Upon reading Mark Twain’s classic short story, “The Notorious Jumping Frog Of Calaveras County,” I was reminded that a poker face is useful when lying, and assumed my most convincing poker face visage while discussing the difference in momentum and inertia with one of my classes, whose members, like pillars of salt, seemed frozen in a perpetual inertial state.
In Twain’s story, notorious bettor Jim Langley’s celebrated frog, Dan’l Webster, was — unbeknownst to his owner — force fed quail shot, causing him to lose a leaping contest on which a forty-dollar wager rode. Langley discovered he’d been bamboozled when he picked up Dan’l, and was shocked that he weighed purt near five pound! He inverted the amphibian, shook him, and out rolled the shot. Webster lost because he couldn’t overcome inertia.
“Students,” I said, “y’all are like that frog. If you don’t overcome your stagnant state and regain momentum, you’ll end up like a toad I once had.”
Utilizing my powerful prevaricating propensities and best poker-face physiognomy, I held forth with the following fabrication.
“Toads can see only as far as their sticky tongues can reach, so they remain motionless until insects wander in range, and zap them. Curious to determine if my toad, Dan’l Boone, could differentiate between living, zappable moving targets and non-living decoys, I tossed a few injured flies in his range, which he devoured, and then rolled lead bird shot toward him. Sure enough, when they came within his myopic limits, he gobbled greedily.”
Assuring the students that toads have no taste buds and that zapped prey goes directly to their stomachs, my poker face succeeded in convincing them that the experiment was valid.
“Furthermore, toads have no stopping sense, and will feast as long as food comes their way,” I continued. “Soon, Boone’s belly bulged with bird shot. Then I dropped Jefferson Clinton, my pet snake, beside Dan’l, and the serpent zapped him.”
My poker face held, but barely.
“Suddenly, Clinton cavorted crazily, coiled up in knots, shuddered spasmodically, and succumbed to lead poisoning.
“Remembering that my hogs love snake meat, I tossed Jefferson Clinton’s remains into their sty, and got grateful grunts as the porkers pigged out.”
Like toads, I’ve got no stopping sense, especially when lying.
“Now, everybody knows the best tasting eggs come from grass-fed hens, so I fertilize my chicken yard with pig droppings, and start each day with several fresh eggs, which assures that energy — momentum— will disallow inertia.
“So, youngsters, do as I do. Overcome inertia by starting each day with a hearty, nutritional breakfast. If possible, eat fresh eggs laid by hens that eat grass that grows lush from nutrients in the waste of pigs that eat snakes that eat toads that eat bird shot.”
Doing so, I assured them with a poker face, would generate momentum for attacking with vigor whatever tasks come their way, including composition, and inertia wouldn’t be a hindrance.
My composure was crumbling, so I hurriedly said, “Class dismissed” … with a poker face.
Jimmy Reed——
Bio and Archives
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
