Posted December 17, 200618 yr About a week after getting my first truck (I was 17), I was exploring some new roads on the South Shore, and at a certain point, was going rather too quickly around a tight bend in a road between two marshy areas with high reeds. When I took the turn, I ran over dozens and dozens of little frogs that were apparently crossing the street. I felt awful. The the road finally terminated in in a cul-de-sac, and I had to go back. When I got to the turn, I got out and inspected the carnage. IT WAS HORRIBLE. It was actually close to a hundred little frogs I'd hit. They were TINY. It looked like a set of green and red skidmarks, and the little frogs near the edges of my tires had only been half-squished. A bunch of them were still quivering, or had their eyes bulging out of the skulls. One in particular, was staring at me. Its entire lower half was no more than a smear, and was stuck to the hot pavement. Its little arms were twitching, and it eyes were FOLLOWING me. I cried. While I cried, I stomped on all of them that were still alive. There were a lot, but it seemed the only humane thing to do. At about that point, two little girls rode up on their bikes and saw me bawling my eyes out and squishing frogs. They were maybe 7. They looked at me, they looked at the frogs, and then they took off screaming. I got scared for some reason. I felt guilty, and the proof of my horrendous crime was now not only smeared across half the road, but all over my white sneakers as well. I wiped my shoes off in some grass, hopped in my truck, and took off. By now, I wasn't crying anymore. By this point, I was in total control. I was running scared-- conVINCED the police, or the MSPCA or someone would be looking for me, I had to eliminate the witnesses. It was a long road, with no houses. I caught up to those little girls in no time flat-- pulled up in front of them, grabbed some rope from the back, and two red sweatshirt sleeves I had in there for hauling lumber. I tied them together, face to face, with their arms tied securely to their sides and the sweatshirt sleeves stuffed in their mouths. Then I tied their bikes to them. It was a like a weird mechanical cocoon. It was heavy, but I managed to haul the whole thing about 30 yards into the marsh , dragging the girls and the bikes from one little muddy islet to the next until I found a nice deep-looking spot in the water. I tossed them in. They struggled for a while, but were tied securely, and soon quieted. One of the handlebars was still poking up out of the water, so I jumped on the whole mess until it sank far enough into the mud to hide everything. Then I smoked a joint and a couple of cigarettes. I felt bad, sure, but at least this time I wouldn't get caught. After my third or fourth cigarette, I noticed a little frog near the water. I scooped him up and put him in my pocket. Then I walked back to the road, hopped in my truck, and went home. That frog is full-grown now. And so cute. You'd just love him. I do. I keep him on a little leash so he won't get run over by a truck.
December 17, 200618 yr who the hell would feel guilty about killing frogs? i would freely take a deagle to the things and still sleep quite well :sly:
December 17, 200618 yr Author who the hell would feel guilty about killing frogs? i would freely take a deagle to the things and still sleep quite well :sly: FROGS HAVE FEELINGS TOO
December 17, 200618 yr who the hell would feel guilty about killing frogs? i would freely take a deagle to the things and still sleep quite well :sly: Had a rough childhood, did you?
December 17, 200618 yr http://www.denijsdesign.de/dd_images/i_foto/v_c4_froschgequetscht_1.jpg http://www.subgenius.com/bigfist/pics10/IMBJR-collection/imbjr1/dead_frog_day.jpg I didn't even bother to read his far-too-long-post btw.
December 17, 200618 yr http://www.subgenius.com/bigfist/pics10/IMBJR-collection/imbjr1/dead_frog_day.jpg lol, wtf?
December 17, 200618 yr Author http://www.denijsdesign.de/dd_images/i_foto/v_c4_froschgequetscht_1.jpg http://www.subgenius.com/bigfist/pics10/IMBJR-collection/imbjr1/dead_frog_day.jpg I didn't even bother to read his far-too-long-post btw. no u
December 18, 200618 yr About a week after getting my first truck (I was 17), I was exploring some new roads on the South Shore, and at a certain point, was going rather too quickly around a tight bend in a road between two marshy areas with high reeds. When I took the turn, I ran over dozens and dozens of little frogs that were apparently crossing the street. I felt awful. The the road finally terminated in in a cul-de-sac, and I had to go back. When I got to the turn, I got out and inspected the carnage. IT WAS HORRIBLE. It was actually close to a hundred little frogs I'd hit. They were TINY. It looked like a set of green and red skidmarks, and the little frogs near the edges of my tires had only been half-squished. A bunch of them were still quivering, or had their eyes bulging out of the skulls. One in particular, was staring at me. Its entire lower half was no more than a smear, and was stuck to the hot pavement. Its little arms were twitching, and it eyes were FOLLOWING me. I cried. While I cried, I stomped on all of them that were still alive. There were a lot, but it seemed the only humane thing to do. At about that point, two little girls rode up on their bikes and saw me bawling my eyes out and squishing frogs. They were maybe 7. They looked at me, they looked at the frogs, and then they took off screaming. I got scared for some reason. I felt guilty, and the proof of my horrendous crime was now not only smeared across half the road, but all over my white sneakers as well. I wiped my shoes off in some grass, hopped in my truck, and took off. By now, I wasn't crying anymore. By this point, I was in total control. I was running scared-- conVINCED the police, or the MSPCA or someone would be looking for me, I had to eliminate the witnesses. It was a long road, with no houses. I caught up to those little girls in no time flat-- pulled up in front of them, grabbed some rope from the back, and two red sweatshirt sleeves I had in there for hauling lumber. I tied them together, face to face, with their arms tied securely to their sides and the sweatshirt sleeves stuffed in their mouths. Then I tied their bikes to them. It was a like a weird mechanical cocoon. It was heavy, but I managed to haul the whole thing about 30 yards into the marsh , dragging the girls and the bikes from one little muddy islet to the next until I found a nice deep-looking spot in the water. I tossed them in. They struggled for a while, but were tied securely, and soon quieted. One of the handlebars was still poking up out of the water, so I jumped on the whole mess until it sank far enough into the mud to hide everything. Then I smoked a joint and a couple of cigarettes. I felt bad, sure, but at least this time I wouldn't get caught. After my third or fourth cigarette, I noticed a little frog near the water. I scooped him up and put him in my pocket. Then I walked back to the road, hopped in my truck, and went home. That frog is full-grown now. And so cute. You'd just love him. I do. I keep him on a little leash so he won't get run over by a truck. You acted rather rashly, but ultimately you did the right thing.
