The Crafty Crane and the Frogs Who Were Concerned About Values

Once, a group of frogs lived peaceful froggy lives on the edge of a lake, croaking and eating flies and passing laws that guaranteed as peaceful a life as a frog could have. The frogs were not pretentious and really didn't ask anything more than a fly in their belly and a pleasant summer night sky filled with stars to compliment their singing. The good lives of the frog citizens passed this way for many years.

One day, a crane and his crafty cronies descended from the sky, prepared to fill their own bellies with frogs. But, as they headed to the frog's corner of the lake, one of the frogs held up a flipper to stop them. "Wait," he ordered to the cranes, who froze, for they were not accustomed to being spoken to that way, especially by their dinner. "You cannot come here. Frog Law 50172.36 under the revised code forbids cranes from entering this corner of the lake. You'll have to move along."

Since most frogs fancied themselves lawyers, they all pretty much knew the revised code of Frog Law by heart.

The cranes were sorely angry, for they were being denied dinner by the rule of law. They gnashed their beaks and splashed their pointy feet and generally acted like fools, but there was nothing they could do against the rule of law, so they ultimately sulked away to a far corner of the lake, trying to find it satisfying to eat a few slimy fish.

But one crane, the main crane, was particularly crafty, and, knowing that frogs often held their elections in the late summer, returned to the frog corner of the lake the very next day. Immediately, he was greeted by another annoying frog quoting him the revised code, but this time, rather than gnashing his beak, he waved the poor fellows croaks off with one dismissive wing. "Okay, okay," said the crafty crane, "I'm well aware of your revised code. In fact, I've come not to cause trouble with my gnashing beak and my splashing feet, but rather to participate in your democracy. This is still a democracy, is it not?"

The frogs, offended that the crane would have the audacity to even question that, ribbitted in agreement.

"Well then, I have come to throw my hat into the ring as President of the Frogs." The crane bowed in an attempt to appear humble. "You see, I have long wished to serve the greater public, and, when I approached your corner of the pond, and I witnessed a group of frogs governed by such as powerful rule of law, I thought to myself, 'Self, this is a place where you can finally fulfill your destiny as a leader'."

"We have plenty of leaders!" croaked a cantankerous old bullfrog. "We have frog leaders, who represent frog interests and care about frogs. We don't need a crane as a leader!" Several other frogs let out belches of agreement.

"Mmmm, hmmmm..." the crane hummed, stroking this extremely long chin. "Well, if these leaders are so caring and have such an interest in frogs, why have they let your culture slide so far? Frogs leaving their families, frogs sitting around all day on lillypads with no ambition beyond looking good, frogs that, in an abomination to all that is natural, actually eat their own tadpoles. The current frog government is out of touch with the common frog. They are elitists who have no idea what is truly important. They don't care that those peacocks on the left coast of this lake pollute your frog air waves with filth and smut of every color and flavor. They don't care that butterflies are marrying other butterflies, then demanding benefits at the expense of taxpaying frogs. They don't care that your schools, your own frog schools, no longer allow a morning croak at the flagpole, or that the name of the Almighty Frog could be taken out of the Pledge of Frogligence. They see a choice, not a tadpole. So, I ask you, fellow frogs, who really represents what is important to you? Who really shares your ideals and knows your values? A bunch of dragonfly-latte drinking, college educated frogs with a superiority complex that work in cahoots with the liberal peacocks and butterflies? Or me, a hat wearing, gun toting, FrogSCAR loving crane."

When the crane finished his speech, the gathered frogs began to croak in loud agreement, splashing their legs in the water (except for the bullfrog, who had nodded off). And, the next day, with record voter turnout, the frogs elected the crane as their President, knowing that, despite the previous years of protection, equality, and prosperity the frogs had enjoyed, it was the crane who truly represented their interests in upholding froggy morals.

"My first act as President," the crane announced, "Is to strike from the revised code Frog Law 50172.36 and allow all cranes full access to this corner of the lake!" With the rule of law now changed in their favor, the other cranes immediately swooped in and began, following the lead of the frog president, to snatch the frogs in their beaks, gulping down the screaming frogs without even chewing.

"Mr. President, sir!" the frogs screamed as they watched their neighbors and relatives being eaten alive,"What are you doing? You promised to uphold values, to see that the butterflies and peacocks didn't spread their filth, and that no frogs would ever eat their own tadpoles again! You said you were just like us, and held beliefs that matched ours, that you'd bring change to our twisted culture! But here you are now, with your friends, devouring our whole society!"

The crane swallowed a gut-busting mass of squirming and struggling frogs, for even cranes would not talk with their mouths full, then said, "But I'm doing just what I promised. Your culture is obviously changing with every swallow of your loved ones. The peacocks and the butterflies never will bother you again, and there will be no tadpoles left to eat when my friends and I are done!" And, to illustrate that point, the crafty crane dipped his mouth in the lake water and slurped up a beak full of terrified tadpoles. And then his friends ate the frogs that questioned them in the first place.

Moral: Values are relative, but frog legs are tasty.