A story from the collection of 'Bully on Board' book, not yet published:

The Bully Frog

Tom the toad buried himself in the cool mud and under the cover of the giant white mushroom. It was welcome shade from the day’s hot sun.  Tom couldn’t bare the hot sun and had to find somewhere moist and cool to stay during the day. His rough brown skin was spotted, like giant freckles. He looked fat but toads were just shaped like that. A skinny toad was an unhealthy toad. Tom was good at hide and go seek. If he didn’t want to be seen, he wasn’t. 

The last sunrays were giving way to shadows. Nightfall was near. It was Tom’s favorite time. He began to move, to free himself from his hiding place. Tom was hungry. He always woke form his day of rest, ready to eat.  He wasn’t a very picky eater. Most any bug, grub or worm would do. If it jumped, flew or crawled, it was food. That was bad news for any of the critters that lived nearby or were just passing through. Tom hardly ever met one he didn’t like. He slept and then he ate. His life was pretty simple. Tom was lazy. He didn’t like hunting food. He would much rather just sit here and wait for food to come to him. Most of time some stray would wander by and Tom could nail it with his long sticky tongue. Gulp and gone. 

Tom didn’t really have many friends. He had eaten most of them. He couldn’t help it. If it moved it was food. It did have one pal. Terry the turtle lived in the nearby pond. He was Tom’s only friend because he was too big to swallow. And Tom had tried it once. Terry had thought it was funny. Tom had nailed Terry with his tongue but then couldn’t budge him. They became friends that very day. Terry didn’t eat toads either. Both were safe. Terry was a pond cooter and unlike Tom, he liked basking in the sun on a rock or log. He was mostly black with a little yellow blended in and he ate water plants.

Terry rested on a big flat rock near where Tom had been buried in the mud. He tried to stay quite during the day to allow Tom to get his beauty rest.  The rest wasn’t helping, thought Terry. Tom was anything but pretty. He watched as Tom dug himself out. He could hardly wait. Tom was always good for a few laughs. He was so witty. Terry liked spending time with Tom, more so than with all the other pond cooters.  Life with other cooters was just too boring and the same thing every day. Rest in the sun, swim in the water, eats water plants then back in the sun and repeat it again. Terry wanted adventure and Tom talked good stories. He wasn’t sure if they were truthful or not, but he liked listening to his tales. 

“Hey Tom, good night to you, did have a good day sleep?”

“I slept like toad in the road.”

“That wouldn’t be a safe place for a toad to sleep, Tom. I should know. Crossing one of those roads with those things that zoom by can be scary. I’ve seen too many cooters mashed flat. No, stay out of the road, Tom the toad.”

“I suppose I could have said I slept like a bug in a rug but that just makes me hungry.”

“You should be a vegetarian like me.  I say yuck to eating bugs. “

“You don’t know what you’re missing, Terry.”

“I do, Tom. You’ve gobbled down some of my best six and eight legged friends. They say you’re a big ole fat bully and are mean to boot. Remember, you even tried to eat me once.”

“I was just cleaning your shell, Terry. It gets quite nasty in that mucky water you live in.”

“Funny, you only offered to clean it that one time.”

Tom changed the subject. “Have you seen any creepy crawlers about?”

“Now Tom, I told you those little creepy crawlers are my friends.  You did promise to leave them alone while I was here.”

“Indeed and so I shall,” said Tom, looking about for any signs of movement. “So how was life on the sunny side today? Did I miss anything?”

“Jake the water snake passed through. I think he was just fishing. He didn’t stay long. I heard a new frog croaking on the other side of the pond.  He must be a big ole boy by the sounds of him. All the other frogs got real quite.”

“Who invited him to our pond?”

“Maybe he didn’t know he needed an invitation, Tom.”

“Never mind, I will handle him when the time comes.”

“See Tom, that’s why the six and eight legged ones think you are a bully; that, and the fact you eat them.”

“I sorry, Terry, I can’t live on algae and blades of grass like you.  It takes more to support this beautiful body of mine. I need protein.”

“We can’t help who we are, Tom. We are all different. We shouldn’t be judged by what and who we eat. I know that.”

A sound of a fly buzzing caught Tom’s attention.  “What’s that behind you, Terry?”

Terry stretched his neck to look around his shell and Tom’s tongue shot out in lighting speed and snatched the fly. He closed his eyes as he gulped it down. Terry turned and shook his head, shamed by what Tom had just done.

“I heard that, Tom. I know what you just did and you promised me.”

“Did what, what did you think you just heard, Terry?  I didn’t do anything.”

“Tom, you or a bully and you are in denial.”

“I am not. I’m just hungry. It takes a lot of protein to keep this body of mine in tip top shape. Unlike you, grass and weeds doesn’t do it for me, too much fiber.”

 I can’t deal with this again. I’m going so you can be yourself. I’ll warn my little friends to stay clear of the side of the pond.”

“Have a good one, pal. Don’t eat anything I wouldn’t, but wait that would cover everything you eat.” Tom the Toad chuckled, uncaring about Terry and his concerns. A toad had to do what a Toad had to do and that included eating any bug that came his way.  It was a mere fact and nature’s way, thought Tom.

The night drifted by and no more six or eight legged menu items came his way. Maybe just sitting here and waiting was not the best idea. Tom was not a hunter but maybe a mere change was needed. Location, location, location, they say. Tom hopped his way along the edge of the big pond to the other side, a place he had never been.  It was spooky not being on his home turf. No bugs buzzed the air, not even a skitter. Even the crickets were silent. Tom was jumpy, but toads were jumpers so that should not worry him.

A splash in the water caught Tom’s attention.  Tom saw a swirl in the water. Something very big had just made that splash. Tom ran his tongue around his mouth, hungry for what it might have been. If he could snag it with his tongue, he would surely be his next meal. Tom had no table manners when it came to stuffing critters inside his mouth.  He was just hungry enough to eat most anything right now, the bigger, the better.

Two eyes broke the water surface in the water.  Tom could see the top of what looked like a green head, a very large green head if it was indeed a head. Tom’s eyes might be too big for his belly if this was indeed his very next meal. Even he might have a tough time cramming it in his mouth.  Tom had no pride. He would try if he could get close enough to it. Toads were fearless and ferocious.  Tom puffed up so he would look larger and meaner.  Size did matter in his little world.  Tom jumped closer to the water’s edge and kept a close eye on his next meal.

Two huge eyes stared back. A green head was much wider than Tom the toad’s body. If he could have jumped backwards, he would have.  His meal plan didn’t seem like such a good idea viewing it this closely. Pond water rained on Tom. The owner of the two eyes leapt to meet and greet him. Tom the toad didn’t feel much like the big bad eater of six and eight legged critters right now.  Tom gulped and no gazed up at the biggest and greenest frog he had ever seen.  He was four times his size. It was smiling, just like Tom smiled before he ate what came his way.

A deep voice boomed out, “What do I have here at my lake’s edge?”

Tom blinked and then took a deep breath. “I am Tom the toad.”

“I’ve never seen you before, Tom the toad. What brings you to my lake?”

Tom had always thought of this as his pond. It might not be a good idea to tell this frog that, he thought.  “I was shopping for supper.”

“Funny, I was doing the same,” bellowed the big green frog. “I don’t often introduce myself to supper, by my name is Bully.”

“You are a bull frog, aren’t you? We could be cousins,” said Tom, hoping to make friends quickly. “Relatives don’t eat relatives, now do they?”

“Indeed, I am a bullfrog but I don’t think we are kinfolk. What type of meal were you looking for at my lake, Tom? ”

“Just the usual six or eight legged kind,” replied Tom. “What do you like to eat, Bully?’

“Where do I start? The list is so long. Let’s see. I eat insects, most any variety or leg count, fish, turtles, snakes, bats, birds, snails, crawfish, salamanders, and why yes, frogs, toads and tadpoles. As you can see, I have an iron clad stomach and can dine on most anything. One can never be too picky, don’t you agree? I bet you never pass up anything either, right?”

“I try hard not eat friends. Timmy, my friend says only a bully would do that. ”

“You’ve never tried to eat this Timmy friend?”

“He is much too large for that. He’s a turtle.”

“Ah, he is too large or you would have tried, I see.”

“Does this Timmy the Turtle think you to be a bully, Tom the toad?”

“Sometimes, I suppose, when I eat his six legged or eight legged friends. How is a toad to know who is friend and who is food?”

Bully leapt a little closer, towering over Tom the Toad. “It is sad, those who know no better, call others such terrible and hurtful names, Tom. We cannot change who we are, now can we?  If it moves, we eat it, right, Tom?”

Tom had a sudden urge to remain perfectly still. “Maybe we shouldn’t eat friends. Would you honor me by being my friend, Bully?”

“But we just met, Tom. How do we really know if we like each other? I must confess. I don’t have any friends. They seem to just vanish, poof, gone, like a mere morsel of food. You are such a plump little toad aren’t you, Tom. You don’t miss many meals, do you?”

“Toads give you warts. Did you know that? Toads taste yucky too, so I’ve heard.”

“Have you ever tasted toad, Tom?”

Tom dodged that question. No good could come out of a yes or no answer. “I suppose, I should be hopping along, back to my side of the pond, I mean, lake.”

“No, please stay. We have so much yet to share, Tom. Tell me. Do you see me as a bully?”

Another bad yes or no question, thought Tom.  Bully shifted his weight, leaning closer. Tom had seen that move before. He used it.  This was not good. “A bully would try to scare others or call them names. A bully would do harm.  I think you are not like this, now are you?”

“Do I scare you, Tom?”

“Oh no, not me, we are frog and toad, family, like I said.”

“I have not called you any names, now have I, Tom?”

“No, you have not.”

“I have not harmed you in anyway, have I, Tom?”

Tom thought, not yet but instead said, “No, you have not.”

“I go by Bully because I am a bullfrog. Bully doesn’t mean I am a real bully, now does it, Tom?”

“Bully the bullfrog; it has a nice ring to it to me, just like Tom the toad and Timmy the turtle.  I really should go. It is getting late after all.”

“What do we really have but time, Tom? Is your time running short?”

            Yes, thought Tom, but he didn’t say it. “I must find shelter, a cool place, for the hot summer day will be here soon. Toads do not like the day’s sun and heat.”

            “You should do like me, stay in the water where it is cool all day long. Come in, try it. It will make you all wet and slippery, very nice.”

            “I should really get hopping, Bully. It is a long way back to my side.” Movement is bad, thought Tom, or it is for six and eight legged critters. It might be bad for four legged ones too. He should have stayed on his side of the pond.

            “I am so sorry. I have such terrible manners, Tom.”

            “Why would you say you are sorry? You have done nothing to be sorry about, Bully. You have been very nice to me.”

            “Oh but I am sorry, Tom. I have done the most terrible thing.”

            “What could you have done that is so terrible?”

            “It is not polite to play and toy with my food. Those are such terrible table manners, don’t you think?”

            “I have not seen you play with any food, Bully.”

            “Kind for you to say, my food doesn’t usually support me like you do. That will make you more special to me. You will forever be my favorite.”

            “You are going to eat me, aren’t you?”

            “You must be one of those new Smart Meals, Tom.”

            “If you eat me, it will make you a bully. You don’t want to be a bully, do you?”

            “Bullies too need to eat, Tom. It’s nothing personal. Besides, it will be your and my little secret, now want it? Please to even think about hopping away. I am a far stronger and better hopper, I assure you.”

            “Can’t we talk about this?”

            “Do you and those six and eight legged critters talk it over, Tom? Timmy the turtle was right. Toads and frogs are bullies.  We have no friends because we eat them.  I have had no regrets, have you, Tom?”

            Tom said nothing. He was doomed, no way out of this mess, just another meal for this big bullfrog. Reap what you sow, said Timmy.

            “I must admit, Tom, it is nice to talk over dinner first. It makes it more meaningful.  I’m not sure all what have been as cordial as you.”  Bully closed his eyes, which meant he was about to leap and strike.  He croaked loudly instead then swirled and jumped into the lake.

            Behind where Bully had sat was Timmy the turtle. “I took your advice, Tom. I tried something besides plants. I’m not sure I like frog legs though. Does it really taste like chicken? “

            “I’m not sure. I have never tried it. Thank you, Timmy.”

            “That’s what friends are for, Tom.”

            “Timmy, I can’t eat plants like you but I will promise you, I will not eat your friends anymore. I’ll ask if they know you, first.”

            Timmy nodded. “See you on our side of the pond, Tom.”

            “No bully is a good bully,” said Tom the toad, hopping to see another day. Tonight he was no longer hungry.  He had learned a valuable lesson. Meals had feelings too, six or eight legged.  It takes a four legged one to know this.