It was a regular and warm Friday evening. The insects were doing their noises, the frogs were ribitting, the ducks were quacking, and overall, it was nice. Until I noticed a little frog instrument sitting on the wayside. The idea with these things is simple, you just rub a piece of wood onto it and it makes a noise not too unlike a frog. And with all these things making noise, I thought I may just join in with my newfound voice.
The frog instrument was loud. Like a shockwave, it sent the entire lake into silence. Then, a single ribbit. I answered, with a more careful stroke of the instrument. Suddenly, the entire lake started boiling with frogs coming towards me. I ran away, but the frogs came from all sides. I ran and ran, and just as the frog-flood was about to catch up, I finally was in my apartment and closed the door. But the worst was yet to come.
Deafening croaking from all sides. Little eyes reflecting through the windows. The frogs stacked up higher and higher, with the lowest layers of frogs turning into sludge. Soon, I’d be trapped in here for good.
Frogs started to pour in through the toilet and sinks, a window shattered, the bedroom was lost. I climbed up on the balcony, worked up my courage and jumped right in, or rather, on, the frog pile. The slippery bastards gave way, but only to some extend. I slid down the pile like a water slide, and ended up on the street, only to be covered by frogs again.
There only was time for one last prayer.
Suddenly, the croaking ended, and the frogs were gone. What had I done?
“Ah, here it is”, said Jesus. “Dad thought he’d lost it in Egypt a long time ago”.