Kreative Kue 207

Kreative Kue 206 asked for submissions based on this photograph:
John W Howell is the author of the John Cannon trilogy of My GRL, His Revenge, Our Justice and Circumstances of Childhood, co-author of The Contract, and blogs at Fiction Favorites.

The Fifth Encounter by John W. Howell © 2019

“I can’t understand frog. I said, ‘Hello little guy.’ Maybe you could sign or something.”

“For heaven’s sake. How about I use English?”

“Wow. You speak English?”

“No. The guy across the way is throwing his voice.”

“What guy?”

“Forget the guy. I was being facetious. I’m speaking English. What the heck is the matter with you?”

“You ask that? Here I am holding a frog in my hand who is speaking English.”

“Yeah so?”

“So? Don’t you think that is cause to be a little confused?”

“If I were human I suppose it would be a little unusual.”

“If you were human? What the heck are you.”

“What do I look like?”

“A frog.”

“Looks like a frog. Just might be a frog.”

“Are you from outer space.”

“Nope. From right here in Murphy’s swamp where you found me.”

“How did you learn to speak English?”

“How many times have you come to this swamp to read your poetry?”

“Yeah, hundreds.”

“It would take a fool not to be able to speak after listening to all those poems.”

“Which one did you like the best?”

“I think the question should be, ‘Which one was the least offensive.”‘

“That was cold.”

“You are right. I just can’t help myself.”

“Are you a poet?”

“No, but I do review poetry.”

“You do?”

“Yup. For the New York Times.”

“My gosh. What is your byline.”

“Phineus P Phrog.”

“You are Phineus P. Phrog? I can’t believe it. I worship your reviews. You’ve made the most famous poets with your elegant words.”

“My goodness, you make me blush which is not a good thing when the crane comes around.”

“Please tell me my poems are not that bad.”

“I have professional integrity to maintain. Between you and me I think I would find something else to do.”

“Don’t say that. I love to read and write poetry.”

“You don’t have to give up reading.”

“You are breaking my heart.”

“I have an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“I could make you my assistant.”

“Your assistant? That sounds wonderful. What would I have to do?”

“Well. there’s a matter of needing proofreading.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“The mail is horrendous. Maybe you could answer the mail.”



“All over it.”

“My Facebook page needs a redo.”

“Consider it done.”


“I have a great organizational system.”

“My blog?”

“I’ll ghostwrite and post for you.”



“I eat a lot of flies.”

“You don’t catch your own?”

“No time.”


“Last resort.”


A special thank-you to Pamela Read from Canada, who offered this caption:

A prince in training.

Meanwhile, my effort was:




“I was happy down there. What’d you pick me up for?”

“Wow! A talking frog.”

“Who are you calling a frog?”

“You; who else?”

“Well, I ain’t a frog. Never have been, never will be.”

“To quote the duck test – If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck.”

“Say what?”

“You look like a frog, move like a frog—”

“But I don’t croak like a frog.”

“Two out of three ain’t bad.”

“What are you quoting now?”

“Meat Loaf.”

“You are quoting your lunch?”

“Of course not. Meat Loaf is a singer.”

“Now I know you’re crazy. You’re quoting a sewing machine.”

“Not a Singer sewing machine, a singer – someone who sings songs.”

“Yeah. Bored. Put me back down.”


“Why not?”

“Firstly, because I’m about to cut the grass and I don’t fancy having to clear up a shredded frog.”


“Are so.”

“Am not.”

“Have you looked at yourself? How can you not be a frog?”

“You don’t know much beyond what you see with your own eyes, do you? What’s that by my back leg?”

“That little green patch?”


“I’ve no idea. A leaf?”

“No. It’s part of me and it’s what tells you that I’m not an actual, natural frog.”

“How does it tell that?”

“Duh – real frogs don’t have a green patch.”

“So, let me get this right. You’re not a real frog, so that means that if I kiss you…?”

“You’ll probably end up with warts on your lips.”

“Hah! Got you. It’s toads that have warts, not frogs.”

“Yeah, whatevs.”

“So, if you’re not really a frog, what happened?”

“Not what you read in the story books for a start. Not with me, anyway. I was working at the airport when this geezer comes along with some kind of gun I’d never seen before and ups and shoots me with it. I went over and when I got up – BAM. Suddenly I’m a frog.”

“So before he shot you, what were you – a man or a woman?”

“Neither. I’m a dog.”

“A talking dog?”

“Bite me.”

“Yeah, I can see the headlines – man bites dog.”

“Look. I enjoyed a connection with my handler that was as close to speaking as you can get. We communicated mind-to-mind, like I am to you now.”

“Okay, I’ll buy it. So. In real life, you’re a dog?”

“Yes. A police dog. A good one, too.”

“German Shepherd?”

“What else?”

“And your name? No, don’t tell me, let me guess. Prince? Ha ha ha.”

“No, Princess.”

Children writingOn to this week’s challenge: Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next Monday.