The Worst Day of my Little Green Life
So there I was, sitting on my favorite log – it's the one with the lump of moss right at the top, super comfy. And then this big – and I mean huge – yellow and pink pegasus... wait... lemme try that again.
I'm a frog. You should probably know that part first. Not just any frog. I'm a high-hopping, big talking, king of the pond kinda frog. I do what I want. My sweet little girlfriend – she's the one with the brown spots on her face – says I'm full of it, but she's still with me, you know. Must be something she likes!
Anyway, so there I am on my lily pad – no, wait I was on my log, my favorite one. Or was it... Yeah, I was on my log. Definitely on the log. And this pony comes up. Now, first off, she's all kinds of huge. I mean, she was taller than a dozen of me! And she just comes waltzing up all happy like and humming to herself.
Now, I'm not the kind of frog to back down from a tussle, but I'm not a stupid frog either. I just knew this big pile of pony was trouble, and I wanted none of it.
I hop right off my log, right into the deep part of the pond. Yeah, that's right, I don't care about no big fish. I jump where I want.
But get this – this giant pony, she calls out – and it's just a whisper, really, but somehow I'm hearing it anyway – and I can understand it! Where'd she learn how to speak frog? Is there some kind of pony school for teaching frog? How'd she learn that? It's just not natural. So, she calls out, and she says to me, “Oh, hi there, Mister Froggy...”
Now, lemme get this straight right now. That is not my name. Never will be. My name's Doctor Green L. Pondsworth. Yeah. I'm a doctor. Didn't know frogs had doctors? Of course they do! Where else is a sick frog gonna go?
So she keeps on talking, wrong name and all, and she says, “Would you like to come with me over to Froggy Bottom Bog? It's really foggy and wet and nice over there, and it's a lot less crowded.”
I still don't know what came over me. I mean, here I was, I was a doctor, got respect, got plenty of scratch, got me a good girl frog... but as soon as she gets to talking about this Froggy Bottom Bog, I all the sudden can't stop thinking about it.
I mean, I'm almost five years old already. I'm not a young frog anymore. I got my retirement to think about, you know? With what I got saved up already, and the low real estate prices over there in the bog, I could retire right away.
So, I up and make the dumbest choice I ever made. I croak “Okay,” and I hop up into that wooden cart she was pulling.
Hold on... Did I say anything about the cart? Aw, milt. I didn't. Well, this pony, she was pulling some huge cart behind her. Now this wasn't some value meal cart – this was the super-size, fat frog special, 'would you like flies with that' size cart. It was all made up with wood, not nice moldy wood like my log, but dry, scratchy wood. I should've known to stay away from her.
After I'm all up in the cart – it's to late to get back out again – I find out it's already full of other frogs! If I thought my little pond was crowded, this was a ton worse. We were packed in there like turtles on a sunny log, all laying on top of each other and pushing each other around.
Now, I was about to hop right back outta there – I hop where I want – but then this pony, she starts flying, and she takes the cart with her! How's that work, anyway? The pony, she's got wings, but how does the cart fly?
So anyway, now I'm flying away in this cart, and I'm peeking over the edge. My pond up and goes away, and my forest, and then some clouds come and block my view all up, and before I know it, my home's gone – all gone, never getting it back gone.
So now, I'm coming down with a whopping case of buyer's remorse. Maybe it's hopper's remorse? Leaver's? Aw, I don't know. Anyway, I'm not liking this trip anymore. I'm getting kinda airsick, and the frog next to me won't stop croaking about her dumb tadpoles, and the frog on the other side of me keeps kicking me in the back every time he tries to look out over the edge. I want out of this.
Like I said before, I'm not the kinda frog who gets scared. I hop where I want. So I jump ship, hop right off the edge of that cart. I don't care how high up we are.
Then I'm all falling down through the air, lotsa wind, lotsa noise, and that ground's coming at me some awful kinda fast. Now, I wasn't scared. I don't get scared. I will admit I was a little worried, though. I never fell from that far before.
I closed my eyes. I figured I was about to meet my froggy maker – then I could finally give him a piece of my mind – I didn't go anyplace near there, though.
Where I actually landed was all up in the face of another pony. I look at where I'm sitting, and all I can see in front of me are two really big, really purple eyes.
Then it gets really weird. This purple pony's all talking to the one I got away from, and turning her head all around, and I can't understand a word she says. It sure didn't help my airsickness any. I can't hardly see where I am, moving all around like that. It's like some amusement pond ride gone wrong.
So finally, this purple pony stops moving and talking so much. There's another pink one pointing at me, but I don't care. Now that the purple one finally stopped moving, I could make my escape.
I jumped off, heading for some nice, sweet solid ground. I bounced that pony's head all around when I did, but that's just how I hop. It did kinda mess up my jump, though. I didn't expect a pony that big to move that much when I jumped offa her.
So what if I landed kinda upside down? I'm a tough frog. That kinda stuff doesn't faze me.
I roll myself right on over, and then, already, I gotta dodge a whole buncha bouncing pink hooves coming my way. I just couldn't catch a break that day, you know? One thing after another.
I barely – just barely now – avoid a pink, squishy doom, and I hop on over under a bush.
Now, finally, I've got some time to relax and collect my thoughts, but my thoughts sure aren't very relaxing. Look at me, I'm sitting there toad knows how far from home. I barely even know what direction it is. What's a frog to do?
So, I start hopping. You want to know how many hops it is from the middle of that pony town to my pond? It's twelve thousand, eight hundred, and twenty-two. I counted. Of course, there might be a few extra in there. I did have to dodge a whole buncha pony feet, not to mention that murderous little red fox that kept following me around. I gotta give big props to the dog who chased that thing off, some brown and white collie-like thing. I couldn't understand her too good, but I think she said her name was Winnie or something.
Anyways, so there I was, hopping back home after all of that mess, and there's my girl, sitting right there at the edge of the pond waiting for me. Was she happy to see me? Did she worry about me?
Of course not. It's all croak this and ribbit that and “why didn't you call” and I can't get a moment's peace. I mean, 'Why didn't I call?' Does it look like I have a phone?
So, I tell this story to her – of course she doesn't believe it. You believe me, right? Aw, what do I care? I don't give a wart if anyone believes me or not.
So she hops off in a huff, and I'm still trying to patch things up with her. I mean, hey, I wasn't gone that long. She really should be over it by now.
Anyways, that's the story of why I don't like ponies. Take it or leave it. At least I didn't end up like those frogs that stayed for the whole trip. You don't even wanna know what happened to them. But I'm gonna tell you anyway. I hear they all became hydra snacks.
I'm staying away from ponies from now on. Who knows what could happen? Might get turned into an orange or something for all I know.
