Twelve years ago my mom bought me a tadpole. She had to take care of it until I was old enough to do it myself. By then, Dr. Frogg was a mature male bullfrog. It was hard to keep Dr. Frogg away from our cats. The good doctor liked to scare the cats with his loud croaking.
I was okay with the croaking. So Dr. Frogg rested in a cage on my dresser.
After I woke up one morning (I think I was awake), I was surprised to find Dr. Frogg talking to me.
TALKING.
“R-r-rob the bank, Jake!” he said.
“Do WHAT?” I replied.
“R-r-rob the bank,” he said. “R-r-ROBBITT!!”
“What?”
“RROBBIT!!”
I went to tell my mom but she told me to go back to sleep, that I was having a weird dream.
After that, I ignored all the sounds that Dr. Frogg was making in my direction.
I later found out that my little brother was whispering along with the frog to convince me to r-r-rob the bank. Why, I’ll never know.
So I gave little brother a w-w-w-wedgie.