“Huh? Wha –?” muttered one Grendlyn Warbush on the evening of October 15, 1948 as she was roused from restful slumber in her upper floor bedroom at 654 Sherbet Lane in the town of Rood Sound, Rhode Island.
She was groggy from sleep, but something had stirred her. What had summoned her ‘Huh”? Who had elicited this truncated ‘wha—‘ from her consciousness?
It had been an uncharacteristically warm fall evening, and she’d fallen asleep with the window open. And there, on the window ledge she saw – in silhouette against the moonlight – a huge frog, eyeing her.
She let out a gasp, her hand rising to stifle a squeal just as the frog let out a plaintive “ribbit”.
Grendlyn was taken aback, but then chided herself. “Well, what sound did you EXPECT it to make?” she thought. But more to the point, she wondered how exactly the frog had come to be on her second floor window?
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The answer came seconds later as a series of thuds – gentle and sparse at first – then gaining in intensity were heard from her roof. Out the window, a stream of shapes whizzed past her window, accompanied by the dopplering sound of many surprised and confused amphibians toppling groundward.
It was raining frogs!
Grendlyn went to the window, and saw the ground littered with frogs, with more continuing to plummet.
“You poor things!” she exclaimed, picking up the frog on the window… which was just as he’d planned it. He pulled a tiny dagger out and held it to her throat. Then, through gestures and suggestive croaks, he coerced her down the stairs to open up the safe behind the painting of the Colonel.
The Raining Frog Gang had struck again.