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Adventure at Big Boggy Park - Part Two of Two
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
<<<<Adventure at Big Boggy Park - Part Two of Two>>>>
Part Four: The Second Bog
We walked quickly and quietly down the trail in silence. My
hands were trembling in anticipation, and Kim kept glancing at
me, winking, and otherwise enticing me, keeping the hormones
flowing swiftly. It was only about a hundred yards until I could
faintly see the Gulf through the trees. We approached a second
bog that was similar to the first but with no reeds around the
edge and about twice as large.
Along the edge there was an empty Coke bottle and tiny
footprints which ventured only about two feet into the morass.
"Here we are!" Kim chirped. "You don't still have your keys
and stuff in your pockets, do you? You don't want to loose them
in there!"
"No, I left them back in my shorts by the pool... "
She stepped one foot gingerly into the edge, pulling it up
and wiggling her bare but coated toes, dripping drops of slick,
black mud.
She picked up the bottle, and asked if I was a litter-bug. I
replied no, and she posed the situation:
"Then if it somehow got out into the flat, you would be a
big, strong hero and bring it back for me, right?"
I replied that, of course I would, and with a brief nod, she
wound up and hurled the bottle about 35 feet, right smack-dab in
the middle of the flat. I landed with a dull "splut."
"Good aim..." I conceded.
"Summer softball league...three years" she announced proudly,
although I could have guessed. "Now if you get it, I'll have a
big 'ranger reward' for you!"
I drew a deep breath and stepped cautiously in.
The edge of the mud flat was much like the other mud, super
soft and slick, but just slightly oilier. However, it rapidly
dropped off to almost knee deep. It offered little resistance,
and really didn't even provide much suction, only slightly more
that the other pool.
"Well, this isn't so bad..." I quipped.
"Just keep going..." Kim prodded encouragingly. "I'd like
nothing better that to be proved wrong, but I *seriously* doubt
it!"
Each step carried me closer to the bottle, but the mud didn't
get deeper. The bottom was fairly firm, supporting my weight for
a second or two and then slowly starting to give way. As long as
I kept walking, even that wouldn't pose a problem. If it weren't
for the massive buildup I would have suspected that she was just
joking. Or maybe she *wanted* to loose! That was it!
I continued on, while Kim watched expectantly. The mud did
get deeper toward the center, but barely to my knees. Here the
bottom felt like it had a rubbery skin... it was like walking on
a mattress. When I got to the bottle I stopped and picked it up.
I could feel my feet sink slightly into the thick goo below, the
mud rising slowly above my knees.
"Hey!" she shouted.
I paused. she seemed ready to say something, but hesitated.
I felt my feet sinking a bit deeper, and shifted my weight.
"I guess it's not so much of a problem!" she shouted. "How's
the mud feel?"
The cool mud was creeping to my thighs. " The top's about
the same as the others just a little oilier. The bottom feels
different though... it's kinda rubbery, and ...what the ?!" As
I pulled up on my right foot, the goo at the bottom held it fast,
forcing my other foot down. The additional weight on my left
foot caused it to break through the thick, gooey top layer and my
left leg was swallowed to my upper thigh. Shifting my weight to
keep my balance, the other foot broke through, and oozed slowly
but surely down. I tried wiggled my toes, but the bottom goo was
as sticky and thick as cooked molasses. I concentrated on
extracting one foot.
"Hmmmmm... having a little trouble now?" Kim quipped, a smug
grin on her face.
"Just a minor delay..." I lied. I had been in sticky clay
bogs before, and slow patient progress one leg at a time was all
it took to get out. But this was very different. As I pulled on
my one leg, the goo at the bottom clung like glue. It was so
thick that I could barely get one leg out of the mess and back
into the normal mud above it. This was NOT like any other mud I'd
seen! I stepped forward, working the free leg back through the
mud. I set it down on the more solid surface 2-3 feet closer to
shore, but as soon as I pulled on my other foot, the added weight
caused it to break through and slowly sink in the thick mire. I
pulled and the other leg came out, but only at the expense of my
other leg going in about an inch farther. I managed to do this 3
or 4 times, getting me a few feet closer to shore, but the
process had worked me in deeper and churned up the surrounding
mud. An oily smell arose, and I felt the mud around me getting
gooier.
"Looks like your having a *lot* of trouble... I guess you
should have stayed in the 'kiddy-mud pool'!!!" she taunted.
I was in up to my waist. The 'mud' was now getting an oil-
slick shine on the surface, and the smell of petroleum became
stronger. "What IS this stuff?" I asked incredulously.
"Oh, you know... I think they had a sign up warning about
this place..." she said, walking to the other side of the pool.
There, along the front of the trail was a sign facing away from
me. She turned it around and I read the big bold letters.
Tar pit! Keep Back!
Kim calmly explained: "Ranger Rick told me that the oil
company had to buy this property after a big, nasty oil spill
around 15 years ago. After a storm, this slit washed over it and
they thought they could cover the whole thing up, but eventually
the government found out. The clean-up was pretty complete, but
a few of undiscovered tar pits boil to the surface every so
often.
They're pretty safe unless some fool breaks through the
suffice, then even Hercules couldn't get out!" She smiled.
As the cool upper mud crept past my mid-rift, I felt the
sticky tar bonding to my skin. The raw crude tar held my legs
tight: any struggles at this point only resulted in my sinking
deeper. However, if I didn't try to get out, I'd still continue
my slow decent. I felt the oily grip reach my thighs and the
surrounding tar-mud clung to my arms as I tried to push myself
out.
"No fair! This isn't mud!" I protested. "Throw me a rope!"
I called.
"Aw, come on! You can get out! You won't sink deeper than
your shoulders! Ranger Rick said so!" she shouted.
"Who's 'Ranger Rick'?" I asked. She ignored the question.
The thick crude almost was up to my armpits. As she said, I
began to float, but as I tried to move my legs I could barely
budge. My arms were in all the way, and as I tried to pull them
out, the sticky trap held them in, forcing me down even deeper.
"I have to go up to the office... I got a little of that tar
on my feet, and it's *so* hard to get off!" she mused.
The second wave of panic hit me. THIS STUFF WASN'T COMING
OFF ME!
"Hey, enough kidding around! Get me out of here!" I shouted.
She started walking back up the path but stopped. She looked
back at my spattered head, now the only part bobbing above the
pit. She shook her head and walked over to a nearby tree.
Picking up a coil of rope, she tied one end to the tree.
"If you weren't so good back in the other mudhole..." she
complained as she swung the rope back. She tossed it out toward
me. The rope uncoiled across the surface, sticking to the mud as
it touched down. The end of the rope splattered into the oily
slop around my face. I blinked, and opened my spattered eyes to
see Kim wave as she strode up the trail.
"I'm heading up to the office... When you get up there I'll
have a surprise for you!" She called over her shoulder. Then
with a snicker, she disappeared around the bend.
Part Five: The Escape
I slowly started working my hands up to the surface. She
really had me in a predicament, but I realized that I had gotten
myself into it. It was like a very effective bondage trap: if I
moved my hands up too fast, the weight and suction of the tar
pushed me in deeper, and I was already up to my chin... not much
room to work with. After about five minutes, my tar-caked hands
finally reached the surface and grasped the rope. Pulling with
all my might, the rope sunk into the mud from the base of the
tree where she had tied it all the way to shore. I wouldn't be
able to pull myself *up* and out of the goo, I'd have to pull
myself THROUGH it. Another little twist... I started to gain a
new appreciation for her deviousness.
The thick, sticky tar proved to be the greatest workout ever
devised. After a half hour of hard work I managed to get about
half way out of my little tar-pit. My legs were still firmly
engulfed and not able to move or help. The going was slow and
every time I stopped, exhausted, gravity resumed the slow trip
down into the tar-trap. It was getting late, probably now to
5:00 p.m., when I knew the park closed.
After another 15 minutes I finally my legs slid out of the
pit, and I slowly dragged my body, now three times my weight,
through the mud. Swimming and pulling, I made my way to shore
and collapsed exhausted on the firm ground.
After laying there a few minutes, gasping, I tried to scrape
off the goo. The thick tar lived up to it's tar and feather
reputation, and I realized that I'd have to carry the 2"-3" thick
coating up to the office, where the turpentine would hopefully
get it off. Sex was not even in my mind anymore as I realized
that it would take WEEKS for the black tattoo to come off. I
stomped back up the trail to the pool where we began...
I resigned my clothes to the trash can and picked them up
with my black, molten hand... I wasn't going to be able to put
them on until massive cleaning up had taken place.
"Ha, ha, Kim." I thought. I contemplated what I'd do to her
as I made my way up to the office. Surely she'd get in trouble
for this... I could have drowned! And just leaving the rope...
what kind of Ranger would do that?...
Then a sickening feeling came over me as I felt the empty
pockets of my shorts..
I ran the final few steps up the trail and my worst fears
were confirmed: the parking lot was empty! Next to the office I
saw an empty tin turpentine can, the ground faintly smelling of
the remainents.
As I slogged up to the door, I saw a crumpled note beside the
tar-covered Coke bottle on the ground:
'Ranger Rick',
Thanks for riding with the wrecker and taking my
old junker to the shop. Just leave it. I've
decided to hitch it from here. I really enjoied
your 'tour' this a.m. especially our trist in the mud!
(see, I even brought back the Coke bottle!)
But I have to get going...you know the life of a
drifter!
Nobody came by the office while you were gone.
Thanks for the uniform, and enjoy your weeks
vacation! I don't know where I'm going now, but
don't worry, I'll be safe getting around... although
I still wish I had your Jeep! (You know I loved it!)
I'll never forget Big Boggy, and I'll always remember
your advise to never wade into tar-pits!!!
I'm no fool!
Love,
'Ranger for a day' Kim
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