The Mud Gullumpers

Ryan warned that the things in the dead-end creek
were in fact slimy, fetid, space alien freaks.
And any kid dumb enough to approach their dark lair
had better believe in the power of prayer.
For underneath that calm surface of warm water and frog belly
-waited sinister incarnate! Waited monster! Waited smelly!
If that kid, so determined to make his way across,
might step on some stones or some green fishy moss,
or perchance he should slip and step into their sludge,
then his boots, snared so tightly, would no longer budge.
And no matter how hard that child strained, tugged or yanked,
the Mud Gullumpers pulled harder and the boots slowly sank
‘til the child screamed in fear, and by clinging to rocks,
freed his feet and ran home in his wet, soiled socks.