"Hurry up, put this frog in your pocket" the old man said. I reluctantly put the frog in my pocket. My dad was always a strange one, but I always trusted him. He motioned forward and we walked into the darkness of the forrest.
I couldn't help but start to think of the last time I talked to my Dad. I was in the hospital, it may have been a few weeks into the first chemo-therapy treatment. "Green Beens for lunch today, great", my phone rang. Could be important, to bad these Vicodins make watching Cash-Cab soooo fun, I won't be answering it. My Mom answered, "It's your Dad, here." "Hello, I suppose you've heard I almost bit the bullet" I said. "Yeah, You sound pretty good, are they taking care of you?" he asked. "Yes, they're great, I couldn't ask for a better place to be, under these circumstances anyway." I explained. I told him I would try to get a sponge bath from a nurse and we said goodbye. That was the last time I spoke to my father until now.
We were walking through the forrest for what seemed like a mile. I could barely see in front of me. "Okee Dokee, we're here" my Dad said. "Uh? Where the heck are we again exactly?" I questioned. "This is it man, Tom! this is the best place you could ever imagine, cmon' we gotta go down this well" he said. "What the hell is down the well" I responded swiftly. He looked directly into my eyes and said "Trust me"
Quickly and to my surprise he revealed a well that was right in front of us covered in ferns. He handed me his flashlight and down he climbed the rusty little ladder into the darkness once again.
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