The Frog and the Butterfly

10/9/16 

Why so many frogs in my writing?And why so many bullies? That’s another story. Anyway… they we're conversing. Having tea, chamomile with lemon and honey - frog was caring for his sore throat. Butterfly had espresso - double. He wanted Turkish coffee. Thick and sweet a drop of whole milk- two drops of cream. Butterfly recently had given up cigars, slowed him down. Beer was his next give up. 

Frog knew it was true, he had seen his friend in competition- still he often thought: "butterfly doesn't look like a weightlifting champ." Frog often thought with his mouth open. That irritated butterfly. Even though butterfly knew frog was demonstrating infinite patience as he waited- was available for a fly to settle on his tongue - his favorite delicacy. Frog did not consider this a big deal. In fact he had told butterfly when asked - frog had a remarkably resonant baritone speaking voice - of course when he sang it sounded like ever so much croaking-

"If I were not patient, if I ran around trying to catch a fly, it would outdistance me. I would be exhausted, hungry- starving in fact. That hunger, ever unrequited conjoined with resentments from having expended so much wasted- fruitless labor - effort in the wrong direction would make me a ragaholic. Butterfly flexed his biceps and smiled.