There once was a frog who went tra-la-la along the glen until a big mallet hit him in the head and his brains oozed out of his little froggy skull and the mallet-holder said "haha!" and did a merry little jig.
This wasn't a solitary event. There was a miniature elf who had been running around making friends with these little froggys, only someone seems to be killing all his froggy friends.
He was going to make friends with a caterpillar but everyone pointed at the elf and laughed. Then they took off all his clothing and whipped him with a whip and gave him dirty rags to clean himself so he could stop bleeding all over the riverbank
One of the rocks got up and stole the moss from another rock. Then he thought about this and offered the moss back. "I'm sorry" said the one rock to the other. "I just got really excited at how neat your moss looked. I really didn't mean to take it from you. It was cruel and unusual and I should be punished."
Every night that week the elf went home and got stoned, then fell asleep watching deep space nine. He felt he should probably do something better with his life so he got some beer one time too. He'd go outside but the snowflakes keep clinging to him. Not just slightly clingy but that really soaking-wet-clothes-clingy.
The elf went outside and shot the rest of the frogs that hadn't been crushed by the mallet. Returned home and cracked a beer with the mallet guy. Life was good.
"Aw fuck. Now all my frogs are dead" the mallet guy said.
"yah... too bad about that" said the elf.
"And buy the way," said the mallet guy. "I don't need those fucking blueberries. I can hit the frogs just fucking fine without blueberries. Do I make myself fucking clear?"
The elf cracked a second can. "Sure.. whatever."