End of Bouncy Pink Life

End of Bouncy Pink Life By Will Willoughby

Once upon a time, two bouncy boy toys lived a wonderful life on the shady porch of a sunny house facing a sunset cove on the Pacific Ocean. They were not everyday toys like a Tonka truck, a Lego set, a Barbie doll, or a wooden Pinocchio. Instead, they were special—carved from luxurious cherry wood, sanded, shaped, and then meticulously hand-painted in a small mountain town in a faraway land. Each toy had a hook and a long, springy wire attached—like a mini Slinky—that gave them bounce. Frederick, a pink flamingo, and Fremont, a green bullfrog, hung from their wires on golden nails. With each sea breeze, they floated and swayed together.

They were bouncy, flouncy, and joyously carefree. Fremont was a daredevil, a surfing frog with a yellow surfboard on his flippers. Frederick was pink, pert, and rather stiff, with his legs crossed and a white daisy on his right knee. Frederick and Fremont loved their bouncy life, spending the days in laughter and bliss. The shady porch was the perfect perch, facing a busy beach. Children played, built sand castles, dogs jumped into the sea for frisbees, and people soaked up the sun on colorful towels. Their vantage point gave the toys a view of the nonstop circus of life. Frederick and Fremont talked about all they saw daily. Talking, being together, and watching sunsets after busy days were a few of the abundant joys of their bouncy life.

Frederick and Fremont were distinctly different. Fremont, a frog, was naturally curious and carefree, wanting to join each day's activities. Anything new endlessly intrigued him. Frederick, a flamingo, was a bit snobbish and reserved. Pink, a rare color for a bird, made him a touch conceited. He believed no other pink bird matched his style or grace. His long legs gave him a refined air, far above Fremont’s croaking clumsiness. Yet, despite differences, Fremont and Frederick became best friends, sharing hopes, dreams, and joys. And as sometimes happens with some boys, Fremont and Frederick fell in love—somewhat different, as both were boys, toys and they were quite different colors. A green surfing frog and an elegant pink flamingo seemed an unlikely pair.

Of course, everyone expected Frederick to be a beautiful and elegant bird of the world, experienced, educated, and possessing the finest of manners. However, they did not look upon Fremont as kindly. After all, Fremont was a frog; what is a frog compared to a flamingo? Well, lunch for one thing. Flamingos usually eat frogs for lunch.

"Humph!" People would say, "What is Frederick doing with that ribbiter? They aren't in the same league at all. Frederick is special, and Fremont is ordinary…just a..frog."

None of the cruelty and prejudice of others seemed to bother Fremont and Frederick. They ignored unkind remarks, questioning glances, and the sardonic tone of others. They did this because they were in love.

"Love knows only love. You have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince, and I found my prince in you." Frederick would say to Fremont.

"It is you and me against the world," Fremont agreed.

Of course, everyone was terribly jealous of the deep love shared by Fremont and Frederick. They seemed very blissfully happy, laughed freely with one another, and truly enjoyed being together. Unfortunately, jealousy is insidious, and it slowly crept into their relationship. The world's jealousy wiggled its way into their little wooden hearts, and before either Fremont or Frederick became aware of it. It changed them. There was one small, curious difference between Fremont and Frederick. From their perches on the porch, Fremont was often looking toward the beach, while Frederick would most often spin around and look toward the house. Frederick was a homebody, and Fremont desired adventure. Frederick, being able to fly, had seen much of the world. He was ready to settle down with Fremont and make a warm, cozy home. Fremont was not a frog of the world. He had been a tadpole in a small pond with his siblings, and he suffered from wanderlust. He wanted to jump into the unknown and hop into strange new places without a thought for his own safety. Fremont eventually decided he only "sort of" loved Frederick, and he was not ready to assume the responsibility of creating a home and building a shared life. That’s when the troubles started. Frederick and Fremont began squabbling more and more frequently.

"You are so perfectly pink, Frederick. Of course, you never say anything or do anything to upset little ol' green me."

"Fremont, I'm not perfect. I want to talk things out with you. We must not sweep our problems under the carpet. We have to throw them into the light of day, then they lose their power to make us unhappy."

"Get over yourself, Dr. Frederick! You are not a shrink… you're a pink…flamingo." Fremont responded.

Eventually, the squabbles would subside, but never disappear. Life became more complicated for Fremont and Frederick; soon, they clashed more than they laughed together. No matter how they recalled those sunny days when they first took up residence on the shady porch, nothing stopped the bickering and discontent. Discontent is a terrible affliction in a relationship. Fremont secretly began looking at other frogs and sometimes even other flamingos, wondering if the grass was greener elsewhere. It's an old cliché, but true. Clichés persist because they are often true. If only, Frederick remembered another such cliché,

"In every life a little rain must fall."

One day, the heavy rains came. Fremont and Frederick started the rainy day nicely enough—no arguments, no raised voices, just quiet. They were cozy and comfortable, and they had eaten their favorite foods. The rain kept coming. Frederick was about to say something when he caught a longing glance from Fremont followed by distance in his voice, and the realization that Fremont almost always gave him his back. Frederick wondered,

"What can all that be? Does Fremont really love me?"

The thought made Frederick quite nervous, and he began to think and think and think and then think some more. Perhaps, it was the rain or the thunder or the lightning but Frederic started to short-circuit. He couldn't rid a dreaded thought from his mind, and finally, he asked Fremont the fatal, life-altering question.

"Fremont, when we've fought in the past, did you ever go off and spend time with another flamingo when I was asleep?"

Fremont felt edgy, anxious, and tired. He answered Frederick quickly and gruffly.

"No. They always say, 'Don't you already have a flamingo friend?' It's too much trouble to get involved with anyone else, let alone another pink flamingo." Fremont said the word pink with as much disdain as he could muster.

Fremont's answer made Frederick's heart beat uncontrollably fast, and his head started to pound. Maybe Fremont didn't realize what he had just said?

"They always say. It's too much trouble." Frederick immediately suspected that

"THEY always say" meant that there were THEYS, not just one other flamingo, but more than one. THEY! THEY!! THEY!!!”

Frederick started acting like a lawyer, interrogating Fremont. The usual squabble became an all-out battle. Fremont grew increasingly angry at Frederick. There was no time to breathe, think, or calm down. The battle intensified, and suddenly, Fremont left. He bounced so high that his springy wire slipped from its golden nail. He bounced off the porch and into a stream the rain had made on the front walk, surfing away on its current and disappearing into the rainstorm. Frederick just bounced as the wind and rain battered him. He could not think, eat, or drink. He could only cry, wishing Fremont would come home, but the sun set and still no Fremont. The day turned to night, and finally a little before midnight, Fremont returned.

"Where have you been?" Asked Frederick.

"Under a bridge, talking with a friendly frog." Fremont tersely responded.

Frederick became inconsolable, and their battle resumed, only this time worse than before. Fremont, red-eyed and furious, jumped off the porch again and into the deep, dark night as the rain poured even harder. Frederick couldn't even bounce anymore. He just cried without stopping. He cried so much that his tears poured as heavily as the rain. Frederick was made of wood and put together with just a bit of glue. The moisture from his salty tears, flowing down his wooden body, loosened the glue that held the daisy on his knee. He cried on that shady porch, until he suddenly heard a noise, the sound of something banging on the wooden floor of the porch. Frederick looked down, blinked the tears from his eyes, and then he saw his wooden white daisy lying in a puddle of tears and rain.

"I've lost my flower." Frederick thought to himself, and a deep sadness filled his heart. "I'll never be happy again. Fremont is gone, and there is no one to help me."

Frederick could not even cry anymore. He just bounced endlessly, staring straight ahead without seeing anything. He had lost heart, his daisy, and the dream of a warm, cozy life with Fremont was now a nightmare.

The night passed, and the morning sun, though hidden by lingering rainclouds, brought gray light to chase away the darkness. Suddenly, Frederick was startled out of his stupor by a sound. Fremont, looking ruffled and wrinkled, trudged onto the porch. Frederick immediately noticed that Fremont had lost the beautiful yellow surfboard that was once attached to his flippers.

"What happened to your surfboard, Fremont?"

"The glue got wet, and it came off. I lost it somewhere in the night." Fremont replied.

"Where were you all night, Fremont? "

"That's none of your business. Nothing about me is any of your business anymore. We are finished. I need to be around other green frogs like me and not pink flamingos like you."

"Fremont! Please don't say…." Frederick couldn't finish speaking. Fremont glared at Frederick and said,

"You are so perfect, aren't you, Frederick? You know everything. You never shut up. You have to talk about everything incessantly, and you never listen to anything that’s important to ME! I hate that stupid daisy on your knee. It's ugly just like you. I hate you. I hate pink. I don't want to be with you anymore. I don't LOVE YOU!”

"Fremont, we love each other. We can figure this out. Let's be calm, rational. Just give me a chance."

"I've given you way too many chances already. I'm done with you, Frederick. I do not love you. I do not respect you. You are dead to me. Good luck in your perfect lonely pink life.”

"Fremont, what happened? Don't you remember all those sunny, happy days together?" Frederick asked. "What happened to us? What happened to our love and our dreams?"

"Your dreams, not mine. Your love, if you can call it that, not mine."

Fremont didn't say another word; he turned and, without looking back toward Frederick, leapt out into the gray morning light and out of Frederick's life forever. Frederick just watched, without a word, and soon a deep emptiness filled his little wooden heart. Frederick would never laugh again, and he knew his heart would never soar with happiness again; it would slowly become an echo chamber filled only with silence and cobwebs.

Frederick still bounced on the beautiful, shady porch of the beautiful, sunny house staring at the beautiful sunset cove on the beautiful Pacific Ocean, but he bounced alone in the passing breeze; he had lost Fremont forever, and that day of rain had infected him with spores, spores that started causing him to rot. He spent the rest of the few lonely, long, empty days he had left decaying and crumbling, his pink paint slowly chipping away until he disintegrated into dust. His last thought was remembering the way Fremont had made him bounce with laughter, even when there was no breeze.

The End.