In a dimly lit room, the clinking of chips and the murmur of hushed voices created an air thick with anticipation. At the poker table, a man sat, his eyes sharp and focused, his stack of chips towering like a small fort.
Deciding to quit while he was ahead, the man stood up, ready to leave the world of bluff and bet behind. At that moment, the player across the table, his face etched with the despair of loss, reached into his pocket and placed a curious object on the table. It was a frog, unlike any other, with enormous eyes as blue as sapphires.
"This here is no ordinary frog," the broke player declared with a hint of despair. "It's special, gives the best head in the world." The other players chuckled, but the man was fascinated. What harm could one more hand do? He sat back down, the frog's unblinking eyes watching.
The cards were dealt, the bets made, and as fate would have it, the man lost - not just the hand, but the frog as well.
The following day, a woman steps into her home to unexpectedly find a trail of flour leading to her kitchen. There, amidst a blizzard of flour, stands her husband, covered in flour and bewildered, the blue-eyed frog from last night perched on the counter nearby.
Her eyes darted from the frog to her husband, a mix of exasperation and disbelief in her voice, "What the hell is going on in here?!" she demanded.
The man stood frozen, his eyes wide with guilt, and, looking as baffled, quipped back, "As soon as I teach this frog how to make biscuits, your ass is outta here!"