I have a frog in my fridge. I named him Fred. He’s teeny
tiny, and his skin is transparent. He kind of looks like an uncooked piece of
chicken (if uncooked pieces of chicken had eyes and little legs and could
jump). He hasn’t moved much, so I’m not 100% sure that he’s even alive. All I
know is we have a good thing going. He’s not bothering me, so I’m not bothering
him.
I’m just waiting for the moment when he decides to launch an
escape from the Alcatraz of my fridge and jumps out. With my luck it will be
when my mom opens the fridge and she’ll run screaming into the other room.
What is it with me and critters in the house?
*Update* Since this blog post was written, Fred has been freed. He hopped around the fridge and mom screeched.
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