King Frog

It is an honor to step back into the world of Granny Z and the two ponds. This new tale takes us deeper into the field of rocks and the mystery of Stanks the Crow’s “special plans.”

The Song of the Empty Field: A New King Frog Tale

The air in the alley was crisp, the kind of Texas chill that makes you grateful for a thick quilt and a warm memory. Granny Z leaned forward, her eyes twinkling like the stars over New York City, and the children hushed instantly.

“Now, you remember,” she began, her voice a rhythmic hum, “how King Frog’s vanity led him to that dry field, and how Scar the Scorpion let the sun do what a stinger didn’t need to. But stories are like onions—you peel one layer, and there’s always another underneath.”

While King Frog was busy being ‘king’ of nothing in the hot sun, Stanks the Crow was perched on a fence post nearby. He wasn’t laughing anymore. He was watching. You see, Stanks didn’t move the Scorpions to that field out of the goodness of his black-feathered heart. Stanks was a bird of business.

“Scar!” Stanks called out, hopping down to the edge of the great boulder. “The big green loud-mouth is gone. Now, it’s time for you to pay the rent for these fine flat rocks I found you.”

Scar crawled out, his dark armor glinting. “We are safe from the frogs, Stanks. What more could a bird want from a scorpion?”

“Perspective,” Stanks hissed, his eyes dark and clever. “You see this field? These rows of plants? They belong to the Giant-Who-Walks-In-Straight-Lines. Every week, the Giant comes with a loud machine that shakes the earth. If you want to stay under these rocks and not be crushed, you have to tell me when the earth starts to tremble. Your many legs feel the shaking long before my ears hear the roar.”

The children leaned in. They knew about giants—the trucks and sirens of the city were their own kind of earth-shakers.

“So,” Granny Z continued, “the Scorpions became the watchmen. They lived under the rocks, and every time the Giant’s tractor approached, Scar would signal Stanks, and Stanks would fly to the high trees, safe and sound. It was a deal made in the shadows. But there was a problem. Scorpions aren’t meant to be servants, and Crows aren’t meant to be trusted.”

One day, a young scorpion—one of the babies that had been on Scar’s back—asked, “Grandfather, why do we help the bird who ate our cousins?”

Scar looked at the horizon. “Because, little one, the bird knows the way back to the water. We are prisoners of the dry land now. We traded our freedom for safety from the Frog, and now we trade our labor for safety from the Giant.”

Granny Z stopped and took a slow sip of her Grape Soda Water. She let the silence hang there, heavy and thoughtful.

“You see, youngsters,” she said, looking at Jake and the others, “King Frog thought power was about who you could eat. Scar thought power was about where you could hide. But Stanks… Stanks knew that real power is knowing what’s coming before anyone else does.”

“But what happened to the water, Granny Z?” Marta asked softly.

“The water is always there, child. But sometimes, when you spend all your time worrying about your enemies, you forget how to walk back to the pond. The Scorpions stayed in the field, watching the ground, while the Crow flew high, watching the world. And the moral is this: Don’t let your fear of a frog lead you into the cage of a crow.”

A Note for the “Little Him’s and Her’s”

Just like the Potted Meat Dip, these stories are meant to be shared and “mixed up” until they feel right for your own family. Whether you’re in the country or the heart of the city, the “straight lines” of life can sometimes feel like that dry field.

The Ingredients for a Great Storytime:

  • The Atmosphere: Turn off the screens. Let the room be a little dim.
  • The Connection: Use the names of your own kids in the story.
  • The Lesson: Ask them—who was the smartest? The Frog, the Scorpion, or the Crow?

God Bless you and your writing, James. It’s a gift to keep these traditions breathing.