青蛙王子(故事新編)

很久很久以前，有一隻青蛙。當然，他是一個受了魔法的王子，因為普通的兩棲動
物是上不了童話故事的。這隻變了青蛙模樣的皇室成員處在魔法的控制下，等着童
話中標準的公主出現。標準公主一定得是金髮碧眼，當然不能是短髮，也不能喜歡
讀沙俄小說，或是有其它不夠標準的特徵。

一天，“捕蟲王子”正坐在他的荷葉上，懷念他人模人樣時的好日子時，一個真正
的公主正好來到，金髮，碧眼，優雅，就是有點波大無腦。

這位“叉足王子”高興地鳴叫道，“哇塞，我終於可以擺脫這個討厭的形狀。又可
以象以前那樣欺負貧窮階級，無禮對待陌生的神秘老婦人了。” (你還記得我們的
王子當初是怎樣被變成青蛙的吧。)

一切如計劃，公主開始在池塘邊拋起她那寶貝金球來，但很快就玩累了。這玩意兒
也太重了。宮廷玩具設計師有一大把經費，就是他們的腦子太小。而且不辛的是(對
我們的青蛙王子來說)，這時公主的手機響起。於是她竟然離開了，根本沒注意到荷
葉上那隻嘰嘰喳喳鳴叫着的綠色小東西。

他拼命地在她後面跳躍着跟着，可是沒什麼用，她穿那種鬆糕鞋還跑得這麼快。等
她到了宮殿門時他還離有一段距離。(任何識時務的青蛙王子都會住得離皇宮很近，
就好比那些想成名的好萊塢小星星們都聚擠在南加州那塊地兒里)。他跳不進也擠不
進殿門，只好垂頭喪氣地在門口縮了一晚。到了第二天早上，他的皮膚開始乾裂，
打噴嚏，腦海里不斷地想起肥美的蒼蠅。但他不想放棄希望，就繼續無動於衷地堅
守原地。

到了第二天金髮小傻瓜還沒出現，青蛙王子還在撐着，猶豫着是應該先餓死，渴死，
還是曬死。他以前的皇室教師在生物課上教過他到底青蛙是先餓死渴死還是曬死，
不過他那時沒認真聽課。真後悔。他想回憶起關於青蛙的種種，但記起的只是那道
福馬德林味。

當他準備徹底放棄，英勇就義，也好讓我們的故事繼續時，一隻手把他揀了起來。

“咦，一隻青蛙在這裡做什麼？”

他頭腦暈乎乎地想，這不是那個金髮公主。眼前的女郎看起來二十出頭，有着一頭
黑色發亮的頭髮，蜜色皮膚，短鼻子，也不算難看(不過她倒不喜歡沙俄小說，嫌太
沉重。當然，有誰不覺得沙俄小說沉重？) 王子很難為情地想，所有的人類在他看
起來樣子都差不多。當然，公主除外，因為她們總是金髮，而且支使人的聲音也大
些。

“我是帶魔法的王子！快把我帶進宮裡，讓公主吻我，然後魔法就會消失了！”王
子哇拉哇拉地叫着，但聲音出來只是哇拉哇拉的青蛙鳴叫。

“唉呀，你都快乾死了。我把你放回水裡吧。”那雙手把他托着走，他則徒勞地大
叫“你別把我帶離皇宮啊，你這個傻姑！”

他聽到了水流聲，只好閉着眼等着被隨隨便便地仍進去。但那雙手把他舉起來，被
一雙明亮漆黑的杏眼審視着。“嗯，這個不知是不是。。。”她沉思着。人人都說
一個女孩得親過許多青蛙，才能找到她的王子。她想，管它呢，就試一試8。

青蛙王子還沒來得及眨眼時，一雙鮮唇在他的尖鼻頭輕輕拂過。魔術辟里啪拉地碎
了，變成人形的王子倒在草地上。(還是裸體的，他以前倒沒想過這一點)。

尖叫聲響起，不過他及時找到一張大棕葉來遮着。他站起來，上下打量她道“怎麼
你看起來不象一位公主嘛。”

他的救命恩人哼了一聲，“你自己也不怎麼樣。我以為王子都不超過25歲。看來書
上說的都不可信。”

他氣憤地說，“你什麼意思，我才二十----TMD，這什麼鬼東西？”他低頭看見自己
原有的六塊腹肌變成了小腩肚。

她毫不留情地說，“不對！我看你二十好幾了。”

他驚得下巴都快掉了下來，張了幾次嘴都沒說出話來。“可是，可是---我變成青蛙
才不過幾星期啊。至多一個月！怎麼回事？”

她聳肩無所謂地說，“這個麼，因為青蛙活不久。可能就象狗年那樣要換算成人年
吧。”

他一下子蔫了。“這下可好。這麼說我不但不能跟公主搭上，還越變越老了？”

“非公主”皺皺短鼻子，不屑地說“老實告訴你吧，我聽說她脾氣很臭，還是破鞋。
你聽了也可少傷心點。”

“那看來她當時應該不介意吻我一下了。”他呻吟着說。

“你就別煩了，你已經變回了人不是？”她搶白着說，不過看見他失落的樣子又軟
了下來。“好吧好吧，你來我這喝杯熱茶，適應一下。還有，看在老天的份上，找
些衣服穿上吧，求你了。”

“茶？”他聽了精神一振，“灰伯爵加牛奶和蜜糖？”

“我想我有half-and-half罷。”

後來呢，他了解到他的救命恩人是個書呆氣重的電腦工程師(並且不怕碰滑溜溜的兩
棲動物，你從上面的故事也了解到了)。王子也發現他倒也不介意短鼻子。起碼，為
將來着想的話，生一大堆短鼻子的書呆小孩總比生一大堆又笨又刁的小崽子要好。

於是，“每個人都從此幸福地生活在一起”。至少大家都在朝這個方向儘量努力吧。

Note: the following English version might not correspond to the foregoing Chinese version verbatim. In the process of writing bilingually, I’ve become fully aware of and will always lament on the fact that the beauty of one language is sometimes lost when translated into another. As someone once said, "Translations are like women. The beautiful ones are unfaithful; the faithful ones, unbeautiful." Not that I would support such misogyny, but the quote is dead on about translation.

The Frog Prince---My Version of It

Once upon a time there was a frog. Naturally, he was really an enchanted prince, because fairy tales don't care about your average amphibian. Anyway, this little frog-shaped piece of royalty was under your standard enchantment, to be broken by a kiss from your standard princess, meaning she must be blonde with blue eyes and couldn't be short-haired or enjoy Russian literature or any nonsense like that.

As it so happened, one day while Prince Flyeater was sitting on his lily pad, trying to remember what it felt like to be higher up on the food-chain, one such character did conveniently arrive. She was a proper princess, with golden hair and bright blue eyes and a genteel air of inbred stupidity.

"Joy!" croaked Prince Webfoot, "I can finally be free of this wretched form, and go back to trampling the proletariat and being rude to mysterious old women." As you might remember, that was how our prince was turned into a frog in the first place.

As the story has it, the princess started tossing her precious golden ball by the pond, but quickly got tired of it. The damn thing was too heavy –the Royal Toymaker had a large budget but a small imagination. Unfortunately for our poor prince, the princess got a call on her Nokia, so she walked away from the pond, never noticing the small green critter gibbering on a nearby lily pad.

He hopped frantically after her, but to no avail. She was moving a lot faster on those platform heels than he'd thought, and had a lead that he couldn't quite close until she'd reached the palace gates. (All sensible enchanted frogs live within hopping distance of the nearest palace, for the same reason that star hopefuls live in southern California.) The gates were too high for him to jump and too tight for him to squeeze through. All night he crouched by the gates, miserable and dejected. By morning his skin was getting dry, even with the morning dew, he was starting to sneeze, and the thought of a juicy fat fly was disturbingly appealing. But he refused to give up hope, and remained stoically where he was.

By the end of the second day the little blonde twit still hadn't shown up, and he was still alive only because he couldn't decide whether to die of hunger, thirst, or exposure. His royal tutor had taught him in Biology which of the foregoing three came first, but he'd never paid attention to the royal tutor—a fact he later regretted. He tried to remember facts about frogs and all that came to mind was the smell of formaldehyde.

Just when he was about to give up and expire gracefully in the name of plot advancement, a hand picked him up.

"Hey. What's a frog doing all the way out here?"

It wasn't the blonde princess, he thought muzzily. The maiden in front of him looked to be in her early twenties; had a full head of shiny black hair, honey-tan skin, and a slightly short nose; and as a matter of fact wasn't exactly ugly. (However, she didn't enjoy Russian literature--she found it depressing and really, who doesn't?) It was a little embarrassing, but all humans looked more or less alike to him. Princesses, of course, tended to be a lot blonder. And louder.

"Take me inside the palace and tell the princess to kiss me, for I am a royal prince entrapped by a wicked enchantment, and her kiss will break the spell," he croaked. Or at least, he tried. What really came out was just a weak tongue flick.

"Oh no, you're all dried up. I'd better get you to a stream." The hands carried him somewhere while he raged ineffectually, "Not AWAY from the palace, you stupid fool!"

Finally he caught the sound of running water, but instead of being thrown unceremoniously in, he felt himself being lifted to eye-level to be under the scrutiny of a pair of dark, bright, almond-shaped eyes. "I wonder," the face that went with the hands said thoughtfully. They say you have to kiss many frogs before you find your prince. Oh, what the heck, she’d give it a try.

Before he could do much more than blink his bulging eyes, he felt a pair of fresh lips brush against his snout. He heard the shackles of magic burst, depositing him on the grass as a very human prince (and very naked, he'd never thought about that part).

A lot of shrieking went on at that point. But before the commotion died down he managed to find a large palm leaf to cover himself up. He stood up and said, "But you don't LOOK like a princess", sizing her up.

His rescuer snorted. "Well, you're not exactly all that either. I thought all princes were supposed to be no older than twenty-five. And you shouldn't believe everything you read."

"What do you mean," he asked indignantly, "I'm twenty---SHOOT! Where the hell did this come from?" he yelped, looking down at his slightly protruding gut. There used to be a six-pack there.

"Nope," she said critically. "I'd say around late-twenties."

His jaw dropped, and he worked it soundlessly for a few moments. "But--but! I was only a frog for a few weeks! A month, tops! What happened?"

She shrugged. "Well, frogs don't live as long as humans. Maybe it's like, you know, dog years."

He wilted. "Great. So now, not only am I not gonna hook up with a princess, but I'm also getting old?"

The non-princess wrinkled her slightly short nose. "Well, if it's any consolation, I've heard she's a real ???? and a notorious slut."

"She could've managed a kiss, then," he grumbled.

"Oh quit whining, you're human again, aren't you?" she snapped at him, but softened when his face fell. "Geez. Fine. Fine. Come in and have a cup of tea while you re-orient. And for Christ’s sake, put some clothes on."

"Tea?" he perked up at this. "Earl Grey with milk and honey?"

"I think I've got some half-and-half."

As it turned out, his rescuer was a nerdy computer engineer who didn't particularly mind touching slimy amphibians. And eventually, the prince found out that he didn't really mind short noses either. After all, he figured he’d rather have nerdy short-nose kids than dumb brats.

And so, everybody lives happily after. Or at least they try.