A Hammer and A Frog

Day One:

Dear Diary,

Wednesday night, I came home to a strange sound. It sounded like the offspring of an Indian and Leprechaun. The high-pitched I-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi echoed through my house.

I wasn’t sure what it was. Since I grew up in the city, the only nature sounds I know are traffic, sirens and the squishy-pumping sound Mr. Jenkins would make when we watched me through my bedroom window. He also told me I had a pretty mouth, whatever that meant.

The sound originated from the pond in my backyard. It’s my version of a “Trading Spaces” quality water feature, without the professional talent of Hildi, Frank or Doug.

I went out to the pond. It was 9:00 p.m. When I walked toward the pond, the sound stopped. Walked away, the sound came back.

I stood in my garage and waited. When the sound started, I unplugged the pump. The sound didn’t stop. “Great,” I thought. “Something is going to kill me.”

I’ll ignore it until tomorrow. I’m sure it will go away. Time for bed.

Day One Supplemental:

I’m in bed, on the other side of the house. I can’t sleep because of the noise, and I’m excited I finally used the word “Supplemental.” That’s the word Captain Kirk uses when he adds something to his captains log that can’t wait until the next day.

I put on my robe; grab a flashlight and head outside.

What could it be? An angry cricket? A frog? Mr. Jenkins? It can’t be Mr. Jenkins. He watched me when I was 14 years old, which would make him … add 25 years, minus 4, plus a birthday coming up … dead.

I aim the flashlight at the pond. I see nothing. I inch close. Still nothing. Then, there it is. It’s a frog. It looks harmless.

I can live with this. It’s nature. This frog chose my pond as him home. I’m honored. I can go to sleep now with the satisfaction I’ve given one of God’s creatures a home.

Day Two:

I’m very tired. I was up all night listening to that damn frog. I hope he’ll hurry up and get laid. That’s what it is, right? He’s a calling a mate. It’s allllll about nature. I’ll go to work. This will be a good day.

Day Three:

Yesterday sucked. What the hell? Are those two frogs? Fuck already! Hold on, hold on. I’m just cranky because I haven’t slept in two days. I’m sure this is almost over.

Day Four:

Dear Lord! How many is that? Three? Five? Eighty? I can’t take this anymore. I go to my utility cabinet and grab a box and a hammer. I’ll put an end to this one way or another.

On my way to the pond, I stop and hammer down that carpet nail I stepped on earlier. I set the hammer down and head outside.

I scoop up the frogs and place them in the box. I take them to a new home. I hope they’ll be happy there. I know I will be.

Day Four Supplemental:

Forgot to mention, my neighbors have a pond too.