Flopbottom

It had been dreary morning of endless visitors. The food cupboards were empty, the grog had boiled over and the rain had put out Flopbottom's fireside four times in row. Finally he had thrown up his hands in a fit of marshwiggle frustration and chased away his annoying relative visitors, who only wanted to bemoan his lack hospitality. He hated feeling frustrated. And he was always frustrated.

Running slimy fingers through his tangled, matted, dread locks, Flopbottom grunted in despair as his hand tangled in the mess. Stumbling about in frantic frustration he tried to pull his fingers loose, managed to kick the boiled over pot in the process. That only injured his foot, which sent him howling to ground. The normally gloomy existence of his day was beginning to turn very bleak indeed.

Deciding with forthright determination that he would just leave this place to rot, he pushed himself to his feet, hand finally free and began walking away from his wigwam.

Better to leave the chaos behind, and start a fresh then bring the chaos to rights, he figured, believing this thought to be wise and actually took pride in it for a brief moment. It took to much time, he would probably just make the chaos worse anyway. Running away sounded fun, even if it was only just several hundred yards from his village.

For that was as far as he got, as he realized how foolhardy and even worse it would be to wander out on the Marshwiggle plains alone, without his tinderbox, eel soap and fishing poles. His stomach grumbled at the idea. And just as he thought of these sad realities, thunder rumbled in the clouds above him and drop of rain splattered on his cheek.

With the deep sigh and slumped shoulders he turned around staring glumly back towards the pointed tops of his village.

Than he heard a familiar voice speaking in a low tone somewhere close.

"Whole worm hole...hehe..."

He turned around, searching, as saw a soft pointed hat poking from the reeds of a nearby pond. Recognizing Mumbletongue, his cousin, twice removed on his father's side, fishing pole in hand, brought dry smile to the grumpy marshwiggle's face.

It would be nice to talk to someone.

Feet slapping through the wet reeds, as the rain trickled in a drizzle, Flapbottom joined Mumbletongue, and sat down quietly beside him.

"Dreary afternoon," he greeted, cheerlessly.

Mumbletongue

Mumbletongue(or otherwise called Mumble by all who knew him) swished his webbed feet back and forth threw the murky pond, his back slumped a little as he began to melt in the heat of the morning sun. (Well he wasn’t actually melting) The humidity dropped every 12 seconds he had been counting, squinting hard he starred out into the open plains that lay on the other side of the marsh lands. Large puffy looking grey clouds were coming up over the mountains like mushrooms popping out of the mud. His guess from the slight breeze that pushed his long stringy hair behind him, the clouds would soon be coming this way.

“Oh, the rain…” Mumbletongue grumbled as he bobbled the long wooden fishing pole that lay in his webbed hands up in down.

He gave out a long sigh, which sounded more like a Puhh , for the way he sighed was to fill up his cheeks till the looked like a balloons and then to let all the air out with one short rasp. A tug on his line pulled his pole down as something from beneath the water struggled to break free.

"Oh?...Oh!" Mumbletongue stood to his feet slipping a bit on the muddy bank, he jerked on the line trying to flip his catch onto shore. "Oh! Oh!"

The thing was putting up a fight on the other end, but with a final tug Mumble yank his pole up in the air sending, what he now could see was an eel through the air. It landed with a slat on the wet grass wriggling.

"Oh...." Mumble dropped his fishing pole and stepped forward grabbing the long eel with his webbed fingers. " Mud and raindrops... this one juicy!"

He squeezed the slimy eel making the creature's eyes bulge. Mumble squealed with delight.(which was very unusual for a marshwiggle)

"Probably a rare poisonous eel. I shall probably kill over once I've eaten it." He sighed again, a long sigh that required him to get a breath first.

Throwing the eel into a reed basket that lay on the ground he picked up his pole and sitting down prepared to bait it over again.

"Ate the whole worm hole..." Mumble humphed as he dug his fingers into the mud searching for another earth worm."...whole worm hole...hehe!"

The tale shall begin....

This is a story of a conversation between two marshwiggles, Mumbletongue and Flopbottom, as they sit on the edge of their family marsh.