Giggle Book Two Page 4
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Giggle Book Two
One Croak, Two Ribbits and A Splash
Croak, ribbit, ribbit, splash echoed the sounds along the banks of the muddy hollow river. Croak, ribbit, ribbit, splash the sounds continued.
High atop the Chickamange Bridge, which stretched across the river, you could hear the croaking, ribbiting and splashing of the frogs as they hit the muddy waters. At night you could hear the pond choir. Even in the little community of Pondville that sat at the intersection of Sugar Tree Lane and Moonlight Drive, which was near the bank of the river. Croak, ribbit, ribbit, splash, the sounds echoed throughout the dark night. Croak went the big old bullfrogs. Ribbit, ribbit sounded the younger frogs as they splashed into the water.
Big Charlie, the bullfrog, was the king croaker along the banks of the river. He held seven river titles and was the best around. Todd, his son, was very proud of his dad. He wanted to be like him, a croaker, when he grew up. He’s the greatest, thought Todd. I’m the luckiest little frog in the world to have a dad like him. You see, Todd was just a ribbiter. He wasn’t quite ready for any croaks yet; his little lungs hadn’t fully developed. But, he was a fighter with plenty of determination. He would sit boldly upon the riverbank with all the other frogs. When you heard a croak, there would be a faint ribbit, too.
As the frogs all sat around one day on the bank, they talked about the upcoming Annual Croaking Contest which was held every year. Frogs from all around came from up and down the river to the croaking contest. Some even hitched rides on the barges that sailed up and down the river. Why, there have even been frogs from as far away as Green Slime County and Toad Valley to come and try their luck. It was a big thing and everyone was excited about it.
“Do you think your dad will win this year?” asked Patrick, Todd’s best friend.
“I don’t know,” replied Todd. “I sure hope so. It will be his eighth river win.”
“He’s good,” stated Patrick. “I’ve never seen anyone as good as him.”
“I know,” boasted Todd. “What can I say, he’s my dad.”
“Oh, come on,” said Patrick, “let’s go snatch some flies and bugs. I bet I can get more than you.”
“Who says?” replied Todd. “You’ll have to beat me first.”
Splash, splash, they went into the water.
“You who,” came a voice from off the bank. “You who, Todd,” cried out Debbie, Todd’s girlfriend. “Over here.”
“Look, Todd,” said Patrick, “its Debbie,” he said right before he plunged Todd’s head down into the water.
“Hi, Patrick,” she said. “Have you seen Todd?”
About that time, Todd shot up out of the water, ribbited, dove back in and swam toward the bank.
“I’ll catch you later, Patrick” cried out Todd.
“See ya,” replied Patrick as he shot out toward the middle of the river.
As Todd hurried up onto the bank, Debbie patiently waited.
“Catch any flies?” she asked as she rolled her eyes and shot out her tongue.
“Not yet,” replied Todd. “We had just gotten out there, ribbit, right before you yelled.”
“Are you implying,” she asked, “that it’s my fault you didn’t catch any flies?”
“Oh, no,” replied Todd. “I’m not implying that at all. I was just saying we didn’t have enough time.”
“Oh, I’m only kidding,” she said. “But, I need your help with something. Will you help me pick out a hat to wear to the croaking contest? I want to look my best for my main man.” “What about this red one?” she asked. “Or, what about this yellow one?” she asked as she batted her big, old green eyes at him.
Todd held his breath and then took a long, hard swallow. He didn’t know which one to choose.
“Well, uh, I don’t really know,” stammered Todd.
“Look, Todd, it’s very easy. It has to be one or the other,” she replied. “All you have to do is pick the one that looks best on me. It can’t be that hard.”
“Well, uh, I… the red one,” he stuttered. “That’s it, the red one looks the best.”
“Fiddle-de-de, Todd, of all things. You should know my favorite color is yellow. Get on out of here and go play with Patrick while I go find a mirror. I can’t believe he chose red, huh?” she ribbited. “Yellow is my choice.”
As Todd slowly turned around, he mumbled, “If I had picked the yellow one, she would have said red was her favorite color. There’s no way I could have made the right choice.”
“Todd, Todd,” a deep voice said from within the tall grass.
“Yeah, Dad,” replied Todd.
“Come over here a minute,” said Charlie, Todd’s dad. “You know, in just a few days, we will be having the Annual Croaking Contest.”
“Yeah, I sure do,” replied Todd, “and you’re going to win it again this year, Dad.”
“Son, I want you to listen to my croaking and tell me what you think,” said Charlie. “Listen real close.”
“Okay, Dad,” replied Todd, “let it go.”
Charlie took a deep breath, held it for a few minutes, rolled it around in his puffed out cheeks, slid it up and down his throat and then croaked.
“Gee, that was good,” said Todd. “Really good; it echoed all up and down the river. You’re a sure winner.”
“Why, thank you, son. It means a lot to me that you look up to me, not only as a dad but as a friend,” boasted Charlie.
“I love you, Dad,” replied Todd as he reached over and hugged him. “Dad?” asked Todd. “Will you teach me some of your croaking secrets? I want to learn from the best.”
“Sure, son, I thought you would never ask. First of all, you need to have a firm stance, keep your feet flat on the ground and your legs tucked in behind your back. Stick your chest out as far as you can, stick it out there, and slowly suck the air in through your nose. Do a little at a time first. Then force it into your chest; bring it tighter and tighter by sucking in what extra air you can get between your lips and let it go. Okay, son, you got it?” asked Charlie.
“Sure, Dad, I can do it,” answered Todd.
Carefully, Todd followed his dad’s instructions. Slowly, he swelled up like a little ball and let it go.
“Ri-bb-it.”
He tried several more times, but all of his ribbits were too weak to be a croak. He had a lot more practicing to do.
“Maybe you’re still a little too young. Your lungs need to develop a little more,” Charlie said as he laughed and hugged his son.
“Maybe someday,” replied Todd. “Someday I’m going to be a king croaker just like you, Dad.”
Charlie smiled as he hopped off and disappeared into the tall grass. Todd tried, over and over, to croak like his dad. But, all that could be heard, from out of the tall grass, was ribbit, ribbit, ribbit.
“Todd, Todd,” cried another voice.
“Over here, Patrick,” replied Todd. “Are you ready to catch some flies now?” asked Patrick.
“Sure,” said Todd, “let’s go.”
“I saw a big swarm of flies down by the bend in the river,” said Patrick.
“Come on then, let’s eat,” cried Todd. “I sure am hungry.”
As the two headed for the bend in the river, Todd couldn’t help but think about what his dad had taught him. Finally, a few days later, the anxiously long-awaited croaking contest had arrived.
Croak, croak, ribbit, ribbit, croak, croak, ribbit, ribbit echoed the sounds off the riverbank where the Annual Croaking Contest was being held. Todd and Patrick hopped up and were amazed at how many frogs were there.
“Can you believe all these frogs are here from everywhere?” asked Todd.
“Wow,” cried out Patrick, “I have never seen this many before.”
Todd looked for his dad in the crowd, but he didn’t see him anywhere.
“Patrick,” said Todd, “do you see my dad?”
“He’s not here,” said Patrick.
“But, where could he be?” asked Todd.
“I don’t know,” replied Patrick. “Maybe he’s not coming.”
“Not coming!” shouted Todd. “He’s the king; he has to be here. Come on, let’s go. I have to find him.”
Quickly, Todd and Patrick hopped off and headed for Todd’s house. When they arrived, they found Charlie; he was sick.
“Dad, Dad, what’s wrong?” asked Todd.
“You look bad, Charlie, really bad,” said Patrick.
Charlie tried to talk. He could barely utter a word.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” asked Todd.
“I think he has laryngitis,” replied Patrick.
“Laryngitis!” screamed Todd. “He can’t have that.”
“I’m afraid so,” whispered his Dad. “The damp night air has gotten the best of me.”
“But, Dad,” said Todd, “today is the big day. You have to defend your crown.”
“I’ll be alright, son. You will have to go in my place,” replied Charlie.
“Me, Dad,” said Todd, “I can’t do that. I’m not a croaker, you know that. I’m nothing but a little ribbit.”
“Son, it’s time for you to grow up and face the world,” said Charlie. “Son, just do as I taught you and do your best. If you fail, all that matters is you tried. I’ll still be proud of you no matter how things turn out.”
“Gee, Todd, do you think you can do it?” asked Patrick. “Just think about it, you’ll be Todd the croaker.”
Todd raised his head up, blinked his eyes, turned to his dad and said, “You’re right, Dad, my time has come. I’m going to go for it. I’m going to make you proud.”
“I’ve got to see this!” shouted Patrick. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Back at the contest, the croaking had already started. There were oohs and aahs coming from the crowd. There were a few boos coming from the crowd too. It was a tough competition. The best croakers from all around were there. Croak, croak, croak sounded the frogs, one after another. Patiently, Todd waited for his turn. His little feet trembled. He was facing the best and biggest croakers he had ever seen. He was nothing but a small frog, but he had a big heart and loved to please his dad. Croak sounded the contestants as the contest continued.
“Next, judges,” said the announcer. “We have a fill in for Charlie, our current King Croaker. Charlie is sick this year so his son, Todd, will be taking his place.”
Slowly, Todd took a deep swallow and hopped out in front of the judges. Patrick watched anxiously from the bank with his fingers crossed.
“Okay, son, let’s see what you got,” said one of the judges.
Carefully, Todd planted his feet firmly on the ground. Then he carefully followed through with what his Dad had taught him. The crowd sat quiet and motionless; the wind had stopped moving. As Todd took a deep breath and filled his chest with air, his eyes caught a glimpse of Debra in the crowd. She was sitting next to her mama with a big smile on her face. She was wearing the red hat Todd had picked out. He sucked the air in deeper and deeper. His eyes watered and swelled as the air seeped out from behind them. When he looked at Debra again, she waved at him and blew him a kiss. Immediately, he let go.
“Croak!” bellowed Todd.
The crowd cheered, Debra fainted and Patrick ran and hugged his neck.
“That was awesome man. Your dad will be proud of you, Todd. You are officially a croaker. Can you teach me how to do that?” Patrick asked excitedly.
“You bet,” laughed Todd. “You and I are going to work on your croaking, buddy!”
The judges cast their votes; it didn’t take them long to come up with a winner. The announcer hopped up to the podium and announced the winner.
“This year’s winner,” shouted the announcer “is Todd, our new Croaking King. Like father, like son!”
Todd stepped up to get his trophy with Debra and his best friend, Patrick, at his side. He thanked the judges, his dad and all his friends. The crowd continued to applaud him and Debra kissed him on the cheek.
Todd turned and spoke once again to the crowd, “Sometimes it’s good to have a frog in your throat.”