I HAVE KISSED EVERY FROG I CAN GET MY HANDS ON, LITERALLY HUNDREDS OF FROGS, AND NOT ONE HAS OFFERED TO GIVE ME HEAD
By: Clayton Webb
We're all familiar with the classic story: busty blond spotted hanging out by pond; in sweeps promising froggy gentleman for a chance meeting while she frolics. This leads to that, and all of a sudden Mrs. Lucky is getting mad head from a frog with some seriously skilled oral technique. God, who is always watching, is so proud of and impressed by this frog guy’s superior skills that he makes froggy into a real human boy so that he can give that good good for 60-70 years, not just 10-12. In the version read to me as a child at my fundamentalist Christian bible school, it was stressed that the only way to have sex is with a frog, and to not even try it with another person. It’s your classic tale of rags-to-riches.
Well it turns out that whoever came up with that story is a liar and a sick piece of shit. Since August, I, along with a small, tight knit group of like-minded, enlightened individuals, have spent every possible evening at the Parliament of Reality from 8:00 PM to 2:30 AM. Our meetings, secret because of our group’s exclusivity not because we are ashamed, consist of catching frogs, waiting for the EXPECTED and POLITE offer of head: the signature, demure ribbit, the determined hops up the arm, whispered croak of, “I’m gonna make you feel things you’ll never frog-et,” and the following nightly parade of the lucky few and their frogs from the pond to their respective dorms. But alas; I have never been a part of that lucky few.
Is it the way I look? The way I act or talk? Is it the way I present myself to the world? What aspect of myself makes the frogs combative and disinterested whenever I pick them up, even when they were just pleasantly giving head to someone else just before? When the Bardvark reached out to the rest of my nightly crew, member Nay Meiseles said that they were getting sucked off by a frog just last week, and they didn’t even kiss with tongue. I use tongue EVERY TIME. Look, I’m a simple man. I don’t need anything special, just a little slimy guy who can help me out in exchange for a few kisses now and then, so that, through divine powers, he may be transformed into a human so that we can spend the rest of our lives together. Is that too much to ask?
Throughout this process I have learned many things. The first being the minute and easily, EASILY missed details that distinguish a living frog from a dead one, and the most recent being how many times one can contract a bacterial staph infection in the nose and throat until it becomes chronic. What I have not learned, however, is the silky smooth sensation of frog throat on my downstairs mix-up. I wish many things… that the frogs were more forgiving, that they were less critical of my faults, that their stress response was not urination. But most of all I wish that God gave us some other option, literally any other option, to lock down a beau. But alas, he did not.
P.S. To everyone thinking that I would give the frogs head in return, I DO NOT. That would be WEIRD and GROSS. I wouldn’t even know where to start. After they turn human, we are in uncharted waters in terms of reciprocating head, but pre transformation? Hard no. Unless they have huge tits or a six pack or are packing more than 7” or something, or can move their hips like Doja Cat. Obviously situations like those would require special consideration, as I'm sure we can all agree.