A frog ... is torturing me.

And more are to come I know. Spring is in the air and I find myself reaching for my earplugs to drown out the croaking.

At night I dream of the millions of ways to kill frogs.

I could send them to France. I could stock the pond with sharks specially bred to devour frogs. I could buy gigantic venus fly traps (the big ones eat frogs). I could hire the local minstrel to play a froggy flute and lead them all away, hopefully to eastern Oregon where they'll shrivel up and die on the hot asphalt. I could take jumper cables, hook it into the city's power grid and stick one in each end of the pond.