In Soviet Russia, logs dodge FROGS!

10 May

Many years ago I stepped on (and killed) a rather large frog (or toad).

It didn’t traumatize me or anything, but at the time I remember screaming like a girl and flailing around in pure disgust.

It didn’t bother me that I killed a frog (in fact, all reptiles and amphibians can drop dead for all I care), it bothered me that I killed something  large enough to offer resistance to my own weight when I stepped on it.

I get rather disgusted when I have to kill bugs that are large enough to fight back.  I usually just let the cats take care of them, or shoo them out the window.  If the creature is large or dense enough that I can actually notice when I squish it, thats the line.  The exception is when I’m using a fly swatter or rolled up magazine or something, cause the speed and force takes away from my own fingers having to pinch a living thing to death.  Naturally, the idea of killing (through my own force) anything larger then a bug disturbs me.

I would think I can probably use a gun to hunt and kill something bigger  and not be disgusted, but I have no desire to hunt and kill anything at this point in my life.

I would also probably be okay using a grenade to kill things, but again I don’t want to kill stuff.  And I would imagine it is difficult to get the meat off any animal you kill with a grenade.  On second thought, it’s probably quite simple to get the meat off of an animal with a grenade, it’s just not proper butchery.

Anyway, I didn’t want to step on the frog, but it jumped out from a bush and landed precisely where my right foot happen to be already landing as I walked down some random driveway (delivering pizza).

It wasn’t a huge frog, maybe three or four inches around, if “around” can be used to describe a frogs dimensions.  I realized that I was going to step on it, but it happened so fast that there was nothing I could have done about it.  The frog made a crunching noise, as if I stepped on a brittle pine cone.

Since I already knew what I stepped on, I immediately began the emasculating  floppy wrist dance as I dragged my right foot on the cement to scrape off the frog innards.

After I regained my composure, I examined the frog (not on purpose, but I had to walk past it to continue on my way to the car) and found that all of the entrails had been ejected out it’s mouth.  I must have stepped on it at just the right angle and position to get that tube of toothpaste (or rolled up ketchup (catsup?) packet) effect.

There was no blood, oddly enough, which reinforces my idea that reptiles and amphibians are not really living creatures, just pure evil in slimy little scale suits.

Why share this story?  Cause today I had quite a time dodging scores of those tiny frogs as I worked out in the Madera Ranchos.

It was like some sort of biblical plague of frogs at this one dude’s house.  His entire driveway looked like a beige and brown acid trip with all the tiny (less then 1/2 inch) frogs advancing from right to left, migrating from the pond on the east side to wherever they were going on the west side of the property.

So today I played a game of Frogger, only I was the frog and the cars (or logs, depending on what game system you are playing it on) were tiny frogs.

As far as I know, I didn’t step on any, but when I got up to the front door I noticed there was a dead frog already flattened and fresh looking (I noticed it behind me towards the road after I rang the doorbell) that I may have stepped on.  The little bastard probably jumped under my feet, as frogs are known to do (around me).


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