Once upon a time, there was a frog. She was a lovely shade of green, the same color as the underside of the third leaf of spring, a delicate, dusty shade. Ice cream made of the ghosts of limes, the fading memory of your first traffic light.
And then–you know, there’s probably a song about this–she noticed that there were an awful lot of other green things. It was such a dreadful common color, and she hadn’t any idea how to be, well, less common.
Until one day, she looked up at the community bulletin board, and saw that, quite within her price range, with convenient appointment times, subdermal permanent beauty enhancements. There might of course be an installment payment plan, but wouldn’t it be worth it to be, well, less common?
So she filled her purse with what pennies, nickles, and the occasional quarter she could scrounge from underneath the sofa, and hopped it to the Institute for Permanent Make-up.
When the beautician was finished and the swelling had gone down, she looked into the perfect smooth glass of her pond, and saw that, no, she was in fact very, very common indeed.
And that, dear one, is why we do not tell fairy tales anymore.
Salvation Army on 1325 in Round Rock, Austin