Some of you may know, but I live on an alkali flat, in somewhat the middle of nowhere. Very little grows here. The water is half poison.
Yet, after some rains, and strange weather, we get FROGS! Might be cold as shit and snowing, but you’ll hear frogs singing, or whatever you call it they do.
Well, no stranger to frogs, I’m not impressed. Sure, they materialize out of the dry lake bed after years of dormancy, or, I don’t know. Whatever the frogs do. I hear them croaking now and then. Often when you would least expect. It’s kind like that Sinbad movie, where the guy casts Teeth of the Hydra, and shit just comes out of the ground, ready to Fuck You Up.
I’ve been drinkin’ tonight (big surprise! ) and got up to take a piss, and come back to the sofa to imbibe more of The Dope (and Beer), when I look down, AND THERE HE IS!
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I left the sliding glass door open, and this little guy must have got under the screen, and got into the house!
Mr. Frog, right there in person! Tryin’ to get under my couch!
Managed to corral him and grab him up and put him out on the front lawn, but WHAT THE FUCK?
Frogs, In the Desert, In My *House?
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I either drink too much, or far too little.
*Any post after 5pm is subject to Intoxitudeous