64 “Sarcasm is the wit of the idiot”

The Froggy Ninja’s croaking laughter dominated the Plip Plop Coffe Shop.
“Awh awh awh awh awh awh! Awh awh awh awh awh! These bicycle riders are a bunch of wimps. Awh awh awh awh awh!”
He’d appeared like an avatar, and it moved the old timers there who’d been the audience of nascent television to wonder. It reduced Monsignor Quinn to a puddle. A half century of striving ambition, cunning, and cutthroat competition to gain the ecclesiastical purple were washed out of his soul for the moments he beheld the greatest guest star of the greatest Saturday morning children’s television show in the early 1950s. Dare he approach and inquire as to the good health in the Somewhere Beyond of Midnight the Mechanical Cat and Squeaky the Mouse? Were they still playing violin and racing cars, respectively? Was Andy Devine at the right hand of God? Did they wear Buster Brown shoes in heaven?
He was not worthy. He did not approach. He paid patient attention to the vision incarnate of Froggy rocking back and forth, and was comforted.
“Awh awh awh awh awh! You’re a bad boy, you are, you are. Awh awh awh awh awh!”
Monsignor Quinn was awestruck, because Froggy was addressing him directly.
“Awh awh awh awh awh awh! You didn’t baptize baby Drew. You better! Awh awh awh awh awh!”
“What’s that f____n’ frog up to?” Uncle Joe said petulantly.
Froggy turned on him.
“Better get a cake! Better get a cake! Awh awh awh awh awh! Awh awh awh awh awh!”
Uncle Joe forgot all his damns to fate and resentments of little Drew. He bolted from the cafe, impelled by the mystery of the Froggy Ninja. A straggling bicyclist was in the way whom he bumped.
“Excuse you!” the bicyclist bristled, ponderously sarcastic.
Uncle Joe kicked him in the nuts.


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