Ribbit!

A Story by Keenan.Ellis

An adorable chameleon tries to get a good night's sleep in the beautiful swamps of Louisiana.

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It’s night in the Louisiana Bayou. The softly lit moon grants its light to the creeping and the crawling. Each leaf is damp with the afterthought of a recent rain. The mosquitos are just now reemerging, soon they will form an angry, blood sucking mob, formidable enough to scare off even the largest of humans. But for now, they lazily waft through the air, waiting for something to make them angry.

On a branch to the right is a massive pelican, the least inspired bird god ever created. It’s head juts back in an unintelligent manner, and its massive underbill resembles the great many chins of a fat, serial masturbator. He chuckles to himself stupidly.

A giant crocodile floats through the bog trying to appear as if he were pretending to be asleep. In actuality, he is just asleep, snoring softly.

Welcome to Bayou. It the perfection of nature, untouched by man’s machines. Veritably left to it’s own devices, the bog has grown wild, vibrating with the soft buzz of the mosquitos, the chuckling of the pelican and the snoring of the crocodile. The wild combines into a gentle hum, softly rocking its citizens to sleep

We push forward. Through the assembling mosquito mob, Past the pelican, softly chuckling to itself about nothing in particular, and just above the snoring crocodile.

Our push in reveals new details about the woods. Two young snakes intertwine, softly licking the others face, giving off sensual hisses that would make any passerby uncomfortable.

A regal looking tree frog sits on a branch looking disdainfully at all around him. The tree frog is the most pompous and superior of all the Bayou creatures.

And finally, on the furthest branch sleeps a small lizard, softly clutching to a branch and snoozing away.

We push in once more with the lizard as our center point. We are still in wide, but closer than we’ve ever been to this tranquil creature. The beauty of the forest is breathtaking, and our lizard friend seems to have found his peace.

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This is Glen, who sleeps happily on his branch. Glen is a regular lizard. He spends his days lying in the sun, his nights sleeping in the trees. He’s a simple creature with simple pleasures, the first of which is sleep.

RIBBIT!

The sound brings everything down. The natural calm of the forest is disturbed. Unlike every other sound in the forest, the RIBBIT cuts through the wild with brutal and deadly efficiency, making room for no animal. Our poor Glen wakes with a start.

Glen drowsily tries to regain his slumber. He licks his lips, and starts to close his eyes, hoping against hope that there will not be another…

RIBBIT!

Louder than before, and just as soul destroying. This one almost lifts Glen clean off the tree.

Glen rubs the back of his head as if the RIBBIT had bashed him with a club. Sleep now gone, Glen casts about for the culprit.

Glen looks to his right, and there sitting in royal fashion without a care in the world, just a few branches from him, is the DAMNED TREE FROG, letting of another superior RIBBIT.

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Glen narrows his eyes. He’s never liked tree frogs, and now this one has disturbed his sleep.

With heart-wrenching movement, Glen leaps from his branch.

Glen slides down a vine with practiced ease. His face is set, humorless, like a father who is not happy about waking up in the middle of the night to quiet his crying baby.

Glen lands on a rock just feet from a yellow spotted lily pad. A lady bug previously sleeping on the rock jumps aside in fright.

Glen grabs the lily pad and pulls it up. We do not see what is underneath. RIBBIT! The frog sounds again.

Glen whips his head back in anger. Enough is enough.

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Here sits the Tree Frog in all of it’s glory. It sits with perfect posture atop his throne of a branch. The Mosquito Mob gives him a wide birth, and it is for this fact alone that the frogs demand such respect in the Bayou. It’s gargantuan mouth curves into a permanent frown, for everything a tree frog beholds is a sore disappointment to it. Everything that is, except their throat. We see Glen climb onto the frog’s branch in the background.

RIBBIT.

For the first time we see the action that produces our title SFX. The tree frog’s throat expands with air, taking up most the frame. It seems to bully everything around it, even the panels that bind our comic to its will bend away from the abusive sound. It is an impressive, and horrifying sight, and one that the tree frog is exceptionally proud of.

With the RIBBIT done, the tree frog returns to its normal size. Though smaller, the frog seems to have gained in stature. It is our knowledge of his potential to RIBBIT that is half the legend of the frog.

The tree frog glances back towards Glen. He does not move his head, just his eyes, any more movement would compliment this lizard far more than the frog would deem appropriate.

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Glen approaches, one arm behind his back, clenching something. He has a pleasant smile on his face. The frog looks at him as if he is nothing.

The Frog RIBBITS again. It’s massive throat encroaching upon Glen like a tidal wave of skin. Glen looks away in disgust. He does so hate tree frogs.

Despite his repulsion, Glen continues to approach the now deflating frog. We can now see the point of a NEEDLE poking out from behind his back.

The frog RIBBITs again. The throat once again engorging to uncomfortable circumference. But this time Glen is ready, and close enough to put a stop to it. With but a simple movement, Glen swings the needle out from behind his back, and pokes it hard into the frog’s expanding throat.

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BOOM!

The frog’s throat explodes. A typhoon of air rushes out, nearly knocking Glen of the branch. He uses the needle as an anchor, sticking it in the branch, and holding on for dear life.

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Wide of the Frog falling from the branch. It’s a long fall (for a frog), a good three feet. The frogs body is silhouetted against the moonlight and looks a frail thing indeed.

FWUMP!

The frog lands in a heap. Its throat now little more than ripped rags. A thing once so proud, brought so low.

The frog looks up in horror.

Glen leans over the edge of the brances. With a deadly smile, he uses the needle to shush the frog.

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Glen straightens up, and gives a great yawn. Looks like it’s time for bed.

We start to pull out. Glen hunkers down to get some sleep. We pull past the the crocodile, who is now fully awake, his eyes wide with fear as he looks towards the lizard with the needle.

We pull out even further, the pelican, the snakes, the mosquitos and the crocodile all looking in terror at towards the branch and Glen. For the first time in recorded memory the Bayou is silent. Not a peep, squeak, snore, or chuckle. No hisses, barks, or splashes. The forest sound is gone. Gone for fear of a now happily slumbering lizard, until…

SQUAK!

The pelican, idiot of the bird kingdom, decides now would be the perfect time to let loose it’s most obnoxious of noise.

SMASH ZOOM into Glen. He’s eyes open into slits. They glow yellow, promising destruction to the any animal that dares disturb his slumber.