The Frog Prince – The End Bit

by Angela Slatter

Tad was feasting on the last of the cold roasted carrier pigeon. Felicity did her best not to gag. He let out a great froggy burp and leaned against the padded chair with a satisfied air. The princess took a deep breath.

‘Tad, we need to talk.’ ‘Oh, no. You’re froggist, I knew it,’ he sighed.

‘Tad, you’re a frog. A genuine, dyed-in-the-wool-not-gonna-be-anything-else frog, aren’t you?’ She tapped a finger on the table.

‘I might…you never know with these things, really…’ he said lamely.

‘Why did you pretend?’ she demanded. ‘Well, guys be they men, frogs, or dogs, always want what they can’t have.’ He thought for a moment, then shrugged. ‘But I’ve got to tell you, I’m really not attracted to you. You’re not nearly green enough and your legs are really awfully long and straight. It’s more of a trophy thing.’

Great, Felicity thought, dissed by someone who swim in the toilet. ‘Well, I’ve got good news for you, Tad. I have a cousin.’

‘Aw, Felicity, you’re a good stick but I really don’t want another human girlfriend. They’re pretty high maintenance.’

By now Felicity was ready to throw Tad against a wall just to see if he would stick, but she gritted her teeth. She could hear footsteps running along the corridor. The doors to the dining room opened and Bob stumbled in. He smiled broadly.

He held a pink silk cushion and on it sat the greenest of girl frogs, with bendy legs, large eyes, a little purple cape and a teeny-tiny tiara. She batted her lashes at Tad.

‘Tad, this is my cousin Gwyneth. I think I mentioned my great-great-aunt Bernadette of Grenouille-sur-le-Tapis? This is her great-great-granddaughter, a greenblood through and through. I think you’ll find you’ve got a lot in common.’

The look on his face was one of pure rapture; Tad was a real gone frog.

A day later, the pre-nup had been drawn up and Gwyneth, with Tad in-tow, headed back to her kingdom. The last thing Felicity heard as the coach pulled away was Tad’s voice, low and romantic, asking ‘Do you have any carrier pigeons in your castle?’

‘Euuuw,’ said Felicity and Bob in unison.

The very next day, Felicity ordered the pond be drained and filled in. All the foliage was uprooted and burned. The whole area was turned into a soccer field.

Books Gone Bad

by Edd

As it happened I was in the bookstore the day books rebelled. Frankly, there wasn’t much to it. A bunch of them snapped their covers at people, and one managed to give an old lady a paper cut, but there’s only so much a book can do.

I was in the store to buy Stephanie a let’s-try-to-get-along-better present. Ever since she got back from Venus she’s been saying I don’t love her enough. Well, I do love her. I do. But that hair, going all weightless and wandering around the room at times, it gets to me.

She’s says it’s me, that going back to 1904 made me all chauvinistic. Not true, 23-skidoo, that’s what my great-squared grandpop would say.

Anyway. The books. They sent out a press release; said they were offended so many people were giving up print for pixels. They declared war on the internet. They were sure their brothers-in-arms the magazines and newspapers would back them in this glorious struggle.

“Don’t bring us into it,” said newspapers. “We’re just happy to be alive at all.”

The internet said it deplored this sad last-ditch effort to restore a fading pastime to ubiquity. “What’s next?” it said. “Bringing back the buggy-whip? Ready to build another pyramid? Hell, are you going to ask people to start breathing again? You saw how much trouble that was!”

Sometimes the internet gets carried away.

Stephanie loved the t-shirt. Her hair thought it was a nice gesture but is adopting a wait-and-see attitude.