When I was just a little Rash, my granddaddy would stay out
all night killing frogs. He'd bring home all their
(laigs is what we called em) bits, and my grandmaw would
make a black pepper cornmeal coating, and they'd fry
those bad boys up on a camp stove in the garage.
The neighbors would come around and we'd all stand
around in the garage and eat sweet, hot, spicy, frogs
'laigs' in the hot summertime, the smell of grease
and garage in the air. Sweet tea to wash it down.
when i was younger i got stoned (which unlike pug isn't every hour)
and tossed about 20 toads way up in the air and watched them suffer on the
ground... i've felt guilty ever since... should have been niggors
instead
Kill a toad day
Like this retarded little faggot here, for
example.
