Grandpa Dean's Wishing Well Stories

"A Frog for Wishin'"

Yeah, I know...

Yeah, I know, a frog for wishing, but this frog was different than other frogs. He could talk, yes, but he really could grant wishes. His name was Albert and he lived deep in the heart of the swamp. He did not like humans, but he loved to tease them.

Albert did not see humans often, but when he did, he liked to ruin their days and show them how much he was not like other frogs.

He liked to offer them the chance to make a wish or two, maybe three, depending on his mood. That all changed when he met Wilbur, who taught him a lesson he would never forget.

One day, as Albert was sitting on his lily pad, he saw a human in the clearing at the center of his swamp. The human was dressed in hunting attire and calling his dog.

Apparently, they were both lost.

The dog had a strange name, too. Green, the dog was called.

Now, Albert was no stranger to the humans and the weird names for their animals. In fact, he had heard of a dog named Blue. Green, however, was odd.

As the human called for Green, he moved closer to where Albert sat on his lily pad. Then, Albert asked, “Are you lost, human? I can help.”

Startled, he turned and said, “Who’s talking to me?”

Albert replied, “I am, human—what’s your name?”

“W-W-Wilbur?” he said and turned again. “Who is that? Where are you?”

“Nice to meet you, Wilbur, I’m Albert, and I’m talking to you right down here.”

Wilbur looked around for someone actually standing nearby, but there was no one. “Where are you?”

“Are you lost, Wilbur?” asked Albert, enjoying the hide-n-seek game.

“Yes,” said poor Wilbur. “Show yourself!”

“No, said the frog. “But let me ask you this. If I granted you one wish, what would you wish for? Would you wish to find your dog, wish for a pot of gold or wish for a way out of the swamp?”

Wilbur said, “I’d wish for the pot of gold!”

Albert granted the wish and watched the fun. Wilbur took off with the pot of gold and headed down a winding trail that seemed to lead out of the swamp. Weighted with the gold (and still whistling for his dog), Wilbur wandered the swamp trail until he circled back to the spot he’d just left.

“Some wish, huh?” said Albert, croaking as he laughed.

Wilbur dropped the gold. “I can find my way out of the swamp if I had my dog.”

Albert agreed and said, “Well, if you pour half the gold into the marsh grass beside you, I will grant you a wish for your dog to come.”

“Yes, yes, wherever you are,” said Wilbur, spilling out gold coins. “I wish for my dog.”

“Granted,” said Albert.

Just then, Green the hound dog bounded from the tall cattails and sat at his master’s feet. As he panted, Wilbur saw that his muzzle was swollen, his nose coated in thick syrup and welts from a hundred bee stings.

“Good luck getting out,” said Albert, laughing. “I think your dog found himself some honey, but I doubt that nose is going be much of a help.”

“I’ll get out,” said Wilbur, putting salve on Green, who let out a long whine. “And this hound dog will do just fine: Green, where’s the car, boy?”

Green contorted with the excitement of pleasing his master even as he whimpered from pain. The dog started down a smaller hidden path that seemed like a possibility until it too circled back to the same place.

Wilbur tried to comfort his dog, now draped over both of his master’s feet. “Albert, please help us out of the swamp,” said the man. “We’re tired and hungry and this pot of gold is heavy—why are you being so cruel?”

“Me, cruel?” asked Albert, pretended to be insulted. “What have I done? I have granted you wishes and you blame me for being lost. This is my home you have invaded, and I have given you gold and your dog.”

Knowing the words were true if their sincerity was not, Wilbur said, “I’m sorry, but will you help me?”

“Help you with what, Wilbur?”

“Help me out of the swamp?”

“For a price, Wilbur,” said Albert, rolling around his lily pad nearly beside himself. “You can wish yourself out, but you have to pay for it with what’s left in your pot of gold.”

Furious, Wilbur said, “But it’s all I have left!”

“Sorry,” said the Albert, who shot out his pink tongue to catch a juicy fly. “That’s how much it costs to get out with a magic frog’s wish.”

“Magic frog?” said Wilbur, spinning. “Green, where’s the frog, boy? Find the frog.”

Green, suddenly excited to help his master again, sat up. He wagged his tail as he sniffed the air through that stuffy nose. Albert froze when the dog snatched him up from his spot on the lily pad. With a gentle hold, even with all those teeth, Green brought the frog to his master. Wilbur took Albert, who was more frightened than harmed, and brought him closer for a better look.

“Hello, Albert,” said Wilbur with a wide smile. “I think you can show us the way out the old-fashioned way. I can keep my gold and you can keep your life.”

Albert directed the man and dog out of the swamp, which was much closer than Wilbur had thought.

“Let me go,” said Albert, squirming in Wilbur’s hand. “I got you out, now let me go, you big galoot!”

Wilbur shook his head. “If you were a person, I’d tell you that someone ought to teach you manners, but since you’re just a rude little frog, I don’t have to say a thing. Green, boy.”

“But I’m a magic frog!” said Albert, peeing on Wilbur’s hands. “I can grant you another wish, any wish! Please don’t feed me to the dog!”

“Well, I have gold enough for, well, just about anything,” said Wilbur, petting his dog. “I’d hate to think that a magic frog would abuse such a great gift, and my dog is very hungry, aren’t you, boy?”

Green barked and then waited for his master to drop the treat with the flippers. Albert pleaded, croaking at the top of his lungs. He closed his eyes as the fingers let him go and was amazed to hear Wilbur say, “I wish for Albert, the rude wishing frog, to remember his lesson when he gets back to his lily pad in the middle of the swamp.”

Albert waited for the jaws that never bit him.

He opened his eyes and saw his familiar part of the swamp around him. And in the distance, just beyond the cypress trees, a dog howled at the rising full moon.

Albert never spoke to humans again.

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