A Lantern, A Frog, and A Thousand Laughs

A Lantern, A Frog, and A Thousand Laughs

Deep in the heart of the Whispering Woods, where mushrooms grew like umbrellas and fireflies made night look like a tavern festival, lived Old Jorgin—a gnome with a belly as round as his laugh was loud. He wasn’t just any gnome, though. No, no. He was the proud owner of the luckiest beard in the land. At least, that’s what he told himself every time a lady gnome refused to braid it.

But tonight, Jorgin wasn’t thinking about his beard. He was thinking about the frog in his hands.

“Damn thing jumped straight into my soup!” he grumbled, holding the vibrant green troublemaker up to his lantern. “Ruined a perfectly good mushroom stew. And it winked at me! Did you wink at me, you slimy little—?”

The frog, to its credit, did not confirm nor deny the accusation.

The Cackle Heard ‘Round the Forest

“HAH!” A burst of laughter rang through the trees, startling Jorgin so badly he nearly dropped the frog.

There, standing like a vision of chaos and delight, was Marla—the only woman in the village who could outdrink, outdance, and outwit him. Her wild curls were tucked beneath a hat overflowing with flowers, and her blue dress was embroidered with tiny hearts and vines, as if the fabric itself had fallen in love with her.

She pointed at him, eyes sparkling. “Oh, Jorgin, tell me you didn’t—”

“It was not a romantic dinner,” he huffed, lifting the frog. “This scoundrel jumped in uninvited.”

Marla leaned in, smirking. “Are you sure? He’s got the eyes of a prince.”

Jorgin snorted. “More like the eyes of a tax collector.”

A Bet Sealed With a Kiss

Marla crossed her arms. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

Jorgin blinked. “What?”

“You gotta kiss him.”

He stared at her. “Marla, are you out of your damn mind?”

She grinned. “You scared?”

“Of catching frog flu? Yes!”

But the way she was looking at him—mischievous, daring—made his gnome heart do a strange little somersault. And because he had never, not once, turned down a challenge from Marla, he sighed dramatically and brought the frog to his lips.

The frog licked its own eyeball.

Jorgin recoiled. “Nope. Absolutely not. That’s unnatural.”

Marla cackled again, slapping his shoulder. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”

Before he could protest, she plucked the frog from his hands, puckered up, and planted a smooch right on its bumpy little head.

Well, That Didn’t Go as Planned

The moment her lips left the frog, there was a poof of golden light.

Jorgin jumped back. Marla gasped. The fireflies dimmed.

And in the frog’s place… stood… a very naked, very confused, middle-aged accountant.

“Oh gods,” the man muttered, looking at his hands. “Not again.”

Jorgin and Marla exchanged looks.

The man sighed. “I am Prince Dorian of the Evergild Kingdom. I was cursed by a swamp witch after a—let’s say—‘misunderstanding’ involving a debt I refused to pay. You have broken my curse, fair maiden, and I am forever in your debt.”

He knelt before Marla, eyes brimming with gratitude.

Jorgin cleared his throat. “Uh. You’re also naked.”

Dorian sighed again. “Yeah, that happens too.”

Marla Makes a Choice

Marla took a long look at the prince. Then at Jorgin. Then back at the prince.

“So… does this mean we have to get married?” she asked.

Dorian smiled. “That would be the traditional fairy tale ending.”

Marla tapped her chin. “Hmm. Counteroffer.”

Jorgin tensed.

“You go back to your fancy castle, pay your debts, and we pretend this never happened.”

Dorian blinked. “Oh. That’s… that’s actually a relief.”

Jorgin exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Marla turned back to Jorgin, still grinning. “So, what do you say? Want to share some frog-free stew with me?”

Jorgin’s heart did another somersault. He coughed, rubbing his neck. “As long as you promise not to turn me into a prince.”

She hooked her arm through his. “Oh, Jorgin. You’re already the king of my bad decisions.”

And with that, they left Dorian to find some pants, while they laughed all the way back to their mushroom-lit village—where there were no curses, no royal obligations, and no more damn frogs in the stew.

 


 

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Comments

1 comment

To funny, I loved this tale. The artwork is impecable thier descriptions are fantasric, Thanks Bill you’ve made my morning

Rhonda Holverson

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