A tale of two frogs falling in love
Froghert is impatient. He usually checks his greens every day at the same time and then hops out to face his routine. But today his frogoes are dirty. Forgetful as he has been lately, he failed to clean them last night. And it is her fault! She is the reason why he is so forgetful.
Her name is Frogitty. Frogitty is very pretty and very green. She doesn’t need to wear frogoes to look nice. She is broad-hipped and beautiful. So clearly, she doesn’t understand what it is like. Froghert is furious. How dare she confuse him like that? This is unacceptable. It is her fault that he will leave his hole late and be late for work. Worst-case scenario, the fat Frobutt will have sunk a few leaves by now already. That annoys Froghert. He suspects Frobutt does this just to annoy him.
Froghert is responsible for leaf maintenance. More precisely, for the retrieval of water lily leaves that have been sunk by frogs. That, one might be surprised to hear, happens more often than not. Heavy frogs usually have an unbalanced landing technique. When they touch down, they slip off the leaf and use this momentum to hurl themselves forward. They leave behind a half-tipped leaf which struggles with the aftermath, and well, it sinks.
All his adult life, Froghert has been in leaf maintenance. It has always been his dream job. But, now that Frogitty moved into his neighbourhood, things have become confusing. Suddenly leaf maintenance seems less important.
Froghert sighs. What a mess this is. He finishes polishing his frogoes and starts putting them on. “Hello,” a voice croaks. Oh no, Froghert thinks. His legs cramp up. It couldn’t be! “Hello, anybody here?” Frogitty slowly descends into Froghert’s domain.
Froghert squints and makes out Frogitty’s silhouette against the sun. “Y-yes. Yes. Wha-hat can I do for y-you?” Froghert holds on to a nearby mududdle so not to fall over. “My name is Frogitty, I am your new neighbour. And I was told that you may be able to help me,” she croaks. “It appears someone has sunk the path leading up to my hole. Would you be able to retrieve it for me?”
She smiles and waddles toward him. “Su-sure.” What a croaky voice she has. It is like hopping on pebbles, Froghert thinks and forgets to put on the last of his frogoes. “Can you sho-ow me, plea-please?” Frogitty nods and turns. “I am Frog-hert by th-the way.” Froghert realizes he is only wearing three frogoes but is too embarrassed to turn around.
“Nice to meet you, Froghert,” she shoulder-nudges him as they waddle outside. Froghert blushes and, for the first time in his adult life, is a little less grumpy.