The Frogzilla Files Prelude #1
© 1999-2009, Duane Fischer, W8DBF
The misadventures that appear here are the sole property of the Author and may not be reprinted, copied, given away, sold or otherwise distributed in any way, form or medium without the written permission of Duane B. Fischer.

Hey! That's No Diving Board, Get Off My Vertical!

By, Duane B. Fischer, W8DBF

It had been my hope, that running some serious rf through the vertical would french fry these hopping green fly catchers. Wrong! At first they got this funny look in their eyes like oops, that gas I was going to pass, wasn't gas after all! Some of them jumped onto the stub tuned radials and used them for a spring board. When the rf was applied, they leaped way way up into the air and came down with a big splash in the water that had accumulated around the base of the vertical. They let outa loud croak, got this silly grin on their face and started shinneying back up the vertical to do it again! Those third cousins to a Toad loved it!

What's worse, when dusk came they did not become dormant and take a nap. Now these slimy pea green hoppers were now glowing! They had absorbed the rf and it had apparently activated some chemical in their skin that made them glow in the dark! Wonderful! Now these green croakers could practice their olympic dives off my vertical all night long! So much for sleeping.

I had to do something, as I had no intentions of sharing my home with these displaced swamp squatters. Maybe I could club them with my Louisville Slugger and sell them as energy free children's nightlights? Perhaps I could embalm them and sell them to fishermen as glow in the dark bobbers for night fishing? Why not pickle them whole and sell them as a dietary supplement to those new non-English speaking neighbors who just moved in down the street!

It was then that I remembered those old Cherry Bombs I had stashed from last year's fourth of July festivities. Perfect! One big Kaboom and those web footed green water rodents would be gone like last week's paycheck!

I grabbed several Cherry Bombs and a book of matches. I sneaked up close and hid behind a shrub. I lit one and tossed it into the water. No problem, those fuses were waterproof. Kaboom! Water went everywhere, including down my shirt. Frogs went everywhere! Wow! I had no idea they could jump that high! I stood up to see how many frogs were still alive. It was then that I saw the neighbor's Mexican Hairless hopping on three legs! He was yipping faster than a used car salesman with a full bladder trying to close a deal! There was still smoke coming from where his tail used to be! Never liked that dog anyhow. Killed all of my tulips every Spring.

The frogs were now encircling the vertical and laughing at me! I could hear the neighbor screaming now and she sure sounded angry. The frogs would just have to wait, as right now I felt this irrepressible urge to take immediate shelter in my nuclear fallout hideaway under the basement floor. Was that a police siren I heard in the distance?

The nuclear fallout shelter was quite well stocked with fifty kilos of K-Rations I had gotten at a yard sale. This guy had been in the Korean conflict and was paranoid about russia targeting his community with an intercontinental missle with multiple nuclear warheads. Like many other people the government convinced to build fallout shelters so they could survive the sneak attack, this guy converted some old underground gasolene storage tanks into a subterrainian haven.

He had it stocked with enough dried food, reconstituted food, powdered milk, K-rations an dcanned goods to keep Meals On Wheels in business for two decades! Either this guy had a huge family or he was on fertility drugs and hopeful! He had enough bottled soda pop down there to bring the Dead Sea back to life! there was enough bottled water sealed in quart Mason jars to refloat Noah's Ark! If Paul Bunyon drank all of this, well ... There would be this new slightly yellow waterfall in Minnesota! But when he decided the real threat was from the satellites whirling around the Erth like hula hoops on a go go dancer, he had a yard sale. Needed the cash to finance the fifty gigawatt laser cannon he was building to shoot down "Sputnuts", as he called them. I don't know why he was constructing it in the center of the backyard swimming pool, unless he hoped to water cool it.

I was munching one of the reconstituted nutty doughnuts and listening to my police scanner. Hopefully the neighbor calmed down and didn't call the cops. Wasn't my fault that stupid Mexican Hairless mutt picked up the lit cherry bomb! At least there were none of those obnoxious slimy green croaking frogs down here. It was so peaceful. The air was stale though. Reminded me of an armpit that had not been deodorized for several years. Rather spicy! It was damp too. Was that mold growing on the walls? Nope. it was fungus covered moss! At least I could eat Mushrooms! Yum! The cobwebs were woven out of some kind of spider dew that my Swiss Knife would not cut. What the heck had spiders found down here to eat anyhow? didn't they like suck the juice out of flies and punk rockers? Then I noticed several rather healthy looking spiders dragging some K-rations across the floor. Well, at least the Army had finally found something that ate their food and survived more than six months!

Whew, nothing about me on the scanner. Time to head back upstairs and use the toilet. Had to remember to bring down toilet paper for future use.

I no more than flushed the toilet, when the frogs cut loose with a chorus of croaks that would have drowned out the rock band Metallica. It was deafening! I hated to look out the window for fear of what I might find. Great! I had a green vertical and a pond around the antenna bubbling with Tadpoles! Oh no! Baby froglets! I grabbed the flame thrower I kept handy to discourage some of my daughter's boyfriend's from dropping by again and ran toward the back door. "Alright you over sexed horney toads!", I screamed. "Say good-bye to cousin Kermit cause I am going to roast you crispier than my ex-wifes overcooked bacon!" they all turned and looked at me with terror in their bloodshot watery bulbous eyes. Then they all stuck their red sticky flypaper like tongues out and made this low bassey like gas escaping sound. I was not intimidated by their flagrent mocking belches! I pulled the trigger on the flame thrower and burned through the night darkness like a red hot charcoal briquet going through a tub of margarine!

The Tadpoles were now swimming in a panic around the pond in circles creating little waves that slopped onto my grass leaving little skum stains. I was closing in now with flame thrower shooting bursts of liquid hot fire through the sky like little bolts of lightening. "Ten dozen web footed green hoppers coming up well done!", I shouted as I hit the edge of the pond. "Can you spell crispy critters?" I aimed, pulled the trigger and whoosh!

The frogs all jumped off my vertical into the pond with a huge splash. Water went everywhere. I held my breath as a wave of water washed over me filling my nose and ears with frog droppings. Yuck! Then I heard a sound behind me. They were attacking from the rear! The water bit was a diversion! I spun around and fired a blast from the flame thrower. It was my neighbor's mentally impaired Chihuahua, the playmate for the even dumber Mexican Hairless! The teeth he had not knocked out trying to bite moving cars were bared and he was snarling like a constipated Racoon. Poof! An Ethenol fireball swallowed him up like a teenager slurping soup! Ever heard frogs laugh? The dog was standing there with no hair, except for some singed patches on his tail! One ear looked like burned toast, every time he barked he blew a smoke ring and metal id tab was permenantly fused to his left leg! I could hear the neighbor cursing in whatever language that was. I turned to glare at the frogs, who were now back up on the vertical covering it like a big green blanket. The neighbor came charging over into my yard like a cat with a skyrocket attached to its tail. He was waving some kind of nasty looking stick over his head and shouting those funny words that sounded like an asmatic bull snorting! I was debating if I should get rid of his nose hairs with the flame thrower, when he saw the frogs and skidded to a stop. He just stood there with this stupid look on his face. Sort of reminded me of the way his dogs looked. Dah! Then he started to smile. The smile got bigger, and bigger and then was as huge as the buttocks of Babe The Blue Ox. He turned and shouted something at the other family members running toward my yard waving those funny looking sticks. They all stopped and ran back into the house. Then they came back out the door and were running at full speed toward my yard, again. He was still smiling, so I just watched. Keeping my trigger finger limber, just in case.

He was pointing excitedly at my vertical and gesturing something. What were they waving? Forks? Yes, they were forks! The frogs saw the forks, looked at each other and leaped off my antenna. They started hopping and croaking at the top of their rlungs with the fork waving neighbors in hot pursuit. Problem solved! I headed back into the house. Had to get some rest.

Copyright 2000 By Author: Duane B. Fischer, W8DBF

By, Duane B. Fischer, W8DBF

It had been ten whole glorious quiet and wonderous peaceful days since the frogs left with the meat eating neighbors in hungry pursuit. The tadpoles were gone too. the neighbor's children speared them one at a time with a sharpened kitchen fork twist tied onto a broken broom handle. But eating them still wiggling and cold? Yuck! The little pond encircling my vertical had just about dried up when the Civil Defense sirens started to whail like a cat with its tail caught in an electric food processor!

I switched the NOAA weather alert on to see what was going on. Great! A severe thunderstorm was in the next county and moving my way at eleven miles per hour. Not exactly in a big hurry, which was good, as the prune juice I had at breakfast time was kicking in!

I could hear the coming thunder booming to the West as I hurridly scribbled a reminder to buy toilet paper. The colored ink on today's catalogues give me a really nasty rash. I made a mad dash for the ham shack to disconnect the antennas from everything electronic. I could hear the rain beating on the side of the house like two car loads of teenagers who just heard there was an unchaperoned party at your house pounding on the door! The lights blinked on and off several times like a sputtering flashbulb and then went black. I could hear the warbling alert siren of the weather alert going off in the dining room as I crawled on my hands and knees feeling my way along the hall. I stood up to grab my First Alert emergency flashlight out of the junk drawer. Whack! I grabbed my head in pain as I went down faster than the stock market when somebody yelled. "Hey! How come this series E U.S. Savings Bond says made in japan on the back?"

I could feel the warm bloodn trickling down my forehead as I lay on the floor trying to get my eyes to uncross. "Who is the stupid idiot that left the cupboard door open!", I demanded as I struggled onto my knees in my bachelor pad. The flashlight was deader than a Turtle that tried to outrun a semi! How could it be dead? I recharged it last year! I knew there was a candle in that drawer, and some matches too. Carefully i reached up and felt for the still open drawer. Ah yes! There it was! I felt around inside, found the candle and gently lifted it from under the other junk in the junk drawer. Crash! Ouch! "Stupid drawer anyhow!" I lay there buried in scotch tape, rubber bands, thumb tacks, paper clips, batteries, shoe spoons, broken pencils, pens with no ink, assorted screws -washers - nuts, twist ties, shoe laces, old McDonalds Monopoly stickers etc. "What kind of absolute slob would leave the tube of Crazy Glue open anyhow", I wondered aloud as I tried to pull the drawer off my hand.

The house was shaking and rattling like old Chubby Checker was teaching it how to do the tornadic twist. All of a sudden there was a hurrendous blast of thunder as a bolt of lightening vaporized the frog eating neighbor's house. I cautiously peeked out the window to survay the extent of the damage. The foundation was picked cleaner than a dead carcus at a Buzzard's convention! "No more frogs, no more tadpoles and no more neighbors with cannibal habits. Could this be an omen?", I wondered.

After what seemed like forty days and forty nights, the rain finally stopped. The sun was just coming up and I could see a little through the swirling mist hanging in the air like dripping panty hose. Good grief! There was three feet of water in my back yard! The pond was now a lake! "What was that racket coming from over there by my R25G fifty foot tower?" I strained my eyes to get a clearer view through the dim morning light. I could see some logs bobbing up an down as the comotion grew louder. I looked up toward the top of the tower where my seventeen element two meter beam was. "Was that corrosion? Why was it green?" Then I saw a huge frog dive off one of the elements, do a couple of sumersaults and hit the water without leaving so much as a ripple! "they were back! That one had the neighbor's baseball cap on and waved as he paddled by riding a branch side saddle! I could hear a whirring sound and looked around quickly to see where it was coming from. They had cut my coax, loosened the mast, shorted the rotor switch and were riding my beam around like a merry-go-round! I looked to my right just in time to see dozens of them riding the neighbor's refrigerator through the water while dozens more swam along behind kicking and splashing for all they were worth pushing it toward my half submerged vertical! "Get away from there you web footed green Camel killers", I shouted. I got my old Navy surplus frogman suit out, donned mask, snorkel and green fins. I waded toward the Hustler vertical. "Sure hope that waterproof coax sealant works where I used the double female barrel connector.",I thought as I prepared to dive in. "Hey, if you can't beat them or eat them, join them!"

I eased off the back porch and dropped down into the water. It had been years, no decades, since I had worn the old Navy frogman suit. boy, this rubber wet suit had certainly shrunk over those years! Fit me like one of those skin tight pair of short shorts the teenage girls wear that you can see a freckle on their rump through! Except nobody wanted to see my rump, except maybe a proctologist. And I had to pay him to look!

The water had quite a current raging under the placid surface. Probably due to the fifteen degree grade on my property as it sloped downward toward the street and storm sewer. I eased down into the water and gave the snorkel a test breath. I came up out of the water like somebody in gym class had snapped me in the butt with a wet towel! I coughed, gagged and spit out a dead June bug. I blew some water through to see if any more half decayed creatures were nesting in there. Nope, just a few legs from the departed June bug washed out. I stuck the snorkel back in my mouth, took a long slow breath and pushed off from the porch.

As I cruised along following the black ribbon of 9913f coax I could occasionally see little green webbed feet dangling down from the surface. "Is that what a snack looked like to a Shark?", I wondered. A slimy green webbed foot with algae toe jam didn't make me hungry, but then again, I was not a Shark. Yuck!I was jolted back to reality by my head impacting the trunk of the forty year old Oak tree with a thirty-six inch diameter. My scream of pain came out like a fish gargling and enough bubbles to pass for the champagne bubble machine on the old Lawrence Welk show! I could feel the water bubbling in my sinus cavities and fighting the urge to sneeze. There it was! I pushed down toward the grass and the double female barrel connector holding the two pieces of coax together.

I inspected them very closely for any sign of a leak. The waterproof coax sealant seemed to be doing exactly as advertised. I laid it back down and inspected the base of the vertical. Everything seemed to be just fine, underwater or not. then my nose twitched like Samantha on Bewitched and I let loose with a sneeze that would have cleared a dried buger out of the Jolly Green Giant's snoz! The snorkel went sailing, my face mask fogged up like it was morning in London andboth earplugs shot out of my ears like champagne corks! I came splashing to the surface like Moby dick who just got harpooned in his rump!

I tried to catch my balance and tripped over my frogman flippers. I went down headfirst into the water with my arms and legs flailing around like an Octapus having muscle spasms! Glub blug blug!

I managed to grab the base of the vertical and waited for the underwater world to stop spinning around like my two meter beam the green third cousins to a toad were using for a Merry-Go-Round! I followed the antenna upwards to the surface, spit out a pine cone and took a deep breath. The frogs were laughing. I blinked the water from my eyes and watched several dozen of them laugh themselves off my spinning beam and fall croaking gleefully into the water. Splash! Croak! Glug! bubble bubble.

Remembering you can not walk forward wearing thos rubber frogman fins, I turned around and backed up to the porch. I got a sly devilish smirk as I pulled the fins off, peeled my wet suit off and scampered into the house in my dripping Fruit Of The Loom briefs. Had to remember to patch that leak in the wet suit!

I switched on the 1.5 kw amp, set the xmtr for rtty and keyed down. I glanced at the rf output meter it was 1100 watts, so I whistled. bingo! 1325 watts! I glanced out the window at the vertical. It was covered with green frogs who thought it was their private fire pole. they shinnied up to the top, and then slid down croaking with delight. Well at least until I shot some rf through the antenna any how! Several of them popped like over filled baloons! Others let out a super croak like they had a rock band amp in their throats and jumped into the neighbor's wadeing pool. wouldn't his kids be surprised! :Look Grandpa, It's Kermit and his friends from Sesame Street! Why are his eyes crossed like that grandpa? Is his tongue suposed to hang out like that? Why is he swollen up like that grandpa? Is Kermit really a girl frog who is going to be a mommy?"

Yep. I guess that internationally renown cook old Julia Chives was right. When asked the best way to prepare seafood, she replied "If ya can't Tin foil them, then broil them!"

By, Duane B. Fischer, W8DBF

I watched through the ham shack window as the frogs jumped off the vertical like it was a burning bridge. I took a sip of my cherry flavored Alka Seltzer and burped so loud that I set the motion detector off in my home security system. The siren whaled like a Beagle that somebody had just stepped on! , the computer dialed 911 and I just sat there with a big frog free smile. "Eureka!", I shouted as I did a little Soupy Sales shuffle. "Finally! Those green wart factories are packing up their lily pads and moving on!" I was rid of that infernal croaking and could finally get a decent nights sleep.

I unkeyed the transmitter and listen to the twin cooling fans huffing and puffing cool air over the glowing finals. The relay snapped open and they wound down like jet turbans exhaling long and slow. There were no frogs on the vertical. I could actually see the shiny aluminum! The large sparkling pond around the base of the vertical was placid and peaceful. No green splashing frogs practicing water sports, no children trying to spear tadpoles with marshmallow forks and no croaking sounds that reminded me of beer commercials! Life was wonderful.

"What was that strange noise that sounded like a chain saw with a stuck throttle?", I wondered. I walked out into the backyard and looked around. Nothing. "Was it getting louder or were my ears ringing?" It sounded like a really big mosquito that had been working out with steroids. I had visions in my mind of this Greyhound bus size mosquito lumbering through the air like a fully loaded B52. It was definitely getting louder! I looked around again, nothing unusual. I glanced up into the beautiful mid-afternoon sky and caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. I turned toward it and squinted against the blinding golden sunlight. "What was that, a model airplane?" Sure was and flying my way with the pedal to the metal!

It came in low and circled the yard several times. Then something green fell out of it, then another and another. Little white parachutes popped open and I ran for cover. The biggest bullfrog I had ever seen was piloting the rc craft and I thought I could hear strains of Snoopy And The Red Baron over the whine of the prop.

The frog para-ploppers hit the water with hardly a ripple, croaked a few bars of the Battle Hymn Of The Republic and disappeared under the surface in a mass of bubbles. " What the heck was going on?", I wondered. Was I having a daymare from watching too much of the Sci Fi channel?" The plane kept circling like a vulture looking for lunch. The frogs popped back to the surface and hurriedly swam for shore croaking in high pitched excited tones. I locked the back door, loaded a shotgun with 00 buck shot and watched from the safety of the security camera monitor.

Kaboom! My vertical shuddered, shook and sag to the left. Kaboom! A column of frog doo laden water shot skyward as pieces of something black flew threw the air. Kaboom! Kaboom! A silver plated PL-259 hit my security camera lens and shattered it into nameless fragments! I flung the back door open, stepped out onto the deck and racked a round into the chamber. "Get your skinny slimy green butts out of my pond, out of my yard and out of my life!", I shouted. They ignored me. Kaboom! I ducked as a piece of 9913f coax just missed wrapping itself around my neck! The plane went into a dive and Frogzilla The Frog dropped two small silver pellets into the water. I aimed and fired. Boom! The neighbor's imported Oriental bird house blew apart into brightly colored splinters. "You stupid sticky tongued fly lickers!", I shouted. "Eat some lead instead of lily pads!" Boom! The little plane banked hard left as the neighbors sport utility vehicle windshield exploded like a over ripe watermelon that somebody drop kicked! "I'll get you miserable slimy green three toed web footted amphibians!", I shouted as I ran toward the vertical.

Kaboom! Kaboom! The vertical shook, shuddered and fell apart like a house of cards when somebody sneezes. The frog para-ploppers on the shore got big smiles on their faces like a hog that just saw a wave on a slop trough coming his way! The pieces of the vertical sank into the churning foam leaving only the 1.5 inch steel casing well pipe protruding above the surface. "Alright you red eyed pond squatters!", I shouted brandishing my twelve gauge pump, "You are all about to be Pike bait! Next stop, Red Lobster!"

I raised the shotgun, drew a bead on their pale swamp green butts as they dove for cover in the water and squeezed the trigger. "Ouch! What idiot put that wagon there? Disrespectful little brats!" Boom! Boom! Boom! I went airborne, head over Plantar's Warts, and landed head first in the manure enriched compost pile. I could hear the neighbor's 8x24 thermopane glass bay windows exploding as the sheep dung went up my nostrils. I just laid there dazed staring at the patio with more holes in it than a piece of Swiss cheese. Sure hope they paid their home owners premium!

The little radio controlled plane touched down on my driveway. The half dozen frog para-ploppers jumped out of the pond and hopped into the waiting rescue craft. I staggered to my feet, spit out some biodegradable lawn clippings and watched the little plane circle the yard. I figured they were surveying the damage to the vertical before they left forever. Good riddance!

"What was that plane doing now? Why did it keep circling like that?" Then I heard it. A faint thumping sound like thousands of little toes tapping on soft carpet. Then I saw them. Thousands of pea green frogs hopping straight for my pond! They were not leaving, this was an outright invasion! I ran for cover, it was time to call Frog Leg Busters!

The happy splashing of ten thousand pairs of webbed feet grew louder and louder behind me as I sloshed through the hip deep water toward the safety of my patio. I grabbed for the screen door handle, missed and went face first through the screen. I landed on my hands and knees on those very hard decorative patio stones and skidded to a stop. I staggered to my feet, trying to ignore the blood from my two knees that looked like I had tried to sand paper them off! I slammed the inside door, locked the dead bolts and wobbled toward the phone like the proverbial town drunk.

"Hello?", I said between clenched teeth. "Is this Frog Busters?" "Well it ain't Toads Or Us mister!", a gruff raspy voice replied. "And there ain't nobody here named Candi either! If you are one of them phone solicitors or want me to donate money to your "Save The Wasp" fund, kiss off! I don't like computers, I hate them answering machines and I don't take credit cards! I'm a frog hit man, you got cash? Speak up mister, you got a constipated tongue or what?"

I explained my situation in detail, trying not to be distracted by the blood that kept trickling from my knees onto the white angora carpet. "No problemo mister.", he said in that husky voice that reminded me of fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard. "If you got a grand in crisp Franklins, or some of them gold bullion bars or silver ingots, I can take care of this problem right after lunch." I assured him that I would have the cash on hand and would be expecting him around 1:00 PM. "Don't get pushy with me you frog farmer, I'll be there in plenty of time to make sure them adolescent frogs never get a chance to croak with a deep voice!" Click. Dial tone.

I looked out the window of the ham shack and watched the frogs water skiing behind the neighbor's three legged Mexican hairless. If there was ever a dog that deserved to be shot dead, it was this mangy dumber than a stick mutt! Even fleas avoided him! At least the frogs had found a use for him, besides fertilizer! My favorite vertical was a pile of bent parts, thanks to the frogs. I stared at the piece of galvanized 1.5 inch well pipe still protruding above the water. "You are going to pay for this you green skinned sticky tongued Mosquito catchers!", I snarled as I gulped down the last bite of my BLT. The doorbell rang, he was here! I was going to be frog free by dusk! With luck, I could get the new vertical I had already assembled in the garage up before darkness fell. I sure did not want to miss the early morning grayline skip that had been forecast by the propagation prognosticators.

The guy from Frog Busters looked like an escapee from Dr. Frankenstein's lab! He had one blue eye and one brown with green flecks in it. His nose had more curves in it than a Colorado highway! One ear looked like it had been chewed off by a dull lawn mower blade! The other one had what appeared to be scars from tooth marks giving it a sieve like appearance. His face looked like a jigsaw puzzle that somebody put together crooked! The right eye was .750 inches higher than the left! His lips looked like he had French kissed a hot exhaust pipe and a little stream of saliva was trickling down from the left corner. About every other tooth was missing and there was enough room between them for a June bug to fly through! Maybe he wanted cash to hire a plastic surgeon?

He looked at me, stuck out a hand with only three fingers and a thumb and smiled through what reminded me of a post card I once saw of stalactites hanging down from a cave roof somewhere in Kentucky! "You got the cash mister? Let me see it.", he growled. I reached into my briefcase and pulled out a fist full of crisp Franklins and fanned through them. His eyes got as big as Dolly Parton's pectorals. He turned, stared silently at the frogs and then walked to his van. I put the counterfeit bills I had made on my new color printer back into the briefcase. Like it or not, he was getting a check!

He came strolling back with a sprayer tank strapped to his back, nozzle on a long wand and respirator mask. "What the heck are you going to do with that? Spray for Mosquitoes?" I quipped. He was not amused. "Listen mister, you want me to get rid of these green skinned croakers or used this here wand to cure your hemorrhoids!" "Listen you escapee from a genetic research gone wrong lab.", I shot back. "If you can't do the job, Louie from "the Only Good Amphibian Is a Dead One" is willing to come over and get rid of these frogs for the sheer pleasure of eradicating them! So either get to work or take your circus down the road!" He looked at the briefcase thoughtfully for a couple of seconds, pumped up the tank and stepped into the frog filled pond.

I watched him empty tank after tank after tank spraying the thousands of slimy green bug biters. Finally he wandered back toward me and raised the respirator mask. "Well, it is done. Those frogs will be dead within forty-five minutes. Give me my money, I'm leaving. I've got me a cravin' for fried Clams with a tangy lily pad sauce" "Not so fast there.", I said making no effort to hide my annoyance. "Just what did you spray and what is it supposed to do to these frogs?"

"This stuff is a special top secret patent pending spray I mixed up after watching some nature specials on the Discovery Channel. It seals the frogs skin air tight, they can't exhale through it anymore. then I threw about twenty pounds of dead flies i had soaked in some of my chili sauce into the pond as bait. The stupid frogs eat the flies thinking it is a free snack, the chili sauce creates a massive gas bubble in their guts, the gas can't escape out the skin and they explode like firecrackers. Messy, but no more frogs. Just throw some humus top soil over the green guts and in a year or so it turns into really great planting soil. Now where's my cash?"

"You are nuttier than a bakery doughnut.", I chuckled. "Before you get any cash, I need to see some results. for all I know you just sprayed "Wonder Grow" all over my yard and the grass is going to grow faster than my sheep can eat it!" So we sat there and waited and watched.

All of a sudden, the frogs all got this funny look on their faces like they had to take a bathroom break. Like something out of a horror movie, they all turned and looked right at the guy from Frog Busters. It was Erie watching those bulbous eyes stare unblinking at him. You could just feel their green hides start to prickle with anger and their webbed feet began to twitch rhythmically. They broke into rows of hundreds across and thousand deep and started hopping toward us.

I turned to run for safety, but they leaped into the air like a rocket blasting off from Cape Canaveral and were upon us. I knew I was going to die! I heard him scream and peeked out from between my fingers covering my face. The frogs were burping fire balls like a hundred exploding roman candles on the fourth of July! the guy from Frog Busters was running down the street with a thousand fire ball burping frogs right behind him! His hair was smoking, his blue jeans were smoldering and his shoes had more holes burned in them than a first year home economics student's omelette! His van was melting down into a molten pool of metal. as hundreds of smiling frogs hiccupped and belched and shot colorful flaming balls of fire at it. I tossed the briefcase full of computer printer money into the trash can and tried to duck flaming fire balls that were raining down like glow in the dark hail stones. Surely there must be some creature that had a diet of Frogs I could populate my yard with. Yes! Now I knew who to call. A boys college fraternity who was having their annual sea food fund raising dinner night! I had a tasty tip that might give them a leg up on the competition!

By, Duane B. Fischer, W8DBF

It was Friday June 18th and it was an absolutely beautiful almost Summer evening. The Moon was full and hung there in the black ethereal void of space like a big fat golden yellow cheese ball. The air was just warm enough to be comfortable in my Hallicrafters t-shirt and purple boxer shorts made of recycled panty hose. The cops had pulled a surprise drug raid and arrested half the teenagers on my street for selling their parents tranquilizers as fertility drugs to an animal husbandry clinic. There were no more barking dogs or whining cats, since my Viet Nam buddy had a flashback and took target practice on anything with four legs that moved! I leaned back in my artificial leather recliner, which always makes this obnoxious sound like somebody passing gas, and flipped on my Tandy DX-392. Yep, it was the perfect night to work some serious intercontinental dx.

I was browsing through my copy of the World Radio and Television Handbook, when the library card fell out. 1994? Oops! Ah yes, there it was. I leaned forward and punched the frequency in and hit enter. I could hear this faint little female voice babbling something in Polynesian, or whatever they speak on Pango Pango. I could not believe it! I had been trying to suck this station in for years with everything from a Collins R-391A to a Hallicrafters SX-28 using a Kirby vacuum cleaner as a receive pre-amp! I had used a long wire so long, that twenty Chinese laundries could have used it as a drip dry rack! Now here it was on a forty- eight inch telescoping antenna and a glorified crystal set! I pressed the record button on the built-in cassette.

The propagation was hotter than a Beaver's tail in a blow drier! I was logging stations I had only had hollow state dreams of. Tahiti boomed in with 1 kw like it was that loud mouth FM rock station down the road that I sometimes thought I could hear in the metal fillings of my teeth. Wow! That was a Sherpa on top of some mountain in Tibet on a hand held calling in a pizza air drop! Cool!

My concentration was shattered like a cheap vase from the dollar store falling off the bathroom vanity onto the ceramic tile floor. What was all of that chanting about? I ripped my headphones off, slammed them down on the desk, bumped my glass of iced tea and sent it sailing stem over stern onto my stack of old QST magazines. I stormed outside to see who was making the racket.

There were about twenty women standing in my driveway pointing at my frog pond around the vertical. They were jumping up and down, lurching sideways and shaking things like I thought only Elvis could do! I looked at the frogs. there were all sitting on their lily pads quietly just watching these women bedeviled by muscle spasms. "Bill of Clintin, eye of Knute, toe of Hillary and pickled pig snoot." The frogs looked at each other with worried looks and then back at the women.

The leader ripped her blouse off revealing a bra that looked like it came from the reject pile at the Salvation Army. She had tattoos of frogs all over her chest, stomach, shoulders and back. Her belly button looked like a little pond with hairy lily pads! "Lip of Weasel, dung of dog, butt of horsefly and skin of frog!" They all started throwing sharpened knitting needles at the frogs in the pond. Then they pulled out these huge shiny meat cleavers from their purses and charged toward the pond like somebody at K-Mart had yelled "SALE"!

The frogs got a look in their eyes like somebody had yelled "Hey look! All you can eat frog legs and grits for $.99!" Most of them grabbed their noses and dove in the water, but the biggest bull frogs stayed put on their lily pads and just stared unblinking at the charging butchers. I stepped in front of the chanting women and waved for them to halt. "Hold it right there you bipedal carnivores", I shouted loudly. "This is my yard, not some junior high Biology class amphibian dissection exercise. Put those scalping tools down or ..." One of them swung her meat cleaver at me as I dove for the grass. They ran right over me like I was just a bump in the concrete! "If I ever meet the idiot who thought of putting spiked heels on tennis shoes, I am going to bite his Achilles tendon in half!", I shouted as I staggered to my feet.

It was then that I noticed the piece of my left ear lying on the grass! I picked it up, kicked off my shoes, wrapped it up in a sweat sock, stuck it in my pocket and used the other sock to stop the bleeding. The smell alone was enough to stop anything! Except women with an attitude and sharp meat cleavers!

Just as the women got to the edge of the pond, the frogs sprang into action. they let out a group croak that sounded like five hundred beer drinkers all belching at once! The jumped straight up into the air. the only frog I ever saw jump that high, was the one my brother stuck the firecracker in the mouth of and lit! "Nose of turtle, tail of bald sheep, liver of Oyster and small birds that peep!" Whish! Whish! Meat cleavers sliced through the air. The frogs came down like para-ploppers landing smack in the middle of their heads. The women stopped, looked around and seemed puzzled. "I told you them was enchanted frogs, but no you wouldn't listen." The tall thin one that looked like a zipper with buck teeth shouted. "All you could think about was frying up them frog brains for another one of your stupid love potion spells!" "Ah shut up Hortence.", the leader shouted. "At least my mother didn't have to tie a rotted fish around my neck to get the maggots to play with me!"

Then it came to me in a flash, like the time I forgot to wear underwear to the church picnic and ripped the whole crotch of my jeans out sliding into third base! Thought the girl playing third would never stop smiling. I had a plan that would give this Coven some real frog pond lovin'!

This Coven Wanted Baked Frog In Its Oven!

Part #2 of two

By, Duane B. Fischer, W8DBF

The frogs were sitting motionless on top of the women's heads giving each other meaningful glances. I watched these female fugitives from the jungles of the amazon as they argued among themselves. "I think we should siphon gas from that car over there, pour it on the pond and set it ablaze. cook these Tadpoles in their own juices!" "Penelope.", the leader roared. "You are such a wimpette! A real woman eats them while they are alive and lets them wiggle their way down the throat and drop into a stomach full of churning acid! Now that's good eating!" I fought down the urge to barf up the Tuna sandwich I had eaten for lunch. "Yo Grocco.", one woman snorted. "What do you feed them for dessert, the fat cells on your hips?" Grocco spun around and took a swipe at her with the meat cleaver. Whoosh! The woman jumped back and the blade split my Willow sapling into two halves.

"will you chill out Grocco!", Hortence said in a shrill voice that made my skin crawl like a Centipede rushing up my arm and getting entangled in my arm pit hairs! "We have got to get these frogs caught, cooked, dehydrated, ground and into the lottery number potion by midnight! If we botch this spell, we may have to get real jobs! We don't have time to snack on Tadpoles, earthworms or fat green grubs! So let's get busy!"

If a yard full of green web footed slimy rude croaking frogs wasn't bad enough to lower the value of my house, now I had a coven of witches standing thigh deep in my pond! I turned and ran into the house. first things first. I had to fix my ear, as I didn't want to spend the rest of my life looking like that weird painter Vernors Vangot! I unwrapped the sock, grabbed the Crazy glue and tried not to gag. "Hey! This isn't a hunk of my ear! It's a piece of rat's tail that must have fallen off the blade of the meat cleaver! Cool! Better him than me!" I dashed through the house grabbing supplies as I went. Got the boom box. "Where's the stupid tape? Here it is!" Grabbed the sawed off twelve gauge, a hand full of shells with a rock salt load and my two meter hand held. I hit the back door on a dead run like college freshmen when somebody yells "Panty raid!"

I ran part way to the pond where the vertical was casting a silvery shadow in the light of the full moon. I ducked down behind some shrubs and peered through the branches. The women had formed a sort of circle around the little pond. Thousands of frogs were shinnying up the six band trap vertical while others swam in frantic circles around the base. Some were just sitting quietly on their lily pads snapping Mosquitos out of the air and burping. The women were now doing what looked like the old Limbo rock moves with some chubby checker twist action thrown in. The stuff that makes chiropractors rich! "The Moon is full, the night is black, bewitch the bull frogs into the sack." Now they were jumping up and down like they had Mexican jumping beans in their girdles! "Oh nose of Fly, and ear of Bat, oh worm of cow pie and Snail liver fat. Transform the frogs, all slime and green, from yonder log to grinding machine!"

The frogs sitting on top of the witches heads all looked at each other, nodded in silent agreement, smiled and let out a simultaneous thunderous CROAK! The women were startled and lost track of their ritual dance steps. There were arms and legs going in all directions as they tripped and tumbled into a jumbled pile of bodies. they were stuck together like some super interlocking Chinese puzzle that only a child of two can solve! while the confusion was going on, the six big bull frogs grabbed some lily pad stems and used them as blow guns to shoot Mosquitos like darts at the witches exposed skin. Woosh! Woosh! Woosh! Twang! "Ouch! Penelope you moron!", Grocco screamed. "Stop jabbing me in the gut with those Toad stickers of yours! And whoever has their filthy fungus laden foot in my face, move it before I bite your ugly toes off!"

Now it was time for me to finish the job the frogs had started. I put the tape in the ghetto blaster, cranked the volume up and pressed the play button. I loaded the shot gun and waited. The music rattled the night air like a freight train rumbling through a tin can factory! Nothing quite like Country Cousin Jethro and His Tennessee Suds Suckers blue grass band to get your attention! They wailed worse than a pack of lonesome Beagles trying to out do the siren on the fire truck! These guys couldn't carry a tune if it had a handle on it! The witches untangled themselves like knots sprayed with WD-40 and shrieked in terror. They covered their ears and started running in every which direction.

As the coven ran past me on their way to the road, I took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. Boom! Boom! Nothing quite like a little rock salt in the rump to help you remember you aren't welcome at my frog pond! Especially this bedraggled bunch of broom jockeys spouting bad poetry!

Copyright June 11, 1998 By Duane B. Fischer, W8DBF Sixth Dimension Of Magic: Flint, Michigan, USA No reprinting of these tales are permitted unless PRIOR permission from the author is obtained in writing!

This page last updated 01, November 2011.