Shelbysville Swamp Monster
by Richard Stevenson
The Shelbysville Swamp Monster
has a scream that’ll curl paint.
Ain’t a creature in his hang that
ain’t fleein’ the scene. Know what I mean?
He’s a ‘squatch all right, but not
the bashful, retirin’ kind. I suspect
if he got a hold of yer noggin,
he’d twist it right off. Best be off.
The Burnt Swamp is his turf.
He’s used to sloggin’ the ooze
and getting’ mud between his toes,
and, yeah, he don’t smell like a damask rose.
You hear that cry, you’ll know
it ain’t no cougar or bellicose moose.
That ain’t no baby teethin’ either.
I saw it once. Didn’t hang around.
I didn’t count his teeth. I wasn’t
concerned with the beast’s dentition.
I got my Gorbie-assed fluorescent
swamp togs outta there! Hence, the story.
Copyright © 2021 by