The next morning Mibbet woke up with a taste like she’d just gargled slightly soggy sawdust, making her really grateful she had not, despite the urgings of the locals drunk more of the wheaty misery water.

as she looked outside she couldn’t help but notice the local residents were moving rather slower than usual, setting down tools quietly with a groan, and all out looked about as happy as a shark in a salad bar.

“What’s up with them?” She asked Rosalind, wondering what on earth could possibly have the villagers, who were so perky yesterday so miserable today. Especially the young lad opposite who looked very much the worse for wear. Despite the fact he clearly won the game yesterday, by not only singing (so badly there could be no doubt his voice had been the absolute worst in show, even if the encore was performed by a cacophony of bullfrogs,) and dancing on the table (well at least until he fell off, but judging by the applause he got that was also worth a fair number of points all by itself.) But even earning cheers from the other villagers for climbing up on the headman’s roof, and flashing his butt to the entire village. (The locals apparently had called it mooning, though what resemblance it bore to a moon, beyond a few spots that vaguely resembled craters, was beyond Mibbet.

“They’ll all be completely hung over I suspect.” answered Rosalind.

Mibbet inspected them carefully, but couldn’t see any signs of hangers, rope, rafters, lines, or wires. Or anything else really hanging over them save an imaginary black cloud or two, (and in a few cases a disapproving wife with a mop and bucket. Or in the ultimate act of revenge cooking up a greasy fryup to teach their partner a valuable lesson in moderation. Much to the delight of Hairodadog, and Clenuponailfive.)

“What I mean Mibbet is they drank too much” Rosalind said with a sigh when she noticed Mibbet looking even more confused. “The alcohol that beer is contains is a mild poison.”

“I drank POISON” gasped Mibbet while Rosalind mentally eyerolled at the incoming freakout. “And you let me do it? Why? I mean if I die you die too right? Also, you mean to tell me that humans drink poison? Why? Why in the name of the muddiest puddle would you ever do that?”

“Mild poison because plain water can be toxic, Whatever it is in bad water can make us ill. Alcohol kills the things that make us ill in water off so we can safely drink.”

“So let me see if I’ve get this right. You mean to tell me you humans can be poisoned by poisons in the water, so you drink wheaty water, which by the way tastes absolutely disgusting, containing a poison strong enough to kill off the poison in the poisoned water to avoid being poisoned too badly? Is that what you are trying to say?”At this point the skepticism in Mibbet’s voice was as clear as day.

“That’s about the sum of it.”

“Surely the poison to kill off the poison must be more poisonous than the poison that you are trying to poison, or that poison wouldn’t be able to poison the poison.”

“It isn’t more poisonous than the poison poisoning the water. So you don’t need to worry on that front.” Rosalind groaned sincerely wishing she had enough bodily control to facepalm, or ideally a second body she could use to smack the bloody ridiculous frog in her body upside the head.

“Then to make that poison’s poisoning palatable you make a game, and a competition of drinking more and more of that poison, despite knowing large amounts of it will poison you, and by the sheer amount of people grumbling today apparently will make you more thirsty afterwards, sick, and give you the mother of all headaches?”

“That’s right” Rosalind sighed. Wondering if some helpful god would ascend from the heavens, and grant her wish allowing her the satisfaction of, just once, smacking the silly out of her erstwhile bodyjacker. The gods however were having far too much fun messing with her to spoil the game now, and settled for snickering and passing around the popcorn as Rosalind’s migraine grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger.

“Nope”

“what pray tell do you mean nope?”

“I mean nope”

“Nope to what”

“Nope to mouldy wheat water for me thanks, it tastes like sad, and makes my tongue like sandpaper, a girl has to look after her tongue, I mean human tongues are short enough already. I feel diminished just by seeing it, so we need a different, and hopefully less disgusting option. What else makes water safe so as to not make you ill?”

“Well there is always boiling it, that gets rid of most pathogens too.” Groaned Rosalind, bracing for the inevitable response, sometimes the frog had a lot of common sense, but did she have to be so bloody annoying about it?

“Then humans already have a solution IT’S CALLED TEA AND COFFEE, why do they insist on drinking beer? I mean you’ve tasted the stuff, please tell me there’s a logical explanation for all this.”

“Well some happen to quite like the flavour of beer.”

“Nope.”

“What are you noping about now.”

“Beer.”

“What about beer?”

“I’ve tasted it, and having tasted it I refuse to believe that anybody can actually enjoy it, especially given how many humans I see throwing their guts up this morning because of it. There’s no way that anybody could really enjoy that. Ergo they must be making it up. It’s the only logical explanation.” Replied Mibbet triumphantly, absolutely convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt she was the one in the right here.

“No there are people who genuinely enjoy it.”

“Nope.”

“I’m telling you the truth Mibbet.”

“And I’m telling you nope.”

Rosalind decided to give up at that, given the absence of walls inside the body for her to bang her head against, and Mibbet filed away yet more evidence for her current theory, that all humans were bloody weirdoes, even when they acted like their weirdness was reasonable and understandable, weirdoes they remained.