The First Part of Frog's Journey to Fighting the Octopus with 7 Pairs of Scissors



I was in the market to buy a new dinette set for my family and you were reclining on one of the couches across the showroom. My youngest was the first to discover your large green head and guy-on-the-subway-holding-an-empty-suitcase smile. Little did I know you would follow us home that October evening, begging for me to use my hummer to protect you from that guy with the clippers, the creepy statues, and Marc.

Now at first, my wife was a little weary having you sleep in our basement, but how could I deny a frog who was down on his luck. I have always been one to offer my loins of my hard work for those who need a hand, because I know I have been there myself during that month and a half in college. However, after your behavior the past three nights, I must ask you to vacate my home within the next twenty-four hours for the protection of my family.

At first, we could brush off the constant phone calls from Marc demanding your return or he would make all the cheese in Cleveland evaporate but after the 6th call in 2 hours, Marc's voice began to hypnotize my wife and she has been convinced that she is a Sandslash ever since. She is clawing through the floorboards of our closet as I write this letter. Then, you peed in my son's apple juice and held his head underwater in the bathtub until he drank it. He used to be a champion swimmer for his school's team, but now he won't even drink water.

Then you began stealing furniture from Marc and storing it in our basement while you posted it on Ebay, even though I told you specifically that selling stolen goods on Ebay was against their terms and services agreement. And last night when you revealed yourself to my oldest daughter and then ran around the house proposing marriage to her, well it I could have probably dealt with that if it wasn't for the fact that she agreed to marry you!

Mister Frog, you have left me with a mentally unstable family and strange stains all over the living room, I will be happy to let you borrow the phone book to find appropriate hotel accommodations until you can get back on your webbed feet, but you are no longer welcome in my household. May I never smell your fly-breath again, especially not on a hockey rink.

Comments

  1. For some reason this reminds me of TMNTs. And what's with the old timey gangster voice? No. Somethings not right here...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sounds like Senor Cardgage to me, "Hello belindas...one of them said they'd buy me lunch, but I don't see anyone taking me to chikfila."

    ReplyDelete

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