Written by Jovial Bob Stine
Originally Published January 1963
“Now, do each of you have a frog?” asked Professor Pivnik, quickly surveying each of his Zoology students’ desks. The smell of formaldehyde filled the classroom, soaking into the pores of each student. A blind person, depending upon his sense of smell, would not have been able to tell where the frog left off and the student began. To the professor this was a form of togetherness.
A student seated near the back of the room suddenly raised his hand. “What is it, Sturdley?” asked the professor, anxious to begin the dissection. “My frog is still alive, Professor Pivnik!” Sturdley cried out, obviously alarmed.
“Well, hit him a few times with your pencil. See what that will do!” said a surprised Professor Pivnik. The student followed the instructions. “Well, Sturdley, is the frog dead now?”’
“No, but my pencil’s covered with warts!”
“Sturdley, that’s ridiculous!”
“I’m trying to explain that to my pencil!”
“Are you nuts? People don’t talk to their pencils.”
“I do. I tell my pencil lots of things.”
“What? What do you tell your pencil?”
“I tell it to get the lead out!”
“Very funny, Sturdley. You’re a real comedian! But if I wanted humor in this class, I wouldn’t get it from you. If I wanted humor I could read the textbook! Now put that pencil back into your pocket and get ready for the dissection!”
There seemed to be some hesitation on the part of Sturdley. Professor Pivnik was obviously becoming annoyed. “Sturdley, what’s the trouble? I told you to put your pencil away!”
Sturdley appeared somewhat embarrassed. “The frog won’t let me, sir.” The entire class shuffled its feet and emitted a nervous round of laughter.
“Sturdley, now the frog is talking to you? I’m beginning to lose my patience with –”
“But it isn’t a frog, Professor Pivnik; it’s really a prince. A wicked witch cast a spell on him and turned him into a frog. The spell won’t be broken until someone really believes he’s a prince.”
Professor Pivnik became alarmed. Sturdley obviously believed what he was saying. “Someone’s playing a joke on you, Sturdley. There must be a ventriloquist in here. Now, who’s playing this trick on Sturdley? Is it you Bergen? How about you Witchell? Not you either?”
At that moment a tremendous groan issued forth from the frog on Sturdley’s table, and a handsome young prince appeared on the table in its place. “Good lord!” cried Professor Pivnik. “Then it’s true!”
“Yes, it is,” said the handsome young prince. “The spell that turned me into a frog was cast by the same witch who turned Sturdley into a human being!”
All eyes were turned upon Sturdley who was beginning to become tinged with green. He croaked a few times. Then he hopped off his chair, out of the classroom, and down the corridor.
The professor and the entire class stared after him in disbelief. Regaining his composure, the professor asked the prince, “I suppose you’ll be returning to your castle now?”
“No,” nodded the prince. “Actually I’m just a part-time prince.”
The professor was puzzled. “Well, what do you do the rest of the time?”
“I’m a Frogman in the Navy!” said the prince, wiping the warts off his pencil. “You’ll have to excuse me now – I must get my lily pad out of the hock!”