The Frog Prince

Frog guts are surprisingly big.  You wouldn’t think it, looking at a frog.  Sure, toad guts, you could see being big, but frog guts, not so much.  Yet, there they were.  On the floor, huge bloody mounds of them.

                And they reeked.  I’ve smelled better piss pots. 

                I’ve cleaned better smelling piss pots.

                But really could you blame the princess?  I can’t, and I’ve always said she was a spoiled brat.  In this, however, I can’t say that she is really at fault.

                Honesty, would you tell your daughter to take a frog to bed?

                I didn’t think so.

                Of course, what would you expect from a man who gets his daughter a solid gold ball?  What kind of a toy is that?  Why don’t you just put her in the middle of the square with a “rob me” sign around her neck?  Being a princess isn’t going to stop anyone.  Everyone knows that princesses are worth less than princes.  I think the king just wanted her to break her foot so she could fit into that ridiculously small shoe.  You know the one that he keeps in the back of his closet and doesn’t know that we know about.  That one.

                Yes, the glass one.

                Honestly, who wears a glass shoe?

                Lord!  That’s right the same people who would give their children a gold ball.  It’s hardly the poor brat’s fault that it fell into the pool.  It’s not even the poor brat’s fault that she’s a brat.  We servants try, we do, but gold balls are hard to compete with.

                Though I can think of a few places you wouldn’t want to find them.

                So it wasn’t really her fault that it fell down into the well, and if her father hadn’t been such a bully and scared the poor brat, a gardener would have gladly fished it out.  Whether or not, he would have replaced it with something more practical is a different issue.

                A good ball means quite a bit of food.

                So what does the girl do, but makes a promise to a frog.  I suppose if you think about it, it does seem like a good idea.  What could a frog want besides flies and a female frog?  She may be a brat, but the princess isn’t a blonde idiot.

                That was her grandmother.  Can you believe that woman?  Straw into gold via natural spinning talent?  She was lucky the old king was a greedy Gus and didn’t look too close.  But the things my father saw,   hmmm hmmm.

                Anyway, so what does the frog want?  Flies?  Nope, to eat off her plate, to sit at her seat, to share her bed.

                I tell you, I should have just grabbed Cook’s puss and let her deal with the beast.

                What type of frog wants to eat stuffed goose?

                Of course, the princess didn’t want anything to do it with it.  It’s a frog after all, and have you seen how many ducks swim in that pond?  But her father, Mister A Promise is a Promise.  Yeah, we all know how he really feels about that.  A promise is a promise but only if it involves a woman making it.  He didn’t keep his promise to his wife, and he swore that in front of a priest.  Took him less than a day to break it.

                And a talking frog.  What would you do if you met a talking frog?  Quite right, you would check to see what you ate and drank that day while crossing yourself and begging for God’s mercy.  I suppose kings just take that mercy for granted.  They shouldn’t.  After all, look at what happened two kingdoms over.

                I felt sorry for the poor brat.  I mean she’s a spoiled brat and all, but she isn’t really mean unless she gets pushed.  And her father was great about that.  Going on about how she wasn’t a son and how it was her mother’s fault because she lacked breeding.   Poor chit.   Then he gives her gold balls.   The poor girl didn’t know if he was coming or going.  But what else could you expect, considering he had to snag a wife from dwarves.  The princess isn’t really cruel, mind you.  Unlike some people I can mention, like him over there, she remembers the names of her servants.  She’s even given me some of her old toys for my children. Not something likes a gold ball, but I was able to sell some of them. 

                So her father made he feed it, let it drink from her goblet.  Not his of course, I wonder what he would have said then.  No, I know what he would have said then.  She had to take up stairs.  She even tucked it into a play crib.  Then it hopped out onto her bed, and demanded a kiss. 

                So she let it kiss the side of the wall.

                Hence the frog guts.      

                Silly frog must have thought it was a prince.  The princess knows that those stories are just fairy tales.