What you are about to read is a true story.
The names of those involved have not been changed.
The location: my yard
The time: last night
The characters: Me, Big Daddy D, a frog and perhaps Reepacheep
Last night as Big Daddy and I were lying in bed, waiting for sleep to draw the curtains on the day I heard it. Right under our bedroom window, the chirruping, rhythmic call of a frog ready to procreate.
After commenting on how charming the frog sounded I slipped into sleep.
Some time in the wee hours of the morning(3:28 if you really must know) I was pulled from a slumber that for once this week was untroubled by bloody vampire dreams. What was it? My sleep fogged mind could not process the sound. Is it the "smoke" detector? Is the gas stove on, bleeding particles into the air? As I stumbled through the house looking for the source of the metallic chirping I realized the sound was only in our room. A brief stop by the window confirmed my dawning suspicion that the culprit of my wakefulness was the lonely sound of that frog calling out for a mate, his song greatly diminished over the hours(count them, 5)of unsuccessful broadcasting.
I lay there, fortunately not long(final clock check 3:42 cause I know you want to know), listening and wishing for silence, and as I once again drifted into dreamland his mournful tune stuttered to a halt.
Relating my tale of yet another wakeful night to Big Daddy I was, as usual, mildly perturbed by his assertions that he at least had not suffered the froggy serenade and had had a peaceful night's sleep.
Later, just moments after morning goodbyes Big Daddy D comes back in and says,
"You're not the only one who got tired of that frog-it's in the driveway and something pulled it's leg off"
"You're shitting me?!?!"
I run outside to look-barefoot in the cool drizzly rain-and sure enough there is Mr. Frog, belly up with one front foot and the opposite back foot chewed off, dead as Mr. Kennedy, lying in state behind the mustang.
"Yikes! Don't run over him, don't pop him! You have to get him off the driveway! Throw him in the grass or something!" (I'm such a girl sometimes)
I suspect Reepacheep, in doing one of the weird things that cats do, read my mind and got rid of my pesky suitor.
I mean, I wasn't gonna kiss that frog.
This life ain't no fuckin' fairy tale.