2.
.oOo.
~ The Briton and the Frog ~
.oOo.
Once upon a time, there was an Englishman named Arthur.
One Saturday morning, Arthur found himself sitting outside on the balcony of his 15th-floor flat, reading the daily paper and drinking his favourite Earl Grey tea. It was an absolutely perfect day; the fact that it was a weekend meant that he didn't have to work, a rare glimpse of the sun peeking out from behind the clouds made for a quite appreciable difference from the usual overcast skies – and he did love his tea and paper, if he did say so himself. All in all, Arthur could say he was in a decently good mood and having a rather blissful morning.
That was, until he suddenly heard a loud croak and looked up from his paper to see a frog that had somehow managed to climb fifteen floors up and was currently perched on the railing of the balcony.
"Hello there, old chap," Arthur said out loud to the frog, smiling slightly whilst taking a sip of his tea. "I don't suppose your day is going well?"
He certainly hadn't expected a response.
"Well, mon cher, my day is not so très bien, but merci beaucoup for asking!"
Arthur immediately sputtered and spit out his tea, widening his eyes and blinking a few times before shaking his head.
"Oh, splendid," he said. "A talking frog. And just what the hell do you want, prat?"
He could have sworn the frog appeared to grin and bat its eyelashes (eyelashes? Do frogs even have eyelashes?) before saying, "Not much, cher Angleterre… However, I do think that perhaps a quick kiss would be très magnifique to lighten up both of our days, no?"
Arthur regarded this for a second, tilting his head to the side and analysing the creature in front of him.
"A kiss?" he asked.
"Oui!" the frog replied. "Just one! But, of course, I wouldn't complain if you want more…"
A moment of silence passed.
"You wouldn't happen to be… French, would you?" Arthur asked hesitantly.
The frog smiled.
"Indeed I am!"
"Well, in that case," Arthur said, standing up as the frog looked at him expectantly.
Arthur looked it right in the eyes.
"No way in bloody hell."
And then he proceeded to use his newspaper to knock the French frog right off the balcony, smiling in content as he watched the disgusting thing fall to its death below.
The End.
