Tuesday, July 29, 2008

12.

ribit, ribit.

Koopa's tongue wisped to the beat of the birth of the exponentially exploding frog population in his seemingly shrinking enclosure. It was as if Moses himself had come down from heaven, confused Daly's room with Egypt and unleashed holy terror on Koopa's habitat.

Koopa became concerned when the plague of frogs began to inhibit the use of his nostrils. This would never do, oxygen was a necessity.

Maybe the world was a horrible place were over eager consumer minded creatures eeked out an existence by claiming and controlling limited resources. Maybe there wasn't enough to go around. Deep thoughts for a reptilian brain.

The rapidly changing frightening new world he faced left him with few options. He could eat his way out of this mess, despite his lack of appetite or he could drown in the sea of frogs. Making decisions had never been his strong suit. He needed more time to think.

ribit, ribit.

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