Hazel I’ll assume is the green toad with muddy spots and Laverne the secret princess. Laverne may have jumped at his “ribbit” greeting, looking at Hazel through wary eyes, condemning him as a sewer frog—and though I use the toilet to kill spiders and centipedes and beetles through death by drowning, Laverne expects the sewage pipes to deposit Hazel back into the underground waste unharmed. She’s either uneducated or black, which, sorry, was my immediate impression. She doesn’t talk like she went through a semester of grammar school, reverting back instead to the vocabulary she grew up around out in the boondocks with her extended family. “So help me, God” is suddenly one quick phrase, uttered mechanically when something catches one of them off guard, such as a talking animal.
With this background, no wonder Laverne is astonished at the indirect invitation to the ball. The poor girl was probably raised like the rest of us, only attending one in her daydreams while she completed her Cinderella-esque chores. “Someday, my prince will come,” but Lord, please, not as a frog. Who knows what kinds of germs grow in that layer of slime? Not to mention, what if he tries to kiss her back? Of course he’s a pervert! Any time there’s a talking frog the only thing they ever want out of us women is a kiss, which they think is such a small trade for an entire kingdom. Laverne sends her encounter as a warning to housecleaners, college attendees, and hopeful girls everywhere, speaking against the motives of the frog community. So when he’s gone and her disgust is dwindling, she can’t help but bask in the dream of what could have happened, probably thinking of how proud her mother would be, and how her rule over the kingdom would form a legacy.
No comments:
Post a Comment