The Dance

He moves down the row driving a spike into their heads. I stare at the frog allotted to me. Small, green, wide grinning mouth. It looks like a cartoon drawing, sat motionless between folded legs, I half expect it to make a sardonic quip about the nerdy lab tech and his thin silver death-prong Later, my frog is reduced to just one limb, attached to an oscillating current. The leg dances on and on.