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tell me a story.

~ ~
I'm just going to respond to the recent kerfuffles the best way I know how.

In the form of a children's story.

Yes, y'heard right.


The Little Brown Frog


Once upon a time there lived a little brown frog named Boggy. He was born and raised in a large pond commune in a wide forest filled with all kinds of creatures. The frogs in his commune were all very important. Each had a specific role in the upkeep of their individual homes, as well as the pond at large. Boggy’s own parents were very responsible and his siblings already had their lillypad stations all picked out for when they were old enough to leave the family’s pad. As the youngest Boggy still had a lot of time to figure out what kind of role he would play in the community, whether it was to catch flies or croak warnings in times of danger. His classmates all knew what they wanted to do, but Boggy still wasn’t sure. He didn’t quite fit in at school and was often teased because of one very obvious thing. Boggy was the only brown frog in the whole forest. His peers often called him strange and his family often worried about where he would end up.
“He’s just so different,” His father would croak. His mother could only hide her concern with a smile.
“Maybe he’ll grow out of it.”
Boggy learned to have fun by himself. He made up his own games, went on his own adventures and sang his own songs (as best a frog could). One day a little green frog from his second period Jumping class overheard Boggy singing and playing on his own.
“Well that’s a different game,” She said looking angry.
“It is,” Boggy said carrying on and hoping she would leave him be. Instead his classmate watched and watched until finally he invited her to join. She was hesitant at first, wondering what all the other green frogs would think if she joined in his strange game. But when she realized how much fun Boggy was having she decided to give it a go. Pretty soon more little green frogs from the neighbourhood began to join in against the wishes of their parents.
“Those games are dangerous!” They would warn, when they just didn’t recognize them.
Boggy soon had a small club of friends who all liked his games and began to create their own versions that he would join in. They began covering their green bodies in brown mud hoping to look more like Boggy and began to question if they really wanted to be fly-catchers and guard-frogs. The small club grew and grew and grew until most of the young, even some tadpoles, had joined. They were all so overjoyed and finding new ways to have fun!
Boggy was thrilled to finally have friends and began to throw parties to celebrate. One party in particular was especially grand because almost the entire school was invited. They had to keep it a secret because all the parents and some of the other young were not too happy about what they called ‘Boggy’s Influence’. Boggy sang songs, his friends danced and hip-hopped. Before the end of the party Boggy was surprised to discover that someone from the Amphibian Media had been to the party and left. This was sad news because it meant that their very secret location was going to be made public. The news was sadder still because Boggy was going to end up grounded.
Sure enough the next morning, photos of the party emerged on the cover of one of the smaller news weeklies under the headline ‘Do you know where your spawn are?’ The article called Boggy and his friends ‘Bogsters’ and said they would amount to nothing. His mother was distraught and his father banned him from ever having another Boggy Bash again.
But Boggy couldn’t. He had never had as much fun as he did at those parties and continued to have them. The guest lists grew smaller and the locations more hidden away. These parties lasted for a long time without anyone finding out about them and Boggy started to grow tired of them. The kids that did end up coming to the party weren’t really his closest friends anymore and the games they played were really becoming dangerous because they knew they could get away with it.
Worried, Boggy left one of his bashes early and started to hop home thinking about what to do next. He missed just hanging out with his good friend from Jumping class and even missed being the only brown frog. Most of the little frogs at the party had fashioned brown outfits from twigs, and leaves that they had found around the off-limits swamp.
Boggy hopped and hopped, lost in his thoughts until he saw a twinkling light. Right before his eyes the light grew and grew until it was a glowing fairy carrying a tiny wand.
“Well hello, grumble-pants!” She said cheerily.
Boggy could only stare. “Who are you?”
“Your fairy godmother of course!” She chirped. “I noticed you’re back to being lonely and sad again, Boggy. Did you have a fight with your new friends?”
Boggy explained that he no longer felt like they were his friends and that his original games and songs were turned into something completely different. “They don’t feel like they used to,” He said sadly.
“Well of course not Boggy! Things change all the time! Look at you for example- you went from being a tiny egg, to a tadpole to a bright young frog!” His fairy godmother pointed out. “Wasn’t one of your dreams to have friends to play with?”
“Yes,” Boggy replied.
“And that you wanted to be just like all the other little green frogs?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t see what you have to be grumbly about grumble-pants!”
Boggy considered what she said for a moment. He had wished for friends and he was grateful to have had them, but as for being like everyone else…
“I like coming up with games to play,” Boggy decided out loud. “I like singing my own songs. I like meeting new people.”
“And?” His fairy godmother asked.
“I like being a little brown frog!”
At this declaration Boggy fairy godmother disappeared with a little *pop*.
He knew what he had to do.


The End

3 comments:

Vaneska said...

Children stories aren't your thing. :)

NOW tried to interview me for the article but I said no because it was clear what their angle was and that I would be unable to change the writer's mind. That being said, I wouldn't fuss over it. If the term hipster still had any meaning, I would argue that the kids interviewed and photographed aren't hipsters anyways. Seeing as the term has lost it's meaning, they can have the term.

NimoAM said...

haha, alas my thing they are not. my little(st) sister has been trying to tell me that for years.

and yes, words lose meaning all the time. i think it's time that one is laid to rest.

also, "blipster" is just insulting.

sarah nicole said...

how funny-adorable is this?!

also: how sad-ridiculous that toronto, while three hours ahead of vancouver, is like six months behind the so-called scoop on this so-called apocalypse? (wait... i might also have called it an apocalypse... sigh.) let's not forget, adbusters did this story forever ago (forever in youth-years, i mean.)