The Kiss

Arian Knops

The Kiss

3 mins
August 17, 2021

How many times have you been kissed?  The first time for me kissing a living breathing human girl was more than sixty years ago and to be honest that one still sticks with me. There were hundreds of others over the years that have been totally forgettable and therefore forgotten.

Today, I had a kiss that will stick with me for the rest of my life and thankfully that won’t be another sixty years.  It wasn’t from a movie star or some other vixen or seductress, it was much more memorable than that.  It was from a frog.  Well, actually it was from a Three Toed Tree Frog, and it was compliments of my loving wife, Arlene. This is getting stranger by the minute, isn’t it?

After this incident I’ve decided that my wife is now for sale, lease or trade (an old canoe would be a sufficient trading item) or to be given away to a good home. She is house trained and a good seamstress and does not complain about doing all the dishes I get dirty, plus she has a pension and gets social security which is income I will have to forego if anyone decides to take me up on this deal.

We have a “box” box just outside our front door. The “box” box is there should we order something in a box that we have delivered to the house, and we then have this box handy to put our newly arrived possession in just in case the weather turns ugly.  

Right after supper tonight I checked the box and in addition to the two dead wasps on the bottom of the box there was one little green frog more than likely wondering where the heck he/hopefully she was.

The box has a heavy lid, so it won’t blow open in the wind. Holding the lid open and catching the frog, for someone of my age and dexterity, was going to be impossible. I asked Arlene to assist. Now Arlene is no ‘fraidy cat or wimp, but she wasn’t about to catch a teeny tiny frog bare handed. She got a gardening glove that had a bit of dirt on it so the little frog would not feel as intimidated. A rule of nature entered here that says something to affect that old people move much more slowly than do tiny green frogs. Arlene was grabbing more air than frog for a bit of time, but she managed to eventually grab the little critter. A second rule of nature entered the fray that states that frogs can be slippery. 

Well, Madeline, that’s what I named the frog, slipped out of Arlene’s grasp and aimed a less than well timed jump for freedom right at my lips and deposited her slimy little body on my face for something less than a second.  She urinated at the same time.  I guess if some monster about four thousand times my size had tried to catch me, I would have urinated also.  But did she have to do it on me.  Couldn’t she have done it mid jump?

My formerly loving and compassionate wife Arlene went into hysterics as I spit and swore (just a bit) as the little frog attained its freedom.

Okay not all that serious you might say, but I’m nearly over a bout of the “kissing disease” Mononucleosis and if I get a relapse, I will actually have a bonified reason for the relapse. Some people say Mono comes from young people kissing each other and other people say it can be caught from kissing frogs. Since my first bout was just recently, I don’t think that it was a delayed result of me kissing Wanda over a farm fence some sixty years ago, but if I get it again from kissing, even accidently, a frog, I’ll have a heck of a time trying to explain it to the doctor.

I did jest about trading Arlene for an old canoe. She hasn’t kissed me during my recent illness mainly because she didn’t want Mono, but pretty soon she’ll return to giving me a smooch at opportune times and since I’m her personal frog, toad, prince, everything will be good with the world.

This article was orginally reported by
Arian Knops

Arian is a short story contributor to the Sentinel & Rural News. Arian has written two full-length thrillers which have received critical and popular acclaim. Arian lives in Bruce, WI, with his charming wife, Arlene.