I posted a story about a frog...

Here is a little story I started way back on June 3rd... Didn't really get a chance to finish it, but you know, by the time you get to the end you will see, I mean, where could I really go from there...
Anyway...

There was this frog.
Actually, before he was a frog he was a tadpole, and before that he was just some zygote or something, all bound up in a ball of snotty goo with about a billion other eggy zygote pre-tadpole things.
The big ol' ball of goo was in the shallow end of a pond, you dig, and these boys were poking at it with a stick, trying to bring it in closer and maybe try to get it into a bucket (although they didn't have a bucket) so they could take it home and hatch out all the frogs and the frogs would overflow from the bucket and it would be like a volcano of frogs.
They didn't actually want to touch it with their hands, so they just poked at it and shit. Eventually they gave up and nothing happened for a while.
After some time the eggs things hatched, and tadpoles started swimming around. One of them could only swim in circles, but he didn't care, he didn't know any better. None of them did. All of them just kinda swam this way and that.
Some of them got ate up by fish, their story ends there. Some of them got caught by dudes with bottles because tadpoles are idiots and like to swim into bottles and stay there. These tadpoles were used as bait and ate up by fish offa hooks. Their story ends there.
Our buddy that swam in circles, though, he didn't get eaten and couldn't swim into bottles. He just grew and grew... a leg sprouted; front left, front right, rear right... and that was it. Well, kinda, actually a little stumpy leg grew (poorly) on the left rear. It wasn't really a feasible leg, just a little stub, like midget fingers are, you know...
Pretty soon he was a frog.
All the other frog made fun of him, because by this time they were able to crawl out of the water and make sounds. They don't have much of a vocabulary, they are pretty much stuck to games of marco/polo...
They shout out:
I'm over here...
And one of them will reply:
Hey, I'm over here.
And so forth.
Sometimes a couple of them will come across each other by accident and they say:
Here I am
to each other.
Even with this limited vocabulary they had the capacity to make fun of our one legged frog. They called him Lefty. They had a firm grasp of irony, but that was as far as it went.
Lefty
they would say,
Here I am.
and lefty would be sad... Frogs don't deal with criticism well, and irony often masks criticism.
So Lefty didn't have any friends. He could only hop in circles and swim in circles. As nature dictates, you dig, he wanted to hump him some female frogs. But he couldn't get close to any of them, and they wouldn't come to him, and if they did happen to see that glint in his eye they would skedaddle on out of there. Once, he almost did it, though, with this ugly ass frog. She was cock-blocking for this really hot frog and she was really drunk so she decided he wasn't half bad and decided to give him a go, you know. But being one legged he kept slipping off. He kept trying though, man he was had a little froggy boner and was determined to get him some. So he would get real close, get a death grip on her with his arms, try to hitch his ass on over to get to the little froggy honey hole and just when he thought he got to the golden palace of the Himalayas his one good leg would tense up and throw him off center and he would fall on off to the right. And his little stumpy leg was useless for getting a stranglehold on the ugly bitch so he kept getting on and falling off and getting on and falling off and finally, dude, finally, he got his balance just right, had her just were he wanted her, was about to go to froggy town, and his one good leg started cramping up. DUDE, he got a friggin' charlie horse in his inner thigh, maybe it was a groin pull or something, but damn it hurt and he fell off on his back and was grabbing his leg and shouting ow ow ow and stuff and the ugly drunk frog had to go because her good looking friend was about to hook up with some other frog and she promised that she would make sure she didn't whore herself out for a bowl of weed or something...
So lefty was left in agony...
He recovered, you know, hopped off in a circle, swam around in a pond and just kinda sat there. He thought about turning gay, but he wasn't sure how. He wanted to ask a couple of the gay frogs he knew how he could go about turning gay, but he was too shy and all the gay frogs he knew were all big and bumpy and he figured that if he was gay he would probably want to be gay with a little smooth frog, maybe a young one from Cambodia or something. Plus he didn't want some froggy boner in his butt, maybe a finger, you know, not too deep, just maybe rubbin' around a little bit down there, maybe a little froggy 69 action or something...
This was really just a passing thought... he knew he wasn't gonna figure out how to turn gay any more than he was going to get any action from any sort of lady frog. Ugly, drunk or pity, there weren't gonna be no booty for him. Hell, he couldn't even satisfy his own damn self, seein' as how frogs have short arms and frog dongs are way down there. He could see it down there, danglin' all lonely and unused between his one good leg and his stumpy midget leg...