a prince. The thought’s too easy to have not to have it, and I’m kind of ashamed for mentioning it.

Just relax. Just wait for the sun, and allow the daylight to quiet you. That’s all I can tell myself.


SIDENOTE: Did you know this Looney Tune character was named Michigan J. Frog? He’s a Michgander!

Dan Jones

Author Dan Jones

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