Musky-Toe Bait

I strolled out onto a ramshackle boardwalk_ among reeds in a park at the edge of a marsh. It was a bit before 8 a/m; I was the first of a handful soon to arrive, & restlessly paced the planks. The shallow water was a mixture of orange & green hues as early sunlight glittered around me, cruising on a slight breeze. The reflection wavered at me from the surface; shoving both hands down my pockets, I soaked in my portrait. Pyramis was decked out in a navy blue bandanna, slick brown fishing pants. Between them spread a short-sleeve cammo shirt with an assortment of musical planets squirting food-shaped notes around a Airship console across my chest... (it had been completely cammo until I steampressed expressiVEnTinGLEam across it)

An agile stature was noticeable in the way my slender shoulders roiled & waist cut the pants with impression of one who engaged outdoor spelunking. Straw-blonde stubble coated my mouth, lending squarer features to my chin where genetics had receded into a beauty stigma. Beginning to look like a man now I guess. Maybe it'll actually hit me when I cross 20... fluffy hair tugged around my pink-flushed neck in the wind, trying to lick at my Adam's apple. Beneath steeples of slim brows, my turquoise eyes felt fragile from lack of sleep. It was the end of the spring Semester. There was now an awareness of perhaps not having more than another summer this familiar (But few indicators yet that I'd find myself disillusioned with remaining a citizen).

AbouThen, I heard a vehicle roaming up along the gravel lot. Whenever I gatHeard muted, grainy sowind$ it reminded me of {~{temples and eardrums underwater, being crushed by immense pressure; blinDazed acrosSand at six years old.)~!)

I smeared off deluge of Memory: pinching my bulky bottom lip after the manner my tissue had conformed under swirling hydrate {~ Father sQ'u*wheeezing a tiny ankle desperately ~ }; I jerked my watersliding nose across the gr@ss, = The treading tires were beneath a dark blue Audi-mobile. Of course Sigmund was here even before the squad's leader - always an early hunter, ingrained from martial arTao lessons. Thank the Divine too, because I didn't wanna get stranded with the pompous Jerk who'd hired him to help the Outfit today.

I could see Siggy's blocky cinnamon head -- & crossbow resting in the passenger seat. The gadget was mainly green, with a few murkYellow stripes. His casual invitation was the only reason I had decided to come trekking ~ we having entrenched bonds from kindergarten hopscotch. I waved & approached; A handeDown tranquilizer harnessed to my belt, swayed against my hip. I got about halfway to the car, as Siggy of porky nose & buttery eyes piled out in a wet-suit, when a bicycle whistled around the corner of trees. It sported a string bean rider -- dank green hair whipping behind him.

Nothing less than joy. Dudley seemed way too energetic for the dawn-yawning hours. Nobody hardly ever invited him to join anything, because he was unapologetically rambunctious: the badger always had a horde of Tall-tales to spin. But we had a true Enormity back-out with a last-second inconvenience, & needed to fill the slot. Well, if worse came to worse, I'd have to put a dart in him to slow that tongue.

The sophomore leapt off his still-soaring bike, to which the handle-bars tilted & the wheels snapped right into the Audi's bumper. I rolled my eyes and Siggy shuffled around checking the scene; "Hey muy Stupido, you break it you buy it!"

My vision swaddleDirection over to a Stag ATV; glaDud didn't crack either of my hAntler-bars off.

Dudley's salmon-pink eyes trailed around the twin-silver blemish scraped along Sig's bumper: "Naw like I'd be aimin' fer ya... bike's a stingy, rollin' stone." By the time the tension boiled down, my defenses spiked higher as the remaining 4 gradually filtered out of the wood-works for this Rendezvous... The stout Prowley siBlarinGumptions, Dark Sire Teeth, & finaLag baby-face Trent. (minus 6′9" Gwain, the crater-stomper who'd been expected). Siggy's brothEngineeR was meanTag snipe down later, to affright the BucCannons at precise momenTrick - with a source of searing wagon. So we began blubbering our bets on that freeBeat math...

***

The Annual 'graduate' excursion was about a quarter hour out into the swamp now. Lazy mist snaked about waist high, yet Dudley's mouth kept weaving away at a million miles a minute, like a mosquito hell-bent on aggravating poor souls with its cyclical, buzzing routine. Since I was trying to distance from the Kingpin ahead, I was the nearesTarget.

"Them insecticide guys go 'round droppin' X-treme scorch upon the earth. Awrr earth!" He spread his hands to hatch the headline beneath his widow's Peak. "They done them critters in 'long the way! I tell ya whaThey kin do, they can go stick their…" Yeeahh, I looked away, as Duds started waving some imaginary, cumbersome Hose in place of his own & pretended to swath the countryside in toxic chemicals.

He was proving exactly as infamy entailed him—a Circus performer we couldn't afford on this High Stake mission. On a normal occasion it could get on one's nerves, forget how the effects were amplified in this environment.

"Could you knock it off, dude?" I hissed.

"Ahhh yeaah," He growled. "Ima DEF-net'ly gon' knock my rocks on thar Fact'ries."

The lackey wasn't afraid to Krishna-cross lines over the latest hot-button issue. He was like a wild mustang (short of valiant) that bucked most would-be riders clean off. Therefore he was better known as Buck.

"It seems to me you're talking about issues not currently at hand," I injected. "How about tuning in with your antennae more and broadcasting less?" I was trying desperately now to divert a monologue revolving around mail being delivered to wrong addresses. I had hoped to high heaven that the jaws of this Oxygen Hog might cramp or something, so I wouldn't have to reprimand him.

"But ya jus' riley gotta unnerstan' how much it annoys me, Pyram," he droned on.

Oye, the irony of the ire - why did i think he'd be able to transist that antennae metaphor..?

"Cain't 'member when to put the stupid flag up or not so when I wanna send out a letter, halfen the time it don't leave the box." (Buck lived on the very outskirts of our small neglecTown.)

"Maybe that's what E-mail is for," I said more snidely than intended.

Regardless, he continued. "Oh yeah, an' last munth I carried Basil out wi'mee to the mailbox and acciden'ly left the poor feller there. Got to wundrin' 'bout him when I missed strokin' the fuzzy hairs on that bugger."

Basil. His tarantula.

"So couple hours later, hurr this awfuLoud holler and jump right on outside to see what all the fuss's about. Got there jus'n time to see the mailman peelin' off down muh lane in a swirl o' dirt!" Buck flew into a fit of shrill laughter, "Basil…. sher is… is a… fierce tiny dude!" he exploded into another round of giggles much deeper and more signature than the first. That's when you could tell he had really set the proverbial oven to a temperature that was Bakin' his own pistons.

Excellent. Attract the Nasties we'd do well to avoid, & start me thinking about giant spiders.

I shifted my attention wider into the bog. There were more mounDirts at the start, fewer & fewer twisting away to railways & islands as we progressed. GaunTrees rose up in most directions like groggy skeletons. Half seemed withering, but those alive poofed like green umbrellas. They spread their canopies like hands that ended in unfurled fingers, overlapping one another in concerted effort to dispel the light, that it might not strain their eyes and cheat them of slumber.

And their success was evident; trunks bleached as bone. However, some light made it down in slits; every twenty steps or so gleamed a bundle of gold. Two redheads, both a little shorter than me glistened like flames - one didn't even need the plumage or sunlight to lure attention. But oye, why had I even bothered to dress darkly? Wildlife tended to interpret bright colors as a threat, but thankfully my vision alighted no scaly bumps shivering atop the water—lest they were lurking behind...

I whipped around & backpedaled, never quite resting my eyes from our flank, & decided to send Buck the best pacifier I could think of -- situational logic. "Reptiles are stealthy, dumbass," I ripped him. "If you don't hear them before they decide you'll fit nicely on the dinner table, the rest of us might end up competing for your life in a murderous game of tug-of-war, with you dangling from between its jaws, a wailing, bloody, misshapen object. So unless you're dying to star as the part of rag doll, I'd suggest you Lissssinnnn..." = As I drew out the last word I latched onto my ears and waggled them away from my face. I was no longer able to rein in my retorts after a quarter hour of staving them off. "If you're gonna be a noxious fume, Home's back that way!" I indicated, hissed toward his drooping nose, close enough to rain meteors of spittle along the surface of his pale skin and casually hidden cheek bones. Oops. Mistake. Nothing short of over-animated for Buck.

One corner of his mouth was already peeling back knavishly. "Ah Pyram, that's a swell scent you harbor. Ever hear about my rich @$cent? I once tangled with the nastiest, baddest crocA-gator 'round these here parts in a Wrestlin' match. Had the bastard SWIMMING FOR A NEW COAST Affer wun round!!! Matter O'factlike, ain't any one of 'em shows their snout within a Mile radius of me now."

He curled into a rueful grin. It was iffy whether he really knew what a radius was. However, seemed he had used it properly in this tall tale. Now we weren't wrestling alligators, but we were looking to line some Bait. When boredom talks, stupidity answers: (not a problem unique to Hedgeblink, Florida). Buck stopped slogging through the shin-high grunge, scanning the expanse of marshland for dramatic effect. Oh the suspense. What could he be rearing to add now?

I nearly halted alongside him, positively *thrilled* as I watched the other four members of our party wading several yards ahead, making it known who the stragglers were. (or perhaps I owed my dawdling to the aura of a certain butthead in the thick of the Pack). We could afford to trek on foot, because reptiles gravitate towards sunlight during the morning when they're stiff. Nevertheless, the ichor was getting deeper; I sensed it stretching up to grab at our knees.

Sounds of our fellows' sloshing pierced the phantom calm and sent ripples through stagnant pools that may well have not stirred for months. The action parted the frosting of moss, wayward drifting upon the surface. We had taken the back way in, near the vacant liquor store so no bayou patrollers would spot us. This thin drip of land was private property (the Prowley's & I were kinda tight with the owner).

Even so, it was unusual not to be hearing chatter among the wildlife. Wow, not even a frog plop: eerie… i wrote it off as Dudley's vocals unnerving the ecosystem to retreat. With no wind to speak of, standing there beside weed boy, I felt even more helpless against his untamed imagination. Buck poised, contemplating the scene as if he truly remembered the glorious battle that set gator scales rattling far and with with dread. "QUAaAKE!" he Hollered, "In awe of my might! IZZ there one who belly-Hee*eaves to possess more Pow'A than rests hitherton with Moi, smitin' impregnable brotherhoods HENCE??" (oh, right beautiful under-Staining of the ancient vocab there)."If it BE a savvy adversary crawls among ye, bring him FORTH that he should claim his rightful place -- lest I be declared superior over thou and all thy kindred."

Ah, how contemporary a challenge—their forefathers will set up the catapults and arrive with a Spouting of Trumpets. He was practiced with wiping his accent away due to partaking Theatre (& the reason he was sticking close to me). No reptiles stepped forth to thumb their nose at his kingly proposal. My determination to deflate him had died a horrible death, and I decided to stop feeding the hedonism.

The caterwauling performance finally bled enough indignation from our group's other Members. Even as the other heads twisted their bodies to scold him for the reckless banter, he turned towards me, face aglow, saying, "See? Nuthin to worry about 'cept fer the animals al'ruddy prezent," his palm gestured at the party ahead.

They all lambasted him in a barely coherent fluster of remarks. This might have destabilized the heart of your everyday type, but not this ribald rascal. Duds went so far as to crank swift fists against his eye-sockets to signify they were crybabies, & shrugged back into a pair of bowed shoulders attached to a noodley 6'2"? neck.

"I Told y'all we were better off a man down, than him!" I overhearDallas remind us harshly as his prickly bangs jutted like Rhinocerous. The rest just nodded, mumbled, or begged me to quit riling him up - Siggy especially.

I feigned a gasp their way and pointed at myself incredulously: "Hey, y'all have it easy: he finds my mannerisms particularly humorous. But yea," I looked Buck square in those peppy bubblegum eyes. "I'm weary of this babysitting."

Then all but sprinting against the water's resistance simply to accrue a decent jog, my torso took on a heavy spray-line. Bubbles frothed around me from below as my feet churned slick mud and soggy branches. Chopped some inches shy of 6 feet tall but standing about 150 pounds, it wasn't too sweaty a business to avoid stumbling. I forced several strides (plus a jumpscare of ropy tree branch colliding into my shoulder -- ) and managed to account for the ground Dud-layed of me.

The tradition to fetch exotic party fuel had grown increasingly "off-the-map" in recent years, & was headed this time by their Ringleader, Dallas. As deigned by some of us, Dal Capone. A recent relationship with a ditsy former flame, Caprice, had bolstered his ranks through an unprecedented roof of prestige. Already possessing charismatic qualities of smooth-tailored & upbeat outlook, he could well function without a sweetheart in the picture: all social symbols belying his true nature.

Brashness twinkled around his wicked-peaked black hair, which reeked perpetually infused with either grape products on better days, or else toasty oatmeal if he'd been in a rush. I wish the Ivy League wannabe, merely was a pretty boy puffing up his own Hot*air blimParade. But his knife-edged nostrils had ThuGhastly arrogance thrashing on either side.