An Open Letter to Cuban Tree Frogs


Dear Cuban Tree Frogs:

First of all, you’re an invasive fucking species. You have no business being in the United States. You hitched a ride on cargo ships from the Caribbean, and now you’ve infested the entire Florida peninsula and even infiltrated parts of Georgia, Texas and South Carolina.

You secrete toxic mucus on your heads, which is not only gross but can trigger allergic reactions. And you pose a threat to biodiversity by eating native frogs, lizards and even snakes. Because you’re big-ass tree frogs—way bigger than the native species.

But you know what, Cuban Tree Frogs? All of this I could forgive. I’m a live-and-let-live liberal. I support the rights of undocumented, human Americans-by-choice—advocating the type of liberal amnesty policies that earned the senior US Senator from Arizona the nickname “Juan McCain” before he had to morph into Sheriff Joe Arpaio to get reelected. And my infinite tolerance extends to the animal kingdom as well. Or, I should say, it used to.

This brings me to the purpose of my letter, Tree Frogs. Thanks to your unrelenting personal attacks and ceaseless campaign of humiliation, I am now staunchly opposed to your presence within our borders.

Let’s review the record, shall we? I don’t know how you made your way to my toilet bowl that fateful morning five years ago. Perhaps you swam up through the pipes. Maybe you hitched a ride on the back of my bathrobe while I was fetching the morning paper.

What I do know is that you leapt up out of my toilet and attached yourself to my ass in the most vilely surprising way imaginable. I know you caused me to charge out of my bathroom bellowing incoherently, which was quite alarming to my family, Tree Frogs.

I know that you forever traumatized me during that incident, making it impossible for me to not turn on the lights and thoroughly inspect the toilet before alighting ever again. If you had assets, Tree Frogs, I’d get a good lawyer and sue your little olive-green asses off. But of course, you have no assets, you free-loading amphibian scum.

I’m sure the toilet incident was quite amusing when your representative recounted it to his or her friends in the rain gutter, just as it amused my family once they realized I wasn’t on fire but was instead the victim of a froggy prank. But your next attack exposed me to more public humiliation. I refer, of course, to the incident at the mailbox.

I have no idea what possessed one of your number to leap out of the mailbox when I opened it to retrieve my mail. I don’t know why he or she attached him or herself to my boob. But don’t think I haven’t noticed the extraordinarily personal nature of your assaults. Have you no decency at all? Apparently not.

Unfortunately, the humiliation associated with that attack wasn’t confined to the local frog population and my family. This attack was witnessed by my neighbors and a lawn crew, all of whom laughed themselves sick at the sight of me rolling around in the gutter hysterically screeching, “Get-it-OFF!- Get-it-OFF!- Get-it-OFF!”

The culprit hopped away unharmed. But do you think I’ll ever live that down? No, Tree Frogs, I will not. This is a small town, you slimy little bastards.

And finally, this morning. Goddamnit, Tree Frogs, why the bathroom again?

Of course, you’ll not catch me unawares on the toilet ever again. So this time, your agent slipped into my shower stall to launch his or her attack, causing me to stumble out of the stall, blinded by shampoo, and rip down the shower curtain while barking my shin most painfully on the laundry hamper.

This was the last straw, Cuban Tree Frogs. I’ve tried to live out the creed on my bumper stick and “coexist.” But for peaceful coexistence to succeed, there has to mutual respect. You bastards are playing me for a chump—that has become painfully clear.

So here’s the deal, Cuban Tree Frogs: The next one of you sumbitches who fucks with me won’t be gently corralled and escorted out into the yard. You’ll get a one-way ticket to the Gulf of Mexico. And I suggest you start swimming south. Go back to fucking Cuba and enjoy the free health care and high literacy rates.

If you get eaten by a barracuda on the way, that’s your problem, not mine. I’ve had it, Cuban Tree Frogs. This is your final warning.


Betty Cracker

Posted by Betty Cracker on 08/29/10 at 09:31 AM • Permalink

Categories: Critters

Share this post:  Share via Twitter   Share via BlinkList   Share via   Share via Digg   Share via Email   Share via Facebook   Share via Fark   Share via NewsVine   Share via Propeller   Share via Reddit   Share via StumbleUpon   Share via Technorati  

It’s like Piranha 3D but with Cuban Tree Frogs. Awesome.

You are a great storyteller, Betty (and I apologize for laughing at your pain, sort of).

Comment by J. on 08/29/10 at 10:11 AM

Beautifully told.  I’ll always think of you as having a frog attached to your ass and your boob, staggering around blinded by shampoo and rolling around outside as thousands laugh.  I have no idea what you look like, but why should that stop me?  That’s the power of ART.

Apologies for hysterical laughter. As a child, I can remember being traumatised by Floridian PALMETTO BUGS. For a New Yorker used to liddl cockroaches, my visit to Florida at the age of 12 has left me with the undimming memory of opening up the closet in our room at the just-opened Doral Golf Resort and finding it full of bugs whose size could only be explained by exposure to mutancy-inducing radiation. Oh, and the signs around the pools saying Beware of the Crocodiles: didn’t deter one from swimming in the pool one night, thoroughly within its rights: it’s what you get for going to a hotel built on swampland.

A friend of mine who used to live on the outskirts of Santa Fe tells a story about the time her husband (who thinks nothing of hiking the wilds of Burma) came lurching out of the shower screaming because he’d reached down to clean a hair clump out of the drain—only to find that it was actually a big hairy centipede that wrapped itself around his finger in a most convivial fashion.

Hilarious! You should take this writing thing up professionally.

Kinky little buggers. Are you sure they aren’t REPUBLICAN tree frogs?

And like everyone else, I do apologize sincerely for howling like a gibbon at these unseemly attacks on your person.

a big hairy centipede that wrapped itself around his finger in a most convivial fashion

[Glass shattering girly scream]

Oh MAN, I wish you hadn’t shared that. I FUCKING HATE - WHAT THE FUCK’S IN MY SHOE? Those things. Thanks. Really. When a dust bunny rolling across the floor causes me to self-defenestrate it will be all your fault.

So what if a few Cuban Tree Frogs have terroristical tendencies - you shouldn’t blame an entire species for a few radicals. 

BTW, did I ever tell you about the first summer I stayed in Tucson, back in school days, and learned the hard way about some big-assed beetles that come out for a couple of weeks to cover roads, fill swimming pools and otherwise make their obnoxious presence felt?  It happened that I had just finished watching a giant ant movie on TV when the first one hit my screendoor, and they made noises very similar to the giant ants…

HTP, this friend has been back in DC for a decade and still shakes out her slippers every morning from force of habit.

I could never hack desert life.

Years ago when I lived in a basement apartment in the Uptown neighborhood of Chicago I got up in the night to take a leak.

As I did my business in the dark I heard a squealing noise. Flicking on the light I discovered there was a rat in the toilet. Big enough that his back feet were on the bottom of the bowl, front feet on the top, snapping at my short arm.

After I beat it to death with a toilet plunger I had to clean the bathroom as I had shit myself in the process.

My in-laws live in rural Japan, and one day when we were staying there, I discovered that they had a boarder in the form of a giant spider the size of a man’s outstretched hand. We named him Bob. He kept appearing and reappearing throughout our stay, and they didn’t seem the least fazed by it. Needless to say, I was extremely careful whenever going to the bathroom at night.

shot a cockroach in my pajamas, in Texas (they really are bigger in TX), how it got there I’ll never know.

This is my favorite thread in several days.  Donna - what did you shoot it with?  I’m assuming you weren’t wearing the pajamas at the time…

Also - this thread has great Google ads!

Agree with others - awesome post, Betty; I’m admiring the writing, laughing, and thanking the FSM that it wasn’t me, all at the same time!

And thanks to Stephen1947 upthread for this heads-up:

Also - this thread has great Google ads!

It sure does!:

Supreme Quality Reptiles & Amphibians for Sale Online.

Betty, as long as you’re stuck with such rude neighbors, you should see if you can be a supplier for that vendor - make lemonades from lemons, as it were.

Reason no. 3,472 why I live in the high country of Colorado.  The bugs are small and the amphibians are scarce.  Blizzards I can live with.

The bugs are small and the amphibians are scarce.

And the moose are ... oh, never mind! ;)

Page 1 of 1 pages

Sorry, commenting is closed for this post.

<< Back to main