News of the World

One summer I did osteological research in Honduras. When it rained, massive frogs (toads?) escaped their burrows, trenches and streams and headed for asphalt. After peaceful nights of pitter-patter drops and hops, inordinate numbers of their crushed carcases littered the roads.

Last night, in Malaysia, it rained. I thought I stepped on a frog. But it was just a wet, crumpled-up, dirty piece of paper. I didn't pick it up.