The water rippled outwards as a congregation of lily pads jostled about underneath the nearly unbearable weight of their inhabitants. The bullfrog moved swiftly and without the capacity for mercy as it caught a lazy horse fly (or at least an attentive horse fly that listed into a aura of laziness) in a Ninja-like fashion before jack knifing into the pond, thus putting an even larger spotlight on the water's ever growing ripple effect issue. As the bullfrog sliced and diced through the water, he caught the eye of a beautiful sea horse. The sea horse was just minding her own business as she galloped her way back to the stable. Hank, which is the name of the bullfrog because it seems like an appropriate name for the oaf of an excuse for a nautical creature, called out to the breathtaking sea horse but she did not so much as turn around or break stride in response, let alone give him the time on her Apple Watch which obviously has the ability to operate in an underwater environment. Hank croaked again and waited patiently for a return message of affection from his future lover but again he came up empty web footed. And so our friend Hank, the ugly bullfrog, croaked once more, this time a more full fledged yelp with an easy-to-detect tinge of urgency overriding its energy, being a rain cloud to its parade, a croak of pure lust (a cat fish call if your cheekiness levels are up to date and not out of whack) in the general direction of Leslie, which is the name of the sea horse because it seems like an appropriate name for a docile gem and perhaps the flat out best shining example of a nautical creature to grace our planet. Much to Hank's chagrin, Leslie made like our old buddy from the big screen Dory and just kept on swimming, but then all of a sudden, a wise looking jelly fish swooped in from off camera.
"She can't even hear you." The jelly fish sort of leaned over to Hank and whispered in his ear.
"Why would you ever say something like that?" Hank yelled at Keith, which is the name of the jelly fish because it seems like an appropriate name for a death magnet of a sorry excuse of a mermaid's pillow.
"Leslie is deaf and she has been ever since she followed that nautically themed Metallica cover band, Enter Sand Castle, on tour. (I want to say that she was a super fan of Band of Sea Horses but I know that must be wrong because they don't have the same head banging reputation (you might say that they don't pack the same punch to the back of the head in the mosh pit) as ESC so the mega tour would not have had as great of a impact on the well being of her delicate lil sea horse ears.)" Keith let out with a shrug, seeming to lose interest by the millisecond with the situation with which he so dramatically interjected his almost overwhelming presence just a handful of mere moments prior.
"I must write to her but first I must study and thoroughly and utterly master the art of writing - will you share your ways with my humble being?" Hank posited with the nobleness, warrior-like attitude and falsely deserved bravado of a Disney knight.
"Yeah, I don't have any hands...good luck on your journey, though, god speed, my brother." Keith peeped out, holding the back of his tentacles up in display for all the world under the surface to bear witness to his lack of hands, kind of just bringing a screeching halt to Hank's inspirational, crowd-riveting speech (the kind of speech that would get all the spectators sitting in the whole auxiliary gymnasium banging their feet in synchronization on the stands, rousing their level of excitement to within a long putt of its ceiling for their capacity to safely process joy) about writing a series of letters to Leslie in an old school pen pals type of situation that would be a real box office darling.
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