Ribbit

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As the end of the day rolled round, Ben's condition had not improved.
"So what's your next step going to be?" Peter asked, "she doesn't speak English, her dad breaks cars for fun and there is a 99.9% chance her mum is a toad."
"There's still a 0.1% chance she isn't!" Protested Ben hopefully.
"And how do you like those odds?" Peter asked with no reply.
Then he felt a tremble through the earth, Hildegard rounded the corner looking like a meatball on legs.
"Wish me luck!" Ben whispered.
"For what?" But Peter's response wast lost to the wind as Ben took large strides towards Hildegard.
"This can't be good..." he whispered.
"RIBbit-rIbbiT-RIBbit-ribbIT?" Ben asked.
"Ribbit." Was the scrapping reply from the back of Hildegard's throat. Ben almost looked like he was going to faint. And then he did.
A couple of minutes passed before his consciousness returned and with it, Peter's face, in his.
"What happened?" He asked, a look of fear and concern on his face.
"My frog tongue is a bit rusty, but I think I just asked Hildegard out."
"Tell me this was some weird dream you just had." Peter pleaded.
"Nah, the dream I just had was about an elf that traveled through time." Ben answered.
"And I suppose you arranged a place to meet?"
"Shoot!" Ben cursed.

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