Hanover Fist

 Keep your eyes open, your ears tuned, and your nose to the wind. That's the advice Swampy gave me when he taught me how to track. I wonder if he knew I'd be sitting in the mountains of India, watching for frogs in the middle of the night.

The researchers we talked to said we don't stand much of a chance now that the monsoons have passed, but that's even more reason to try. The frogs show up during monsoon season. Hmmmm. Could it be because the monsoons are caused by Khrou-ach? How many brain cells does it take to make the connection between the God of Storms and monsoon season?

So we missed monsoon season. There's always next year....if I'm unlucky enough to still be around. And if not, the girls can take care of it. Maybe not Regan, she's not much for the tropics, but Toledo and Mary are definitely troopers.

Toledo actually seems to be enjoying the trip, nibbling on herbs she's never seen before, digging up roots, and chatting with the local fairies, of course. We don't seem to be able to go anywhere without them showing up.

For that matter, Mary doesn't seem all that bored. She's not much for sitting out with us at night, but she talks to the local folk in their own language and writes a lot of notes. She's jabbering on about another book. I suppose she'll expect me to read it. Maybe when I retire. I only wish.

What's that noise? A cat yowling? Great...my luck it'll be a mountain lion.

Gone

Regan Worth

Gone, baby gone. Love is gone...
Actually it's us that's gone. To India. To track down frogs. Whatever. All I know is it's hot here. My hair is a disaster and the air stinks like vomit. But Hanover's on a quest and so here we are, tracking down frogs to see if they're minions of Khrou-ach. Geeesh!  It's hard to even find a decent cocktail.

If I make it sound dismal, it's because it IS dismal. And guess what....a week here and we haven't even come across a single ribbiting being. Not one. So I said, "Come on, Hanover. Let's give up this mess and go to Afganistan, partake of a little poppyseed."

Can you believe he said NO!? He's becoming an old fuddy-duddy. Back in the day....well, no, even then he didn't smoke the poppy. But I did...oh yes, I did. And I inhaled...deeply.

Just some new frogs -- or so they say

Hanover Fist

I picked up the newspaper today, just as I do every day. Not much there...until I got in deep. Then I saw the headline that made me shudder -- Scientists Discover 12 New Frog Species in India.  So what, you ask? They're only frogs, you say?

Wrong. Not all frogs are what they seem. In fact, in my experience, most frogs are minions of Khrou-ach the storm god. If you doubt me, just listen next time it rains. Why else would they make a racket like the off-key hymns of worshippers, devout but tone deaf. I know, Whiskey Joe, I can't sing worth a hoot either, that's why I don't try. But these frogs, these worshippers of Khrou-ach, are obnoxious. And now I've got 12 more species of them to investigate.

Come on, girls. We'd better get packing. India's a long way off if we travel by air -- and that's how I intend to travel this time. I'm too old to realm-hop. You heard me, Mary. I said no....Damn.