Skip to main content

Princess and the Frog

by  The Urban Blabbermouth
A princess was strolling by a pond when a voice called out, “Princess! Princess!”

“Who is that?” asked the princess.

“It’s me, the frog, over here by the pond,” said the voice.

The princess approached the pond and stared in wonderment, “Will you look at that, a talking frog.”

The frog said, “Princess, I need your help. I am a prince and a witch changed me into a frog. I need your help to change back into a prince.”

“Oh, Mr. Frog, that is terrible,” said the princess. “What can I do to help?”

“Well, to be spiteful, the witch told me that only when a princess willingly consents to kiss me as a frog will I turn back into a prince.”

"So you want me to kiss you?"

“Yes Princess, if you would be so kind as to help a stranded man.”

“But Mr. Frog, did you do something to cause the witch to change you into a frog?”

“No Princess, I did nothing to the witch. She was angry that since I am a prince, I can only marry a princess. She was jealous and turned me into a frog.”

“That is wicked,” replied the princess.

She thought for a moment and decided that it would repulsive to kiss a frog, but it would be a kindness to help an innocent person in distress. And so, she leaned over and kissed the frog.

SHAZZAM! The frog was still there.

“What happened?” asked the bewildered frog.

“Oh," replied the damsel, "I am not a real princess. I just play one on television."


Popular posts from this blog

Memoir - The Year of Kent State

by The Urban Blabbermouth
I wanted to write a fictional memoir and it got away from me. 

I was born in the Year of Kent State. I didn't know. I was watching a cable channel specializing in historical programs, in this case, newsworthy events from the 1970s. The Ohio National Guard shot 13 unarmed students protesting the Vietnam War on the Kent State University campus. Four students died. By the time I was aware of a bigger world than my own, Kent State passed into history.

Im gonna git u Sukkah

by The Urban Blabbermouth [who may or may not be shown in the photo above... - v-E] ~ True story. I am walking to my car and I notice a couple of Jewish fellows, twenty somethings, with the bouquets of what looks like bamboo or palm. I know they are Jewish for they look Hasidic. They are wearing long black jackets, wide brim black fedora hats, and have curly sideburns. In truth, I classify all Jewish who dress like this as Hasidic although they may identify themselves differently. They are standing near the corner canvassing passersby.

Climbing to New Heights

by The Urban Blabbermouth
It started when I was ten.  I was riding shotgun with my father when a small plane crossed the highway in front of us.  The plane floated gently to its landing, like it had all the time in the world.  It was beautiful.  I knew then I wanted to be a pilot.  

I dreamed of soaring with the clouds and flying through them.  I could go anywhere the crow flies.  No stuck in traffic following a road as laid out by some anonymous engineer.  I could fly with the birds, although, I never thought myself a bird.  I loved the freedom.

But, I fear heights.  

It's not just any heights, it's low heights, the kind you get with stairs, balconies, bridges, and landing airplanes.  When I fly on airlines as a passenger, I look out the window at thirty thousand feet, no fear.  Somewhere between six feet, my height, and thirty thousand feet, airplane's height, lives my fear, a mysterious feeling that emerges from my stomach and rises up into my chest.  I can't…