Disclaimer: Crazy Frog © Jamster and Eric Wernquist.
"That frog is so annoying!"
"That thing is so ugly!"
"Ring ding ding ding! Make it stop!"
"Why can't that thing just die already?"
Tears cascaded down the pasty green face as he scrolled through the endless list of comments. He had no idea. He honestly had no idea that many people hated his music. There was so much negativity—so much hate, it was almost unreal. The frog had been at it for years, running around and shouting gibberish. The record label liked it, his friends liked it, and he did as well—but the people from this other world, even some from his own, however, absolutely despised what he was doing. How could he have been so blind? He mentally kicked himself for not thoroughly reading everyone's responses, for turning a blind eye to their blatant distaste.
Another death threat caused a strangled sob to bubble up from the amphibian's throat, a cold, bony, four-fingered fist lightly pounding the desk his laptop rested upon. Sniffing, he went back to the home page and typed in "Crazy Frog hate" and pressed enter. What followed were multiple sites dedicated to disliking the frog. The dam broke, and he buried his face in his hands, sobbing softly. For the first time, he was bearing witness to the dark side of the world, and he hated it. It was okay to not like something, but making death threats and online sites on the distaste for that thing was completely disgraceful.
Cries subsiding, Crazy Frog glanced at the clock on the bottom right of the screen. He had an hour and a half before his next performance. Slowly standing from the chair, he headed out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. Switching on the light, he gazed at himself in the mirror. his reflection stared back, with the same downcast expression.
He sighed, looking at the tile floor. One aspect of him the haters touched on was his appearance. Returning his gaze back to the mirror, the frog did his trademark grin, revealing two sets of pearly teeth, one missing on the front right. His eyes were green, the right noticeably small and lighter in color than the left. Dark green spots blotched his skin. He was clad in a bright orange, floral button-up t-shirt, the collar folded down. The frog went over the list: a gap in his front teeth, different-sized and colored eyes, spots on his green skin, and an orange shirt—he scratched that one. All and all, he was strange, not ugly, and he was perfectly fine with that. No one looked the same, anyway. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Another thing the critics raved on about was his vocal ability. Unbeknownst to them, the frog had been singing for many years, with a voice unlike no other. It possessed incredible control, vibrato, and timbre, each note just as supported as the next. He hummed a bit, pleasantly surprised. With newfound hope and determination, Crazy Frog bounded out his front door, mounted his invisible motorbike, and rocketed down the street.
The crowd cheered loudly as the amphibian took the stage. He stared out at the large sea of animals with a bright smile. KNEES slightly bent, he grabbed the mic, drew in a deep breath, and belted out a powerful high note, the sound of his voice reverberating off the stadium's walls. Stopping, he looked to the audience for any sign of a reaction. They stared back, utterly shocked, some with slackened jaws, others with widened eyes. A second later, the whole place erupted into screams and applause, and the frog flinched and gasped, nearly dropping the microphone. Then, slowly, a grin graced his features.
Tonight, things were going to change.
A/N: I know it's been years since the whole 'Crazy Frog' craze, but I just thought I'd write a little fic on how I think he would react if he saw all the hateful things people say about him. Reviews are greatly appreciated!
