Frog Applause by Teresa Burritt for January 31, 2024

Those dills couldn’t mastermind anything.

Love pickles, feh. Now if it had been a truckload of frozen haggis, I just might have had a hand in it.

Are you insinuating “gherkin”?

…surprise surprise surprise…

…that’s not my love pickle, either…

…I’m not a reader…

…I’m just here for the pictures…

…I stole her heart…

…she took my love pickle…

…a high calorie snack…

…more than a mouthful is waisted…

…Frog Applause readers are a crafty bunch…

…just yesterday…

…well…

…they not understood…

…they took to heart…

…you can’t buy lame like that…

…Emperor Ming, we have nothing to offer you since you blasted our kingdom except our loyalty…

…Prince Cess we value nothing more highly…

…fall on your sword…

… DEATH TO MING! …

…Frog Applause…

…now with 10% more loyalty…

I predict the perp will be a pepper pickler, probably named Pete.

Well duh. Pickle? Inside?

I guess all of us are in a pickle.

What would those suits know of Frog Applause activities?

Well suited for an ovation.

where on earth did you hear that?

They followed the trail of brine from the Bath Mat Factory Cafeteria leading directly to the Readers Recovery Room.

“Suits, L.A.”

by the way guess what i have in my pocket

I love “Pickles,” too!!

Several Frog Applause readers in one room could be dangerous.

Being that the simplest explanation is the correct one, I think it was the readers of Pickles.

“Extra Extra*

Read all about it.

Shoe Shining boy commits theft of nickel bulletin change drawer.

my shoulders have more padding than yours!

Relish the thought.

At least they weren’t surveillance pickles.

No one else could pull it off with such style & grace.

Who’s ventriloquizing for those mannequins? They should not spread rumors, only purported beliefs.

Nah. It was cats who duped humans into doing it. It was the diversion they needed to pull off the tuna and organ meat heist.

Fresh off the bus from Uncanny Valley

Pay them no mind.

Teresa selflessly trawls through oily gelatinous mounds of 1950’s kitsch in search of the fount of lameness so that we don’t have to. Thank you, Teresa.

Couldn’t have been me, I loathe pickles.