text: Two frogs sitting on a lily pad. The first one says, “do you ever get the blues?” “Yeah, sure man, everybody gets the blues sometimes.” “No, I mean for real. The *actual* blues.” “What do you mean the "actual" blues?” “Sometimes I look out across the pond and wonder if there is more out there. If there are other ponds, other lily pads, other frogs, like us. If there were, would they be more advanced? Would they be bigger than us? Could they jump higher? Would they have twice as many tongues so they could eat twice as many flies? Could they teleport? If they came to our pond, would they subjugate us, and just use us as a stopover point to get to the next one?” “A lily pad rest stop?” “Yeah, something like that.” “I don’t know man. Seems like you got an overactive imagination. Why don’t you take some time off, go rest for a while. I think this sun is getting to you.’" “No, I’m serious. What if there are other ponds out there?” “Well, if there were don’t you think we would have heard about it by now? Wouldn’t somebody have ventured out found one, and told us about it?” “What happened to Jim?” “Jim?” “Jim Heinz.” “Oh man. Do you really believe those stories?” “I didn’t say I believe anything. I’m just asking what do you think happened to him?” “Jim was a nutcase since he was a tadpole, everybody knows that.” “It’s possible.” “Yeah, sure. Anything is possible, I guess. But if you want me to believe Jim Heinz was abducted by a hawk and carried away to another pond full of sand and salty water and waves as tall as the trees. And then, after surviving this astronomical adventure--after all that, he hopped his goofy self back here over a period of three spawnings, I’m sorry. No, in fact, I do not believe that happened, nor that it is even remotely possible. " “Either way, I just think about how many ponds could be out there, and it just makes me feel insignificant--how little we are in the grand scheme. If our pond dried up tomorrow, it wouldn’t even matter, the sun and moon and stars wouldn’t even blink. Wouldn’t even miss us.” “Wouldn’t miss you. I happen to think the frog race was put here for a reason, and I try to live my life by that reason.” “What reason?” “Look man, I’m going for a dip. I’m not trying to solve all the pond’s problems right here on this lily pad.” “I’m not trying to solve--” The well-grounded and happy frog leapt into the water and in mid-air thrusted out its tongue, snapping up a gnat that was darting by. He looked back to make sure his buddy saw the feat, and smiled because he knew it gave credence to his views. What other thing in the whole wide pond can do something so complex, so precise, so quickly? Nobody. He knew the frog’s place, and didn’t think there was much need to debate it. He enjoyed the cool water across his face and swam past the grass and the snails. He nodded to the turtle--if the turtle isn’t living proof about the nature of the pond, then I don’t know what is. He liked the turtle, they were nice enough fellows, but there was no doubting who was created first. The sunlight glittered through the water, sparkling and rippling in his wake. He floated to the top and let the sun dry his chest. It was good to be a frog. \*\*\* Follow u/quillandtrowel for more interesting stories.