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"FWAGGLE!!" Junior dove for the garden-raiding pest, but the critter sprang into the air at the last moment, and he crashed to the ground with a grunt and a thud. The green thing landed just out of reach.

"Are you okay?"

Junior gaped and blinked at the thing. "Wait a minute. You're not a Fwaggle."

"No, I'm a frog." Robin said. He'd come up here on advice from Mokey to see if the Trash Heap had any advice regarding his future. And while the song she'd sung had been catchy, he didn't have much more idea of what to do next than he had before. She seemed to have been advising him to go ahead and pursue a career in show business, but that was what he already had determined.

"What's a fwog?" Junior asked. He'd never seen the like before.

So Robin tried to explain that he was an amphibian, but such scientific distinctions seemed to go right over Gorg's head.

"You don't eat wadishes do you?" he asked suspiciously.

"Not particularly." Robin assured him. "I prefer flies."

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Robin T. Frog

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