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Pamela Fagan Hutchins | Froggy went a courtin’, part TWO.

Continued from Froggy went a courtin’, part ONE, published March 22nd, HERE.  Read part one first for best effect.

It pains me to admit that I conspired by my silence in the deaths of 100’s of croakers during our first springtime in Houston.  They died in a endless variety of ways.  Mostly, Eric heaved them — THUMP, or occasionally SPLAT — against the house.  But sometimes he aimed high, and more than once we found dead frogs on our vehicles in the front driveway the next morning, or saw their dessicated bodies on the roof when returned at the end of the day.

“Maybe I should have let the cops take you, after all,” I groused to his retreating, stomping figure one night.  The man seemed by God determined to insure that I shared in his sleeplessness.

“What?” he said.

“Maybe I should come out and help you, after all,” I said, and got out of bed.


The calendar pages flipped slowly forward.  May passed.  It wasn’t 70 degrees anymore.  The flowers wilted, and the mosquitoes hatched.  A faint smell of decay — mold? — permeated the house, but it was no better outside.  The sun burned everything in its searing gaze.   Yet still the frogs croaked out their horny croaks and gamboled in sexual abandon every night.

“They’ll be gone by summer,”  I said, certain that they would not.  That they would never leave.  That my previously-sane husband would be scribbling REDRUM across our bathroom mirror by August while the frogs croaked on.  Because frogicide written backward doesn’t spell anything.

And then one day, they stopped.

Silence.  Sleep.  Happiness.

Months went by, blissful days leading irrevocably toward April.  Make the clock move slower, I prayed to God.





Eric leaped up as if there were frogs in bed with him.

Not this time.  Not again.

“Honey, stop,” I said, my voice brooking no argument.

He glared at me.  All my man could see was frogs.

I handed him a pair of ear plugs.

“It’s evolutionary, honey, Darwinian.  If our species is to survive, we must adapt.”

He stared at the foamy yellow plugs on either end of their neon orange string.  I took his hand, placed them in his palm, then gently closed his fingers around them.   I tugged him forward and led him out into our humid backyard, holding in my other hand a candle and matches.  I left the outside lights off, and the male frogs sang out in sexual frenzy.  I felt primal, like I was entering a hedonist temple.

Before the figure of Buddha, I knelt my husband. I handed him the candle and matches, then nudged him.  “Light it, honey.”  He did, a virgin on the sacrificial altar.  Well, maybe that’s going a little too far.  But he lit the candle.

“Now, honey, repeat after me,” I said.

I heard a mumbling, and I let it suffice.

“I, Eric, present myself before you, Buddha of the frogs,” I said.

Eric seemed to regain his senses, because the look he shot me said, “You’re out of your flippin’ gourd,” but I didn’t waiver, and he repeated my words.

“I promise to do no harm to any of your frog brothers and sisters, henceforth and forever more.”

“I’m not saying that,” he said.

“Humor, me.  We did it your way all last summer,” I said.  And honey, I’m voting you off THAT island.

He complied, with the enthusiasm of Morticia from the Addams Family.

“As a token of my sincerity, I pledge to you to wear these earplugs, and to install a frog shrine in our bedroom immediately.”

After he had finished speaking, we blew out the candle and tiptoed in perfect solemnity back into our room.  There, I pulled two jolly stuffed frogs from a bag and propped them up on a pedestal table by the back window, between Eric and the live frogs.

And here they sit, to this very day.

“You actually went out and bought these in advance?” he asked.

“I knew I had to take matters into my own hands.  I love you, and I want our marriage to withstand the test of frogs.”

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“Oh yeah, it’s that bad.”

Eric finally — FINALLY — smiled and swatted me on the behind.  He put the ear plugs in.

“Those are kind of sexy,” I said.

“What?” he yelled.

Mission accomplished.

And in case you hadn’t noticed the calendar, frog season is almost upon us.  We haven’t heard them yet this year, but the little fockers will be here soon.


p.s.  There are 50 bazillion frogs in our pond in Nowheresville, but they don’t have the same water torture impact on Eric.  We’ll see how it goes when we live out there full time, however.

p.p.s.  This one I wrote for my friend Sandy Webb over at Flying WG.  Y’all go check out her blog and tell her I sent you.

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28 Responses to Froggy went a courtin’, part TWO.

  1. Because frogicide spelled backward doesn’t spell anything <——— Spit my coffee out when this line came into view. LMAO

    • Pamela says:

      OK soul sister, that was my favorite line. I was worried no one would “get it”.
      I’m going to respond at nauseating length to your email today for The Examiner. But your coffee will be safe. *snore* :)

  2. LBDDiaries says:

    Hmmm, I’m so slow I was still thinking, “What the heck is redrum” when that next line came up – and I had my aha moment. What a post – graphic violence, sex, murder, sensuality (behind patting), spirituality, sin and redemption, sex, beauty and the beast, and so much more. Excellent!

  3. Galit Breen says:

    OMG woman- this story is pure genius! I love that you bought the stuffed frogs in advance and the redrum and the “WHAT?!” following the tushy swat.

    Lady? I just loved the entire thang!

    Just answer me this: Is there going to be a part 3?! XO

    • Pamela says:

      If there’s a part three, it will be me with garbage bags dumping Eric’s body in the bayou :)
      Frogs expected any day now, literally. I have the ear plugs on his bedside table. We’ve discussed their appropriate use. Please Lord let their be peace in our home, ha ha.

      We bought a place in the country that has a pond with every type of frog I’ve ever seen (or heard). We won’t be moving out there for a few years. But I anticipate ISSUES, while Eric swears he’ll man-up.

      Thanks for your tweet of Part One. I had so much fun writing about this. It gets funnier through the lens of time.

  4. Shell says:

    Maybe the frogs will drive away stalkers? 😉

  5. Ally says:

    Okay, I was getting ready to go to bed, but this… this has me laughing so much I’m going to have to re-settle my mind. Good luck this spring… maybe he should go ahead and start the earplugs as a precaution. hehe

  6. Irene says:

    O-M-G you didn’t really make his knee if front of Buddah and say all that, did you?

    After reading the first paragraph, I lost my appetite for food. I’ll never eat frog legs now. That was just disgusting.

    Yes, it’s that time of year again and I, too, will be posting a part duex. Hopefully, it won’t be as dramatic as throwing frogs against the house.

    I can’t believe he sat in front of a statue and said all that.

  7. Susie says:

    I got the MURDER immediately. You remember we also lived in the virgin islands and had a frog problem but it was in our cistern- drinking water. . . . . . . Great story

    • Pamela says:

      That was a frog nightmare. 100’s of frogs fornicating and replicating in the drinking cisterns, not to mention piled on top of each other in the outdoor breezeways/walkways. It was awful. It wasn’t the croaks, it was their mere presence. Getting all of them OUT of the cisterns, cleaning said cisterns, refilling them, and them drinking the water after it was put back in service…I can’t remember if I ever drank that water again, honestly. I remember staying overnight at your house and cringing just taking a shower, long after they were gone. Truly, it was awful. Up at Annaly we only had cute little tree frogs.

  8. ridgely says:

    I love this- cannot wait to read Part II to LT- he thought I was joking about your FF*problem… until I read him the post ;-)*frog fornicating… pout, I want more- please part 3!

    • Pamela says:

      Froggy Part 3 would involve jail time. We just can’t go there…yet.

    • Pamela says:

      Actually, part 3 is “the froggies live on”
      They’ve been blamed for everything that happens in our house.
      A la: What was that noise? I stepped on a frog.
      What was that one, Eric? I must have a frog in my back pocket.
      Sure, blame the frogs.

  9. Molly says:

    Ok…I didn’t know that Eric and I were frog soulmates….ask Dave and my kids! Although, I haven’t purposely killed any.:) UGH…can’t believe April is here! Do you know you can remove tree frogs, move them and they will return to the EXACT location that they started in?? They must be moved about 1/2 to 1 mile away to work! Can’t tell you the number that are now near the homes of my not so favorite people! :)

    • Pamela says:

      That’s a wonderful way to deal with undesirable neighbors! You guys have a lush backyard, too; perfect for the little croakers. I wonder if there are frogs in NOrway?

  10. […] Froggy went a courtin’, part TWO.    An opportunity to make 20+ million readers puke. Cool. […]

  11. Eric Hutchins says:

    Frogs, What Frogs?

  12. Eric Hutchins says:

    I love it when you (Pamela) just wind yourself up and let the story go whatever way it wants. This one really is a fun one, and yes folks most (BUT NOT ALL :) ) is true, or at least true to a degree.

    I loved the redrum and that people picked up on it. What I mean is I really loved that “Because frogicide written backward doesn’t spell anything” absolutely classic.

    In a weird way though I think when we bought the trumpeter frog and put it out there, it seemed like they were less noisy, I don’t know, maybe its just my loss of hearing due to old age but…..

    It may be a weird place to drop this comment but what I respect MOST about your writing, and, I really am in awe, is your ability to go from ADHD, to Running, to heartfelt like “wasted days” and “turn the page”, to things like this. You really do have something special, and someday, you will get that chance to show a larger audience. Until then know that your current audience, which is growing all the time, really does get a lot out of your work. It matters, its fun, it makes my day.

    • Pamela says:

      Ah, honey, I don’t want to make people pukey, but that was really sweet, especially given that I know you are up at work having a stressful afternoon and took the time to write this. I have multiple personality disorder, as you know, which makes it easy to swing wildly in styles and topics of writing. Let’s not even get into the humongous work reports I write which are bland to the nth degree, a whole nuthuh genre. But seriously, I love you, and thank you. And the frogs are just as loud. You have gotten DEEF, meh son. The trumpeter frog steel art work is a lovely addition though.

  13. SuzRocks says:

    Ha! There is NOTHING wrong with wearing ear plugs. I wear them all the time. AND I have a noise machine. Maybe you guys can invest in one of those- you’ll seriously never hear another frog for the rest of your life!

  14. […] Since I am horrendously off the subject already, I want to recommend a couple of articles about frogs for you to read. You will laugh out loud. Promise. Take a look. Leave Pamela a note, tell her I sent you. Froggies went a courtin’ Part 1 and Part 2 […]

  15. […] The bayou frogs are back. Eric asks for your prayers As reminder of how bad it can get, here are Froggy went a-courtin’. (part one) and Froggy went a courtin’, part TWO. […]

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