January 15, 2025
Animal Party, Part 2
This is Part 2 of my silly stories based on my friend’s cute little animal paintings. Part 1 is here:
Ribbét
While Sampson and Chloe were at the wrong party, Ribbét was definitely at the right one. She just knew it. She had spent all afternoon gussying up, not just her lewk, but her attitude.
She had been surprised to be invited to the King’s soirée. Ribbét lived a life of doubts. She often struggled to feel appropriate in a space or situation. This party would be affirmation of her value, her status, her hard work. She knew it was the right party.
She selected the brightest, pinkest bow and adhered it to a carefully dried spot on her head. As a frog, she had to be particular about her skin. Too little moisture for too long a time, she’d get short of breath and wouldn’t be able to execute her blow ups on the dance floor.
She practiced her poses, evaluating them in the reflection from the pond. She smiled. “Ooh, I look snatched!” She checked the time and hopped off the lily pad, confident and energized.
She was one of the first to arrive, though. The prickly doubts start poking, but she pushed them away. She looked good. She felt good. She was good.
She didn’t know any of the handful of animals in the clearing, most of whom looked kind of uncomfortable. Uniformly-dressed birds—catering staff, Ribbét presumed—were still flitting about, setting things, checking things. The music hadn’t even started. She wasn’t quite ready to make small talk with any of the guests,
She meandered to the cake table. There were so many cakes of every variety. There was something to appeal to every critter’s taste.
She could see the exotic variety of liquor being placed behind the bar, birds carrying each one in pairs. She supposed full bottles were heavy to transport through flight.
The event would be demure.
As she was wondering if it was too early to grab something to nibble on, a voice called out from behind here.
“Skrrt! Are you Ribbét? The Ribbét?”
Ribbét turned to see a possum carrying a party hat.
“Um, that’s my name, yep,” she said, her heart rate increasing, the prickly doubts threatening to poke.
“OMG, I’m your biggest fan! I stan your podcast so hard. I’m Ricky!”
“Oh, um, nice to meet you,” Ribbét replied.
“Seriously, it’s like I hadn’t heard anything until I heard your podcast.”
She wasn’t expecting this. She knew Frog Fancy had a lot of followers, but it never occurred to her she’d meet one IRL. Definitely not a possum. What could a possum get from Frog Fancy?
She should be excited, but the prickly doubts kept poking. Her skin was feeling a little dry. Maybe she should go back to the pond.
But this is why she was invited, she realized. People knew who she was. The King wanted her at his party. It was happening. She was an influencer.
So why did she feel so doubtful?
“Do you want some cake?” she asked hesitantly.
“You’d have cake with me? Yes!”
Ribbét and Ricky got some cake and talked. More animals arrived. The music started. The party was lit.
She was starting to have a good time. Ricky was strange, but nice enough to talk to. She was spending too much time talking and not enough time dancing, though.
“I wanna dance!” she said finally. Ricky wasn’t sure if her tone was annoyed or excited.
“OK!” he said.
There were just a few animals on the dance floor, and their dancing was lackluster. It was a perfect time to make a moment.
She stretched out her hindlegs dramatically. She stretched to either side. She checked her bow. It was time. She was ready.
She strode forward confidently, Ricky followed, not confident but starstruck.
Just then, Ribbét heard a nasty sound. A non-classy sound. A belch. Right at her moment to shine.
The smile fell from her face, reconstituting into a sour frown, as she looked at the culprit: a mouse looking frayed and frazzled, lying on his back like a lowlife.
Her scowl grew deeper.
Ricky scoffed in the mouse’s direction. “Bruh.”
