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Mon, 19 Mar 2007The BoogilywussPosted to Fiction categoryA heavy wet flapping sound could be heard echoing from the swampy woods near a dozen or so campgrounds that surround the Lake of the Ozarks. That's the sound of the jogging boogilywuss. He jogs mainly to keep in shape, but also to avoid the fat smelly lazy humans who don't know he exists."Eeee!" is the sound he calls out to scare off the humans. It pretty much works. Very few humans are alive to tell his tale. He hasn't had to kill many, due to his wild shout most run away. He's not sure why he picked "Eeee" but it feels good, it's easy to remember and seems to scare off humans. The boogilywusses regard themselves as a solemn species, rarely seen, mostly heard. While they are visually stealthily, they are audibly atrocious. When they aren't making loud flapping sounds with their big flipper like feet or randomly yelling "Eeee", they often flail their arms near breakable structures, like bee hives, wind chimes and neatly piled stacks of empty soda cans. If you have every stacked a case of empty cans in the woods and come back the next day to find them scattered, good chance a boggilywuss was around. The flapping sound grew louder and was joined by heavy breathing, as the boogilywuss stopped in a small clearing near the lake. In front of him, he spotted something. He wasn't scared, there wasn't much in the woods he couldn't take care of. He might have had trouble with a couple grizzles, or a few hunters, but bears didn't get all the big out here and it was nowhere near hunting season. He was still cautious, he didn't want to hurt anyone today. He thought he saw that the setting sun was reflecting off something at the other edge of the clearing. It may be a beer can, or maybe even a stack of beer cans, or it could be a trap. He slowly approached, dragging his hairy knuckles in the pine needles on the clearings floor. Once half way across the clearing, he could smell the aroma of greasy hotdogs cooking on a campfire, but it wasn't close, maybe half a mile away, he made a mental note of the direction, he'll see if he can steal some later. It was beer cans, three of them, stacked even!, though not neatly. He quickly flailed his long hairy arms and knocked them down. The sound was wonderful, all three cans banging together then hitting and falling on the small rocks and root of the pine trees. He turned toward the smell of the hot dogs and began a slow jog off to see about dinner. Posted at: 4:30 pmCommentsYour Comment |