Quenton started writing in the fourth grade, and for a couple years he wrote quite a few frog stories. Now he’s grown with a family of his own and no longer writes stories. He still likes frogs. There is an Auggghhhh I episonde but it’s a bit gory . . . frogs getting splatted all over the roads and stuff. Tried to get him to tone it down a bit, but he hadn’t wanted to change a comma of it never mind a word at the time . . . soooo, we’ll see . . .
Maybe one day he’ll pick up a pen again and get creative. I’ve dug up his other stories and will post more of them here. Although he may not be writing now, his stories show the talent and imagination he had as a youngster.
This spy story includes any typos and misspellings from the original story.
A little frog suits up and gets his equipment and hops into his old harrier only thinking of the spying job he was assigned and how he was going to pull it off. The frog must go to the enemy base and get the top-secret plans for the new devastator that the enemy has.
Looking out his cockpit he sees the ocean flying by and the picture of his wife taped to the cockpit window to keep the sun out of his eyes.
He lands his tiny jet in some bushes then takes out his scope to look for guards. There was one, but he was asleep. Cautiously he sneaks in the back gate into the launching bay. There he finds a person tied to a rocket, so he unties him, and the guy says, “Thanks! They were gonna launch me into space because they think I know too much! Ha! I heard that they were sending a person to help me get the plans, but I didn’t find where they’re keeping them!”
“We’ll find them together!” says the frog.
As they sneak down the hall, they hide from guards patroling the security tower, 2 security cameras, 3 troops and a dog.Then all of a sudden a whole troop of soldiers come down the hallway, and they’re captured.
Then all of a sudden a whole troop of soldiers come down the hallway, and they’re captured.
“Where’s the rebel base?” yells the Commander.
“I don’t know,” lies the frog.
One of the soldiers searches him, and reports, “He’s only got a gameboy, two stun gernades, and a peanutbutter and fruit fly sandwich.”
“Hey,” objects the frog. “I want that back! Haven’t eaten my lunch yet!”
“What’s it worth to you?” The Commander wonders watching him closely.
“A full stomach!”
“No, not good enough. What is it worth to you?
“You already have everything I had!”
“Information, my dear froggie. Where is that base?”
Scared of losing his lunch, the frog breaks down. “Texas. The base is in Dallas, Texas! On the Main Road, take a right at the first light, and 3½ miles past the Old Gold Plate Cafe. You can’t miss it!”
“All right, that’s better.” The Commander makes a sign to his men. “Give the frog his sandwich, and toss him in cell 2.”
The soldiers salute, and carry out their orders.
“Wooowwww!!” Bam! Boom! Crash! Smash! Bam!
The frog picks himself up from the floor, and helps the other guy up. “Man! They gotta throw us in, they couldn’t just say get in there; no-o they gotta throw us in! Jerk!”
The cell seems to be full of junk. The other guy struggles in a tangle of pipe and cables. “Ahhh! I can’t get this stuff off me!”
“Just a sec. I’ll help you!”
“Ready? 1 . . . 2 . . . 3!” The frog yanks hard on stuff.
“Aughhhhhh! That’s better! Thanks!”
“Okay, we have to think of a way out of here!”
“Okay! How about—” The other guy begins. “No, that wouldn’t work! Wait! I’ve got it—”
“Nope, that wouldn’t work either! Hey! I got it! We’ll hide under the bed, and when someone comes, he’ll think we’re gone, and come inside. Then we’ll surprise him, and run out. Lock the door on him!” The frog looks pleased with his plan.
The other guy looks skeptical. “What if he sees us?”
The frog waves a hand at the junk. “We can whack him with something! That’s what they get for giving us a cell with junk in it. Get under the bed, quick!”
“Oh, by the way, I’m Justin,” says the other guy.
“Yeah, glad to meet ya,” says the frog. “Now be quiet!”
So they stuff themselves under the bed, and wait, and wait, and
wait. And wait . . .
At last a guard came to check on them. Sure enough when he doesn’t see them, he unlocks the door, and starts searching. “They’re gone!” shouts the guard.
“Grab his feet,” instructs the frog to Justin. “I’ll try to get his security card! Okay now!”
Justin tackles the guard, and whacks him with the pipe, and the frog searches his pockets for the card. “I got it! Cool, level eight!”
The frog suddenly stops and runs back. “The codes! When he wakes up, he won’t be able to use it to get help.”
“Let’s hurry up! Where’s the control room? You know?”
“Sure,” says Justin. “Over this way! How you planning to do this anyway?”
I’m a whiz at computers! Don’t worry! I’ll have their plans and their birthdays, and their mamas’ names in just a minute!”
“Cool! Never seen a whiz at work! Come to think of it, I’ve never seen work!”
“Shut up, and keep an eye on the monitors!” The frog goes right to work, his little skinny green fingers fly over the keyboard.
For a while it’s all quiet, then suddenly, Justin hisses, “Trouble coming!”
“Under the table,” orders the frog, and dives under first. Silence. “Is he gone?”
“No,” says Justin peeking out. “He’s right outside the door. Wait. I think he’s leaving . . . Yep, he is.”
“Okay, I was just about to download their plans on this disk.” The frog crawls out and goes back to the keyboard. “Keep on those monitors!”
“Yeah, right! Hurry up, then. This place gives me the creeps.”
“70% done . . . . 95% . . . . Okay! Got it! We’re gone!”
They sneak to the door, open it a crack and look out. All clear.
“Which way? Oh, left! Right! Let’s go!”
“Watch out for security cameras!”
Dodging more obstacles and troops they make it to the bushes where the two seater harrier is hidden. Jumping into it, they lift off. A couple gun turrets fire at them, but miss. They’re away safe!
“We’re going home!” cries Justin triumphantly.
Good job!” approves the frog. He adjusts his sunshade, smiling fondly at the picture of his wife.