In actual fact they had all practised together many times before, it was me who was the new phib in the bog and I hoped the initiations to this team bore no resemblance to the ones when I joined the school frogpool team. For the first 3 months I had to perform all practice moves whilst wearing a sign that said 'pond scum performs better than me'. Eventually I was allowed to ditch the sign, but spent another 6 weeks having to serve half time algae juice to my team mates while tap dancing. And don't forget that was all when Pixie actually quite liked me!
I needn't have worried my webs though. Joining this team was a completely different nettle of fish. My new team mates regard me as a hero, the frog who deigns to play frogpool with toads and newts. They watched my every move as if it were a masterclass in the sport. They even applauded me in warm up stretches. Actually they are all pretty good themselves. Newton is an excellent coach and it was clear that the practice they had put in was paying off.
There was one problem that became apparent as Newton coached us through a series of exercises. We all raced across the pool. I came first. Myself and the toads hopped across the lily pads, I came first. Myself and the newts dived down to the pond floor, I arrived first. It seemed non of my team mates were prepared to humiliate me in any way whatsoever. When eventually it came to tackling and not one of them would come within 10 cm of me poor Newton clapped his webs to his forehead in desperation.
"What is wrong with you all?" he declared, "Look I know he's on our side, I know he's doing a great thing for us, but don't forget he's a frog! He's our enemy, too long in the bog the frog has ruled supreme especially in the frog pool, this is our chance to take them down a hop or two!"
There was a nano of a nano second and suddenly I was jumped on from all sides by 11 other phibs. Newton very kindly held back to give everyone else a good turn. I actually felt rather at home in the slimy mass, now I really knew that I was part of a frogpool team.
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| A Heap of Phibs |
It was while I was in the centre of this scrum that a terrifying noise ripped through the training bog, it was so loud and resonant that waves rippled across the bog and all the phibs dropped away from me.
As we heap tumbled away dazed by the noise another frog hopped into out midst. A rather large frog, a frog with 'Croak Till You Choke' tattooed across his throat. It was Nostradamus Frog. Where he had hopped from I didn't know but I could see the fear in my team mates eyes, I felt it in my own guts too.
"What do you think you're playing at?" he croaked.
Newton was the only one of us to seem calm, "Frogpool," he said without a pause.
"Exactly!" he said, "frogpool, for frogs and I see no frog here."
"Well non accept Frog over there," said Newton.
My cousin looked directly at me, "Like I said, I see no frog's here." He smiled up one side of his face, "Well I think it is my civic duty to report any illegal sporting activity at once to Sir Chatternack." And with that he started to hop away.
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| "I see no frogs!" |
Newton called out, "You do that Notty, and while you're there don't forget to explain to him where you have been for the last month."
Notty pulled up on a pad and looked back over his shoulder, "Oh that's easy," he said, "I've been waiting patiently here to catch you out, I'd seen you sneaking this way and I knew something fishy was going on when little Ronnie suddenly wanted to be friends." Then he hopped and was gone
So we're all in pike poo up to our throats and, as usual, it's all my fault.
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