Making a Metaphorical Splash
An especially large frog arrived in Equestria with a disproportionately small amount of fanfare.
One moment, the belligerent beast was doing its best to crunch down a meaty morsel that had the misfortune to wade through the wrong murky puddle, and then suddenly the chasm mouthed monstrosity was dredging itself out of the mud of an unfamiliar pond.
The oversized amphibian did its best to wrack its admittedly simple brain to try and get a grasp on how things had proceeded. He was sure that a great deal of shouting and panicked wriggling had followed the bite, but the frog was also fairly confident that it hadn’t then hopped into a perfectly clear pond surrounded by lush greenery.
And, most importantly, the frog no longer felt a well earned meal bloating its belly. The only important fact so far, he decided, for a frog is nothing if not practical, and a larger frog is largely the same. His gaze slowly drifted across its new surroundings. Sunlight filtered through thick foliage above, revealing a pristine forest. Well, to the frog it was fairly pristine, but the standards most amphibians are content with aren’t universal, and to most the forest would likely be considered gloomy, dismal, and generally packed to the gills with bad vibes. But the frog had neither gills nor a well developed sense of dread, so the forest was practically homely.
The constant buzz of insects and croak of frogs was evidence enough that the new clime would do well enough. As the more esoteric thoughts of travel came to a halt within his mind, the especially large frog spotted something far more appealing. A plump frog sitting on a lilypad. It lounged there only a few meters away, staring right back as though it was completely unaware that it was just the right size for a midmorning snack for the beast that had pulled itself from the muck a few moments prior.
There was then a whip and a snap accompanied by an alarmed croak as a flash of froggy tongue settled the matter. And for a few, blissful moments, the especially large frog was at peace, content to let his newest meal digest while he settled in to his new pond. Making himself at home, the beast shuffled itself towards the now unoccupied lilypad, displacing silty mud as he sloshing forwards with the grace frogs are known for, placed a careful meaty hand upon the waterborn leaf.
It sank.
The especially large frog was especially happy. Things are really looking up, the frog likely thought to himself.
“It was over here!” A youthful yet raspy voice echoed through the peaceful woods. A few birds nesting in the mossy trees took off, easily startled, but most simply hunkered down and covered their ears with feathered appendages. Our hero, the prodigious amphibian, blinked in surprise. Or perhaps he simply blinked. Or, potentially, the mountainous beast of a frog was using his eyes to help his meal on its way down his throat. A frog’s motives are often shrouded in mystery.
“Please don’t get too--,” A kindly and quiet voice spoke, before it’s speaker seemed to lose steam though she mumbled on admirably, “--too far… away…”
Moments later, an outrageously orange and vibrantly purple filly made a blatant assault on the visual senses of our steadfast protagonist as she burst forth from the underbrush to stand at the bank of the beast’s newfound homestead. The especially large frog made a valiant effort to keep his eyes open, but ultimately was forced to blink once more. With freshly moistened eyes, the frog found the creature a bit less jarring to look at, though not by much. Four hooves, he noted. Wings, he noted. Likely edible, he noted.
“Tempests, just look at the size of that thing!” She bleated, casting a hoof in his general direction. Now, the especially large frog had no experience with being insulted, but somehow felt a bit offended. To barely know a creature, and immediately start talking weights and measurements. The nerve.
“Scootaloo, I know you’re excited but we really should--,” There was a few moments of rustling, followed by a thoughtful hum and a fluttering of wings, and a pale yellow mare flapped her way over the underbrush, “--stick together. Oh my.”
The second mare froze in place, her teal eyes alight with excitement much in the same way as the first. This one was much larger. Enough for a real bellyful, the oversized pond-dweller noted.
“I know, right?!” The smaller of the two chimed, wings buzzing with excitement.
“I’ve never seen a bufo bufo so large!” The larger practically sang. Her voice lacked the pure and thoughtful charm of a croak, but managed to be pleasing to the frog’s eardrums. Despite this, the insult was not lost on our hero, who was beginning to consider that he had a complex of some sort. She flapped a bit closer, taking off from the mushy soil and hovering out over the mostly clear waters only a few scant feet from the frog.
“It’s just like the one I saw in my dream!” The blisteringly orange filly crowed as she pronked about, though she then slowed and took a somewhat thoughtful stance with a hoof to her muzzle. “Not as purple though. And smaller. And it doesn’t have any wings.”
“Well, it is still an interesting coincidence. Hello there, my amphibian friend! Oh! That was so presumptuous of me, sorry.” The calming mare cooed. “My name is Fluttershy, would you like to be my friend?”
An interesting question, one that the especially large frog somehow managed to understand despite the language barrier. Metaphorical cogs within the mind of the amphibian whirled at unprecedented speeds as he considered the query, and all of its implications. He also began to review his recent notes. After a few moments, he came to what he considered to be a satisfactory conclusion.
His maw opened wide as his tongue flicked out at the pale yellow pony, whipping forth with tremendous force, enough to carry it far past her even as her wings gusted her out of the appendage’s path with an uncharacteristically swift movement. She may not have been the best flier, but she knew the look a frog got when it set its mind on a meal. However, there was still a sticky slap as the frog’s tongue latch onto her young ward behind her.
“Ulp!” The filly still standing on the shore let out a choked wheeze, looking down at her predicament with a face of slowly dawning realization. What she realized, we can only guess, but it likely had something to do with her place on the food chain. “Uh-oh.”
The pale mare gasped with both shock and indigence in equal measure before rounding on the corpulent beast before her.
“Now listen here you--,” Her righteous tirade was cut short by a snapping shlup as the especially large frog withdrew his tongue along with its feathered prize. She rallied, however, with a menacing: “Hey!”
For the first time in his life, the large frog was… well, not afraid, but somehow moved to cease his current activities, leaving the little morsel half in and half out of its mouth. Beneath the withering and intense gaze of this otherwise nonthreatening equine, he felt… embarrassed? Ashamed? New sensations for certain. The filly’s tail flicked back and forth anxiously as muffled cries began to issue forth from the frog’s gullet.
“You spit her out this instant mister!” She roared, albeit quietly. “How dare you try to eat ponies that just wanted to be your friend!”
Meekly, the oversized amphibian slowly opened his maw, letting the little pony slip and tumble into the water, where she splashed violently as she righted herself. She took a gasping breath as she surfaced again, still slick with froggy slime but alive and well. However, the pegasus still hovering above wasn’t satisfied.
“Now I want you to apologize to poor Scootaloo, she came here to--” Fluttershy’s demands were cut short as a sorrowful croak echoed out. From our amphibian hero, yes, but more specifically from within the depths of his hefty gullet. Fluttershy’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
It was at about this point that the especially large frog realized that this was going to be a very long day.
Author's Note
My first try at something like this. Comments and criticism are welcome.
It wasn’t so bad, the frog of unusual size thought to himself.
“Mush!”
Not so bad at all, comparably.
“Hiyah!”
It really could have been worse. He hadn’t been eaten, injured, or maimed.
“Ándale!”
All things considered, the day was still looking bright. At least, that was what he was trying very hard to convince himself of. Few born outside of the swamp know this, but rationalization is a skill that most amphibians pride themselves on. Self-delusion is often all that keeps a frog’s gear’s turning when the next pond is an unknowable distance away.
“Yip-yip!”
Indeed, the fact that the sharp hooves of a distastefully vibrant equine were digging into his squishy scalp even as her horrific barking pierced his sensitive ears, was almost assuredly a blessing in disguise, he surmised. An opportunity was surely waiting in the wings, just around the next corner, ready to be hopped upon.
“Ribbit!” The perfectly plump frog croaked from its perch upon the filly’s head. That was finally enough to elicit a miserable rumble from the especially large frog. Humiliation was a new concept, but he was becoming familiar with it at an alarming rate.
“Scootaloo, I, uh, I think maybe that’s enough?” The butterscotch devil said softly, floating just behind the trio. Her nose was faintly wrinkled in a fashion resembling a polite form of agony. It seemed that the orange terror wasn’t only causing the particularly sizable frog distress. She quickly adapted a more kindly expression when the little pegasus whirled to look at her. Our semi-aquatic hero couldn’t see the little beast’s face, but he assumed it must have been quite a horrible sight to cow the pink haired demon.
Fluttershy looked away under the weight of the filly's gaze, but cleared her throat and continued. “I’m sure he’ll keep hopping even without being told. Isn’t that right, Mister…?”
Her voice trailed off. The inflection denoted a question, but it wasn’t one he quite understood. The large frog was a pragmatist to the core. He didn’t need a name to eat or to hop, and he ribbeted as much as he hopped forwards again, proving that both the little filly’s shrieks and an appellation were unnecessary for his froggy function. Fluttershy gasped softly, as daintily as she floated. A relatively minor expression for most, but pronounced for the mare in question.
“What!? What’d it say!?” Scootaloo danced excitedly atop the frog’s poor abused dome-piece, her even smaller companion lurching back and forth as the filly bounced about.
“He doesn’t have a name,” Fluttershy cooed, floating a bit closer to the other two as they continued to make their way down a dirt path winding between gloomy trees and thorny brambles. A few beams of sunlight broke through the branches above. “Not that that’s too unusual, especially for an amphibian, but… well…”
“He’s too big not to have a name!” Scootaloo broke in, completing her sentence. Apparently adequately, by the way the mare nodded in agreement. The filly’s reluctant mount gurgled something approaching disagreement as he leapt further down the trail, rounding a bend in the dirt path. More and more light broke through the foliage ahead, and the trees seemed further apart with each hop.
“Yes, he's quite unique. I suppose it’s only natural for a creature that hasn’t had any interaction with ponies before, but I’m sure he’ll be fine with just Mister--”
“Frogula!” The filly roared, dramatically striking a pose upon her mount’s head as she cut off Fluttershy, who--to her credit--had the decency to look baffled as she halted, hovering in place, even as the especially large frog hopped onwards. She mouthed the name to herself as she stared at Scootaloo, the filly’s wings buzzing proudly as she waited for approval.
“Frogula?” Fluttershy said again, audibly this time. If Scootaloo sensed her confusion, it didn't seem to dampen her mood as she continued on with unwavering enthusiasm.
“Frogula!” She chirped again, wearing a sly smirk as she relished her own cleverness. Or, whatever it was that she mistook for cleverness. The plump frog atop her head ribbited it’s own approval. “It’s perfect, right? I know, with a big guy like this you’d usually go with something cliche, like Frogzilla, or Gigantoad, or Titannohop the Hyperfrog, but in times like these you’ve gotta undercut the market! Hit ‘em with something they’d never expect! Frogula!
The frog latched onto her maroon locks ribbited approvingly. "Oh, and the little one can be Plumpkin. I just like the sound of that one.”
“Frogula…” The pink maned mare whispered, trying it out for a third time. Usually, repetition helped things to sink in, but her attempts at following the filly’s twisted line of logic was only confusing her more. After a few more moments of thought, she spoke up again. “Are you sure that’s--”
She stopped, looking up from her contemplations only to realize her three charges had continued further down the path, almost having already completely escaped the murk of the Everfree while she was distracted.
“Onwards!” Scootaloo barked, her cry echoed by an encouraging croak from Plumpkin.
And the especially large frog hopped forwards once more, his leap carrying him fully into the golden sunlight of Equestria. It warmed his skin in a way the gloomy light of his swampy homeland never had. The sprawling fields of pastel colors were almost beautiful enough to touch even his slimy heart. Almost. For beauty would not fill his rumbling belly.
Frogula hungered, and Equestria was ripe for the chomping.
