We’ve been over this once before…

…and yet apparently my pleas have fallen upon deaf ears, possibly because those listening also happen to live next door to me and thus also find themselves plagued night after sleepless night by these insidious creatures who strive to drive us all insane with their incessant croaking and chirping into the wee hours of the night. Sadly, it seems that things have unbelievably gotten worse since we last visited this topic roughly a year ago, leading me to wonder if the frogs in question actually read the column that I wrote about them last year or even more curiously, how does a frog go about getting Internet access, anyways? I’ve had a hard enough time getting my own Internet access upgraded, and I’m a people, but I think we’re getting off track here … which is exactly what they would want us to do!

Allow me to backtrack just a tad for those joining us fresh off the street who might be too lazy to go back and read last year’s column on their own free will … slackers. Right around this time a year ago, I had a bit of a run-in with a rather large and rather boisterous amphibian that just so happened to have taken a fondness for a patch of grass just outside my bedroom window. As it turns out, this time of year also happens to be when animals of the frog variety put to use months of practicing Barry White impressions and stocking up on those fancy, red wines that their female counterparts love so much, for it is officially mating season for the frogs and if you thought it was unbearable having the moves put on you by random drunkards at the local drink hole, then you ain’t seen nothing until you’ve been serenaded by a few dozen of the horniest frogs this side of the swamp…

My problem, however, has apparently grown exponentially since last year, as while then I only found myself faced with one particularly giant and obnoxious, horny frog, clearly the word has spread because the wilderness surrounding my humble abode has been overrun with, at my best guess, no less than 10,000,000 frogs – all very horny – and all without any equivocations about announcing their frog lust for all of the world to hear … with their primary target simply being anyone in my general vicinity who ever wants to sleep again! I don’t know how they did it, whether they have an Internet mailing list that they all watch to keep up on the latest horny frog news or perhaps they carry cell phones – lord knows there can’t be any humans left on the planet for companies to market them to – but seriously, it’s like the Million Frog March outside my home once sundown hits and at this point I’m well beyond having any plausible idea of what to do … that is, besides just up and moving, although with my luck at this point I wouldn’t put it past them to follow us to our new, frog-free sanctuary, too. I’ve even considered joining up with the witness relocation program, but the lady hung up on me when I calmly explained that I was just trying to escape from 10,000,000 horny frogs so I can sleep in peace.

I think, if anything, the moral that you can hopefully take from my ear-ringing plight is this – don’t mess with a horny frog – because if you do, that horny rage is just going to get thrown back at you 10,000,000-fold and then, really, what do you do?! I’ve asked around, but nobody seems to know how to handle 10,000,000 horny frogs – the animal control people won’t touch the issue, and more and more I’m starting to understand how God came to choose frogs as one of his plagues on Egypt … horny frogs are simply not a force to be reckoned with. Mark these words – Scott 6:01:2007.

But what am I going to do, you ask because you’re all genuinely concerned about the well-being of your favorite humor columnist this side of Dave Barry? Well, clearly threats didn’t work and even if I wasn’t able to uphold my end of the ultimatum, I guess I can see how announcing that I’d like to enjoy my opponent’s legs with a side of butter could prove to be a standoffish and might provoke further actions. So this time instead of getting even more riled up and proclaiming that I won’t rest until my den is decorated with the heads of 10,000,000 horny frogs, and please note the emphasis on instead as I was just informed by my fiancée that she will have words for me if she ever comes home to find heads of any type decorating any room in our home, instead I’m going to attempt the route of the bigger man, or species in this case, and apologize.

That’s right, horny frogs of all shapes, sizes, and orientations – I’m sorry for any ill words that I may have uttered about your brethren and my desires to see them as part of an all-you-can-eat buffet. I mean you no harm and wish you the best in finding lots of hot, female frogs … or male frogs, whatever works for you … for your honorable mating season. And if you could find it in your little, froggy hearts to pipe it down just a notch so that I can get some shut-eye, too, well then that would be…

Wait, what’s that?! You did what with that cheeky, frog-shaped planter that I got this spring as a gift from my mother?! Oh, that’s just wrong, even for a bunch of surly, horned-up frogs. That’s it, I didn’t really mean the apology anyways and first thing in the morning, I’m calling that guy down at Asia’s Best Buffet to let him know where he can get enough frog legs to last him the rest of the summer! I mean it, you’ve croaked your horny croaks in the wrong guy’s backyard – this means WAR, frogs!

Ladies and gentlemen, hunting season is officially open. It’s going to be an interesting summer…