Jeremy the Frog (mature - coz its so violent!)

Sojo

//Jeremy the Frog - Episode One//

<previous journal entry ramblings>...alright enough about real life i'll just type summit more interesting and so will begin the tale of jeremy the..., let's go with frog. so jeremy the frog was hoping along the road one day when he noticed old farmer jackson sitting in the corner of his large corn field crying his eyes out. "what's the matter?", asked jeremy as he sprung over the fence of the field to where farmer jackson sat sobbing into his shirt. "Its...its...mary, she's...she's... left me for another......man.", said farmer jackson struggling to get the words out. "Oh really...", said jeremy thinking to himself, "can i do anything for you?". "Just...just hand me my shotgun.", said farmer jackson pointing to the gun that lay a few feet away. Jeremy, thinking nothing of it, passed farmer jackson his shotgun and hopped back out onto the road and continued on his way. about twenty feet down the road he heard a loud gunshot coming from farmer jackson's field. "he shouldn't be shooting birds in that state.", thought jeremy as some of farmer jackson's teeth went sailing through the air, past his head. jeremy decided not to go back because he felt he should really just leave farmer jackson cope with things as he saw fit, even if that was shooting birds, teary-eyed. jeremy was feeling kind of hungry so he called into the local shop. old man joggerson was stood behind the shop counter same as ever, fat red cheeks, jolly _expression, a twinkle in each eye. a woman was at the counter doing a lot of talking to old man joggerson. jeremy got in line behind her. he was gonna order a fly-sandwhich (it had been on the menu ever since the people of the village realised they had a frog who could talk and preform basic arithmethic...and also find the money needed to make purchases). he hoped from one foot to the next impatiently dreaming of his sandwhich. "Ho ho ho...", laughed old man joggerson to the woman at the counter, "not today i'm afraid, you see, i don't actually want to be robbed!". "Well tough!", screamed the woman taking a hammer from her bag and smashing it repeatably into the face of old man joggerson. jeremy looked on in horror as one of the twinkle's in joggerson's eyes was ripped out by the hammer and fell into the penny jellies. the woman heard jeremy gasp with terror and turned around suddenly. jeremy froze in horror, it was farmer jackson's wife, mary, and she was raising the hammer once more. jeremy ducked and rolled sideways as mary brought the hammer down with a loud crash. he backflipped over a rack of vegetables as mary lunged forward again. "why are you doing this mary?", he screamed. "why? why? i'll tell you why! because i need money to get the bus into town!". "but why did you leave your husband for another man?", asked jermey edging towards the sandwhich-making area. "Leave my husband?", said mary jackson looking surprised, "I'd never leave him, i just said that as an april fools joke." jeremy reached his hand back and felt around the surface of sandwhich-making table. his webbed fingers soon came across a large chopping knife. "And now to kill the only witness to my bus-fare murder!", said Mary rushing at jeremy. the little frog thrust the blade forward while side-stepping tearing it deep along the inside of mary's arm. she stumbled with surprise, tripped and fell to the ground. jeremy pounced and buried the knife deep into her throat. he stood back from mary as blood spurted all over the shop. what was he going to do now? call the police? would they believe him? and now he'd killed someone...could he live with that? what if he could? then maybe he could live with taking the money from old man joggerson's cash register and not saying anything to anybody? there was alot of maybe's flying around inside his head. tune in soon to find out!

Sojo

//True Lives - A Tale of One Frog//

jeremy stood looking at the bloodied corpse of mary jackson. had he done that? had he killed her? one skim over the previous journal entry indicted that, yes, he had. oh and it also seemed he was tempted to steal old man joggerson's money and go on the run. he was terrified. he'd killed a person. but what scared him more was that he had enjoyed it, he'd enjoyed the power. also the fact that a fully grown woman brandishing a hammer had been taken down by a small frog with a knife was pretty sweet. he knew he'd be locked up if he stayed around any longer and this was a small village; someone somewhere would surely have seen or heard something that would point the police in jeremy's direction-quiet possibly little billy bobson who had been standing outside with his nose pressed hard against the shop window the entire time.
"billy...", said jeremy as the eight year old began to back away from the window.
"ahaa...hahh...', murmered billy. jeremy could see the loud, thunderous wail that was about to unleashed moving up from within billy's lunges.
"oh no you don't!", screamed jeremy ripping the knife back out of mary jackson's throat and throwing it in billy's direction. it shattered the glass of the shop window before entering the slowly-opening-scream-impending mouth of billy. the blade could be seen poking out through the back of billy's neck as he collapsed forward onto the jagged glass of the broken shop window.
well that had pretty much made up jeremy's mind for him. he grabbed the money from the till and tucked it into his backpack along with a packet of crisps and some pokemon cards and then ran outside, removed the knife from billy's mouth, and headed off down the road.
about two hundred metres down the road from where he'd left the scene of a triple murder, two of them his own handywork, he bumped into officer marty doolan.
"hello jeremy.", said marty tipping his hat.
"oh hello officer.", said jeremy putting his hands behind his back as he realised they were covered with a mixture of different people's blood, 'lovely day today."
"oh not so lovely i'm afraid.", said marty, "i got a phonecall about five minutes ago from missus reegan. she says she was out hunting crows in farmer jackson's field when she came across the man himself and he after blowing his brains out with his shotgun."
"oh that's terrible.", said jeremy, "i was talking to him earlier and he did seem to be a bit upset."
"its sad alright. and its up to meself to tell his missus."
"ah mary...", said jeremy, and just like that he saw his oppertunity for more danger, more excitement. he wasn't going to come back here so what did it matter? he'd show them all just what a happy little frog he was. "i was talking to her only a minute ago in old man joggerson's shop."
"i'd better go give her the news so.", said officer marty moving off towards the shop.
"i guess you could say i was the last person to see her there.", shouted out jeremy as he too began to start walking in his direction, "though i think billy caught a glimpse aswell!"
marty gave a confused sort of "oh oh right" type response. he'd know what jeremy had been hinting at soon enough. jeremy got onto the bus that was headed into town and paid for his ticket with the cash that mary had hoped to use on the same bus only a few minutes before. the bus circled the village and passed the shop. jeremy waved goodbye from his seat in the bus as he watched officer marty stumble backwards in horror as he came across billy bathing in his own blood.
"he ain't the only one officer...", said jeremy wiping some of the blood off of his webbed fingers and onto the bus seat, "the big question is...can you follow my clues?"

tune in next time as we see jeremy grow more evil by the second and plays a deadly game of cat and mouse with the people out to find him and put him where he belongs...in some sort of prison cell modified to house a frog.

Sojo

//Jeremy the Frog - Episode Three - When the Tears Stop Falling
later that day, as the grizzly reports of the triple murder and suicide in Ramkins Village were beamed across the nation's televisions, a cleaner was making his way down through the seats of the number 12 bus picking up the scattered pieces of rubbish and prying off the odd piece of chewing gum from the appolstry. he had been humming a merry tune but, as he reached the end of the bus, his merry tune was silenced by what he saw on one of the back seats, smeared across the chair.

jeremy had spent the last few hours in a hotel room. he hadn't booked himself in; that'd be too risky. instead he'd choosen to wait for someone to open their doors onto the patio before rushing into the room and slaughtering all within. he now lay on the bed surrounded by his new/gutted friends watching the rte news.
"not more than one hundred metres away from where a local man took his life earlier today three dead bodies were found in and around this small village store. police are not ruling out the possibilty that the murders and suicide are connected but they have confirmed they will not be following up on this possibiliy on the grounds that it would be 'too annoying'. local garda, marty doolan, had this to say on the killings-"
"its shocking. shocking.", said marty doolan as the camera zoomed in on his face, "i was shocked. three beautiful people in the whole of their health are now dead. and farmer jackson aswell. i don't think i'll ever get over the shock. we have a suspect though for legal purposes we can't name names. however we do ask people to be vigilant for a small frog in his mid-twenties. he may or may not be brandishing a large kitchen knife and humming the themetune to the popular halloween movies. that's all we can say for the moment until we inform the people's families of the deaths. so i'll just do that now."
officer marty took hold of the camera and brought it into the shop. he panned over the dead, mutilated bodies and said "right. to whom it may concern these members of your family are now dead. eh...the first is little billy. i'm wicked sorry sandy but your boy got a knife through the head. i'll just zoom in on the-how'd you get this zoom to work? ah right. i'll just zoom in on the wounds there...shocking. the next is mary jackson-sure nobody to inform of this death since her husband is up in the field and himself with his brains blown out. and last but not least, a beloved member of the community and a provider of bread and procrastination-related chitchat, old man joggerson-beaten to death with a hammer...by god."
officer marty tried to zoom in on where some of old man joggerson's skull stuck out, jagged through his skin but the camera was wrestled off of him by the rte news crew.

jeremy had had enough television for one day. he went to reach for the remote but it suddenly occured to him that there were other, more old-fashioned ways to turn off a television.
"remote controls just breed laziness!", he spouted as he took hold of one of the dead children and ran forward, ramming their head through the screen. the tv screen shattered and a few electric crackles exploded. jeremy moved to the phone as the smell of burning hair filled the room. he'd had enough of the hotel; it was time to move on. right after one more little clue.

"and its definetly blood?", asked the bus station manager, having been called by the scared cleaner.
"yes. i wasn't sure at first so i tasted some of it and...well it ain't no raspberry sauce!", said the cleaner.
"my god. i'd better ring the police.", said the manager.
"and tell them...well look, sir, there's hand prints in the blood...well webbed-hand prints to be precise."
"that is strange. i'll notify the police immediately!"

"that's right.", said jeremy as he ordered room service, "one that's made entirely out of flies."
"eh...okay.", said the confused waiter on the other end of the line, "do you want any toppings on that?"
"emmm...let's see..", said jeremy trying to think what other things a frog might eat, "eh...just more flies, please."
"right away, sir."

jeremy hung up the phone. if the murdered bodies didn't give the police another clue then the fly á la fly souflé certainly would. he picked up his backpack, slipped a few hotel soaps into it and went searching for his knife. where had he left it? ah there it was-stashed safely in the father's right eye socket. "that's a woman, a child and a family of four now. i'm getting good at this.", said jeremy as he slipped out of the room and onto the patio. where would he go from here? he hadn't really thought any further ahead than this. the police would soon get word of his little bus clue, probably around the same time as the hotal murder was getting reported. it was time to move on to something bigger. something to really grab the stupid people of this country's attention. something that would make a few murders seem like a walk in the park (a pleasant park, not a gloomy one accustomed to murders). and jeremy knew just the thing...

Sojo

//Episode Four - The Plot Thickens//

fifteen minutes later the police arrived at the hotel. ramkin's village garda marty doolan was also in attendance.
"marty...this is outside your jurisdiction now.", said chief george foster, "you don't have to be here."
"yes i do.", said marty finding a window of the hotel room that wasn't splattered with blood to look out of dramatically, "this is personal..."
"how?", asked foster.
"it just is dammit!", said marty turning around to face the chief, "i'll be the one who drags this bastard in."
"as long as you feel you're up to it, marty.", said the chief backing off a bit, "we could do with the extra help."
"this is definitely jeremy's handywork then?", asked marty looking around the room where the family of four now lay dead and desecrated.
"yes. that's the murders of seven people he's wanted for now. that, ...and the destruction of hotel property!", said the chief as he jerked the smallest child's head out from inside the television set.
"what are we going to do now.", asked marty pocketing one of the hotel soaps.
"we have a specialist being flown in from overseas to deal with this. we've never faced anything like this before. or any sort of frog-related crime for that matter."
"a specialist...what sort of specialist?", asked marty becoming suspicious.
"that's all i know. he'll be here within the hour.", said the chief leaving marty alone in the room with only the corpses for company.
"dammit george what aren't you telling me.", said marty doolan to himself under his breath.

jeremy wandered the night time streets. only late bars were open and they were enough of a bloodbath already for jeremy to be bothered with. he'd have to make a house call. Jeremy walked up to the door of a small house and knocked two times. a light went on upstairs and he could hear footsteps coming down the stairs.
"who's there?", called the woman from inside.
"help! let me in! somebody's after me and they're trying to kill me."
"goodness me!", the woman exclaimed and quickly opened the door. as soon as she did jeremy lurched forward with the knife burying it deep into her stomach.
"i'm sorry...i must of been thinking of you.", said jeremy as he swished the blade around inside the woman and closed the front door behind him.
"honey?", the woman's husband called out from upstairs, "what's going on?"
"i'd think you'd better come down here and take a look at your "honey" mister.", called out jeremy as he reached out to the light switch and turned off the lights.
"who...who's there?", asked the man as he made his way down the stairs in the dark.
tony stephens, a middle-aged banker, felt his bear feet step into a puddle of something warm at the end of the stairs. he could smell death wafting up from the ground before him. he took one more step forward and he stepped onto what felt like jelly beneath his feet. he knew what it was, he didn't know how his mind could even conceive something so horrible but he knew what it must be.
"turn on the lights honey...", said jeremy in a raspy voice from somewhere in the darkness, "make it real..."
tony slowly reached out his shaking hand and, taking what seemed like all of his courage, he flipped the switch. light flooded the hall and there, beneath his feet, lay his wife, guts trailing out of her wounds. tony fainted.

back at the hotel marty doolan and george foster saw a black car with tinted windows pull up outside the lobby in which they were seated. "he's here.", said george standing up.
"how do you know its him?", asked marty.
"well the focus of the story wouldn't of shifted back to us if it wasn't, would it?", said george, "or to put that a more dramatic way,...i just know, marty, i can feel his presence. and it scares me."
the door of the car slowly opened, a man in a black suit, with black hair and sun glasses stepped out slowly. he carried a black briefcase and seemed to glide across the ground when he moved. he walked into the lobby.
"chief foster, officer doolan.", said the man nodding to each one in turn.
"how do you know who we are?", asked marty as george extended his hand to the stranger only to have it left hanging in the air.
"it is my job to know.", said the stranger.
"and who might you be?", asked marty.
"you may call me mister black. my real identity was disposed of years ago. chief foster, i need to talk to you privately."
"hey, anything you have to say to him you say to me.", said marty, "i want to catch this frog as much as you do."
"i'm afraid my orders are to assess what officer foster knows. i will deal with you later."
"but..."
"you heard the man, marty.", said george, "mister black i'll have the hotel open a room for us."

***continued after commercials***

Sojo

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Sojo

//Episode Four - Part Two//
jeremy had dragged tony stephens into the sitting room and left him on the sofa, no mean feet for such a little frog. he had then stuffed mrs. stephens up the chimney. before he thrown some icy water over tony, he'd checked around the house. a girl of about four lay sleeping in one of the upstairs bedrooms. jeremy had also come across tony's passport and pocketed it, just in case.
"gail!", tony cried out the name of his dead wife as the water returned to him his consciousness.
"she's isn't here tony. i'm afraid she's currently playing santa claus.", said jeremy nodding towards the chimney where gail's left leg could be seen dangling.
"you evil...son of a...", tony couldn't even get the words out.
"i don't have much time for discussion tony.", said jeremy juggling his knife from hand to hand, "the thing is i've got to get to dublin as soon as possible and i want you to drive me in that car you've got parked out front and i think you're going to help me if you don't want that little elf upstairs to join santa over there."
tony couldn't say anything. he was too angry, scared and upset to even understand what was going on.
"now i've taken the liberty of putting some clothes on you, in your shirt pocket you'll find your car keys. right now, this very minute, you are going to stand up, go out to your car and drive me to dublin. you are not going to call the police, you are not going to go upstairs and kiss your daughter goodbye for what might be the last time you ever see her, you are not going to try anything stupid or heroic, you're not going to grieve for your dead wife, you're not even going to wipe her blood from off of your feet; you're just going to drive. plain and simple. drive."
tony slowly got to feet, his legs shaking. he couldn't even feel them underneath him. he slipped one bloodstained foot after the other into his shoes that jeremy had left for him by the chair. he reached into his shirt pocket, took out the car keys and walked to the front door, taking a moment to look up the stairs to the door of the bedroom in which is daughter, rebecca, dreamed her carefree dreams.
"please...", said tony, "let me write her a note."
"i've already taken care of that.", said jeremy, "i've told her to get up, eat her breakfast and light the fire. keep her warm until daddy gets back."
"you bastard...", said tony opening the front door and walking out to the car, "you evil, evil bastard..."
"flattery will get you killed, sunshine.", said jeremy closing the door and following him to the car

back in the hotel room george sat giving mister black an account of everything that had happened and what they knew about jeremy.
"we don't know where he's going to strike next but we have people out in every county, watching every road, river and rail. we'll be ready for him.", said chief foster.
"no you won't.", said mister black, his briefcase resting on his lap, "and the media have been alerted?"
"yes. they know about the ramkin village murders."
"i want a statement issued to the media. the murders were not committed by a frog. they were committed by an albert steiner. you have him in custody and there is no further danger."
"what!?", shouted george, "but that isn't true."
"it is now, mister foster.", said mister black, "its the only truth the public will ever know on the matter."
"is this a cover-up?", shouted george, "i won't have any part in it!"
"then it looks as if albert steiner will have to strike one more time before the police catch him. and don't worry, my people will take care of the media as well as your people. goodbye chief foster."

marty doolan paced back and forth around the lobby. he was so frustrated. they call in a specialist and then they leave him out of the loop? he felt a presence move behind him. he turned around quickly and there was mister black, gliding out the front doors of the hotel.
"hey!", called out marty but mister black was already gone in his car, "what the hell!"
marty turned and ran back through the hotel, down the corridor to the room where foster had gone to talk with black. he burst into the room and there was foster, sitting in his chair, a look of frozen horror on his face. marty moved closer. "george?", he asked and then he noticed a faint trickle of blood coming from george's neck. "george!?". marty nudged george on the shoulder causing george's head to slide from off of his neck. it hit the floor with a thud.
"black? did you do this? what the hell is going on?".

marty ran back to the lobby. as he reached the reception desk three men dressed in black uniforms entered the building.
"who the hell are ye? we need to get the police!", shouted marty.
"this is no longer a police operation, mister doolan.", said one of the men, "now if you'd please come with us."
"how they hell do you know my name?", said marty backing away slowly.
"take another step and you're a dead man.", said another of the men.
"you work for black?", asked marty as one of the men drew a gun from his jacket."
"oh my g-", screamed the girl at reception as she noticed the gun. she was shot in the forehead before she could finish the scream.
"dear god!", exclaimed marty as he kicked the gun from the man's hand and ran. the other two guards quickly drew their guns and started firing but marty had darted around the corner of a corridor. the men pursued. marty ran up a flight of stairs, and still the men followed him. he jumped into one of the hotel rooms and ran to the balcony. the three agents ran into the room as marty hoisted himself up onto the edge of the balcony railing.
"you're not going anywhere mister doolan.", said one of the men, "we can shoot you in the back if you want but we'd much rather do it in the face."
"i'd rather you didn't do it at all.", shouted marty as he jumped off the balcony, a bullet flying just above his head.
*freeze frame on marty falling from the balcony*
tune in next time for more action, intrigue and unnecessary gore!

ExOffender

*yawn*

Sojo

well now there is constructive criticism and then there are people so bored with their own thoughts that all they can do is yawn

pwd

Constructive criticism: I found the absence of paragraphs or capitalisation in the first post to be so offputting that I did not read any further, even though I enjoyed the two other things I read by you.
Is there any reason for the <previous journal ramblings> in the context of the story? I didn't get it if there was and it was rather offputting too.

Sojo

Perhaps I should of explained. Jeremy the frog initially began on a sort of internet journal thing that I had been shown by a friend of mine and set up an account of my own. Anyway about ten lines into my first journal entry I became tired of my observations on real life and started the story of Jeremy the Frog quite informally. So informally infact that the initial part of the story isn't even split up into paragraphs. I've never been a big fan of capital letters, often finding that taking the time to hold down a shift key slows my output but will be sure to include them in anything I write from now on.
If you liked my previous two things I would ask you to make an effort to wade through the lower-case and let me know what you think overall. I've heard good things from people before so I think you might enjoy it. Cheers!

ExOffender

To re-parse my criticism in more constructive terms: 'You've read one, you've read 'em all.' I repeat: *yawn*

Le Rack

toooo long....

jimmidy_cricket

Ha ha, deadly! Its like Quentin Tarintino meets Kermit the Frog. The lack of capitalization or paragaphs didn't seem to bother me at all. I really enjoyed the randomness of it all. Fair play

Sojo

cool - glad you liked it! as soon as i have a bit of time on my hands I must write the next installment!

Shad0r

It's not too long and it might even be good but paragraphs are not something that you can leave out, hiding behind the guise of being "artistic". Well you can, but only if you want a fraction of the possible people to read it and the rest to think you're a lazy ba$tard.

Punctuation and format are there to make it easier to read what you write, which in my opinion anyway should be objectives of the highest priority.

Shad0r

<previous journal entry ramblings>...alright enough about real life i'll just type summit more interesting and so will begin the tale of jeremy the..., let's go with frog.

I'm completely at a loss as to how this sentance benefits either the story, you as a writer or you as a person. (if you left it there to demonstrate personality, then do yourself a favour, delete it and put a link to your journal instead.
My two cent...

Shad0r

Just finished reading all installments. Thank god you opted into using your return key every now and again. Fair play. Hopefully the shift key will get a look in at some point

I'm looking forward to the next high octane murder fest of an episode.

P.S. If you havent written it yet, whatever you do, dont b!tch out on the ending!

Shad0r

Le Rack wrote:

toooo long....

Its a piece of prose. Having length is kind of the point, you know, to tell the story with....

I wonder how stupid/ignorant someone would look if they posted the following as a reply to a poetry thread:
"toooo short...."

simu

Could I get him on my mobile?