Mr. Toad lived on the cushiest lily pad in the Woodlands' pond.
From where he sat, there were always plenty of flies, bugs and insects within easy tongue-flicking range; he hardly had to do anything to get them. As lily pads in ponds go, this was prime real estate and everyone knew how lucky Mr. Toad was to have it.
Except Mr. Toad.
After eight years there, Mr. Toad decided that it wasn't his lily pad's location that attracted the flies, bugs and insects, it was him.
"I don't have to stay here," Mr. Toad thought," they'll come to wherever I am!"
And with that, Mr. Toad leapt off his lily pad.
All the amphibians around him were so astonished that it took nearly two-and-a-half minutes before they started fighting over who'd get it next.
Meanwhile, Mr. Toad went hopping around the Woodland.
"Where are all those stupid flies, bugs and insects?" Mr. Toad wondered, getting more agitated as his blood sugar level dropped, "Don't they know I'm hungry?"
Mr. Toad now started flicking his sticky tongue at other creatures who, it turned out, didn't care to be eaten by him.
"Hey, cut that out!" said the mole Mr. Toad had flicked his tongue at, "I'm not an insect!"
"Don't you know who I am?" demanded Mr. Toad.
"Yeah," replied the mole, "You're that crazy-ass toad who left the best lily pad in the pond."
"That's MISTER Crazy Ass Toad, to you!" bellowed Mr. Toad, "Be my dinner now!"
"Yeah, whatever," replied the mole as he went back to whatever it is moles do.
"He was too small, anyway," snorted Mr. Toad as he hopped away, "I deserve bigger."
Mr. Toad spent the rest of the day flicking his tongue at increasingly larger creatures — a rat, a badger and a weasel — all of whom knew who he was, but didn't want to be his food.
Mr. Toad had noticed large flying insects in the sky far above, going past regularly and always in the same direction.
"Hmmm," he thought, "Maybe I should stick to things with wings. If I can get close enough, I bet I can catch one of those."
Mr. Toad hopped his way up the highest hill over the Woodland where, every few minutes, an absolutely huge — and very noisy — flying insect would whoosh overhead. But, even from this highest ground, his tongue couldn't quite reach them.
So Mr. Toad climbed to the top of the "D" of the Woodland sign and waited. As the next giant flying insect approached, Mr. Toad leapt up toward it as high as he could, flicked his tongue out farther than he had ever flicked it before and, sure enough, he made contact!
Mr. Toad was last seen zooming off into the wild blue yonder, his tongue stuck like glue to Delta's 7:10 flight to Cincinnati, flapping along behind it like the tail of a kite.
Although Mr. Toad's body was never found, Woodland authorities pronounced him "missing and presumed croaked."
Moral: Having it too easy is getting harder all the time.
(Illustration by Deborah Berk)
