Paul continued telling me his story. . .

“As soon as I told Desireé that she had swallowed a frog, her eyes rolled backwards and she fainted.  I could still hear the frog croaking from deep within her, ‘Ribbit!  Ribitt!  Ribbit!’  It was lodged in her windpipe.  I knew if I didn’t act quickly she would asphyxiate.”

“I struggled to pull her out of bed so that I could stand her up and perform the Heimlich maneuver.  And although Desireé weighs only one hundred five pounds it was like trying to lug dead weight.  She was out cold.”

“Suddenly I got this surge of adrenaline.  I didn’t even know my own strength because the next thing I knew, not only had I pulled Desireé out of the bed — but she was flying across the room.  I watched in horror as she hit the wall and fell to the floor.”

“The good news was that when Desireé’s body hit the wall the impact dislodged the frog from her windpipe and it popped out.  The bad news was what cushioned her fall and saved her from breaking any bones.  The entire bedroom floor was crawling with locusts and frogs.  It was the most disgusting sight I had ever seen.”

“Suddenly the locusts rose in a swarm and started flying around the room.  The air grew so thick with locusts that it was impossible to see even my own hand.  All I could hear was a loud chorus of, “Ribbit!  Ribbit!  Ribbit!” accompanied by the buzzing of locusts flying everywhere – and Desireé screaming, ‘Porgie, where are you?’”

“I’m coming, Pussycat!”

“When I finally reached Desireé she was sobbing hysterically, ‘I thought I was having the best sex of my life and it turned out to be my worst nightmare!’  Then suddenly a locust swooped down and landed directly on Desireé’s nose.  That’s when she totally lost it.”

Paul stopped talking.  He looked like a broken man.

“Paul, are you all right?”

“She lost her mind.”

For a long time we both sat in silence.  Then Paul said, “How can it be that the two women I married both ended up losing their minds?”

“That’s the proverbial question.”

“Joanie, would you please ask The Redhead Riter to remove the curse?  I’ve had enough.  I want my wife back.”

“Which one?” I asked.

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Paul continued telling me his story. . .

“I debated if I should wake Desireé and tell her that there was a frog in our bed.  But then I had second thoughts.  For some strange reason the two things that Desireé feared most in life were locusts and frogs.  If Desireé knew that she had sex with a frog — I guarantee you it would have blown her mind.  I figured that since Desireé had this phobia about frogs – the best thing that I could do was catch the frog, put it outside and never tell Desireé about it.”

“Desireé was sound asleep.  I guess that orgasm she had really knocked her out.  So I reached over to catch the frog, but it was too fast.  It jumped and landed on her breasts.  Then it started hopping back and forth.  ‘Ohhh Paul,’ Desireé moaned in her sleep, ‘I just love the way you’re fondling my breasts!’  I reached over again to catch the frog, but it hopped away and I ended up smacking Desireé on the breasts.  She let out a passionate squeal, ‘Ohhh, I like it, big boy!  You’re so forceful tonight!’”

“Desireé are you awake?”

“Her eyes were still closed but this big smile spread across her face and she said, ‘Yes, I’m awake – and I’m enjoying every minute of your erotic foreplay.  You’re turning me on!’”

“But why are your eyes closed?”

“Because if this is a dream I don’t want to wake up.  Paul, you’ve never been like this before – you’re like an animal tonight!”

“More like an amphibian.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Desireé, just keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay Porgie – you’re in control.  I want you to totally dominate me!”

I let out an ear-piercing scream.  “She called you Porgie?!!!”

“Joanie, I can explain.  Desireé loved that I called her pussycat — and she wanted a name to call me.  So I said, ‘Why don’t you just call me Porgie?’”

“That was my nickname for you!”

“I know, Joanie – but we’re not married anymore.”

“Oh forget it.  You wouldn’t understand.  Did you ever end up catching the frog?”

“I tried, but once again it got away — and this time it landed smack dab on Desireé’s lips.  She opened her mouth and kissed the frog thinking she was kissing me.  I screamed out in horror, ‘No Desireé don’t open your mouth!’  But it was too late.  The frog disappeared down her throat.  Desireé’s eyes opened wide.  She had this look of total bewilderment on her face.  And out of her mouth came this croaking sound, ‘Ribbit!  Ribbit!  Ribitt!’”

“‘Pussycat,’ I said to Desireé, ‘I need you to remain calm, but you just swallowed a frog.’”

(To be continued. . .)

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