- 6 Pages
“I am the frogman!” he gurgled as chunks of vomit spewed from his mouth.
Thinking they were newly hatched eggs he scooped them up, rushed to the toilet and threw them in. “If only I could get my hands on a burrito,” he thought. Slowly, the Frogman staggered into the kitchen and checked the freezer for food. With no burrito in sight, he took a deep breath and pulled his machete from his pocket and slowly started to saw his fingers off from his left hand.
“You could have been a ballerina!” Just as he heard the voice come from the bedroom a small, thin stream of blood shot from his hand and hit him square in the eye.
“Shuddup, bitch,” he replied without hesitation.
“You could have been a ballerina,” the voice continued.
“You…you ‘stoopid’, dumpy lookin mutha-fucka-you. You could have been a god-damn, pansy assed ballerina…sweety.”
“I said, ‘shuddup.’ You stupid, poop sniffing, trick for hire, kidney bean eating, pancreas chewing, flying bambino brother looking, hairy backed, big nosed, back-woods thinking, ditch weed smokin’, goofy, hillbilly lookin mutha-fucka, you!” he shouted back.
“Now, now, now, she tittered as she slid her fat bulbous ass from her bed and waddled on her two scab encrusted trunks to the kitchen, “Save me the baby finger, you greedy mutha-fucka, you.” She said as she watched him saw away. “Oh, by the way, I still have a bit of breast milk left, would you mind?” she asked as she started to milk the nectar into a cup. He dropped the knife and scuttled to her drooping, puss encrusted mammary.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” he said as he knelt before her on his knees with his mouth open to catch the putrid fluid that dripped from above.
Just then the door burst open and Billy from next door ran in, tripping on his umbilical cord, only to land a few feet away from the frogman and his mother.
Billy has a large and very unusual umbilical cord. It was never severed from his body:
When Billy’s mother gave birth to him, she was alone. After she had successfully pulled the screaming monster from her body, she carefully cleaned the organism and dropped it onto a pile of dirty clothes.
She bit off the umbilical cord and let out an earth-shattering scream, while she pulled the afterbirth from her body. Blood and interstitial fluid sprayed out in all directions when the dark red pulp of flesh exited her malnourished body.
As she stood, a stream of blood ran down her thighs to her ankles. Afterbirth in hand, she left footprints of blood as she walked toward the kitchen and rinsed off the bloody mess from her body and dropped it in a hot pan.
She added one-eighth cup melted butter and one half a tablespoon of sweet basil, one teaspoon salt and just a pinch of pepper. She browned both sides of the afterbirth and lowered the heat to medium low. Then she let it simmer for three and one half minutes.
Mmmmmm. Mmmmmmm, good. Fresh meat is good.
She ate and she curled up in a ball and went to sleep in a corner.
Billy cried for food. His four foot umbilical cord started to move around the area surrounding the infant. It found a cockroach, snatched it up and squeezed.
The insect’s exo-skeleton crackled and a blue haze radiated around the bug. Soon, only the hollow exoskeleton remained.
Billy stopped crying.
As Billy slept, the cord rose, looking for food. Then it saw Billy’s mother and considered devouring her, then realized she was an intelligent life form.
It decided to probe her for information.
When she awoke, exhausted from the ordeal, she looked at young Billy sitting on the pile of dirty clothes where she had left him. “Oh my, I’ll have to do something about that umbilical cord,” she said to herself.
“I’m afraid that would not be a wise decision.” The high-pitched baby voice came from the Billy. “The cord will remain with me. I’m famished and in need of nourishment, a feeding would be appropriate, if you don’t mind.
You are my mother, aren’t you?”
His mother did not feed him. She did not reply. Her eyes rolled up and she feel limply to the ground.
As years went by, the cord grew with Billy.
When he was learning to walk the cord would prop itself against the ground to stop Billy from falling. It could probe and absorb information from any intelligent organism that it was near. It had absorbed all the information contained in his mother’s brain by the time Billy was two.
This rapid intake of information turned Billy into a genius and the massive intake of nourishment from the cord caused Billy’s growth to accelerate.
But the constant stream of information being fed to Billy’s brain was too much for him and soon Billy had become quite insane by the time he was four. By the time he reached five, he had no comprehension of the world around him.
The cord cared for Billy. It leads him around like a blind man’s dog. The cord cared about two things, finding nourishment and knowledge. It could absorb either from any source, and often took both.
Sometimes, when Billy just wanted to play, he would try to distract the chord, or not pay attention to its commands.
The cord would punish him with pain. A severe migraine that would cause Billy to lose track of what he was doing. He would lose his sight and hearing. All he knew was the pain. Then he would pass out.
Being a big fan of Elvis, the cord usually waited until Billy was in the bathroom to punish him. Mid-stroke of a bowel movement, it would strike. Billy would be found later, face down on the bathroom floor, just like Elvis.
And with a messy bottom, to boot.
By the time Billy was six years old the cord was as long as one of his legs. With any sudden movements, Billy usually got his legs tangled up with the cord and he’d just fall right down.
Which is what happened at the Frogman’s apartment.
Face down, in the Frogman’s apartment, Billy unwrapped the cord from his feet and looked up to see the Frogman and his mother. “Look mother, it’s a feeding frenzy!” he giggled.
His mother wasn’t in the room yet. A few moments later she came running into the room. Hitting a pool of blood on the kitchen floor, she slid out of control and fell face down into a lake of blood, which came dripping from the Frogman’s hand.
Billy’s mother skidded headfirst right into the wall. When her head hit, her leg jerked. When the leg jerked, it hit the kitchen table. When the kitchen table shook, a glass pitcher fell off the table and fell on the Frogman’s foot, which made the Frogman’s foot hurt.
Which was too bad.
The Frogman sat on the kitchen floor and leaned against the refrigerator and started to cry. “All I wanted was a little snack,” he cried.
“Stop your belly-achin’,” his mother replied. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since the day you were born,” she screamed while reaching for one of the dismembered ‘frog-fingers,’ that dropped to the floor.
“For once I’d like to see you take it like a man.” She stopped talking to chew on the finger.
“I take nothing like a man, for I am not a man…I am the Frogman,” he whimpered.
“Yeah, well you could have been a ballerina!”
“Fuck you! I AM THE FROGMAN!” he screamed hysterically. “And don’t you forget it,” he moaned, to himself, “I am the Frogman, I AM the Frogman.”
Slowly he raised himself up and went to the dining room and picked up a crusty used tampon from the floor and started to suck on it like a Popsicle.
The eating habits of these people may seem a little unusual; however, this is the result of a world gone mad.
“How did it get this way?” You may ask.
“Well, it really doesn’t matter,” I may reply.
But I’ll tell you anyway:
It all started with an invention, which is now called “Time Expansion Technology.” It was found that subatomic particles phase in and out of existence. Well they really don’t stop existing they actually phase into another universe or another dimension, no one knows for sure. We just know they stop existing here and start existing somewhere else.
And of course, all matter is made of these particles. Which means minute parts of everything stops to exist here and pops up somewhere else. This occurs very quickly, two point five, times ten to the negative seventeenth power of a second, to be more precise. In other words, it happens so fast no one can really notice. And it happens to different atoms at different times.
A scientist made a device that allowed all the subatomic particles of a person who has been properly prepared, to phase into the other dimensions in unison, for that small fraction of a second, which made the whole person not exist for a really small amount of time.
In summary, he fixed it so that the person would actually phase into the unknown dimension one hundred times as often as usual…and the whole person would phase out, instead of just one sub-atomic particle at a time.
The end result is, as person who undergoes this treatment exists in our dimension one hundred times less than normal people. Since time is a function of our dimension, aging as we know it, occurs a hundred times slower than normal. In one hundred minutes they would only age one minute. In one hundred years, a person, properly prepared, would only age one year.
And there you have it, the source of all troubles to come.
Of course this procedure was very expensive once it became public and only the extreme rich could afford to have it done.
A person who was thirty, would normally live for about forty more years. If that person had “the treatment” then he would live forty years times one hundred. That dude would live for and additional four thousand years!
Five hundred years later, several generations of normal people had passed, while the same immortals watched them come and go.
Most “immortals,” as they came to be known, sought public office, so they could control the affairs of the state, which could not be trusted in the hands of the “fly-by-night” mortals.
Simple mortals didn’t have the proper perspective, because of their short life spans. They only thought on the short term.
Eventually, immortals started to think of mortals as short-lived lower organisms. Like monkeys. Mortals were unimportant parasites that simply existed so the Immortals had a source of labor.
Most immortals grew weary of their presence, the mortals practically died as soon as they were born and they were always begging. Itty-bitty beggars with the great big eyes, it was – unsettling.
So the immortals left.
They relocated all the government offices, in the Black Hills of South Dakota.
It was determined in a fiery court battle that public offices are to be held for a period of time relative to the person holding office, not the relative time of the rest of the world. For example, an immortal president would hold office for four years…his time, which translates to four hundred years of normal time. Thus, government officials became like gods to the lower masses.
Later, the Black Hills’ name was changed to “Mount Olympus.”
Because regular people did not have the proper perspective or intelligence to make sound judgments concerning government policies, the vote of a “lower class” person was a wasted vote, and really didn’t need to be counted.
The simplest solution was to go ahead and allow the lower classes to continue voting.
The Immortals would simply bombard the Mortals with propaganda and convince the little parasites to elect persons that were pre-selected. If by some chance, the pre-selected winner was not elected, they would just find a way to discard the popular vote and put the pre-selected official in office.
Those mortals are so simple.
In summary, the lives of the common person is completely disregarded. The economy ignores the needs of the masses that would actually make the majority of purchases; therefore, no one purchases stuff because the buying masses are too poor. In other words, life sucks.
Most people will do anything for food. Women get pregnant so they can abort the fetus and sell it for food, and then they put breast-milk in bottles and sell it. Some people, when really hungry, cut off parts of their bodies and eat them. Any source of blood is cherished for food, it’s soaked in paper and and eaten when it hardens. Quite a treat.
The world of the common man spiraled down the toilet into a place we now call the United States of America.
“I got gas,” Billy said quietly.
“Oh, shuddup already! His mother screamed.
The Umbilical cord sprang to attention. With lightning speed it struck Billy’s mother on the side of the head and knocked her out.
Not able to take it anymore, the Frogman whipped out his machete and screamed, “I AM THE FROGMAN! THE ONE AND ONLY FROGMAN, AND OJ’S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH IT, YOU MUTHA-FUCKING STRINGS OF SHIT!!!
He turned to Billy’s mother and hacked her breast off. He cried as he hacked away at her. They all stared in awe as it fell to the ground. Not a single drop of blood came from the dried prune.
It rolled into the blood that had spilled from the Frogman’s finger and started to pulsate. It started soaking up the blood. With newfound energy, the slimy blob of flesh started to slither toward Billy.
“Look out! It’ll devour you'” Shouted the Frogman.
The cord struck. It grabbed the mutant-breast and within a glance it wrapped itself around the slithering beast and choked it like a python. A familiar blue haze surrounded the cord and its prey. The intensity of the light grew until no one could see. When they all regained their sight the mutant-breast was gone.
This was the first time the Frogman had ever seen the cord devour something. “My God, its alive,” he said to himself barely moving his lips.
A slow transformation overtook Billy as the idiots look disappeared from his face.
The cord had lifted the clouds from his eyes.
He looked right into the Frogman’s eyes.
His eyes pierced the Frogman’s heart.
“The time for waiting is over. I now know our destiny. Together, you, I, and the cord. We shall unite this broken land. We shall mend this broken world. The reign of the immortals will end! Starting on this day.
For once, the Frogman was speechless.
“Those who oppose the cord will know pain unlike any known. The cord will bring death to those who are against us…and that death will be eternal.
You and I, my good friend, will lead the new order. You have been right all along…YOU ARE THE FROGMAN!”
“I knew it,” the Froggy said to himself. “And the chord?” he said out loud.
“The cord shall show us the way!” Billy shouted. “Blessed be thy cord.”
The Frogman bowed and kissed the end of the cord, “Blessed be thy cord,” he whispered in a silent prayer.
“Yes I understand now,” he said, lifting himself and standing tall. “Since the dawn of time, man has endured and witnessed many new things evolving with him and around him. This is just one of the many proofs that we are all one! Brothers in arms, dissecting each other with our silent thoughts. All with the final realization that…”
“My God, muttered Billy’s mother, “He is the Frogman.”
“Are we Frogman?” The Frogman’s mother asked.
“…we are all men!” The Frogman concluded.
“But are we all men?” Everyone shouted in unison, “…no, we are FROGMEN!”
“Silence!” The Frogman commanded. “The cord shall show us the way. Blessed be thy cord.”
“BLESSED BE THY CORD!” They all shouted together, “And long live the Frogman!”
The Frogman’s vision became blurred as all the voices in the room started to fade away.
He blacked out.
In the darkness, he heard a single quite voice.
The voice grew louder in his mind:
“You’re relaxed,
no one can hurt you here.
You’re perfectly safe.
You feel no anger, no aggression, no desire to dismember or mutilate anyone.
You’ll open your eyes on the count of three,
one…
Two…
three.”
The Frogman opened his eyes.
“How do you feel?” his therapist asked.
“I…I feel just fine, thanks.”
“That’s good.”
“Can I go home soon?” Froggy continued.
“You have no home, none of us do. But I’ve signed a release to send you to a work camp. They’ll take good care of you.”
“And the cord?”
“There is no cord, there never was. You’ll see a new therapist who will help you at the work-camp.”
“Ok,” the Frogman mindlessly agreed. “And Billy?”
His therapist loosened his collar, and cleared his throat as he nervously looked toward the one-way mirror, where the immortals watched.
“Billy died when you were just a little boy, you know that.”
“Oh…oh yeah. I forgot. It was just a dream?”
“Just a dream.”
“Oh,” Froggy continued, “Is it time to go now?”
“Yes I have someone waiting outside to take you to the camp.”
“Ok,” the Frogman agreed. As he left the room, he scratched the bandages covering his left hand. The stubs, where his fingers had been, were itching.
