The Gilded Lily Pad
“Bobby…”
“Shut up.”
“Bobby…”
“I said, shut up!”
“Bobby…”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up! I’m trying to think. For God’s sake will you let me-”
“Bobby, we’re frogs.”
“I know we’re frogs. I know we’re frogs, Tommy, I know. I am trying to think if you’ll just let me.”
“We got turned into frogs.”
“Yes, I know!”
“I have a cloaca, Bobby. I have a cloaca now.”
“I know, and so do I. If only you hadn’t-”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t know, Tommy. But that’s no excuse.”
“How could I have known?”
“Well, why the hell would it have even occurred to you to laugh at an old woman on the side of the road and call her a gypsy? Why on earth would you even think of that?”
“I was being ironic.”
“How exactly is that ironic?”
“Well I-”
“Don’t tell me. For the love of God don’t tell me. I don’t want to know what goes on inside your head.”
“Fine, Bobby. Fine, be that way if you’re going to be that way. But I didn’t know and it’s not fair for you to blame me.”
“Tommy, we’re sitting on a lily pad in the middle of a pond talking to each other. Blaming you is not the first thing on my- ribbit.”
“Oh my God did you just ribbit?”
“Oh God I just ribitted. Oh my God I- ribbit.”
“Hahahahahahahahahahahaha.”
“Shut up!”
“Hahahaha – ribbit. Holy crap!”
“Ha! See? You just ribbited too! Doesn’t feel so good now does it, Tommy?”
“… well… It kinda did feel good.”
“I… I know. Me too. I liked it.”
“Ribbit. Hee hee!”
“Ribbit ribbit ribbit.”
“This… you know, Bobby… this isn’t so bad.”
“I was thinking the same thing. It’s a nice day out. We’re on a lily pad on the water where it’s cool and moist. Nothing to do but sit here, kick back and relax. Maybe, maybe this isn’t the worst thing that could happen.”
“I know Bobby… but my girlfriend… my girlfriend will leave me. She won’t want to be with a frog. She’ll leave me for good. She’ll find someone else in no time.”
“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me.”
“… What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, I didn’t say nothing, just ignore it. You’ll move on. The heart finds what the hear-”
“Don’t change the subject. What’s that supposed to mean, ‘you’re tellin’ me?”
“Tommy, you need to calm down. I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just saying, maybe she… already has a few people in mind, or maybe, she maybe, kind of already was seeing… It doesn’t matter.”
“Who told you that?”
“No one.”
“Who the hell told you that?!”
“No one. I- Ok. I slept with her. And I wasn’t the only one. I mean I wasn’t the only one at that time.”
“You son of a bitch!! How could you do that to me?! You are such an asshole, Bobby, you are such an asshole!!”
“Well… technically wouldn’t I be a cloaca now?”
“… Hahahahahaha. Ribbit. Oh well… we’re frogs now. I guess none of that matters anymore, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter at all. Our old lives are gone. We’re frogs, and that’s that. No more girlfriends, no more bills, no more worries. Just eating flies, ribbiting, and sitting around on a lily pad enjoying ourselves. We have to accept our reality and make the best of it. It’s a gift in a way, it’s a gift.”
“Yeah. Yeah, Bobby, yeah. But… Uh… Does that make us…”
“No it does not make us gay, Tommy. We’re just two heterosexual men who got turned into frogs by a gypsy woman and now happen to share a lily pad. And yes, we ribbit. But we are frogs. That’s what we do now as frogs. There is nothing gay about that. Just… just don’t mention the cloaca again…”
“Yeah… Ok.”
“Good. That’s settled.”
“Wait… Bobby… I just thought of something…”
“What?”
“What if that old gypsy turns us back?”