The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #236

The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #236

Saturday, June 24, 2017

One Image, One Prompt, One Emotion

200 Words

Scherzando

a ping pong ball

3 thoughts on “The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #236

  1. “He looks so happy!” said Heather, one of the female frogs in Rowe pond, to her friend Gertrude about Vance, the most handsome frog in the place.
    “Yes, he is. I even heard him croaking scherzando!” laughed Gertrude.
    “Oh my!” gasped Heather. “He must of…”
    “Yes! With those young things over on the other side! Beat all the other males to them, won’t you know.” They giggled together and watched Vance proudly showing off his strokes in the middle of the pond.
    A ping pong ball plopped into the water close to Vance, making waves and upsetting a few of the frogs. But not Vance. He continued to swim along, showing off his lovely green slimy skin.
    “I found it!” shouted a human boy. “It fell in the pond!” A hand grabbed the ping pong ball and Vance froze. “Hey! Look at this frog!” The human boy picked Vance from the water and held him up. “I think it’s dead!” Vance kicked his legs in the air and the boy dropped him on the concrete edge of the pond. “Uggh! It’s alive!” The boy stamped on him.
    “Oh dear,” said Heather. “I was hoping for a jump with him later.”

  2. Love is in the Air

    As the short days of winter grew longer and the water temperature warmed, all good true frogs of the backwater ponds began to get a restlessness for mating, all good true frogs but Rana. Rana couldn’t have cared less about mating. Being slightly immature, Rana was more interested in playing, particularly with the white ball she had found floating in the pond. She pushed the toy around and around, climbed over it, and held it under just to let it pop up suddenly.

    Anar, a young male, spied Rana splashing about and watched her anxiously. Rubbing his specialized thumb pads together with a particularly passionate angst, Anar swam up behind Rana and grabbed her around the waist, then whispered, “Isn’t the water temperature just perfect?” Rana was surprised. “Hey! What the … Anar, come on, give it a rest, will ya?” Anar smiled as he embraced Rana’s smooth slippery belly. “Relax, Rana,” he whispered. Rana struggled, but could not break free of his amorous grip. Rana’s eyes bugged out as she noticed several other males headed their direction. “Oh Dog!” She thought. Anar continued, “My embrace will stimulate your body to release your eggs, so I can fertilize them.”

    Rana was beginning to panic as even more males started her way. Then she got an idea. “OH!” she moaned, “You’re right, Anar, I can feel it; an egg! Oh! It’s a big one! Very slowly, Rana pulled the floating ball under her belly and passed it between her legs. “Gee, Anar, it’s so big … it’s all I’ve got.” Anar went right to work fertilizing the gigantic egg, but he had to let go of Rana in order to cling to her huge egg. Rana wasted no time slipping away just as ten or fifteen other males arrived and glommed onto whatever it was Anar was fastened to. Looking over her shoulder at the growing tangle of males around the ball, Rana thought, “EW! I guess I was done with that toy anyway”

  3. The air buzzed with the sounds of spring, a cluster of dragonflies flitted in a scherzando from cattails that swayed at the far edge of the pond. He stood there and fingered a small locket, peering at a shamble of skeletal remains sitting just below the surface of the water.

    Increasingly, a bitter realization dawned on him, he who had labored to cleanse this world of the whores and filth, he who had been the arbiter of life, he who had answered the call of the Lord, was now aged and feeble.

    Glancing at his watch he pulled out a small prescription bottle, his arthritic fingers struggling with the childproof cap. He cursed his hands, once strong, able to strangle and separate the living from the dead had become weak and liver-spotted.

    The cap refused to budge, agitated and muttering when his jaw clenched. Pain surging up his left arm and gripping the whole of his chest. Frantically he struggled, then suddenly the cap gave, scattering a spray of small, white pills out over the water like tiny Ping pong balls.

    His eyes rolled back as he turned a grim half-pirouette, hands still grasping air as he tumbled into the pond with a splash. Sinking to a rest among the accumulated remains of his victims.

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