Frog Warning

My sister came over to see if I was still alive. I had her check the mail (as I could barely move), which she grumbled about, as it was late, and very cold, and the mail was outside, but she finally did it.

"You're not going to like that you made me check the mail," she said, walking back in, holding a packet the size of a Shetland pony. "It's from the Government."

"dontwannagoback" I mumbled, trying to burrow in my pillow fort. She found me and handed me the packet. I opened it and saw many words. No light on but the TV. Strike one. Because of pain and general dyingness, my eyes were barely slits. Strike two. And it was from the Government.

I handed it back. "You read it." I tried to find the invisibility button in my pillow fort. I knew there was one somewhere.

"It's a big Questionnaire you have to fill out." she said, using the TV's reflected light. (She's used to my penchant for darkness, and my further penchant for throwing things at anyone who causes unnecessary - which means most - light.

"You fill it out," I grumbled, trying to will the ceiling to fall on my head." I'll never remember to.

"I can't!" she said in a shocked voice. I could hear her flipping through the pages. How long was the thing? "There's a giant frog warning on page 2!"

My ears perked up. That was the first interesting thing I'd heard. What the hell was a Frog Warning? I half-sat up. "What's a frog warning?" I asked, trying to focus my eyes on where - via the lack of light coming from where I thought the TV might be - I assumed she was.

"Not a frog warning, you idiot: a FRAUD warning. I can help you fill it out if your hand hurts too much to write, but you have to do it."

I collapsed back to the mattress, no longer excited. "Be a whole lot cooler if it was a frog warning." I mumbled, groping around in the dark to see if my pillow fort might have any uneaten snacks.