Chucky The Frog

I wrote a song this morning about Chucky the frog. Not Chucky the Horror Doll, who we all love to fear, but Chucky the frog. Chucky the frog. I don’t know what to say about the song really, it just came into my head. I know some people might think that it’s stupid but it amused me at the time and that’s got to be worth something. Isn’t it? It did more than just amuse me, it gave me a lift! It boosted my mood. It brought a smile to my face. There are only three lines to the song I made up and you have to keep on repeating them. It goes like this: Chucky the frog / He’s having a good time / Everybody loves him. And then repeat over and over again. I know it sounds stupid but it made me happy when I sang it! It made me very happy. It put me in an ebullient mood, you might say. There is a moral meaning behind the song too and that’s important. It’s important for me anyway. It tells me something about life. It tells me that it’s important to have a good time and that if you do then everyone will like you! And that’s important, isn’t it? It’s not nice when people hate you or look down on you. Chucky the frog, huh? Even now it makes me smile. Even now, Chucky the frog brings a grin to my face and it’s been a tough day, I don’t mind telling you. It’s been what I suppose you could call a ‘relatively joyless day’. A day with very little in the way of light relief in it. A day with nothing in the way of light relief in it. A grim day, a wretched day. It’s been an uphill struggle – all day long I found myself being confronted with my own immense, unsupportable stupidity. It’s a horror story waiting to happen. It’s already happened! I struggled gamely on but the evidence was all around me. The appalling evidence of my stupidity; the evidence of my appalling stupidity. I’ll be sent down this time. I’ll be sent down for sure. I’m no longer feeling happy – the elation of the morning has long since fled. It’s as if it never was. It feels as if it all happened to a different person. Trying to remember all those embarrassing things you did when you were alive. Did you ever do that? Did you ever play that game? I do it. I play that game – it passes the time! It’s something to do, even if it isn’t a very nice thing. The memories are just waiting to flood back, after all. Once the floodgates are open you can’t stop it! You just can’t stop that flood. Did I really do that? Was that really me? I CAN’T have done that. OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod. Please tell me that I didn’t. Please tell me I didn’t do that. But you did. I did anyway. Is there any end to these memories?






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