The Mound

I pointed at the mound of raised earth at the edge of the field. It started to move.

“There will be times when this is going to be this in front of you,” I said to Phil. Phil had been discussing getting over a painful breakup so I thought I'd to give him some of my extra crispy - the type of wise shittalk I used to drop on girls in High School. “Emotionally, mentally, there will be things that block the view. When you can’t get over them you need to get high enough to see past them.”

“Or turn them into frogs,” Phil says.

“Not that kind of high,” I said. A wave of nausea washed over me and I leaned harder against the wall of the Days Inn. “Ugh. I think I smoked too much.”

“It was that second cigarette,” Phil reminded me.” That’s what got you.” I was turning green. My mind wandered back to the mound.

“You’re totally right,” I finally say to Phil. “How great it would be to be able to transform our inner obstacles into living creatures. It would be closer to the truth to treat our problems with the respect of living organisms.” I said and looked at the mound. “Turn them into frogs.”

“And then eat them,” Phil said. “Make frog legs.”