Frogger Beyond (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
In the infinite darkness of suburbia, an asphalt-hopping frog defies death to cross the road. I see it in a flash of headlight that hits it midway before it reaches the other side.
I brake to prevent from flattening it, guided by a lingering empathy from the 80s. I regret killing its countless cartoon compadres while playing the Frogger.
Caught in the intractable glare of my high beams, the frog hesitates, immobilized by the sudden iridescent light, an anomaly at night.
The frog’s confusion is evident in its inertia, a fleshy bull’s-eye sitting in the center of the road. I wait, stuck in the shuddering restraint of a two-ton idling car while checking the rearview mirror for oncoming lights.
With the weight of my shoe firmly planted on the brake, I allow patience to temper my inclination to pivot toward the gas.
“Okay, frog. I can spare a minute or two as long as it’s just me and you.” I sigh and then revisit the empty darkness of the rearview mirror.
“Frog, as long as I’m safe, you’re safe.”
I give the frog a moment to ponder the outcome of its inaction and hope the word, “Splat” comes to mind.
Meanwhile, I lower the headlights, thinking it might jump-start the amphibian brain.
Only seconds pass before the frog inches forward toward the grassy knoll on the other side.
“Finally, I won a game of Frogger. It only took me thirty years.” I smile from the pale reminder of a youthful memory, brighten the headlights and drive.
True story – back in the Frogger heyday, a friend and I were waiting for a bus. We noticed a tiny frog in the middle of the road. We checked for traffic and then ventured into the street, picked up the frog and moved it to the grassy median dividing the two lanes. We walked back to the bus stop and the frog promptly jumped back into the middle of the street. We went back, picked it up again and this time placed it on the opposite side of the road – where it seemed to want to go. It promptly jumped back into the middle of the street. We did this 2, 3, 4 times – always placing it in a different location, hoping that it would stay there. Every time, it jumped back into the middle of the street. We saw our bus coming. We tried one last time to move the frog to safety. It jumped directly in front of the bus.
To this very day, I still believe it martyred itself to draw attention to the horrific plight of its cartoon counterpart and the immorality of the human species’ use of electronic frogs and their deaths for entertainment. I never played Frogger again.
That is sadly funny. Definitely sounds like a jihadist cartoon frog. I can’t blame you for not playing Frogger after that. Must have given you Technicolor nightmares.
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I think some frogs are smart and others are trying to commit frogicide. Just saying. Loved Nicky’s comment. That’s where I came up with frogicide.
Have a terrific Silly Sunday. 🙂
Nicky is hilarious.
Happy Silly Sunday to you, too.
That frog was hellbent on jumping into the street. Too bad there aren’t frogicide hotlines for depressed amphibians.
I’m so glad the frog hopped away to safety. I adore frogs. I never did play Frogger. I’m too old I guess, but we did have a frog as a pet when I was a child 🙂
There were actually several other frogs I stopped for that night. It was a moonless night. And there aren’t any streetlights in most neighborhoods around here.
Frogger and Pacman were popular arcade games back in the 80s. I preferred playing Pacman.
Maybe if I’d had kids, they would have played those games 😉
: ) You can still play those games. I’m probably the world’s oldest kid.
I may be 60+, but inside I can vary anywhere between 10 and 30. The other years are lost on me 🙂
I’ve lost years myself. I wonder where I left them.
Yeaaa frogger! I loved Centipede, Millipede, Tempest and Ms. Pacman. I actually wasn’t very good at Frogger, but I liked it! Oh oh and Dig Dug!
Yikes! I only know Ms. Pacman and Frogger. Loved Ms. Pacman, too. How’d I miss the centipede?