Boiling frogs and the frog chorus…

Chapter 1 

‘Ribbit,’ said the frog, which was a bit weird because rabbits should go ‘ribbit’ and surely frogs should go ‘froooog’ or something like that. But it didn’t, it said ‘ribbit’...and his froggy friend replied, ‘ribbbit.’ 

Now perhaps I’d better translate from here, because maybe you can’t speak froggish. It will make it easier for you and it’ll make it a tad more rewarding.

Because oh boy, have these frogs a tale for you?

I’ll set the scene.. 

Jimminy Frog.. now I don’t know why he was called Jimminy.. But Jimminy’s mother insisted, and Jimminy’s father gave the blessing.

Now these little creatures, they are frogs, but I may move them as humans too, because you don’t know froggish - and not only do we talk with our mouths you see but we talk with our bodies too. Oh there are so many ways to talk. Did you know babies only learn how to talk so they can communicate in parentish - because the parents don’t know babish. So the baby is kind.

Once there were parents who did speak babish and the baby only spoke babish. The baby taught it all it knew, and it knew everything. Why the trees were trees, why there was such a thing as ‘good and bad’ and why God made mosquitoes. 

There are no mosquitoes in this book you’ll be pleased to learn. So far, just a frog, Jimminy.

‘Ribbit,’ he said, and the froggy friend said, ‘Are you not hot in there?’

Chapter 2

‘What do you mean are you hot in their? I said ‘stay safe’... said the frog, the one that said ‘ribbit’ initially.

‘I am safe. But are you in there?’ Said the other frog… froggy friend… aka… Zimba, for some reason.

‘In where,’ ‘In that boiling water?’ ‘What boiling water?’

Now the frog wasn’t in boiling water really.. Not physically… so don’t paint the wrong picture.

Now the adults are thinking… yeah yeah.. We know the boiling frog story. Kids.. they do. But most of them are like the frogs in the boiling water. Even though they know the story. It’s weird really, I know. 

The frog.. Like the humans reading about the frog… was not in any water.. So he was puzzled. ‘What on Earth is Zimba on about? He’s been chewing on the wrong plants maybe,’ thought Jimminy, because there are different plants which have different powers… it’s true in real life too. Your mum might have told you, ‘your brussel sprouts are good for you.’ Well how is that when they taste so bad you think… well i used to think that - but she knew the power in the brussel sprout. Now kids… I can tell you from here that the power in brussel sprouts does not merit the pain induced by having to eat them. It’is not worth it. They are simply not that powerful.. Like you are going to become a tennis champion or something. That is a trick.. Don’t buy it. Do what I did when I was young. Order extra mashed potatoes - then when your Mum isn’t looking… maybe you can drop a spoon or something near her legs - and when she picks it up… hide the brussels sprouts under the mashed potatoes. Then eat what you want and say, ‘Mum I can’t finish,’ and she sees you have eaten your brussels…. Maybe in that moment she thinks you are going to be a world champion whatever and she says… ‘Good lad, you ate your brussels. Go and play.’ You run off out of the house to the park and your Mum sweeps the hidden brussels into the bin.

Don’t tell your parents I told you this. When you are old it will be a funny story and all the family will laugh about it at Christmases when they are wearing little coloured paper hats. You have to be a bit naughty or you won’t have any good stories. Your naughty stories should be sweet. No-one wants to hear how you played table tennis with bats that you killed or anything like that. Mind you….. Haha… I never did it. Don’t you do it either. Bats make great table mats. Just kidding.

Trinkety-trot, back to the plot!

Yeah.. the frog was thinking. Did my friend, froggy frog, Zimba, eat some brussels sprouts or something and it made him cuckoo. Not like a cuckoo really. Like a frog, but a cuckoo frog if you know what I mean.

Jimminy jumped into his cool pool. It wasn’t hot, it was cool, he thought.

The moon was nearly full. It was beautiful, shooting rays through the trees, onto dancing water, a circle of circles all running out to the edge of the pond… 

There was an owl out. His head spun round, noticing Zimba hop off, down a muddy human walkway and into the reeds. The owl didn’t like the day. There were too many crazy animals all hunting each other at the same time. Owl liked the moon, like the cool breeze, like the power to echo his own voice across the fields without a noisy Magpie to break the play of that echo. He didn’t like the frogs all singing together either. They disturbed him. I think what disturbed him the most was the happiness of the frogs, the way they all sang together. So the owl had devised a plan. 

Now I don’t know if you know, but Owls eat frogs. Not all the time, sometimes. Even some humans have been known to eat frogs but for sure owls do, sometimes. Now the owl had been very friendly to the frogs of late. He told the frogs ‘I won’t eat you, in fact I want to help you. There is a deadly frog virus at the moment. If you come out at night you will turn blue and die, so stay inside.’ He said, ‘stay in your pond, don’t come out at night, and at the weekends don’t come out at all. Or you will turn blue and die.’ 

Now kids, if someone who eats you tells you they want to help you you are wise to be a little suspicious. But these frogs had reason to believe the owl. You see every day, he brought dead blue frogs to the ponds. The frogs called to each other saying, ‘stay in your ponds at night, the owl is right, frogs are turning blue and dying.’ 

Why didn’t the owl, who eats frogs, sometimes, not eat the frogs that were blue. Well here’s the thing. The owl wanted to show how incredibly kind and good he was, which let me tell you ladies, gentleman, gentleboys and gentlegirls, is most probably a sign that he wasn’t incredibly kind or incredibly good at all. 

Time was passing and the frogs were getting used staying in their own pond and not going out at night. Because they were staying in and not going out the frogs also stopped singing. But at least they were safe. Their water was cool. At least they were still green and still alive.

One day Zimba hopped over to Jimminy’s pond and said, ‘I think you had better come with me froggy friend. Come with me to old Fresco’s Frog’s pond.’ ‘That’s beyond the forest,’ said Jimminy; ‘we shouldn’t go there. Frogs are turning blue and dying I heard. They are on high alert. They cannot leave their pond at all I heard.’ ‘That’s right,’ said Zimba. ‘You should come with me and see that pond. I went last night.’ ‘You went last night! The owl will be angry.’ ‘

‘If the owl is so kind and helpful, why would he be angry?’ said Zimba, ‘Don’t you know owls eat frogs, sometimes.’ ‘Yes, well. Good night Zimba, now you stay safe.’ And with that Jimminy hopped into his pond. There were no moonrays this even, no dancing circles to be witnessed. Just the sound of silence and, well, it was quite boring.’

Now young readers, these frogs didn’t have iphones. Zimba could have filmed the other pond, put it on instagram and all the people would see what he wanted to show them. They could have iphones because I am humanizing them, but you see, in 400 years time maybe people won’t know what iphones are. Maybe there is no technology at all, and only frogs and ponds exist. So how would the people of the future understand the story? What? Of course iphones will exist in 400 years time! Well, it’s my story, and these frogs were like me, and they didn’t like iphones very much so they simply didn’t have them. And they didn’t care because they didn’t know they didn’t have them because they are just book-story frogs with no power to make the story how they wanted. Plus… stories are better without iphones. It sounds weird, but trust me on this one.

So, iphoneless and bored, Jimminy was getting tired of staying in, tired of not visiting friends, tired of not singing. How he missed the choruses of yesterday. But it was quiet. If you sang the other frogs would say, ‘hey, why are you singing when frogs are turning blue and dying everywhere.’ But, but…… But Jimminy never really saw any blue and dying frogs, except for the one’s the owl brought over.

One day Zimba hopped by again. ‘Hey Jimminy, the offer still stands. You should really come with me.’ ‘No,’ said Jimminy, (who’s name now I think of it sounds like the name of a cricket, but his father gave the blessing) - but, he knew he meant yes. ‘Come, said Zimba, and they hopped into the evening mist, beyond the imaginary boundaries set up by the kind and caring owl.

Chapter 3 

‘Frooooog,’ said a frog as our friend-frogs hopped into worlds beyond his own little world, where he had sheltered the past months. ‘Froooog.’ Jimminy thought to himself, ‘why do the humans say we say ‘ribbit’ when quite obviously we go ‘froooog’?

Many thoughts rushed through his mind. Some more important than others. ‘Why was the frog singing, ‘nice to see you?’ thought Jimminy. ‘What was so nice about it?’ I am just a frog hopping in the dark. He never thought it was nice to see me a year ago.

‘Frooo-imissedyou-ooog,’ croaked another frog. Was it night of the happy frog? An ancient tradition that our parents hadn’t told us about. ‘We haven’t seen many frogs? Only the odd blue frog dropped into our pond. But that has nearly stopped too. But no-one is singing so we thought all the frogs were dead. So we are happy to see you? 

Zimba smiled. ‘See. All the family of frogs are only unhappy because they think they are alone. Come. Bounce with me, and they bounced on.

The amphibian friends made it to a large pond Jimminy had never seen before. It was misty. Like one of those Michael Jackson videos in the human world. Jimminy noticed a large fat owl on the branches to the right of him and he hopped in the pond.

‘Splllllaaaaaashoooooooooowwwwwwwww,’ splashed Jimminy (who also liked to be called Jim, realizing that any writers of his biography would have an easier time of it, later on). Jim jumped in, and almost hopping on top of the water, jumped straight back out with a shock. ‘Whaaat!!!?? Cried Jim. Hot water!!?? The mist wasn’t mist afterall. It was steam. 

‘What are you doing in the water?’ asked Jim as he noticed  frogs swimming lazily in the steaming bath. ‘If we go out we might turn blue and die. The kind owl told us to stay in for a month and then the problem will go away. ‘That was two months ago’ said Zim, decorating the scene with the fulfilment of narration. 

IT’S BOILING!! Get OUUUT’ cried Jim.

‘It’s no use,’ said Zim. They won’t leave. 

‘But they will die. What is going on?’

‘Follow me. And be quiet.’ 

Jim followed Zim, feeling a bit nervous as if he were part of some action adventure book or something. Zim hopped into a hole. ‘What are you doing,’ asked Jim. ‘Shhhh,’ said the frog, in froggish of course. 

‘No green frog is allowed down these holes,’ said Zim. ‘What do you mean ‘green’ frog? 

‘Only orange frogs are allowed down here.’  Jim had heard of orange frogs but never seen one before. 

‘I bet you’ve never seen one before,’ said Zim. ‘Now you are going to see where they are.’

Indeed. The frogs made their way through a tunnel which opened up into a cave. There were many tunnels leading different ways. There was a whole complex of tunnels and caves and as Zim and Jim quietly poised and positioned themselves behind a couple of rocks, they witnessed, Jim for the first time, orange frogs. Oranger than oranges.

‘What are they doing?’ asked Jim. ‘Making fires,’ replied Zim.

‘Why? They are boiling the ponds….. AND the frogs, us green frogs!!’ realized Jim.

A bunch of emotions rushed over him. Shock, anger, confusion, disbelief, fear, clarity, knowledge, relief - all contradicting. Jim needed to sit down, but he was a frog so he just carried on squatting in a froggy position and breathed, in and out, slowly.

‘Listen to me now,’ said Zim. I have been trying to explain to you for months, but you wouldn’t listen. ‘I thought you were crazy,’ said Jim. ‘I guess I’m sorry.’ ‘No problem,’ said Zim, ‘just pleased that the thick wax of obstinateness, obstinatity - errr pride - had melted in Jim’s ears. Not literally of course - grossss. 

‘The orange frogs’ Zim started, ‘made a deal with the owl.’ Jim opened a packet of popcorn - not literally of course. ‘The owl told the orange frogs that he would never eat them if they helped him, if they worked together. He also told the moles and the beavers that he wouldn’t eat their babies if they helped him. So the moles and the beavers dug holes, dug, and dug and dug, till they didn’t dig digging any more. Not at all. But they were afraid of the owl, which ate the baby beavers of the beavers that didn’t help dig the holes and underground network of tunnels and caves. 

The orange frogs then were made to make fires under certain ponds. These ponds were the ponds where the green frogs were made to fear leaving the pond - up on the ground. 

‘Well, why don’t they jump out the pond?’ said Jim. ‘Like me… I couldn’t stand it for one second. But they were swimming in there.’ 

‘They heat the pond slowly, putting more wood on every day. The frogs in the pond don’t notice it getting hotter and hotter. And one day…….’ Zim was welling up, filling up, with tears which he tried to hold back - but couldn’t. ‘They die,’ finished Jim. ‘And then the owl eats them and the orange frogs are saved.’ Jim carried on finishing. ‘Some of the boiling frogs are plucked out of the water by the owl, and they turn blue because they get so cold. These sick blue frogs are then taken to all ponds to encourage them to stay inside their ponds, so they don’t discover what is going on!!!’

Whattt!? Bad Owls!! Bad orange frogs!! WE have to do something!!! Jim realized that when the time comes, all frogs are heroes. And it was time to be a hero.

‘I have an idea,’ said Jim, to the delight of Zim. Jim had never looked so…. green before.

Chapter 4

Now ideas are fantastic things. I guess you had one before. Most people have a lot of them. Most ideas don’t make it into reality, they just float off to another world where it goes into the head of someone else. It would be amazing if you could go to the worlds where discarded ideas went. I mean some ideas go through many different worlds and many different heads before anyone doing anything about them, but Jim had an idea which he really thought should manifest in the world where he was. 

That world where he was was not in a good place. He thought it was in a bad place before he realized that his fellow frogs weren’t succumbing to some freaky natural occurrence but …..oh… it was all the idea of the owl. ‘How bad ideas can be,’ thought Jim.

‘We need to challenge this bad idea with a good idea’ said Jim, ‘and I have that very idea,’ he told Zim, who was amazed by Jim’s burst of energy having only seen him in ‘frogdown’ for the last few months.

‘Conga’ said Jim.

‘What’ said Zim.

‘Conga’ said Jim.

‘What do you mean Conga’ said Zim.

‘As in….do do do… come on and do the conga,’ said Jim.

‘Oh,’ said Zim, ‘of course.’

It was just an idea but Jim could see the beauty in it, the fun in it and the effectiveness of it. 

‘If my friends from my pond see us doing the conga they will know that everything is alright and they will join us. As we do the conga from one pond to another we will gather more and more frogs and we will all sing ‘do the conga’ in froggish of course. 

Then we will go to the hot ponds and invite the hot frogs, we will do the conga through the tunnels and invite the orange frogs. Then… well who knows’ exclaimed Jim, ‘who knows what congaing frogs can achieve on a full moon night.

‘It sounds a bit… well… silly,’ said Zim. 

‘Exactly,’ said Jim, as if Zim, as if he had hit the nail on the head.

‘People love silliness, and togetherness, and fun. And they love freedom and knowledge and winning too but you see… you only ever told us what was happening. We thought you were grumpy and trying to make us afraid. So if we do the conga we can have fun and then people will realize they are already saving themselves from the problem.’ 

‘Amazing,’ said Zim. ‘But...

Why do you care about the orange frogs,’ said Zim. 

‘It is very sad they let us down. But if we show a better way they can be amazed with us. By showing kindness maybe they will learn how to be kind.’ 

‘In children’s story books maybe’ said Zim, ‘but not in this real world,’ said Zim.

‘Ah… but unless you try the idea will be wandering through universes looking for a suitable time, place and circumstance. And why let it wander when right here is the best place for this idea.

With that the pair of frogs hopped off singing, ‘do do do, come on and do the conga.’ They were sort of joking but all of a sudden they noticed there were three more frogs behind them also singing, also do do doing the conga.

‘It’s better to die singing than die fearing,’ said one of the frogs.

So 2 became 5 became 10 and then 20 frogs, do do doing the conga, for no apparent reason. 

Some frogs joined because they were just too bored not doing it. Some frogs joined because they stopped believing the owl’s blue frog story anymore. Some frogs joined because…. Well, why wouldn’t you join a procession of singing frogs!!

20 became 50 and 50 became 150. What a sight! Did you ever see such a sight? 150 frogs… no… 250 now all hopping in a line singing, in froggish, the conga. 

An owl pounced.

‘Scrawk’ it scrawked. Usually it was twittwoo, but when they attack they scrawk. Just as the owl threatened to pounce on one oblivious frog, the frog behind jumped on the owls head. And in fact it happened a few times. The frogs protected themselves from the attack of the owls, who were obviously annoyed that the frogs were coming out of their ponds. 

250 became 2500. Wow. They made their way past pond after pond, picking up frogs like a magnet picks up iron filings. The frogs had had enough of the not moving, not singing… and all of a sudden there was a singing frog revolution - and this happy green line made its way to the hot ponds.

Down the tunnels they hopped to the surprise of the orange frogs. 

They were embarrassed, ashamed. But the green frogs said, ‘come on,’ and the orange frogs joined. 

THe frogs in the hot pond hopped out. The happiness of the conga was too much to pass up, and in hopping out the frogs became free from all their fear. And as you know, when you have no fear you can understand everything clearly. So as the frogs did the conga they also realized why they were doing the conga. And as did the conga and realized why they did the conga they also felt so much happiness doing and realizing why they were doing the conga. And that brought more and more frogs out till there were so many frogs that the humans in human world could see a green line on google earth.

They danced for days and nights and decided that every year they would have frog chorus and conga day to celebrate the release from the owl’s hot plot of boiling the frogs. 

Jim looked at Zim. ‘I guess we should always be careful when we are told to be careful,’ he croaked.

Yes croaked Zim and hopped onto a beautiful lily pad. Why wouldn’t you if you were a happy free frog?