Download Game! Currently 121 players and visitors. Last logged in:KookyOkkVoxxRavsavage

Library: Frog's Legs

Books

Author: Unreserved
Date:Jan 5 2002

Frog Legs, a Short Tale from the Seabird Inn

  I was a younger man, working as a bouncer at the Seabird Inn, next 
to the river.  For the most part the job was pretty good, there weren't
too many rough customers and it left me a lot of time to work on learning
songs for my guild.  I was a bard of shadowkeep then, but I needed the
extra money; working nights was an easy way to pay the bills.

  The inn was a nice place, by anyone's standards.  The gambling was
on the level, the girls were clean and generally pretty, and the place
was situated at a nice crossroad near the city of Ravensflyte on the
great river.  On clear afternoons you could see the smoke from the
cookfires of the city of Sungate all the way across the river.  I never
set foot in Sungate myself, but the skyline was pretty and I'd sit out
in front of the Seabird, smoking my pipe and practicing my songs some
afternoons in the autumn months before my evening shift as doorman.

  I could probably tell you stories from there until your ears fall off
but my favorite memory from that place took place on a cool autumn
evening after I'd had a last fill of hemplan blend and headed inside
maybe two hours before sundown.

  Well this kid that came in shortly after I'd started my shift, and we
didn't see too many kids there.  Certainly not any kids as young as he was.
Well this kid can't be more than 12 years old, and he's got this totally 
flat-dead frog dragging behind him on an absolutely filthy string.  I let 
him in, since we don't really have any enforced age restrictions for the 
girls upstairs, and he walks up to the desk.  We try not to serve kids, 
but the universal arbiter (gold) usually settles the matter.  I'm 
interested to hear what this kid has to say so I lean a little closer 
myself.  Closer to the desk, that is, not closer to the dead frog.

  "I need a girl," says the kid.
  "We don't serve little kids here," the madam lies.
  "Sure you do," he says, and plunks down ten mithril coins on the desk.
  "Well, okay," the madam says, "what kinda girl ya want, kid?"
  I couldn't help staring at the frog, it helped me to keep from laughing.
  "Dirty." the kid says.
  "Honey, they're ALL dirty here." the madam smirks.
  "No, I mean she has to have some kind of venereal disease." the kid says.
  "Hey, all my girls are clean here!" the madam exclaims.
  "I'm not kidding," the kid says, and he slaps down another ten mithril.
  "Okay hon, you got a dirty girl in room 101." the madam says, sliding
this huge pile of mithril across the desk and into the lockbox.  We both
watch the kid walk into the main room, climb the stairs, and disappear
into the room still dragging that dead frog on a string.  I shrugged my
shoulders at her, she raises an eyebrow at me and goes back to reading
her trashy novel.  She always had a crap novel behind the desk, some cheap
romance stories that she'd get from somewhere.  This one seemed to be about
a wealthy catfolk family and their affairs of the heart.  I tried not to get
involved in conversations with her about her books, I made that mistake once
a long time ago but that's an entirely different off-colour story.

  So we're still joking around with each other about the kid upstairs and his 
dead frog, at least I'm still wondering why the kid wanted the girl to have 
a disease, when the door labelled "101" creaks open and then slams shut.  
Sure enough, here comes the kid with a HUGE(tm) grin on his face; he is also, 
of course, still dragging the dead frog behind him on the filthy string.

  Well the kid is almost right in front of me and he's still grinning as he
heads for the door with his dead frog; I can't take the suspense anymore and
I stop him.

  "Hey, kid," I ask, "I just have to know why you wanted a dirty girl."
  "Oh that." the kid says, still smiling.
  "Yes, that," I say, "What gives?"
  "Well," says the kid, "When I get home, I'll screw my babysitter and she'll
get the VD."
  "Right," I said, "Then what?"
  "About an hour later, my parents will be home from their eq party," he says.
  "Okay," I say, "I'm still following, I think."
  "Well," the kid says, "dad will walk the babysitter home and screw her 
and then he'll get the VD from her."
  At this point I should make it clear that I still had no idea why the kid
wanted any of these people to catch a venereal disease.  I decided that I
probably wouldn't be able to get to sleep until I found out, so I asked him
to continue.
  "Right," I say, "go on, kid."
  "So after that, he'll come home and screw mom and she'll get the VD."
  "Wait," I stop him, "now you want your mother to get it too?"
  "That's right," he says, "Tomorrow morning dad will leave the castle
and the milkman will show up.  He'll screw my mom and then he'll get the VD."
  "And that's important?" I ask.
  "It sure is," the kid says, "he's the son of a bitch that stepped on my
frog."


Books