Croaked

📅 Published on July 21, 2022

“Croaked”

Written by Eli Pope
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 18 minutes

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.
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1

Olive woke up suddenly from her usual restless sleep. At nearly 65, she was now accustomed to never sleeping very soundly. After all, she knew they were out there—all slimy with stinking skin drowning in their own warts. Warts that would easily pass on to her, as they had in the past. She was of course, thinking about the damned frogs and toads—not the mindless little pre-teens that would be dressed to scare in a week. Holding out their greedy little fingers as they begged for free candy while holding responsible homeowners’ hostage with idle threats of trickery. “Trick or treat?” With that thought, she lumbered out from under her sheets as fast as her tired aged body would allow. She knew she must apply another fresh coat of anti-fungal cream once again. She mustn’t allow any more warts from those amphibious creatures to find a home on her otherwise clear but aging skin.

“Warts! I hate those crusty little growths. Implanted frog’s eggs, I say! Trying to take over the world, one body at a time through implanting their offspring underneath our skin. Between them and the damned kids in this season of horrors…” Her frail arms shook, making the loose skin where bicep muscles once existed, now appear as soggy flapjacks wriggling in the wind. “Disgusting vermin should be rid from our world. Again—the amphibious creatures—not those nuisance-ridden two-legged vermin.” She smiled to herself as she reached for the tube of home-made medicating cream on the bathroom vanity. As she twisted the cap off, allowing a yellowish clear ointment to ooze out and slide down the side before catching it with her finger, not wasting a drop, Olive thought to herself. I must get to the MFA store to purchase more Pristine fungicide. Those Gol-damned croakers don’t seem to live too long after a heavy dose of it around my garden! And it appears to remove their egg-wart bumps from my soft skin.

The last drop of ointment squeezed out onto the palm of her hand, and she dropped the crinkled metallic tube into the trashcan. Olive began methodically rubbing its oily based goo onto her arms and hands first, and then her entire body, saving a last bit to finish the process on her neck, cheeks, and forehead. “I mustn’t get another wart on my face! I thought Jimmy Lane McCoy would never look at me again after the last time a nasty toad left his mark on me. The lye and oaky stump water liked to never removed the unwanted gift seeded in my cheek. Thank the Lord, I stumbled onto Pristine!” Olive Margarete Randall continued to massage her neck and face until it gleamed slick and shiny in the mirror’s reflection back at her with a moist lubricious glisten. She made a couple of kissing gestures to her reflected image in the mirror before turning and admiring her backside before heading back to bed. Glancing at the clock sitting on her nightstand, she shook her head, “Two a.m. Damnit! How’s a lady to get any beauty rest with those fucking frogs calling out in heat all night long!” She pictured their bloated throats bulging out to the point of bursting as their ugly croaks being released into the night air. “Horny little bastards hollering out their damned reproductive needs to a world who won’t listen and take heed, living in denial of their mission to destroy us. I’d rather live with uneaten insects they supposedly rid us of.” She shivered with disgust as she pulled the sheets tightly up to her now shiny and slippery chin, closing any opening for a stray toad in her home to be able to make its way into her bed. At that thought, she quickly turned to her side, pulling the sheet completely over her head and then burrowed down underneath it.

2

Eddie Bailes and Chad Watkins, both high-spirited pre-teenagers, slowed their stride towards school as they approached the Frog Lady’s house. Yes, Shady Acres, Arkansas was one of those tiny one stoplight towns where everybody knew everybody’s business. Even if you were only twelve. And what wasn’t a hundred percent accurate—was made up and passed along as truth in the form of gossip. This was according to Ms. Bernadette Johnston, the town crier, who Chad’s mom referred her as. All the kids at school called old-lady Olive—the Frog lady. The entire town knew that Olive Randall was overly concerned with slithery frogs and dry, dirty toads. That was a hundred percent fact, not hearsay!”

Olive would blatantly speak out about how the town should come together to rid itself of their pestilence before the nasty greasy creatures brought on something more deadly like the bubonic plague or something. Warts were bad enough, but a plague was certainly eminent if nothing was done, no plan implemented.

Chad stopped in his tracks briefly. “Eddie!” he quietly called out to his friend and reached for his shirt sleeve, giving it a slight tug. “I think I saw her through the window!”

Eddie turned back and smiled an evil grin. “You sure? I don’t wanna waste him if she ain’t there!”

“I saw her. Get him out! Quick!

Eddie bent down and opened his backpack, pulling out a Tupperware container with holes poked in the lid. He lifted it out and carefully pulled the lid slightly open, jabbing his hand inside and grasping the large rough-skinned toad into his grip. He looked up at Chad and nodded.

“Hey, Frog Lady! Trick or Treat?” Chad hollered out with all the air in his lungs backing his words.

A moment later, the front door snapped open, and the old, tattered screen door quickly hit the outside of the house’s siding with a sharp thwack! “You little heathens are a week early! Get to school and do some learning!” she yelled as she stepped out onto her rickety wooden porch, the screen door slapping closed behind her.

Eddie stood up from the sidewalk in front of the white picket fence and drew his closed hand behind his right ear before hollering back, “Here’s your treat, Frog lady!”, he then hurled his closed grip forward with all his might like St. Louis Cardinals pitcher, Adam Wainwright, opening his fingers at just the appropriate timing to send the fat round toad hurling through the air. He then quickly looked down at his pee-soaked hand before returning his vision back up to the Frog Lady’s porch. He acted like he was patting his friend on his shoulder—but really, he was wiping off the toad’s piss.

Both boys stood paralyzed as the toad seemed to float through the air in slow motion, spinning end over end. The creature’s fingers reaching every direction to grasp anything to slow its spinning—Olive stood silently taking it all in, expecting the probable rock being catapulted towards her to either shatter a window or crack a thunderous bang when it hit the siding. What happened though, is something she couldn’t possibly have expected.

There came a sudden sickening thud, not a sharp bang like Olive expected. Once the traveling object ended its arc through the air to a spot about a foot from the window and possibly three or four feet from her, the object bounced with a dull ka thump. She glanced over and saw a dripping, bloody, goo oozing down into a growing puddle. That nastiness trailing down the white siding caused her stomach to wretch at its sight. Olive’s eyes followed over to the wooden slatted porch, spying a crumpled blob of brown fleshy skin and legs that lay motionless. Still unaware of just what it was, she moved closer until witnessing its eyes suddenly pop open. A shallow grumbled groan gurgled from its mouth before a rush of bloody mush slipped from between its lips and spilled out onto the porch. As if that wouldn’t have been bad enough for a person deathly afraid of frogs and toads—a moment even worse unfolded as Olive’s eyes focused making her aware of what had just taken place before her. She looked up at the boys in shock and appeared to have no idea how to react. She stumbled a bit and then backstepped to the right and reached for a broom leaning against the house near the front door.

 

3

Olive’s world changed in an instant. Who would have ever dreamed a couple of overzealous kid’s pre-Halloween trick could cause such a string of events.

Eddie and Chad stood statuesque in their tracks peering over the white picket fence, their eyes wide-open orbs frozen with fright, never realizing the possible repercussions such an act could deliver. The world became very still. No wind, no sounds of bugs or birds. Not a single car or pedestrian in sight. An eerie hush seemed to have fallen over the entire town of Shady Acres, Arkansas. No movement but the staggered motion of the Frog lady gripping the broom handle and slightly swaying in tiny circles as if beginning to swirl in the air like a plane just before nose-diving into the ground. Silence so dead, the straw bristles of the broom as it began to be scooted towards the dead toad, could be heard across the yard to the sidewalk the two boys stood. Swish… Swish….

Just as the shafts of straw from the surface of the broom touched the clump of smooshed toad, it happened. Its throat ballooned and bulged for a moment as if attempting one last gasp of air to complete a final act. Frog lady instinctively stopped the sweeping action and slowly—bravely—began to lean down closer toward the toad. She was obviously fighting her phobia of such a creature, drawn to see if her eyes were truly witnessing the horrible sight of what was happening. “You nasty little wart-filled fucker—you can’t possibly still be alive…” Her nostrils flared slightly as if she’d caught wind of something. Her face showed an expression of catching the scent of a stench in the air. Olive turned and stared evil daggers at the two hoodlums who had brought this hellish act upon her.

Out of nowhere came an instant burst of energy within that toad. Call it a final death jump, but it leaped into the air with a vengeance toward Olive in such a way it caught her totally off-guard. Its bloodied, gooey body slapped into Olive’s face with such velocity, allowing her no time to maneuver a hand in front to cover herself. She stammered before quickly stumbling backward, tripping over her broom handle and banging the back of her head against the house’s wall before falling back forward to the ground. As luck would have it, the now dead toad’s body cushioned her face from landing full force onto the hard wooden planks. After all was still and motionless, Eddie and Chad turned, staring into each other’s eyes in total disbelief, realizing they were both in huge trouble, but also knowing they mustn’t just leave her there to die.

Chad looked over at Eddie, “I think you killed her….”

“I… I… uh… no… it wasn’t… it’s not my… I didn’t mean….” was all Eddie could seem to muster.

“You gotta go see if she’s alive, Eddie!” Chad grabbed his friend’s shoulders and shook him. “We can’t just leave her. I don’t wanna go to jail!”

Eddie’s feet began to slowly shuffle back and forth, the first movement he’d made since being frozen after watching the toad leave a blood trail down the side of Frog lady’s white siding. His steps began as tiny trembly steps and as he reached the first seam or crack in the sidewalk, he instinctively stepped over it. He looked back at Chad who still stood stiffly in place as if his feet were glued to the concrete.

“Don’t you leave me, Chad! You promise?” he asked in a pleading tone.

“I won’t. My feet wanna run like hell, but my brain can’t make ‘em move even if I could.”

Eddie’s legs stiffly walked him closer and closer to the porch steps as if he were on stilts. He kept looking back at Chad to make sure he hadn’t abandoned him. He lifted his left foot up onto the first cement step, cautiously dragging his right foot up to the second step which put him almost eye to eye with Frog lady’s face. He quickly noticed he couldn’t see any sign of the toad, but the old lady’s cheek was lying in a reddish-brown puddle of what he assumed was toad guts. He felt his stomach move upward inside. He looked back at his friend hesitantly just before he lost the fight to keep his morning breakfast donuts and milk within him. The smell overwhelmed him along with the sight of the old lady’s face lying in the puddle of guts, her lips resting in the glob of pudding-like slosh. Flies already busily buzzing around sensing the feast laid out.

“Is she breathing?” Chad yelled out in worried question.

Eddie was too lost in his fight to keep from vomiting again to hear the question, let alone answer it. His head appeared to be woozy as it wobbled back and forth. He looked as if he were fighting the call to fall face first into the mess himself. That was the moment which must have been the toad’s last breath of trapped air inside its lungs exited. There was a slight sound of a belch that caused the old lady’s lip to waffle slightly from the force of air before lifelessly falling back down into the splatter. She coughed slightly, blowing a tiny wave of the hardening liquid away from her mouth followed by a strong inhale of oxygen pulling some of the stringy, greasy substance back to her lips. Her eyes suddenly flicked wide open as if someone had held smelling salts to her nose, scaring the bejesus out of Eddie. He screamed, which caused the Frog lady to jerk her head up from the porch floor like a zombie come back to life. She lifted her hand and wiped at her face, feeling a wet and likely sticky substance around her mouth and cheek. She put both hands on the porch and worked at lifting herself up, seemingly collecting her bearings. From a position on all fours, she looked down at her blood and gut covered hands. She lifted one to her nose taking in the odor before quickly pulling her palm away and wiping it on her sundress. She shrieked loudly as she now saw the young boy on his knees resting on the concrete steps slightly below her.

Eddie screamed and quickly jumped up before turning and tumbling down after tripping up on the bottom stair. He was laid out barely a second before clamoring up on his feet and hightailing it down the short walk and through the gate of the picket fence. Eddie’s eyes met Chad’s and they both took off running down the sidewalk towards their school, screaming bloody hell along the way in terror.

 

4

Olive quickly made her way into the house and hopped into the shower, scrubbing her entire body with rigorous resolve, but specifically concentrating on her hands and face. She spat repeatedly down at the drain below as she now imagined newly implanted amphibian eggs underneath her skin’s surface and even her tongue. “Oh, dear me!” she spat again, over, and over. “Those… those… damned little bastards! What have they done to me?” she spit again as she scrubbed at her face with the rough loofa sponge until it burned like sandpaper being drug across her lips and cheeks. Leaning forward, steadying herself with her shaky hands against the wall, she began heaving at the recollection of where her face had been lying and the mess which was still left contaminating her porch. She wretched and then gagged, followed by uncontrolled coughing dry-heave fits. “Oh, dear me. What will I do?” she asked aloud. “Bleck huh huh…” she spewed as she slowly slid down the shower wall and collapsed onto the floor of the tub, pulling the shower curtain down along with her snail-paced drop. The water rained down from the shower head splattering on top of her along with the plastic sheet causing an unfamiliar sound; the water now also directed onto the tiled floor. “My life is a fucking mess,” she cried aloud. “I’ll be taken over by frogs and toads for certain now. They’re too deep within my body to kill….”

Once Olive finally crawled out of the shower and cleaned up the mess on the bathroom floor, she went out the back door to the garage where she kept her newly purchased reserve of Pristine. She poured a cup and a half of the pesticide into a mixing bowl along with some Vaseline and Peroxide, using the eggbeater to amalgamate the ingredients into an ointment. She would cover herself with her concoction after pouring it straight from the bottle onto her porch and outside wall. I must cover everything thoroughly to kill the wart virus. Afterall, she was supposed to go out to dinner tonight with Jimmy Lane. I can’t have fresh warts tonight, no sir. He wouldn’t understand….

Jimmy Lane McCoy was the only man left in Shady Acres to ever pay her any attention anymore. The good kind of attention anyway. All the other men at the MFA store either shunned her or made themselves absent from sight when she went to get her supply of Pristine. Jimmy was always there to lift the bottle down from the shelf and then carry it out to her car. He would generally wink at her as he closed the trunk and then compliment her on how her sundress fit so nicely. She knew he was more than likely only interested in what she could do for him behind closed doors, but it was the only real human contact she’d gotten for so long that she didn’t care anymore. She’d be his occasional good time because it was good for her too. Not too many women of her age still enjoyed activities such as they shared, or at least she imagined it that way. She laughed when she tried to picture an “oh, oh face” on Mrs. Bernadette Johnston.  She also knew frog’s warts on her body would put an end to her “oh face” Jimmy Lane provided her. Yes, I’ll dose myself up good for tonight—she thought to herself as she continued to stir the mixture into an oily ointment. Damned toads and frogs aren’t going to ruin things with Jimmy Lane and me. He’s a keeper!

An hour later, Olive stepped from the bathroom appearing like a frail prune smothered in vegetable oil.Slick and shiny but toxic as rat poison, of which she held no clue.

 

5

“Hey, Jimmy…” Billy Dale snickered, “…your crazy little old Frog Lady came into the store today. Bought herself another bottle a Pristine fungicide. What the hell she trying to get rid of? Don’t she know that shit is toxic as turpentine and lye? Dang, Jimmy, it’s expensive too, and she’s only got less than three quarter acre a land.”

“She hates frogs, Billy. Deathly afraid of ‘em. She told me ole Doc Seevers says she’s got rani… ranid… awe shit. Ranida… something. Ranidaphobia, I think, though that don’t sound right.”

Billy scrunched his eyes together as he asked, “What the fuck is that? Some kinda—sexual disease? Is it contagious, ‘cause I’ve bumped bare skin up against her’s a time or two when helpin’ her out with loadin’ her purchases into her car?”

Jimmy laughed. “Billy, you dumbass. It’s something concerning an unnatural fear of frogs—some kinda mental thing. I Googled it and it’s like she believes frogs are evolving and gonna take over humankind, or some kinda shit like that. And I don’t believe it’s contagious, and dang for sure not from bumpin’ anything but uglies together.” He winked and snorted. “…and you best not be tryin’ to horn in on my—arrangement with Ms. Olive.

“You’re okay with datin’ a bat-shit crazy lady like that? Hell, my ole lady loves to cook their slimy-ass legs up in a skillet of lard and eat ‘em breaded!” He chuckled. Wonder what the Frog lady would think of that?”

“First off, Billy, we ain’t exactly datin’. We got an understanding between us…” he winked. “Second, there ain’t exactly a string of—available—single ladies lined up to be “special” friends with an old goat like me here in Shady Acres—or the three surroundin’ counties. I already done checked! Besides, she’s quite a looker dancin’ around in her birthday suit!” He chuckled.

“So, what’s she doing with all the Pristine Fungicide? Bathin’ in it?”

“Lord, I hope not! She says it kills them frogs lickity-split. Skeeter Lake butts up to her back fence and she claims there’s frogs breeding back there 24/7. Croaking all night long, lookin’ for more action! Pristine seems to shut ‘em up quick!”

“With what’s she’s been buyin’—she must be living in a patch of the most toxic property in all the county—hell, the whole state, for that matter. I wanna hear about it if you start seeing her goodies down south glowing in chartreuse!”

“Billy Dale, you’re a special kinda sick, you know what I’m sayin’?”

 

6

Six-thirty sharp and Jimmy Lane McCoy stood dressed in his best pair of jeans and a bright brown and orange flannel shirt from Walmart. He’d spied it hanging in the men’s section, just past the kid’s Halloween aisle. He deemed it appropriate for the season. He also held a bag of raspberry and dark chocolate Ghirardelli’s held behind his back. He knew they were Olive’s favorite and they rarely stocked ‘em at the Pinewood Bluff Wally World eighteen miles west of town, the closest fancy store around. These oughta put Olive in a sweet and naughty mood he thought as he waited with anticipation. His machinery was cold and dry, as Olive had put their visits off a couple of times previous, claiming some sorta rash or something. His engine was warmed and idling tonight though, ready to perform.

As the front door opened, he reached for the screen door. This Hallows eve held a damp chill in the air, probably why the costumed-up kids in their goblin suits and pillowcases were gettin’ a slow start spookin’ the neighborhoods and panhandling for candy treats house to house. He had to admit, Halloween was never his favorite holiday. Heck, he didn’t even consider it as such. It was just another ploy like Valentine’s Day for the candy companies to force us to buy their overpriced goods. But on the other hand, the chocolates he brought tonight, was gonna bring pleasure to both. If’n the doorbell don’t keep a ringin’ from dressed up kids interruptin’ business.

“Evening, Olive. You sure are a sight for sore eyes tonight. You are certainly glimmerin’ like diamonds in the sky.” He knew he could sweet sap it up with the best of ‘em. He held his hand out that clutched the Walmart bag holding the Ghirardelli’s. “Something sweet to titillate your tastebuds, ma’am?” He smiled a huge grin as Olive stepped back into the darkness of her dimly lit living room. He noticed she appeared to only be wearing a nightgown. He quickly thought to himself, she must be as primed and ready as myself, and he reached to touch her bare arm. “Hmmm,” he said in a low grumble, “You all lubricated up and ready to slip and slide?”

Olive’s throat bulged momentarily, bleeding off a small amount of gas in an odd groan. “Oh, dear me. You’ll have to excuse me, Jimmy Lane. I do believe the hotdog I had for lunch is attempting to talk back!” she smiled. Olive took the bag and peeked inside. “Ewww, Ghirardelli’s! My favorite.” She dropped it on the coffee table letting his hand slip down her lotioned arm into the palm that tugged him towards the bedroom. A sultry smile was given as fingers began to twist each button from his flannel.

“Well, I do declare, Ms. Olive, this is about the fastest courtship before we’ve gotten to this point. Is it the full moon tonight, or maybe the fact it’s Halloween?”

“No, Jimmy Lane, I—I just have a very strong—urge tonight that needs satisfied.”

“Well, hello and howdy do—fillin’ urges is what I do best, ma’am!”

Olive directed Jimmy to lie down on the bed and she climbed in under the sheets and then literally slid on top of him, the oils on her body making it very slippery against each other’s wrinkled skin.

Another deep groan of a gaseous croak sounded very near. “I hate to even ask—for fear of stirring you up—but could a frog have made his way from the lake to the inside of your home?”

“Oh, Jimmy Lane, just shut the hell up and ignore it, I’m the ranidaphobic around here—not you—for goodness sakes. Enjoy yourself and just keep up the rhythm.” Her throat began to swell, causing her voice to drop an octave lower.

“You feeling okay tonight, Olive? You sound different.”

“I’m fine, Jimmy Lane. I’d be better if you’d just concentrate on what you’re supposed to be doing. Did you take your pill?” Olive croaked again as her throat swelled even larger.

Suddenly Jimmy felt panic. He saw Olive’s neck bulge like a frog’s and heard another loud croak. “What the….”

Olive put her hands on each of Jimmy’s shoulders and applied a supernatural force holding him firm as he began to squirm. She enjoyed his attempts at escape, the slippery, greasy friction between them caused her throat to begin mushrooming again. Jimmy’s eyes grew wider as he watched a balloon swell below Olive’s chin. His hands free he tried to grip her arms, but his palms slid down her slimy and bumpy skin. The two wrestled but somehow Olive’s strength was superhuman. Jimmy wriggled and writhed attempting to maintain any grip he could so he could toss her aside and escape. Panic set in and with each attempt he merely slid deeper under her control. He watched as her face began to transform before him. Terror-stricken, his eyes became whiter and whiter as his eyeball orbs poked out farther from their sockets, feeling as if they might explode. Warts began to appear across Olive’s slickening facial features.

The doorbell suddenly rang, and he could hear the chatter of kid’s ghoulish calls and giggles. He tried to wail out a warning, but Olive’s tongue darted out from her mouth lassoing his, drawing it to her gullet before tearing it loose and swallowing it whole. Jimmy’s eyes appeared wet with fear and became too big a temptation for Olive to hold out any longer. Her hunger for salty protein transformed the previous reproductive needs into feeding an empty stomach. Her tongue once again shot out from her mouth, its glue-like surface quickly slapped Jimmy’s bulging left eye as if it were a juicy winged mayfly. In an instant the blue-eyed ball was pulled from its socket and withdrawn back into the Frog lady’s gullet and swallowed with a gargling gulp.

A burst of panic-filled terror gave Jimmy the wherewithal means to break free of whatever Olive had become. He managed to roll her from himself and into the wall with a slithery thud. He quickly slid off the bed and onto the floor, slime and bloody goo trailed behind him as he desperately pulled himself towards the front door. His vision wasn’t right, it was blurred. The left side of his face burned and felt hollow. The stink-filled fluid that covered his body began to sting. As he reached for the knob of the front door, he struggled to twist it in his greasy grip. Jimmy heard the booming croak from Olive. “Blecch—Jimmy!”

The door creaked open to the sounds of “Trick or Treat” before the smell and sight of what was inside the dark opening overwhelmed. Jimmy saw from his one good eye a string of ghouls and goblins leading from the white picket fence up the sidewalk and to the door he now lay at the foot of. A pirate and a soldier were the only outlines he could make out in his foggy, blood-filled sight. “Hel… help… me…” was all Jimmy could spit from his goo-filled mouth before his face hit the floor with a dull wet thud.

Children’s screams of fright mixed with giggles in the distance was all that could be heard before the pirate snapped his head to the soldier and yelled, “Let’s get the hell outta here, Chad!” It took nothing else to convince the soldier and pirate to plow through the other ghouls and Halloween goblins lined up down the cement steps and along the sidewalk. Shocked and confused looks appeared across the children’s faces as they pulled the masks from their heads. Parents stood stoic as they wondered in amazement how Ms. Olive Margarete Randall had pulled such an excellent ghoulish Halloween trick or treat scene.

An eerie silence hung overhead for mere seconds before the door flew wide open where the gathered crowd of children dressed in costumes from ghosts to Cinderella’s, cowboys to witches, all holding pillowcases bulging with apples and candies, stared at a naked, oiled and wrinkled form of the Frog Lady—Ms. Olive Margarete Randall. Below her lay the bloodied body of Jimmy Lane McCoy, also naked and greased up with something red and stringy dangling from where his left eye should be.

Mouths dropped from every face in the crowd as Olive’s neck began to swell larger and larger into a thin-skinned, bulging balloon sized image, appearing as if it would explode at any moment.

From the very back of the crowd, closest to the street, came a yell in the voice of a young boy by the name of Eddie Bailes… “It’s the Goddamned Frog Lady… I knew she was a fuckin’ amphibious monster!”

The moment of silence ended. A loud croak escaped from Olive’s gullet as the massive gas-filled balloon let out a final long croak as it shriveled back down to a collection of floppy skin dangling from underneath her chin. An instant later, she fell cold-ass dead on top of her already expired “special friend with benefits” … Jimmy Lane McCoy.

Shady Acres, Arkansas was put on the map after the Halloween of 2022 with a new festival celebrated each first Saturday of Fall, now known as Bullfrog Frying Days, where you can eat fried legs on a stick and witness the weigh-ins and prize for the largest frog pulled outta Skeeter Lake. Sa—lute.

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Written by Eli Pope
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: Eli Pope


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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