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Harry Frogger and the Sinking Snowflake by IrmaFuchs
Chapter 1 : Harry Frogger and the Sinking Snowflake
Rating: 12+Chapter Reviews: 5

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The Cursleys were normal and proud to say so. They would never want to be associated, or seem associated with *other* kinds. Of course, this was hard to say since Mrs Cursley's sister was one of those they considered *abnormal.* Mrs Cursleys liked spying on the next-lily pad-toads, her big, bulging eyes coming into use. Mr Cursley was a big, round toad who worked at a business that sold leaves. They also had a big, round, piggy son named Tudley.

Mr Cursley woke up on anther normal, autumn day, or so he thought. When he was driving his lily-padiola down from 8, Cricket Stream, he noticed somethign odd-a hummingbird reading a sign.

"Bah! Hummingbirds can't read," he said to himself. He noticed other weird things too, things associated with the *other* crowd. There were green frogs in their weird outfits (Pine needle-suits, the fashion these days!), huddling together, muttering excitedly. At work he had a fine day-he swatted 4 toads, yelled at 6 toads, and decided to go to the Fliery for some lunch.

On the way to the Fliery he bumbed into something.
"Sorry," he croaked.

"No need to be sorry, sir! The Dark Bored has been defeated-even tuggles like you should be celebrating!" said the creature in a high, squeaky, who looked like the other frogs he had seen with pine-needle suits. After this, the frog gave him some slime.

"A strange *frog* just gave me some slime!" he said to himself again. He tried to catch some of the conversation-
"Yes, that's what I heard."

"Yep, the Froggers."

"And their son, Harry."

The rest of the day had been normal, and he had gone home around 6.

"Fishes all of the country have been walking about-fishologists do not know why these fish have changed the way they move," said the weather-toad.

"Very interesting, Germy. And instead of my prediction of thunderstorms, but instead there was Fly-storms," Mrs Cursley turned off the television.

"Err, Fatunia (Mrs Cursley's name), do you think this has anything to do with-you know-*their* kind, your sister's?" Fatunia puffed up at the mention of her sister, which, of course, she pretended not to have a sister.

"Their son would be around Tudley's age, right?" Fatunia nodded.

"What's their son's name-Harley?"

"No, Harry-awful name. Showing no respect of slime," Ternon (Mr Cursley) nodded. Next, Tudley came screaming through the Television room, throwing toys and flies everywhere, and ran out.

"Little Tyke," Ternon laughed.

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