I am a dispicable couch potato. My efforts in Lying Around are fraught with missteps and feckless dysfunction. So on Memorial Day I had better things to do then phlegmatically picnic. I hauled my Mom to the National History Museum. I was all about the frogs.
Frogs have been around for 200 million years, meaning dinosaurs probably squashed a few unfortunate greenies. Today, the frogs are falling prey to a virus called Narcisstic Humans Who Will Continue to Eat Our Host Until She Dies and We're All Fucked.
At first, I thought the frogs in the glass cases were shockingly lifelike kodachromatic replica frogs. The rubber kind I used to get in my Easter Basket since the beginning of time because my father is vehement about the cursed toxicity of refined sugar.
They had about twenty kinds of frogs shacked up at the Museum. The blue Poison Dart Frogs intrigued me most. These little pippers are more poisonous than the most poisionous snakes. The Amazon people would just have to swab an arrow across one of their froggy backs to get deadly on some loincloth enemy ass.
Save A Frog