Running naked through the morgue, the goggley eyed feral frog hopped great giant leaps out the door and into the dark of night.

Standing nearby, a caped figure by a lamppost, “One, two, three, four hops. Four hops ahahahaha,” the monacled purple shaded figure laughed as the deformed frog hopped past, it’s long tongue sticking out, drooling.

“One.. two.. three. Three drools,” ahahahaha, he oddly cackled to himself in apparent amusement.

He was obsessive compulsive, he had to count things. He was a night owl, slept during the day. Counted everything he saw in the night hours. He tried counting sheep, but it made him sleepy. While asleep he couldn’t count, and that was unacceptable to not be about to count things.

Ah the fiendish amphibian was hopping back his way,
“Ah one.. two…three.. four.. five. Five hops, ahahaaha”, he was saying when the fire eyed frog lunged for his throat, how ironic he thought. Until he realized that frogs don’t have teeth.