Arnold vs. Michigan

I was Arnold Schwarzenegger (no, not the Terminator),

just Arnold, with all my muscles and my might.

I was roaming through a city (demolished, not at all pretty)

and I believe it was the middle of the night.

I was protecting a group, and through the city we trooped,

searching through rubble and avoiding any harm.

We came upon a bridge, and my eye began to twitch,

as my spidey senses sounded the alarm...

As we approached the middle, a frog (both green and little)

jumped up and stopped us in our tracks.

He seemed to be polite, but in the middle of the night,

I couldn't seem to make myself relax.

We chatted for a while, and he explained with sickly smile

that we wouldn't be permitted there to cross.

We had entered territory that was awful, gross, and gory,

and now all of our hope would soon be lost.

I stepped up in a fury, and said "Frog, we're in a hurry!

I demand you step aside or lose your life!"

And although I was quite strong, I was proved so very wrong,

as the frog stood up himself and drew a knife.

He simply stood and stared, and with nary a wince or care,

he slid the knife across his little tummy.

His belly opened wide, and his entrails fell outside,

and he seemed to think the situation funny.

We watched in total terror as we realized my error,

and this frog was something straight from out of Hell.

We pushed past and ran across, but we were at a loss,

because the frog was steps ahead of us as well.

We'd come around a bend, and there would be our friend!

Smiling viciously, weapon held in hand.

We would find an open lawn, and there he'd sprout and spawn,

and it seemed that we would all soon meet our end.

We were trapped, that much was certain, and soon it would be curtains!

He wouldn't rest until we all were dead.

And before we drew last breath, it would be a long, slow death...

oh, how I wanted him out of my head!

We had run both far and wide, and there was nowhere we could hide,

as this dream-frog simply could not be evaded.

He was persistent and quite clever, and he would give up never,

as his bloodlust could not possibly be sated.

So when we were surrounded and could find no way around it --

my strength and stamina were all but spent --

the froggy drew his blade, and in an instant - ! - the dream did fade,

and straight back to my bed, I was sent.

It had been a fever-dream (or at least... that's how it seemed)

of a 9-year-old, quite sickened with the flu.

But who can really say what is real and what is fake...?

Perhaps Michigan J. Frog will come for you.