Tempting Except For The Flying

 It is a long night already.

Terence has finished his eye.

He has decorated the warty blotches, with random black dots.

You look good, Freddy, says Terence.

But Freddy is only an illustration and not a real frog.

Terence looks out of the window.

Up at the night sky.

If only he had someone to talk to.

Like a parrot.

The moon becomes visible. Then disappears, wrapped in cloud.

It reminds him of his potato spun prawn. Where is it?

He put it down somewhere.

On the table. But it isn't here now.

He listens. Perhaps it is wailing.

Ouaiouai. 

It's coming from the fridge in the corner.

He gets down from the table, and tiptoes to the fridge.

Opens the fridge.

Inside, is his potato spun prawn, wailing.

Ouaiouai.

How come you can wail? asks Terence. You don't have a head.

I've got these, says the potao spun prawn.

These what? asks Terence.

These two dots, says the potato spun prawn. Gerald did them, remember?

They're EYES! says Terence. And not even real ones.

One is an eye and the other one is wailer, says the potato spun prawn. 

Do you want to come out of the fridge? asks Terence.

Yes, it's cold in here, says the potato spun prawn.

Want to see my green and golden bell frog? asks Terence.

Okay, says the potato spun prawn.

Terence carries the potato spun prawn to the table

Did you draw that? asks the potato spun prawn.

No, I just coloured it in, says Terence.

You're a really good colourer, says the potato spun prawn.

Thanks, says Terence. How would you like to be my new parrot?

What does that involve? asks the potato spun prawn.

Helping me, says Terence. And flying.

Well, this is tempting, except for the flying