Sunday, Early Morning

Trash day.  Simon heaved a sigh and smiled.  All down the street, the lumpen gray-green trash bins stood sentry beside his neighbors' driveways.

"C'mon, Bugsy."  Simon rattled his dog's leash and walked on, enjoying the pre-dawn chill.  But Bugsy whined and held back, refusing to step onto the grass to do his business.

"What?" Simon asked.  Abruptly, he heard a peeping sound.  He leaned closer to the garbage bin.  "It's only a frog, Bugsy."  He considered trying to let the poor thing out, but he had no idea how he'd find it.  This wasn't even his bin.

The peeping returned, more forcefully.  There must be several frogs, two or three.

Louder.  Perhaps ten...

Louder.  Twenty?

The sound kept increasing.  Simon stepped back, Bugsy cringing at his heels.  There were deeper croaks, now, the sounds of larger frogs.  He almost expected the bin to start vibrating with the force of the voices within.

Something bumped Simon's back and he jumped with a shout before he realized he'd run into the bin across the street.  Then he heard the peep behind him.  And another.

One by one, all down the street, the frogs - the things in the trash bins - began to call.