Whip Frog

Today at work I was whipping the ponds.  No, not whipping Her into submission, water is no one's bitch.  Rather, whipping the infidel grass at it's sides.  I accidentally whipped a frog.  No, I didn't put it in a blender and add cream and use it as topping on my peaches, and I didn't make the frog my bitch either by subjecting it to a series of positive and negative reinforcers.  Rather, I whipped it's freaking nose!  O, the horror!  That's pain, I could tell it was in pain.  He quickly jumped (like frogs do) into the pond (his mother). KRAPLOW!  The pain, poor critter. 

There was also a mother duck with her little babies, and she got tired of being chased by me from pond to pond, so hid her little babies under her wings and stood her ground while the whip threatened.  Wouldn't that be great?  To hide out under your mother's wings with all your brothers and sisters?!  It'd be like going from one womb to another, especially if you happen to be an octuplet.  One minute floating around on the pond, eating disgusting sludge, the next minute in the womb!  

I've always wanted to return to the womb, but will have to settle for the Earth Mother's womb when I die.  To lie in her ever encompassing arms.  A hug to be reckoned with.  Until then, though, I compensate for my lack of womb by trying to recreate one.  The womb is a loud place, full of heart beats, and gurgles, and the muted voices of people.  Silence is freaky and it's the reason babies are always crying.  If the walls, floor and ceiling weren't as thin as they are, I would have to find another place.   

Like I was saying, there's no whipping water into submission.  Water is the life force, the cause of life.  I didn't fall into the water, nor did I drink it, nor did I baptize myself because that would be just putting water on my head, but here I am, acknowledging my existence.  Thanks.  Thanks everyone for contributing in some way to who I am.