“The man was cold as an albino frog.” Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury, p. 104
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“The man was cold as an albino frog.” What did that even mean, Shari wondered. Paul made the comment in an offhand way, in response to her first tentative questioning. His blunt aspect could signal an opening. It could just as well be a warning to change the subject. After ten months together, you would think she could read him.
They’d arrived at the same time, tucked themselves into the corner booth by the stairs, and ordered their usual Chianti and carbonara to split–a student’s date-night splurge. Shari was in the second year of her MFA program, spending long hours scribbling away in coffee shops or typing at the old desk she’d jammed into one corner of their studio apartment. Paul was a medical student. Today had been his team’s first day of dissection. A real human cadaver. Just like an 80’s movie. Gross Anatomy or Flatliners. Things hadn’t changed much. The best way to learn to write was still to sit down and write; the best way to learn about the human body was still to cut it open and look inside.
She was morbidly fascinated by the prospect. But the thing about the frog caught her off guard. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an albino frog. Much less felt one.”
“They had a tank full of them, in the bar I used to work at in Chicago. I had to fish out a dead one once.” She made a face. “People used to throw popcorn in. Not a good idea, apparently.”
Shari sipped her wine. She’d never actually seen a dead body. Animal or human. She kept picturing the white foamed rubber underside of Haribo frog gummies. And then that made her think of the waxy white sweet bricks of vanilla Tootsie Rolls, the blue-wrapped ones in the Halloween variety pack. She pictured a human figure composed of these two substances, scalpels slicing through it to reveal … what? Red raspberry filling? Breached cavities spilling rainbow-colored Nerds onto the metal table, coils of glistening red licorice, cloudy membranous sacs the color of blue raspberry blow pops, yellow and orange tissue spongy to the touch, like marshmallow circus peanuts.
“Hello? Earth to Shari.” Paul touched her hand gently. “Mind if we talk about something else? Trust me, it won’t do anything for your appetite.”
She smiled. “Of course. You’re probably starving.”