Read by Michael Flamel
In the quaint farmhouse I share with Dan, a self-proclaimed city boy with a phobia of anything larger than a small insect, life takes unexpected turns. To truly appreciate the madness that unfolds, one must first grasp Dan’s lack of common sense.
My penchant for acquiring plants has turned our patios into veritable jungles. On a particular Summer morning, as I diligently watered the overgrown greenery, an unexpected guest made an appearance. There, snugly wedged between two black pots, was an ENORMOUS toad, defying the laws of toad physics.
Undeterred, I continued my watering routine, toad and all. Little did I know that this would set the stage for a hilarious encounter with Dan.
In the midst of my gardening endeavors, Dan, ever fascinated by the spectacle of work, joined me. Annoyed by his presence, I seized the opportunity to send him on a peculiar errand. “Dan,” I said, “Go to the kitchen porch steps, find two square pots on the third step, and bring them here.”
With a nonchalant “Sure,” Dan strolled away. Anticipating the impending chaos, I waited on my knees with a trowel.
To my surprise, there was no immediate scream. Silence hung in the air. Then, Dan reappeared, holding the pots together with the toad still sandwiched between them. Old Oblivious was blissfully unaware.
“Dan,” I sighed. “Put the pots down gently, release them gently, and take a close look.”
As he obeyed, the toad, seemingly unfazed, flopped out towards him. Dan’s scream was priceless, and I couldn’t contain my laughter.
Not one to miss a photographic opportunity, Dan rushed inside, returning with his camera. With intense focus, he bent down for a close-up of the toad, blissfully ignorant of the impending amphibian rebellion.
The toad, having had enough of the paparazzi treatment, hopped toward Dan. Panic ensued. Dan’s roar echoed, the camera went airborne, and disaster loomed. Miraculously, Dan managed to save the camera mid-air, but this only further spooked the toad, setting off a chain reaction of hops and screams.
As I lay on my back, laughter uncontrollable, I realized that while life in our farmhouse may be peculiar, it’s undeniably entertaining and never dull. ❖
About the Author: Jim Dronenburg hails from Maryland and is an accountant by day, an Irish harper by night, and is involved in multiple garden clubs in the DC Metro region. He has an 1840’s farmhouse on a hill overlooking the Potomac River on one side, and the Virginia hills on the other.
