Jenny’s Tree Frog

“Jenny,” I heard someone call softly. “Jenny, I want you to come and play with me.”

I looked around the house. I couldn’t see anyone. I glanced up at the clock. I saw that it was eleven o’clock. Everyone else was sleeping. I couldn’t figure out what was going on.

It was quiet for a few minutes and I felt relieved. For a moment, I thought I was hearing things. Maybe it was a ghost or a spirit of some kind. Well, if it was, I hope that it was a
friendly one.

“Jenny,” I heard it again as plain as day. “Jenny, come out and play.”

I went into Jenny’s bedroom. She was sound asleep. She had her usual beautiful smile on her face. When she is smiling, you know that she is in a deep sleep.

“Hum!” I said to myself as I left her room. “It wasn’t Jenny.”

Next, I went into Ricky’s room. Because he is a sound sleeper, Ricky didn’t move at all when I bent over to cover him up.

“No,” I said to myself. “It wasn’t Ricky.”

I went back out to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips from the cupboard.

“Maybe I’m just hungry,” I said. “Sometimes people hear strange voices when they are hungry.”

I ate some chips and then I heard it again.

“Jenny,” I heard. “Jenny, come out and play with me.”

“This is crazy,” I said. “There is nobody here. Who could that be?”

I happened to glance over at my front door.

“Someone left the outside light on,” I said to myself, as I got up to turn it off.

As I turned the light off, I saw a little tree-frog hanging onto the pane of glass beside the door.

“Oh,” I said. “What a cute little fellow!”

I opened up the front door and bent down to take a better look at him.

“You’re not Jenny,” I heard someone say.

The voice appeared to be coming from the frog.

“That’s impossible,” I said aloud. “Frogs can’t talk.”

“Special frogs can talk,” I heard.

“You mean it is you that spoke?” I asked.

“Yes,” the frog said. “Who else did you expect it to be, Neil Young!”

“Hey,” I said angrily. “You leave him out of this. How did you know that I like Neil Young, anyway?”

“I know everything that goes on behind this pane of glass,” the frog said.

I glared at the frog. I was very angry with him. Despite this, I had to admit that the frog was a very attractive frog. His colours reminded me of a tropical rainforest.

“I also know that you wrote a love letter to him,” the frog said.

“It wasn’t a love letter,” I yelled as quietly as I could manage. “It was just a letter.”

“Oh, you can call it what you like,” said the frog. “But I know better.”

“To get off this subject,” I said. “Why did you call for Jenny? Don’t you know that she’s sleeping?”

“I called her for your sake,” the frog said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “She needs her sleep. Why would you want to wake her up?”

“It’s not me that wants her awake,” the frog said. “It’s you. Jenny is the only one in this house that likes to listen to Neil Young’s music with you. You know that Ricky doesn’t like it. By waking Jenny up, you know that you can listen to all the Neil Young you want to.”

“I don’t need Jenny to listen to Neil Young with me,” I said. “I can listen to Neil Young whenever I want.”

“I bet you can’t listen to him just once without feeling guilty about listening to him,” the frog said. “You know that with Jenny awake, you don’t feel guilty about listening to Neil because then, you aren’t the only one that is listening to him.”

“Look,” I said angrily. “You are so far from the truth, it isn’t funny. Who are you anyway? Part of my conscience.”

“I am your conscience,” the frog said.

“What!” I said angrily. “Of all the things that I could pick to be my conscience, I had to pick a frog. I must be going crazy.”

“Why don’t you give me a kiss?” asked the frog. “I have a special treat in store for you, if you do?”

“Yeah, like what!” I exclaimed. “You’ll probably give me warts all over my lips. I’m not kissing a frog. I wouldn’t kiss you even if you were Neil Young.”

“Now that’s not true,” said the frog. “If I were Neil Young, you’d kiss me in a second.”

“I don’t know where you get off saying all these rotten things to me,” I said to the frog. “You aren’t very nice.”

“Look,” said the frog, impatiently. “I’ve got places to go and people to see tonight, will you just kiss me so we can get this over with.”

“I’m not kissing you,” I said. “I don’t believe in fairy princesses or fairy princes.”

“Oh come on,” the frog coaxed. “I’m not going to hurt you and I promise that I won’t give you any warts.”

“You promise,” I said, not believing that I was actually considering kissing that crazy frog.

“Yes, I promise,” said the frog.

The frog sat very pretty up against the glass and puckered his lips for me.

“Oh!” I exclaimed bending over to kiss the frog. “This is so gross!”

“Excuse me,” a voice behind me said. “What’s so gross about kissing me!”

I turned around quickly, and there, standing right on my front porch was Neil Young!

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