Frog Princess

On a recent bright and early winter’s morning I went to our local supermarket, awash with the excited anticipation of buying some AWESOME baking materials and goods. I was combing the isles of the supermarket, compiling a mental shortlist of goods I would buy (everything I needed + everything I wanted – everything I couldn’t afford) when I happened upon the fruit section and decided to stock up for our morning smoothies.

I hovered over the massive selection of loose bananas, trying to find the most pristine bunch. As I zoned in to pick my chosen bunch I felt something cold moving against my finger and assumed that it must have been a piece of open, broken fruit. When I looked down however, I saw a pale albino-like creature moving in between the bananas, frantically trying to cram itself into the smallest and most inconspicuous space. It took me about five seconds to realise that it wasn’t some sort of albino cockroach or broken fruit or Gollum but rather an eensy-teensy tiny frog which had (in the light of our wonderful culture of mass consumerism) been inadvertently transported from the “tropical” banana farms of Kwazulu-Natal to this artificially lighted shopping centre.

My first thought was “ah fuck man” followed by “oh poor little thing” followed by “oh shit man, why do these things always happen to me” followed by “okay, get it together, this is operation froggie rescue RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW bitches!” followed by “oh shit but it’s sort of brightly coloured, what if it’s one of those poisonous tropical frogs from the Amazon” followed by “ok it can’t be poisonous because your finger hasn’t fallen off yet” followed by “at least it’s not operation bigass-spider rescue” finally followed by “get it together, you are the chosen one and it is YOUR immediate goal in life to save this frog’s life!”

But HOW. Did it constitute stealing if you “took” a frog that had been on the shop’s produce? Did the frog somehow also become a tradable commodity by virtue of its association with the bananas? Could I steal this frog? Could I steal a packet to put the frog in? Why was this so difficult?! Where was my Roman-Dutch Law of property when I needed it?! Why couldn’t I remember the law of acquisition?!?! Why couldn’t I just whip out a can of anarchy when I needed to?!?! Forcing my moral dilemma aside, I managed to grab and loosen the one banana to which the poor frog was clinging for dear life and ever so slowly inserted le petit frog into the plastic bag, and then, for fear that froggie would asphyxiate, inconspicuously tried to inflate the packet with air.

I then proceeded to have my one banana weighed. I approached Mr weigher-man and kindly informed him to be careful as I intended buying the banana and the frog which was on the banana. I then waited for what seemed like an interminable amount of time while Mr weigher-man either tried to calculate what the surcharge for the frog would be or wondered as to when the shop has started selling frogs (and for what purpose). I then rephrased my request and stated that I wanted him to weigh the banana and ignore the frog. He then snapped into action and I was off. I stumbled around in a stupor with my R2,50 banana and frog and considered whether I could still do my much-longed-for baking shopping. However, given the urgency of froggie’s situation, his probable dehydration and the fact that I was terrified of squashing him, I decided against it and proceeded towards the check-out…only to realise upon reaching the check-out that I had a whopping 5 cents on me.

D’accord: proceed to collect one can of dog-food to compliment my one banana (and one frog) so that I can use my debit card. Proceed to request that Ms checkout-lady be gentle as there is a frog on my banana. Proceed to console shitfitting checkout-lady that the frog is not going to hurt her, that she’s not cursed and that I’d simply like to purchase my banana avec le petit frog. Proceed to jog out of the shop with gaping mouths staring after me.

I finally made it home and put froggie on his banana on leaves in a tea carton with some water. I then stressed over froggie and his potential injuries for the next hour (and came to the welcome conclusion that I shouldn’t ever have kids because I’d definitely suffer from Munchausen by Proxy).

After a strategic session with tookey, we decided that the best way forward would be to take froggie to the lake by our local park and release him there. We’d already come up with this plan of action several years ago when a much bigger froggie travelled the whole distance from Magaliesburg to Johannesburg in my (very squashed) shoe.

I said good-bye to froggie on his banana at the edge of the lake amongst some reeds and I really hope that he survives, given the change in his environment and his travelling ordeal.

If froggie does survive, I hope that he meets our froggie from Magaliesburg, that they serenade each other with lovely froggie *ribbits* , that they make froggie babies together, that they start a new froggie race and make happy froggie memories together. And catch ------< flies. Or eat fruit.