frogs

Lou and Lynn Part 20 Facing the Bully: A Tale of Frogs and Friendship

The next morning right after breakfast, Aunt Kat told the girls she needed a favor. “I need you girls to go to Miss Betsy’s and borrow her steam iron. Mine is still in the repair shop and I have to catch up on my ironing today.”

”Can I go?” wheedled Billy.

”Sure, if you promise not to fight with Lynn.”

”Okay.” he answered happily.
It was a wonderful day to be out for a ramble. The sky was a brilliant blue and the day not too hot yet. As they neared Miss Betsy’s, Billy said,”I hope that old mean Chris ain’t in the yard.” He seemed a little anxious.

”It’s okay if he is. He’s not gonna bother us. Don’t you remember?” Lynn said. Y’all just do what I say. When I give the signal, pretend to pull a frog out of your pocket and holler ‘Ribbit!’ It’ll be fine.”

”Who’s Chris? What does he do?”

”He’s a horrible bully.” Lynn said. “He’s so mean he hits his own dog with a stick. He used to throw rocks at us when we walked in front of his house. One day, Mother was drinking coffee with Miss Betsy next door to his house. Billy and I hid in the bushes and spied on him. His mama was making him help her in the flower bed and a frog jumped on him. He was scared to death of that little, old frog. He was jumping around and screaming his head off! “Get it off me! Get it off me!” He was screaming like a devil had him. It was hilarious to see a

bully act like such a scaredy cat! Early the next morning before school, me and Billy went to the pond and caught a big frog. I put in in my pocket. When I got to class, I slipped it in Chris’s jacket pocket hanging on his desk chair. I kind of forgot about it. Miss Jones had us taking turns reading aloud. When it was Karen’s turn, the frog made a big old ‘Ribbit’ frog sound. Everybody laughed. Miss Jones said’Who did that?’ Nobody said anything. Karen started reading again. Suddenly ‘Ribbit’ again! Miss Jones said,’Whoever did that is going to be in big trouble.’ The frog let out another big ‘Ribbit!’ and hopped out of Chris’s pocket. He went crazy screaming’Get it off me! Get it off me!’l

Then the frog jumped up on Chris’s collar. Chris went wild, knocking over his chair and scattering his books. The other kids were acting like clowns. Finally, someone caught the frog and put it out. Miss Jones was furious! She thought he’d sneaked a frog in to disrupt the class since his behavior was always so bad. He got in so much trouble. I wanted to laugh every time I thought of it the rest of the day.

Sure enough, Chris was in his front yard, watching them walk toward him. “Where do you think you’re going?” He demanded.

”We’re going to Miss Betsy’s but we all brought you a little present. You want to see? With that, all three pretended to pull a frog out of their pockets and called out ‘Ribbit! Ribbit!’

Chris took off, bellowing “Mama! Mama”

They all nearly collapsed, laughing.

Working Things Out With Chris

Chris and Frogs0002
original art by Kathleen Holdaway Swain

Chris was the meanest kid around.  He threw rocks, kicked his dog, stole lunch money out of desks, broke in line for lunch, and was sassy to the teacher.  He had a giant pile of sand in his yard and dared anyone come near it.  All the kids avoided him.

This was a problem for me and my brother Billy when Mother visited Miss Alice, Chris’s next door neighbor. We sure didn’t want him to spot us so we always played in the far side of her shady yard.  One day, we were making villages of stick houses with mossy fields and sandy tracks for roads when, out of nowhere, POW!!  A rock popped me on the head, knocking me goofy.  When I quit seeing stars, I heard Chris laughing, “Ha!  Made you look!”

Look nothing!!  He nearly made me dead!! We jumped up and chased him, but he left us in his dust, fuming!  We had to come up with a plan to get that creep.  We puzzled and plotted the rest of the day.  He was the biggest, fastest, meanest bully around, so we’d have to outsmart him.  We decided to spy on him the next time Mother went to visit Miss Alice. 

We got our big chance the next day.  He glared when we went in her gate, just waiting to torture us.   The ladies decided to drink their tea in the backyard.  Even Chris knew he couldn’t  us get at us with adults around, so he skulked back to his own yard and kicked at his dog to cheer himself up.   We lay on our stomachs and crawled into the bushes to spy on him as he stomped over to where his mother was working in her flower bed.

Chris was even mean to his mother.  He sassed her when she told him to help, stepped on her flowers, sprayed the cat with water, and kicked over the flower pots.  Suddenly, he went crazy jumping and screaming.  When she finally caught up with him, she said, “Chris, it’s nothing but a little bitty frog!!!  He can’t hurt you!! Just stay still and I’ll get him. I don’t know why you’re so scared of a little bitty frog.”

That big bully was bawling like a baby.  “Get him off! Get him off!  Get him off!!! I hate frogs!” We had our plan!

We headed to the pond and collected a few frogs as soon as we got home.  The next morning at school I slipped in to the class room and got to work hiding frogs.  I put a couple in Chris’s desk, a couple in his pencil box, and slipped a really nice one in the pocket of the jacket hanging on the back of his desk.  I barely finished before the first bell rang.  Chris strolled in after the last bell.  All I had to do now was wait.  I did wish Billy could be here for the fun.

The frogs stayed quiet as we all settled down.  I kept waiting for the fun to start.  After a while, I got involved in a story the teacher was reading and forgot about the frogs.  That’s when it happened.   “Ribbitt!  Ribbitt!  Ribbitt!”   We all started giggling.

“Who did that?”  Miz McZumley was not amused.

“Ribbitt!!  Ribbitt!!”  Kids guffawed!  The class was out of control.

Miz McZumley whacked her ruler down on her desk.  “That does it!  Storytime is over!  Get out your pencils and workbooks.”

You can imagine what happened next.  Two fine frogs jumped out of Chris’s desk.  He screamed and ran in place.  The whole class was hysterical as they chased frogs.  The teacher was furious at Chris for bringing frogs to class.  He blubbered a pathetic defense “I didn’t!! I didn’t! I hate frogs!”  Two more frogs jumped out of his desk, looking for their buddies.

“Then where did all these frogs come from?”  She wasn’t convinced.  Chris got paddled and was sentenced to pick up trash at recess.  I couldn’t wait for him to put on his jacket!!!  My bully problems were over.  There were going to be a lot of frogs in Chris’s future.

 

I Loved Lucy

1251973651_frog-scratching
When I met Lucy, it was love at first site. Not romantic love, but the best kind, true friend love. A freckled redhead, Lucy’s hands were covered in warts. Everybody knew you got warts from playing with frogs. I played with frogs every chance I got, but so far had not been able to acquire the warts I coveted.
Naturally, I still had to ask, admiringly, How’d you git them warts?” I always took the subtle approach.
“How do you think? From playin’ with frogs, Dummy. Frogs’ backs is covered with warts.” My admiration grew exponentially, a girl who liked frogs and wasn’t afraid to say “pee” without looking around to make sure her mama couldn’t hear. I had a hard life. My own mother made us say “wee wee” and swore she’d know if we EVER said “pee.” “Pee” was vulgar. I’d had my behind paddled more than once for getting caught.
“Have you got any frogs now? I want to see them warts.” I had to know.
“Sure. There’s always some at the creek.” She took off with me following. Wading in, we were soon rich in frogs. Catching a couple, we examined them, finding their backs splendidly populated with warts.
We passed an idyllic afternoon with those frogs in the cool creek.I still remember the feel of those scratchy warts on my fingers. Tadpoles frolicked joyously in shady pools, just out of our reach. Wet and muddy to the waist, that day I knew perfect joy. Time stood still. Long before I’d had my fill of warty frog fun, Mother called out saying it was time to go, but not before I slipped a couple of frogs in my pocket.
“Oh no! I gotta go.” I whined.
“That’s okay. Next time you come back, we’ll git you a snake.” She promised.
I got the snake, but never did get my warts.

I Loved Lucyop

1251973651_frog-scratching

When I met Lucy, it was love at first site.  Not romantic love, but the best kind, true friend love.  A freckled, barefoot girl, Lucy’s hands were covered in warts.  Everybody knew you got warts from playing with frogs.  I played with frogs every chance I got, but so far had not been able to acquire the warts I coveted.

Naturally, I had to ask, “How’d you git them warts?”  I always took the subtle approach.

“How do you think?  From playin’ with frogs, Dummy.  Frogs’ backs is covered with warts.”  My admiration grew exponentially, a girl who liked frogs and wasn’t afraid to say “pee” without looking around to make sure her mama couldn’t hear.  I had a hard life.  My own mother made us say “wee wee” and swore she’d know if we EVER said “pee.”  “Pee” was vulgar.  I’d had my behind paddled more than once for getting caught.

“You got any frogs now?  I want to see them warts.” I had to know. 

“Sure.  There’s always some at the creek.”  She took off with me following.  Wading in, we were soon rich in frogs. Catching a couple, we examined them, finding their backs splendidly populated with warts.

We passed an idyllic afternoon with those frogs in the cool creek.I still remember the feel of those scratchy warts on my fingers. Tadpoles frolicked joyously in shady pools, just out of our reach. Wet and muddy to the waist, I that day I knew perfect joy. Time stood still. Long before I’d had my fill of warty frog fun, Mother called out saying it was time to go, but not before I slipped a couple of frogs in my pocket.

“Oh no!  I gotta go, already.” I whined.

“That’s okay.  Next time you come back, we’ll git you a snake.” She promised.

I got the snake, but never did get my warts.

Working Things Out With Chris

Chris and Frogs0002
original art by Kathleen Holdaway Swain

Chris was the meanest kid around.  He threw rocks, kicked his dog, stole lunch money out of desks, broke in line for lunch, and was sassy to the teacher.  He had a giant pile of sand in his yard and dared anyone come near it.  All the kids avoided him.

This was a problem for me and my brother Billy when Mother visited Miss Alice, Chris’s next door neighbor. We sure didn’t want him to spot us so we always played in the far side of her shady yard.  One day, we were making villages of stick houses with mossy fields and sandy tracks for roads when, out of nowhere, POW!!  A rock popped me on the head, knocking me goofy.  When I quit seeing stars, I heard Chris laughing, “Ha!  Made you look!”

Look nothing!!  He nearly made me dead!! We jumped up and chased him, but he left us in his dust, fuming!  We had to come up with a plan to get that creep.  We puzzled and plotted the rest of the day.  He was the biggest, fastest, meanest bully around, so we’d have to outsmart him.  We decided to spy on him the next time Mother went to visit Miss Alice. 

We got our big chance the next day.  He glared when we went in her gate, just waiting to torture us.   The ladies decided to drink their tea in the backyard.  Even Chris knew he couldn’t  us get at us with adults around, so he skulked back to his own yard and kicked at his dog to cheer himself up.   We lay on our stomachs and crawled into the bushes to spy on him as he stomped over to where his mother was working in her flower bed.

Chris was even mean to his mother.  He sassed her when she told him to help, stepped on her flowers, sprayed the cat with water, and kicked over the flower pots.  Suddenly, he went crazy jumping and screaming.  When she finally caught up with him, she said, “Chris, it’s nothing but a little bitty frog!!!  He can’t hurt you!! Just stay still and I’ll get him. I don’t know why you’re so scared of a little bitty frog.”

That big bully was bawling like a baby.  “Get him off! Get him off!  Get him off!!! I hate frogs!” We had our plan!

We headed to the pond and collected a few frogs as soon as we got home.  The next morning at school I slipped in to the class room and got to work hiding frogs.  I put a couple in Chris’s desk, a couple in his pencil box, and slipped a really nice one in the pocket of the jacket hanging on the back of his desk.  I barely finished before the first bell rang.  Chris strolled in after the last bell.  All I had to do now was wait.  I did wish Billy could be here for the fun.

The frogs stayed quiet as we all settled down.  I kept waiting for the fun to start.  After a while, I got involved in a story the teacher was reading and forgot about the frogs.  That’s when it happened.   “Ribbitt!  Ribbitt!  Ribbitt!”   We all started giggling.

“Who did that?”  Miz McZumley was not amused.

“Ribbitt!!  Ribbitt!!”  Kids guffawed!  The class was out of control.

Miz McZumley whacked her ruler down on her desk.  “That does it!  Storytime is over!  Get out your pencils and workbooks.”

You can imagine what happened next.  Two fine frogs jumped out of Chris’s desk.  He screamed and ran in place.  The whole class was hysterical as they chased frogs.  The teacher was furious at Chris for bringing frogs to class.  He blubbered a pathetic defense “I didn’t!! I didn’t! I hate frogs!”  Two more frogs jumped out of his desk, looking for their buddies.

“Then where did all these frogs come from?”  She wasn’t convinced.  Chris got paddled and was sentenced to pick up trash at recess.  I couldn’t wait for him to put on his jacket!!!  My bully problems were over.  There were going to be a lot of frogs in Chris’s future.