Please Let It Be a Frog

We have a frog in our office vent. Now, I like frogs, but not when they’re croaking at me from some unseen location. Then it’s more like a stalker, like a creeper. Here’s the thing ... we think it’s a frog. I first heard the loud, fire-alarmy sound while on the phone with my mother. She heard it too and asked, “What’s that?” I looked at the far wall, a mere eight feet away, and hoped Jerry’d rigged up some buzzer system to remind him to turn off the grow light. Please, God, let it be a frog and not some psycho cicada or rare hissing snake.

My imagination is my worst enemy in such situations. I don’t watch horror movies, but in my mind I’ve created such a terrifying creature that I will not describe it. I’ve never seen anything this scary in film, except maybe for that hand-eye anorexic beast from Pan’s Labyrinth. Heinous! Anywho, whenever I hear the call of the creature in our vent (please, God, let it be in the vent and not hiding behind my desk or the trash can waiting to latch a squishy tentacle onto my ankle or sink a fang into my flesh!), I run out of the office. My computer’s in there, so, of course, I return, feeling brave and rather like a contestant on Fear Factor. Okay, I keep looking around, making sure nothing’s slithering toward me. As I said, I like frogs, but I don’t want them touching me.

Jerry’s quite enjoying our mysterious office guest. But even he stands still and stares when its loud bellow commands our attention. LOUD! What could be so loud and still remain hidden? Frog sounds like a good guess. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see ... or not. The siren-cry could simply stop and remain a mystery forever. Please God...