IT IS WHAT IS IT

Tree_frog_amongst_Bluebells_by_AngiNelson

Tree frog amongst Bluebells by Angi Nelson

He was merely a frog.

Green. Wide eyed and slick. Throaty crackles within. Warts and all, he was merely a frog.

Oh, he had dreams. Every young frog does. Bigger adventures and capers were that to which he aspired. But everyday he sat in his tree, ingesting insects and watching the world pass him by.

His uncles had the best gig a few years back. All they did was sit in their lily pad and pitch malt beverages. The humans seemed to love their chant about Bud…, Bud Somebody or other. Now, he’d settle for being a lowly gecko. At least he’d have employment..

The swamp was his home and he never needed to roam. But he had a wanderer’s spirit. Dreams never died, they just sat on a branch and croaked. Until…

Mort Grinley, a Hollywood talent scout came venturing where Bruno Magli never intended to go. Mort came across the reptilian wonder.

“Nice swamp you have here” Mort began.

“Yup” countered the frog.

“I’m looking for the next big thing… and I believe it’s you!” Mort continued.

“Yup” countered the frog.

“How would you like to come to Hollywood and make films?” Mort offered.

The frog thought contemplatively, swiping an elongated tongue at a sedentary fly.

“Yup” countered the frog.

“I just want you to know… it won’t be easy!” Mort said finally.

“HAVE YOU EVER BEEN GREEN?” the frog shouted. “Now that…
that is not easy!”

Mort smiled.

He loved green. In large denominations. The frog was rubbing off on him. He knew there was no beating a frog. Mort didn’t give a lick what the pig said!

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