Day 23

Part 3

"My view of your room," the eyeball continued. You're always looking out at the world every morning, and the world never gets a chance to look back at you."

"Well, that is just ridiculous," the old woman retorted, though the wheels in her mind were certainly starting to churn at this point.

"Are you....are you the 'eye of the world' or something?" She asked, this time, without any anger or extreme curiosity....just in a 'matter-of-fact' sort of tone.

The eye's pupil dilated in wonderment.

He responded, "No, I'm a frog who lives outside your windowpane. My name is Adious Aberdine. I seem to have an eye infection," he responded.

The old woman nearly fainted (and she didn't normally have over the top reactions to much). 

She ran out her front door to verify the facts.

The facts were exactly as Adious Aberdine had stated.

There was a tiny frog sitting in the garden below her window, with a gigantic eye staring into her bedroom. Actually, the eyeball turned to face her.

"See? I wasn't lying. And, I wanted you to know something, now that I have your attention. What you do when nobody's looking....well, sometimes, others notice. Whether you notice them or not. And, I think you should be nicer to girl scouts. And really, that's all I've got to say."

And he cleared his throat, and he let out a "Ribbet!" and with that, he hopped away in the other direction.

And Gertrude Grock stood there, in her garden outside of her windowpane, in the early hours of her beloved Saturday morning, dumbfounded for the first time in years.

She hadn't felt this much sense of wonder and amazement since she was a young girl, and she was staring up at those stars, that night with that boy.

And she went inside and threw out all of her shoulderpads.

And she spent her retirement as girl scout troupe 282 leader, where they sold the most cookies out of any troupe in their village, and they took yearly field trips to a spot under the stars, where they could see all of the constellations at once, and how they all connected.

And that is the story of Gertrude Grock, and how she was saved from being a pot.