Let me tell you a story. It is a simple story. A story of a dad. A dad trying to give his daughter a hands-on education…
It was a clear black night, a clear white moon. Warren G was on the streets, trying to consume… uh, maybe I shouldn’t listen to old school rap while trying to write. Let us begin, again.
It was an unusually cool June evening. A dad was just finishing up trimming the lawn when he felt a tiny pair of eyes staring at him. Looking around, he glanced upon a little frog sitting in the freshly cut grass next to the house. “My daughter would love to see that frog up close,” he thought to himself, “and as an added bonus, I bet my wife would jump out of her skin if I showed it to her.” The frog did nothing, so the man bent down and stared at it, trying to figure out the best way to catch it. Still the frog did nothing, so the man leaned in a foot closer, and felt his heart rate speed up. And still the frog did nothing, so the man, ever so slowly extended his hand towards the frog. The frog jumped onto the low retaining wall next to it, so the man stifled a scream and jumped back.
The man took a deep breath and glanced around to make sure none of the neighbors saw him lose round one to a frog no bigger than an infant’s fist. He took a deep breath, and could do nothing. He took another deep breath, and still could do nothing. He took a third deep breath, and before his mind could catch up to what his body was doing, both hands had darted towards the frog and were covering it. Unsure of what to do, now that he had won round two and actually trapped the frog, the man opened the gap between his hands just to make sure the frog was really there. He closed his hands around the frog and stood up, gloating to himself over his triumph.
As soon as the man cupped his hands to see the frog better, the frog took a long hop off a short pier. Channeling all his childhood baseball and football training, the man caught the frog in midair just as it started its decent. The man stared at the frog in his hand in shock. The frog stared back at the man in shock. Then, seeing that it was only being held captive by a flat open hand, the frog attempted another leap to freedom, and again was caught before it could escape. Again the man and frog stared at each other in shock, before the frog made a third futile attempt at freedom. This time the man got smart, or so he thought, and covered up the frog with his free hand. Seeing no way out, the frog brought out his big guns. The man dropped the frog and stared in disbelief at his hand. “Huh, that’s pretty awesome,” the man thought to himself, sarcastically. “I’ve never been peed on by a frog before.”
After the man turned off the hose and dried his hands on his t-shirt, he looked to his right and saw a frog staring at him. The frog did nothing, so the man stared at it. Still the frog did nothing, so the man continued to stare at it. When finally the frog continued to do nothing, the man bent over, reached out his hands… and picked up the trimmer to finish his work.
Ok. The man is this story is obviously me, and looking back at it I realize it isn’t putting me in the best light. So, let me start the story over.
I submit for your reading pleasure, a simple story. A story of a hunter so fierce, that he merely needed to touch an animal to have it piss itself in fear…