The Frog on the Pillow

                                                                        By Jeff Baker

            “Oh, the ring?” he said. “With the silver frog? It’s a family heirloom. Supposedly we’re descended from; well you know that story about the princess and the frog?”

            I nodded.

            “Well, that’s supposedly one of my ancestors. Supposedly.”

            “Wow,” I said.

            “Back in the Middle Ages (the story goes) there was a young prince (which is not as impressive as it sounds.) He was the youngest son of the son of a Feudal Duke, and probably wasn’t really a prince, but that’s how the story goes. Anyway, he got turned into a frog somehow and a genuine princess kissed him and he turned back and that was it. Well, she was a genuine princess, the niece of some other princess somewhere (they were probably some kind of cousins) but they did get married…”

            “And you’re all descended from all the little tadpoles?” I said grinning.

            “Yeah,” he said. “And I don’t know when we started getting these rings, but they’re kind of cool.”

            “Yeah,” I said. “So are you.”

            We kissed.

            “Well,” I said. “I guess you have to kiss a lot of princes to find your frog!”

                                                —end—