Illustration by Carabella Sands

In France they eat frogs but I don’t eat frogs because I like them. I’m not a vegetarian or anything. I eat other meats. But I happen to like frogs enough to leave them alone.

They are not gross, by the way. No grosser than any other animal. Really, including humans.

I met a nice frog once. He peed on my hand. I shouldn’t have picked him up because that was what made him pee on me, I think.

I have never seen a frog on a log but once when I was floating down the Gunpowder, I saw one try to pounce on a small bird! He missed it by more than a good measure, but I admired his ambition for trying.

If you kiss a frog, something magic might happen. At least that’s what they say in the fairy tales. I wouldn’t know. I’m not into frogs like that.

The guy sitting next to me at the bar as I write this orders some obscure kind of hard cider. I glance up and ask him what he knows about frogs. He gives me a funny look. Apparently he is somewhat unfamiliar with the animal. I guess maybe I am writing this for him, telling him what I know about frogs.


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