Mushroom Toad King

He declared himself sold Ruler of Toad Lake. He wasn’t just a toad; he was a monument. He was a colossal, mushroom-shaped toad whose gills glowed with a faint, otherworldly light, and his skin was a patchwork of every toadstool known to the swamp. But he was a very Odorous. He was so vast that he cast a permanent shadow on the eastern side of the Great Lake, and the other toads, a collection of humble, green-speckled creatures, lived in a constant state of awe and fear. He believed all owed him. And he believed himself More Powerful than God that had created all Toads.

Mushroom Toad’s worldview was simple: the universe revolved around him. He called this philosophy “Mushroom Toad Economics,” a system where every fly caught, every lily pad sat upon, and every croak uttered was a transaction to be controlled and regulated by him. AHe decreed that all successful bug hunts must be followed by a two-hour-long “tribute nap” to honor his greatness, and every toad-hopping competition had to be run in a circle, with him as the unmoving center. He was the self declared King.

The penalty for non-compliance was an evening spent in Contemplation Pond, a particularly smelly corner of the swamp where the mosquitoes were rumored to have fangs.

His grandest project, however, was the “Tribute of Toad Mountain.” He wanted his face carved into the largest rock formation in the lake, a majestic, sloping cliff that the toads referred to as the “Whispering Stone.” The work was overseen by the “Greats,” small toads with impressive lung capacity who could shout orders from the base of the rock to the tiny, chisel-wielding toads clinging to its face. The “Greats” were on high alert at all times, as Mushroom Toad could change his mind on a whim, shouting, “No, that’s not my chin! It’s too… jowly!” sending the whole operation into a frantic scramble.

He was a master architect, with an ego to match. He ordered the construction of the “Three Mushroom Toad Towers” as a winter refuge for the other toads. These towers, built from meticulously stacked river stones and woven reeds, were a wonder to behold, but the entrance fee was steep: an entire day’s catch of flies and three minutes of sustained croaking praise for Mushroom Toad himself. The towers were not only a place of safety but also a way to enforce his will.

His rules were particularly harsh on newcomers. Any toad who entered the lake without his explicit permission was an “illegal” and faced the dreaded “Toad Frying Pan Removal.” This was not a real frying pan, but a large, flat leaf on which the unlucky unregistered toads were forced to sit for hours in the hot sun, a cruel and unusual punishment that always concluded with Mushroom Toad grandly declaring, “And so, you have been fried for Toad Food!” before releasing them, half-baked and utterly bewildered, back into the water.

In his spare time, Toad was building the pièce de résistance: a grand “Mushroom Toad Ballroom.” He had a single, magnificent vision: a ballroom modeled on the opulent Russian ballrooms of old, complete with shimmering walls of iridescent insect wings and a floor of polished river stones. He ordered the other toads to collect shiny, “daddy gold” beetle shells for a magnificent chandelier, which would hang directly over his golden throne. Toads toiled endlessly to get the shells, which were then attached to a grand chandelier. Once a week, he would sit on his throne, alone, and imagine the dancing, the music, and all the toads whispering about his exquisite taste. The only funnier part was when a ladybug would land on the ceiling, and the whole ballroom would become a panicked mess as everyone was forced to stop work and stare up at the beautiful creature.

But in the end, as with all things controlled by Mushroom Toad, it was all about him. His rule was absolute, and in his mind, it was perfect. The toads grumbled, they whispered, and they obeyed, all while hoping that one day, the Great Lake would be big enough for all of them, and not just for one giant, ego-driven toad.

Then one day, on a certain morning after the night of a tremendous thunderstorm, Mushroom Toad King was found DEAD. Found floating upside down in Toad Lake. And everyone was in shock as they all saw Mushroom Toad King’s penis was shaped just like a mushroom.

And everyone never swam close to his floating upside toad body again. He was there. Declared himself to be all things he wasn’t. And then he was Gone actually forgotten. Even his tall Towers were turn down.