There Was a Celebration. No One Told Me Why. đđ¸
There was a celebration.
No one told me why.
No one told me when.
And, most concerningly, no one seemed to think I needed to know.
The frogs did, though.
Of course they did.
They arrived dressed.
Not casually dressed. Not âoh I found this by the riverâ dressed.
Formally.
Intentionally.
Organized.
There is, it should be noted, a frog in a robe who appears to be in charge.
No one has confirmed this.
No one needs to.
We gathered by the water.
Which is, apparently, where one goes when one expects the sky to begin exploding.
And thenâ
it did.
Light split the air.
Color rewrote itself.
The sky behaved in ways that strongly imply it has made a decision I was not consulted on.
The frogs clapped.
One of them waved.
At the sky.
I would like to emphasize this.
Something unknown is detonating reality overheadâ
âand the frogs are being polite about it.
So now I have questions.
Several.
Many, in fact.
An uncomfortable number.
Who organized this.
Why the frogs are prepared.
Why there is a structure.
Why there is a leader.
And whyâ
no one is even slightly alarmed.
Because I have reached a conclusion.
This is either a festival.
âor it is a warning.
And the frogs do not appear to know the difference.
Which is unfortunate.
Because I am beginning to suspectâ
they are celebrating the wrong thing.
â Zosimos
