Imagine my surprise waking to the smell of clove cigarettes! It was old mister toad or rather half of him, the top half the same but sporting a nice pair of human legs. Averting my eyes, and no I didn't see his privates; I informed him politely that princes generally wear pants or the occasional kilt.
He croaked, "that's the least of my problems. Was ruminating on your viewpoint regarding traditions when this girl kissed me, then ran off when nothing happened immediately. However, in my current state there's not much I can do, as I'm neither toad nor prince."
"For decency's sake, please put these on," I implored, tossing him my camouflage sweats within arm's reach on the floor.
"You can look now", he said, shamefaced. By this time, I'd grabbed my robe, muttered, "need coffee or tea." Yes, I'm bicurious or bipolar regarding hot beverages, depending upon convoluted factors.
The half toad/half prince and I sat in silence awaiting the brew. After the first few sips, I ventured, "so what do you want from me?" He asked if he could smoke. I said no. More coffee pleasantly down the hatch. He complained about my strong coffee. A latte drinking toad. At four in the frigging morning.
Then he blurted out,"should I ask her for another kiss? Is that proper tradition?"
"Between you, me, and the streetlight, I've heard people say 'if you have to ask, it doesn't count'." Before he could respond, the telephone rang. When I hung up after a brief conversation, he was gone. So were my camouflage pants.
A cautionary tale: beware of haiku toads, longstanding traditions and smoking is definitely bad for your sleep.
BrevityQuest12 (282 words)