TennesseSkilles

friday?

>The frog was red, and striped- red and blue and black and reaching out with outstretched slender fingers for a purplish bug in front of it. It extended its folded legs and hopped closer. It cracked its mouth open and felt cold rain plop upon its wrinkled leather skin.

>> She looked up through a haze of brown smoke and told the barely blurry boy in front of her that they’d met before. Where, he wanted to know. In class once. What class, he asked? One of them, she said.

She was stoned.

He pulled a pack of Camels from his pocket and jammed the filter between his lips, blaze of light before his eyes, sucking in deeply and exhaling a cloud of gray.

Cool, he said.

She asked, did he want a hit?

Maybe later.

Four kids were sprawled cross-legged in a circle around a bright blue hookah. He turned and walked through the door, leaving the garage and moving into the house, and extinguished his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. He looked through the window.

It was raining outside.

It was getting loud.

>The frog was full. It leapt up onto a big brown bump, surveying the yard. Pounding drops of precip pelted its head and back. It looked around for shelter. It looked toward the house to the south and began making his way toward it, stretching, fingers moving, then feet. Fingers, feet.

>>The boy moved through the room. Someone stopped him.

Hey, Someone said.
Hey, the boy replied.
I’ve seen you around. School and stuff, said Someone.
Yup.
I’m Someone, said Someone, nice to meet you.
You too, the boy replied.

Someone pulled a case from under his arm.

Do you wanna beer? Someone asked.
No, thanks, said the boy.
I understand, dude, Someone said. You get to where you’re, like, messed up all the time and you’re messed up so much it gets to be like normal and then it’s no fun anymore huh?
Uh huh, the boy said.
Good to meet ya, Someone said.
You too, said the boy.

The doorbell rang.

The boy walked toward the door. He reached for the knob.

>The frog was tired. It sat on the doorstep, waiting. Finally, someone answered. A boy stepped out onto the porch, looked left, then right, then closed the door again.

Damn, thought the frog.

It started to hail.

soybomb

So what happened to the frog? Did he die from the hail? That was confusing.

laxpunker

Head hurts what happened to the frog dude

__________________
"I'm at a loss for words on just how ignorant you are. Times like this I'm able to understand why some species eat their young."~Panama

“Try everything once except incest and folk dancing.”

SilentPete

Was there ever really a frog? Or perhaps before the story starts the boy licks the frog or the girl or some character never mentioned in the story licks the frog, or maybe its us the reader that has licked a frog?... Or maybe it is in forced exodus from its home because he is being chased by people trying to lick him... So much room for interpretation ...