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Tyrant

New member
froglegs2.jpg
 
When I lived in a very rural area, my stepdad caught a bunch of large frogs to fix frog legs. I remember after he cut off the legs/hind end he threw the other half all in a bucket. One of those giant plastic tubs of ice cream buckets. I remember realizing with horror as I looked at the bucket full of frog fronts that they were still alive. Some of them anyways. He didn't even kill them just cut off the back halves. They were blinking. I refused to eat the frog legs and got in trouble--no, I didn't make a fuss. And we couldn't just dump them in the woods like other waste because the dogs would most likely carry them back to play with so after dinner he drove a ways away to dump them. What an unpleasant memory.
 
Psst. . .you do realize Messy, that I'm not really a frog -- it's just my Avatar. Just thought I might save you some embarrassment there. . .
 
"I Do Not Like Frog Legs"
sung to the "Ballad of Joxer the Mighty"

I do not like frog legs
I do not like them, Messenger
Do not like them here or there
I do not like them anywhere.

Not in a house, not with a mouse
Not here or there, not anywhere
I do not like frog legs
I do not like them, Messenger

Could you? Would you? With a goat?
Could you? Would you? On a boat?
Could you? Would you? In the rain?
Could you? Would you? On a train?

Not with a goat. Not on a boat.
Not in the rain. Not on a train.
Not in a house. Not with a mouse.
Oh, no!

Not in a box. Not with a fox.
Not in a tree. You let me be!
I do not like frog legs!
I do not like them, Messenger!
 
Gonad said:
When I lived in a very rural area, my stepdad caught a bunch of large frogs to fix frog legs. I remember after he cut off the legs/hind end he threw the other half all in a bucket. One of those giant plastic tubs of ice cream buckets. I remember realizing with horror as I looked at the bucket full of frog fronts that they were still alive. Some of them anyways. He didn't even kill them just cut off the back halves. They were blinking. I refused to eat the frog legs and got in trouble--no, I didn't make a fuss. And we couldn't just dump them in the woods like other waste because the dogs would most likely carry them back to play with so after dinner he drove a ways away to dump them. What an unpleasant memory.
That would be unpleasant. At least whack the little creatures first so they don't suffer to death :(
 
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