Jon de Vos – Stuck to the roof of my mouth
October 8, 2009
I carry my frog around a lot. He’s all slimy with a horrific stench and his tubby little body nestles comfortably inside my mouth with his little legs dangling out of the corners of my lips. I love my frog.
Sometimes I’ll fall asleep with Froggy snuggled in my jowls and when I wake up he’s stuck to the roof of my mouth and I’ll have to go swish my head around in the toilet to loosen him up.
This morning, I found a little tear in Froggy’s skin and doggone if curiosity didn’t get the best of me, so I fastened my front teeth on a little flap that was sticking out and tugged on it. It gave a little so I put a foot square in the middle of his stomach and gave a good jerk, ripping a big hole in his side. When I picked him up a bunch of his insides moved outside. Uh-oh! See Froggy’s innards. Ooh, look, there’s some long stringy, crumpled up things and a bunch of shredded rubbery stuff; say, you’re not looking so good, Froggy. Froggy? FROGGY! Oh, well, I guess he’s a goner. I wonder what’s for dinner?
I think people were jealous of my frog. Sometimes this lady who hangs around the house would try to snatch him away. When she does it, I’ve learned to get all snarly and crazy-acting, hopping around and snapping my teeth. She thinks it’s cute and playful, but so far, she’s never known how close she is to needing major medical attention. There’s a guy who lives here too. I like him. He slips me broccoli under the table.
My frog was sleek and green, soggy and cuddly with such a putrid smell that everybody noticed him when I showed him off. It’s funny but even though he was my best friend, I never knew his name, everybody just called him frog, or “Froggy” if they’re feeling nice. He had dark expressive eyes that taunted me when he was sitting quietly in a corner. We’d stare at each other across the room until I just had to go over and pick him up and suck on him for a while until he got all soft and slimy again.
So anyway, there I am in the middle of the room with Froggy’s guts strewn out all over the carpet when the lady who hangs around the house comes in and takes a wide-eyed look at the grisly remains and I thought she was going to pass out. Sheesh, like she’s never seen a dead frog before. They’re not that tough at all, soft and squishy on the outside and all gooey on the insides.
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Oh, sure, sometimes I get a little overexcited and chomp down a pretty hard but that only happens, I dunno, maybe three or four hundred times a day but Froggy’s a lot tougher than, oh say, the sofa. The lady looks down at me, hands on hips, shakes her head at me and yells up the stairs, “Hey, your stupid mutt just nailed another squeak toy. You sure it wouldn’t be cheaper if we’d sent her to beauty school?”
“Don’t make fun of my dog, she’s sensitive. “There’s a new frog for her on top of the fridge.”
– Jon de Vos can be reached at email@example.com