In 250=1, I write stories that are exactly 250 words long, including the title.
What It Is Like To Be A Frog (You Think?)
When Riquon was a frog one time in his imagination he began by hopping and hopping, all around the neighborhood.
"I am a frog," he said to the bus driver having a smoke while the bus sat idling next to him.
"Frogs don't use words, they say ribbit," said the bus driver.
Riquon hopped on, saying "ribbit, ribbit, ribbit" to each person passing on the street.
"I am a frog," he whispered to an old lady waiting impatiently for the light to change.
"Ribbit," he added belatedly.
"Frogs don't live in cities, they live in ponds," the old lady said, a bit grumpily, for the light had not yet changed.
Riquon hopped and ribbitted to the park, where there was a fountain. He looked around and saw nobody paying attention to the frog, and so he first carefully hopped and ribbitted onto the edge of the fountain (even though it was more like walking and sitting it was hopping and ribbetting if you looked at it the right way) and then when nobody said anything, he hopped and ribbetted into the fountain, where it was cold and wet and the water splashed and his frog feet which were webbed toes if you squinted and they were green if you didn't count that they were actually brownish, his frog feet stepped on the nickels and dimes and pennies and sometimes quarters that had been thrown there to make wishes come true.
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