Toad Pancake

The toads are horny. It was all of that rain that did it. Or maybe the electricity in the air. Or it could be the thunder that got them so excited. Whatever it was, the toads were emerging from the woods in masses in search of water to make babies in. These masses of toads would stop at nothing to find that water. Not even Plymouth road. The road was just hopping with toads, well, some of them were hopping. Many of them were pancakes.

I can’t help but wonder, what do these toads tell us about life? About freedom and the reckless following of your gut?

You put yourself out there. You let your instincts take over. You set aside common sense for a brief period of truth. And what happens? You get smashed. You end up a toad pancake on the road. Hence society. Hence embarrassment and politeness and awkwardness and formality. All to protect us from truth, instinct, and the inevitable smashing that will occur if we ever do let it all go.

But the toads keep hopping, every year. And they persist. So can we, I suppose.