Flies Don’t Catch Themselves

Chelsea Lolley College Prep10/03/09
Flies Don’t Catch Themselves
Far back in the woods behind Farmer Joe’s barn, past the dandelion patch where the wildflowers would sing to the sun all day, there was a swamp. Many different animals called this swamp home. It was a pleasant place where all inhabitants, with the exception of Dixie the Alligator, got along splendidly and would go out of their way to help a neighbor. On any occasion one would find the swamp busy with the bustling animals going about their daily errands or finishing up their work for the day before heading home. Everyone always seemed to be doing something except for Hopper. Hopper was a frog that lived on the east side of the swamp. It wasn’t that Hopper wasn’t a good critter, for he was very amiable and liked by many in the bayou. The thing about Hopper was that he was downright lazy. While all the other animals were busy at work he would lay all day on his favorite lily pad dozing in the warm sunshine. One day while Hopper was sprawled out lazily lapping at flies, Big Ed the local grouch, as snapping turtles usually are, came swimming by in a hurry carrying a bundle of twigs in his jaws. “Hey Hopper,” Big Ed said huskily, “Do you think you can run this over to Mrs. Rabbit Reynold’s house? I’m in a dreadful hurry and I promised to bring it by for her, but I have an appointment to get my shell waxed and she lives on the other edge of town.” “Sorry, I don’t think I’ll be able to do that, Ed,” Hopper relied sluggishly. “Well why not!? You are obviously doing nothing!” “I have ummm, a bad knee! Yes a bad knee. Dumb thing’s been bothering me all day. Sorry.” Big Ed swam away irately and Hopper continued his sun bathing. A little while later Mrs. Field Mouse and her eight children filed by on the bank. “O Hopper! Hello! Hopper!” Mrs. Field Mouse squeaked, “ would you mind watching my darling children while I go pick berries for dinner? I‘ll even pick extra for you!” “ No I don’t think that I’ll be able to do that. See, I’m awfully tied up all afternoon and I‘m allergic to berries. Sorry that I can‘t help you. I really would love to,” Hopper idly stated as he watched the clouds drift past. With that, Mrs. Field Mouse scurried along, herding her brood as she went. Lastly there came along a chipmunk named Gus. Gus seemed very worried and was scampering along hastily when he saw Hopper and said, “Hopper!! I’m so glad I found you. I can’t seem to find my wife and it’s getting dark. I think she is lost. Can you help me find her?” “ I’m sorry my friend. I haven’t seen her. I can’t really help you right now I ’m afraid I’ve got to be getting home myself soon. If I see her I’ll be sure to let her know you were looking for her,” Hopper replied. With this being said, Gus ran off searching frantically. The sun was saying its goodbyes and the birds were all chirping to their babies. The swamp was beginning to grow dark and quiet and Hopper slid off into the water to go home. Suddenly without warning he got a sharp pain in his leg. Thankfully he managed to get back onto the lily pad but he could not make it to shore and it was getting dangerously dark. “ Ow!” he yelled, “Somebody help me! I’ve gotten a cramp in my leg.” He continued yelling but it was no use. There was no one listening. Everyone was going about their own business not heeding his cries. Finally Hooter the owl swooped down to a tree limb above the water and patronizingly spoke to Hopper. “I’ve been watching you Hopper. What makes you think you deserve help from any of these fine animals? You have done nothing all day but lie and refuse to help them. In my opinion, you deserve what comes to you.” With that, he flew off to his warm hole. Hopper was alone save for the crickets, but even they stayed a safe distance from him. His leg was throbbing and he was getting cold. Across the swamp he then saw two eyes emerge. They glistened in the moonlight and began coming toward him. They reached the edge of the lily pad and then out of the water rose Dixie, the most feared animal in the whole swamp. “Hello friend,” he slyly rasped, “you seem to be in a bit of trouble. Can I offer you a hand?” “O thank goodness! Finally! I’ve been sitting here for hours and no one will help me. I just need to get to the bank so I can get home before something bad happens to me,” Hopper replied joyously. “Well today is your lucky day. Just hop into my mouth and I’ll take you home, my friend.” Hopper ignorantly obliged and sprung into Dixie’s open jaws. That was the last anyone ever saw of Hopper. To this day, Hopper is remembered only in bedtime stories told to children in the swamp to care them into being helpful, diligent, and smart in who they trust.