By David Porter
Once upon a Lilly pad lived two young frogs, Jasper and Horace. They lived around the crescent pond at Windmill Farm. You know it, – the one on the left at the end of the long and winding country lane. At the side of the apple orchard where you used to go scrumping for apples.
Jasper and Horace had met as young tadpoles, grown up together, grown legs together and were like two peas in a pod. Sort of green and round in shape, bursting to get out and about into the wider world.
They shared a passion for mischief, nothing too naughty though, the farm birds had noticed. It will all end in tiers hooted the wise old owl, who seemed to like the frog friend duo.
One summer’s day while hopping around, looking for their next adventure, one of the frog chums spotted a chance to explore the big silver tower. The tower that had been brought in and out of the shed, the shed that made strange noises when the big black and white frogs went inside. At the side of the tower was a wooden vertical frame, separated by horizontal jumping platforms – a ladder I can hear you say.
Come on Horace, we can jump up and see what is inside the tower, Jasper tempted. I don’t know if I want to Horace replied, obviously apprehensive about what they may find. Being a frog pleaser by nature Horace followed Jasper as they vaulted rung after rung, two amphibian astronauts heading for take-off.
With one final leap they landed on the rim of the tower. Below them was a sea of tranquillity, a new white pond like no frog had ever seen. One small leap for frog, but a giant leap for frog-kind yelled Jasper
In he jumped, basking in the coolness of the mellow liquid. Horace obviously followed, frog pleasing yet again. After a few minutes Jasper decided he’d had enough of the milky taste of the new pond and decided to get out. In an instant he cried out to Horace quick we need to get out I’m sinking. He would have been up to his neck in it, if frogs had necks.
Horace quickly realised they were trapped, with no way obvious of getting out of their predicament. Keep kicking Jasper, we’ll need to think of something quickly he croaked.
I can’t replied Jasper, it’s impossible. I can’t think of anything else other than to just give up.
Horace kicked and kicked, like a bucking bronco at a Wild West rodeo. Jasper rolled over, accepting the inevitable consequences for them both. Undeterred Horace kicked, and kicked, and kicked again until something slowly started to happen. The milk curdled and became heavy on the young frogs legs. Determined they wouldn’t end up as a cheesy delicacy, he whisked up more effort and eventually felt the milk turn into layers of something, cheese like Lilly pads began to emerge. Horace jumped onto the first one, exhausted by his efforts.
He looked behind, and without a moment of thought pulled Jasper on to the next one.
Horace, chest puffed out, looked around. Hard cheese to quitters he thought
Jasper and Horace were both able to leap out of their predicament onto their next adventure. Jasper followed whilst Horace led the way…
I said it would all end in layers said the wise old owl ………..