tagNon-Erotic PoetryBad Day at Skeeter Pond

Bad Day at Skeeter Pond


It was a steamy day . A sticky humid,
sweaty dog with itchy balls, type of day.
Just damn aggravating. An ominous veil
of mosquitoes blackened the sky and hummed
to life, the sky barely visible above the pond.
Something had to be done and done quick.

Perhaps Frog King sent word by messenger frog,
I do not know, but late that afternoon,
Hammer Frog showed up. He was packing a tongue
that could pull a cliff diver off balance. He could hide
from his prey till it was too late. He was a mercenary.
He was an intimidating frog and he knew it.

Hammer Frog had arrived with a flourish,
an entourage, and a bad attitude. As everyone
in the frog world knows, a mercenary frog
with thick skin is a thing to be avoided. Frog King
had buckled to pressure from the ladies. They ached
for the sweetness of bumble bee, but mosquitoes

Had taken over the place, and as almost everyone
in the frog world knows, mosquitoes are never
as tasty as bees. It was then I saw Frog King
hiding, or perhaps concocting a strategy,
to rid the pond of potential rival, the exterminator,
and oh how the ladies loved old Hammer Frog.

And Frog King knew it!

Quizzical expression, he stared straight ahead
gazing at a pink cherry tree. I saw him blink,
again, and again, and I saw him swallow,
again and again. This process continued
until darkness came, and Frog King had swelled
far beyond normal size. I feared for his life.

His situation might have been amusing, if he hadn’t
looked ill in his eyes. His frog-lids were drooping,
lips slightly parted, a nauseated croak escaped from his lips,
and then he fell backward into the pond. There was a plop,
it almost echoed. Ricochet from cement wall, from
the monkey grass to the water hose, and back.

I sprang from my swing and leapt into the pond,
grabbing him with my hands. He was bloated and bulging,
his frog chest was heaving and jiggled as I held him.
Gently I placed him onto the grass, placing a finger
just so, then I pressed. One upward motion and Frog King
expelled the offending mosquitoes, then I expelled my lunch.

I didn’t say a word and he wiggled his way away from me
and dove back into the pond. Hammer Frog was content
to finish the job, within a few days he moved on.
Now the ladies have the bumble bees, I still haven’t seen
Frog King, but I have a good feeling that he wouldn’t mind
it Hammer showed up next year, about this time.

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