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bouncingbabyfig
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I have been musing with this in my head and I thought: Might not be such a bad idea. This will be a story about Kermit's beginning from tadpole to frog, and of course, a lover.
Chapter 1: Expecting
If you were to go to the swamps and see all its marshy landscapes and creatures, you would mistake it for something smelly and dirty, something that would need to be extracted from the world. Yet if you would listen and see the swamp as something different, something that could be considered extraordinary and yes, even beautiful. In one particular corner of the swamp, there sat a large family of frogs near an old wooden shack with their heads angled earnestly towards the pond. There, resting in the water were hundreds of tiny frog eggs. Their parents sat on the edge of the embankment, shifting their weight from flipper to flipper, the female with the lighter skin color had her dark brown hair pulled back into a bun with curly strands framing her face. The male had a darker tone, he didn't have any hair(don't ask me how the who gets hair and who doesn't works, I just don't know) but was instead marked with brown spots.
"Why aren't they hatching?" The female whispered worriedly, her bulbous eyes flashing in the dimness. The male wrapped his arm securely around his wife, a reassuring smile on his face.
"They will. Remember how Mama said they would probably be late bloomers, it happens sometimes. It will happen soon, don't worry Karen." Karen looked at her mate with hope and love, happy that he was there with her. She would have pressed him further, had she not noticed a bright green peeking through the pink of the egg shell.
"Kemble, one's starting to hatch!" Karen whispered excitedly, her heart fluttering in hre chest. Her husband, Kemble whipped his head around to the rest of the family and motioned them forward. In one single heartbeat, they all hopped towards the small commotion surging from the pond. As the Frog family watched with utter rapture, the green sliver turned into a larger crack showing the struggling form of a small tadpole. Kemble wished to reach in and hold the egg shell down so his new born child would be able to escape the troublesome egg shell, but to the custom of frogs, the first born had to make it's own way in the world. It had to deal with its first challenge in life and over come it, or else they would never learn to survive. At last, with a final heave, the tiny tadpole broke free in a spinning cartwheel until it came to a stop. Shaking its head, the newborn tadpole surveyed its audience through the surface of the water it seemed as if it were considering whether they were trustworthy or not.
Careful not to make any sudden movements for fear of scaring away his firstborn, Kemble slowly pulled his old banjo from behind the log next to him and began to play a simple tune. As he played, the young tadpole came closer to its father and listened to the strange new sound vibrating through the water. While the chords echoed across the swamp, more eggs started to crack and show more of the first tadpole's siblings. It was beautiful and natural form of colors as all different shades of green broke away from the once bright colors of pink. Not all the eggs hatched, but by the end of Kemble's banjo playing, most of the eggs had. The rest of the tadpoles swam around their new home, curious of its hidden treasure. Yet the first stayed and watched his father with round curious eyes, almost begging for more.
"I think we should name him Kermit." Karen whispered warmly into his ear. Kemble didn't remove his gaze from that of his son's, instead he grinned widely and struck another note on his instrument in finality. Kermit. It fit perfectly in Kemble's mind. While the recent parents watched the spectacular show of their new borne, the rest of the family left them alone to name each of their children. Something that would undoubtedly take all night. As Karen and Kemble named their children one by one, Kemble would look over at Kermit in fascination, baffled by his son's quickness to learn and by his curiosity of music. Whenever Kemble accidentally brushed the strings of his banjo, Kermit would float stock still and give his undivided attention to the sound. It soon became where Kemble would strum the strings for amusement rather than by accident. in the end, Karen named most of their children, although she hadn't minded. She enjoyed seeing her husband experiment with Kermit and adored seeing his child like interest in all that was happening.
Kemble smiled down at Kermit who returned with his own tad polish smile. You're going to do great things someday. Great things.
Chapter 1: Expecting
If you were to go to the swamps and see all its marshy landscapes and creatures, you would mistake it for something smelly and dirty, something that would need to be extracted from the world. Yet if you would listen and see the swamp as something different, something that could be considered extraordinary and yes, even beautiful. In one particular corner of the swamp, there sat a large family of frogs near an old wooden shack with their heads angled earnestly towards the pond. There, resting in the water were hundreds of tiny frog eggs. Their parents sat on the edge of the embankment, shifting their weight from flipper to flipper, the female with the lighter skin color had her dark brown hair pulled back into a bun with curly strands framing her face. The male had a darker tone, he didn't have any hair(don't ask me how the who gets hair and who doesn't works, I just don't know) but was instead marked with brown spots.
"Why aren't they hatching?" The female whispered worriedly, her bulbous eyes flashing in the dimness. The male wrapped his arm securely around his wife, a reassuring smile on his face.
"They will. Remember how Mama said they would probably be late bloomers, it happens sometimes. It will happen soon, don't worry Karen." Karen looked at her mate with hope and love, happy that he was there with her. She would have pressed him further, had she not noticed a bright green peeking through the pink of the egg shell.
"Kemble, one's starting to hatch!" Karen whispered excitedly, her heart fluttering in hre chest. Her husband, Kemble whipped his head around to the rest of the family and motioned them forward. In one single heartbeat, they all hopped towards the small commotion surging from the pond. As the Frog family watched with utter rapture, the green sliver turned into a larger crack showing the struggling form of a small tadpole. Kemble wished to reach in and hold the egg shell down so his new born child would be able to escape the troublesome egg shell, but to the custom of frogs, the first born had to make it's own way in the world. It had to deal with its first challenge in life and over come it, or else they would never learn to survive. At last, with a final heave, the tiny tadpole broke free in a spinning cartwheel until it came to a stop. Shaking its head, the newborn tadpole surveyed its audience through the surface of the water it seemed as if it were considering whether they were trustworthy or not.
Careful not to make any sudden movements for fear of scaring away his firstborn, Kemble slowly pulled his old banjo from behind the log next to him and began to play a simple tune. As he played, the young tadpole came closer to its father and listened to the strange new sound vibrating through the water. While the chords echoed across the swamp, more eggs started to crack and show more of the first tadpole's siblings. It was beautiful and natural form of colors as all different shades of green broke away from the once bright colors of pink. Not all the eggs hatched, but by the end of Kemble's banjo playing, most of the eggs had. The rest of the tadpoles swam around their new home, curious of its hidden treasure. Yet the first stayed and watched his father with round curious eyes, almost begging for more.
"I think we should name him Kermit." Karen whispered warmly into his ear. Kemble didn't remove his gaze from that of his son's, instead he grinned widely and struck another note on his instrument in finality. Kermit. It fit perfectly in Kemble's mind. While the recent parents watched the spectacular show of their new borne, the rest of the family left them alone to name each of their children. Something that would undoubtedly take all night. As Karen and Kemble named their children one by one, Kemble would look over at Kermit in fascination, baffled by his son's quickness to learn and by his curiosity of music. Whenever Kemble accidentally brushed the strings of his banjo, Kermit would float stock still and give his undivided attention to the sound. It soon became where Kemble would strum the strings for amusement rather than by accident. in the end, Karen named most of their children, although she hadn't minded. She enjoyed seeing her husband experiment with Kermit and adored seeing his child like interest in all that was happening.
Kemble smiled down at Kermit who returned with his own tad polish smile. You're going to do great things someday. Great things.
