The Little Frog Man dipped down into the crevice of a wrinkly bosom and fell asleep. He was like Rip Van Wrinkle, except he did not sleep for a hundred years, his sleep being cut short after a mere 4 minutes by a fairy who plucked him from the old woman's chest and dropped him into a pond that was fed by a river. He sank like a feather, flutter here, flutter there. The Little Boktavian Dulaleecha saw him, and twirled down in a circular motion into the depths of the white rushing current, until they were sitting at peace at the blue, blue bottom.
"What?" Screamed the Little Frog Man, his cries piercing the water and shimmering the sun.
"How Now, Brown Cow?" The Little Boktavian Dulaleecha Cankerously Bellowed, and the Little Frog Man shivered with fright.
"He told me the way," he meowed.
"Ah, and that is how you make gorgonzola cheese," the Little Boktavian Dulaleecha chuckled before struggling through the deep waters and catching a current on the West Side to Everywhere.
The Little Frog Man laughed tears of joy and snow and swiftly melting autumn, the salty droplets accounting for a flood that spring.