or any information they care to disclose.”
Ryan was restless, and while shifting his stance,
a box fell from the back of his corduroy pants.
A soft thud and a puff of dust near Eileen’s shoe
summoned sixteen wide eyes to the box in full view.
Eileen reached down and snatched it, and slid the drawer out
“There’s mud in your matches,” she said blandly, without
showing any interest in keeping it longer.
She tossed it back to Ryan, who didn’t defer
in shoving it into his deeper front pocket.
“Is it one of those things?” called a dark silhouette.
Danny stepped toward the center, face pale in the light.
“Is there mud in that box?” he inquired with fright.
“You have one down here?” Quinn chirped with surprise.
“Hand it here,” ordered Cyd, with serious eyes.
“Let’s see it up close. I think these girls are lying.
They’re hawking a story I’m not sure I’m buying.”
Ryan leaned back, now especially shy.
He lowered his gaze, as if caught telling lies.
“It’s just mud,” he murmured, “Mud Gullumpers don’t exist.
They’re just something I made up one day to assist
me in deflecting trouble. But they make no sense!
They popped out of my brain in a hasty defense.
The Mud Gullumper story is only pretend,
and they are my old imaginary friends.”
Ryan gave up the matchbox, looking satisfied
that all of this nonsense would now be cast aside.
Cyd shook the box back and forth, willy nilly.
He looked at it closely, then sniffed, “This is silly!
It’s really just mud! All of this is pure crap!”
Ryan smacked his hands happily down on his lap.
“I know! It’s so crazy! The tale has just grown
out of control. But every time I came home
late or muddy, I had to give an excuse.
Now the tale has gotten too wild and abstruse.
My sister believes, and it’s no wonder she fears!
She’s heard my tale grow scarier for the past half year!”
Cyd passed it to Danny, whose face to me hardened.
“Do you think all of us are in kindergarten?”
He kicked at the dirt floor, seething at my crime.
“This whole thing is such a stupid waste of time!”
Danny passed it to Jon, who took a good look
at the hard, dried statue of yellow-brown gook.
“This yellow-hued dirt I most certainly know
as the soft, silty soil of the Huangtu Plateau.
But how did it get here and spread all around?
The dirt here is more fertile and richly browned.”
Pam looked over at me through the dim, dusty light.
Her eyes showed confusion, but no longer fright.
She had trusted my tale, every word I had said,
but no one had seen Mud Gullumpers as they fled.
It occurred to me that I had been too aloof.
I could no longer make these wild claims without proof.
I looked around the room. Everyone sat in wait.
The girls looked puzzled. Some boys’ eyes brimmed with hate.
And Ryan leaned back with that smug sort of grin
from regaining control of his tale yet again.
My brother’s word against mine, before all of our friends!
Lying about something I knew wasn’t pretend.
My neurons went wild, and in an obstinate whim,
I took Ryan’s “old friend”, and I guess I stole him!
I reached for Jon’s hand and the small piece of mud.
I had to show I was right, and show in cold blood!
I touched the soft mud with the tips of my fingers,
while the tense hatred in the room simmered and lingered.
I glanced up at my brother, who stood ‘cross the room.
His enlarging eyes divulged an imminent doom.
Then I slowly lifted the mud up to my face,
spitting on it coarsely, in a cupped-hand embrace.
From the edge of my eye, I saw looks of disgust
turn to shock and horror. The mud morphed from hard dust
to an enlarging mud nugget of energy.
I spit on it again, and it finally broke free.
It raced up my arm, and then jumped to my head,
from there, to the ladder, up and out it fled.
Greta howled from the surface of the earth up above
so we knew whom the Mud Gullumper passed in front of.
But deep in the earth, I had changed things for good.
The truth of the Mud Gullumpers was now understood.
So I took a deep breath, and stared down face by face
all the older naysayers in that meeting place.
“Tomorrow at noon, I will head to the creek.
I hope you’ll come Pam, if your interest is still piqued.”
Then I climbed up the ladder and ran down the trail.
Greta followed me closely, wagging her tail.
How my brother explained what I did, I don’t know.
But I’m sure he put on a really good show.
Making up some new story or some alibi
to protect his big, fat, honking, enormous lie.
Chapter 8
While Mom cooked a batch of meatballs and spaghetti,
I sat with my dad until dinner was ready.
That submarine place was a mystery to me.
I just had to determine its history.
“Is the dead-end the same as it always has been?”
“Why are you asking?” Dad said, lifting his pen.
“Has it always been like this or was it different before?
Did anyone live there? Anyone at all?”
“Why, what did you find?” my dad winced seriously.
“Nothing really,” I replied more cautiously.
“Just some concrete platforms, and some trash all around,
and a ladder that leads to a room in the ground.”
“Where are these?” My dad puzzled, now more curious.
“There’s an old road from the dead end that’s covered with grass.
If you track it a while, you come to a clearing.
Concrete slabs pave the way, before disappearing
into the ground, resigned, mud-encrusted,
close to a chain fence, all broken and rusted.
A huge metal rectangle lay in the center.
A square lid we pry off allows us to enter
and descend a ladder of dewy, red metal.
Some kids won’t go in ‘cause they don’t have the mettle
to lower themselves to that dark, musty space.
But we kids have our secret meetings in that place.
Stairs at one end go right up to the ceiling.
Being deep in the earth gives one an odd feeling.
The older kids have gone there for several years.
Pam and I can go now, since we have tamed our fears.”
The doorbell rang suddenly, and my dad jumped up.
It was Emmy’s mother, and she needed a cup
of wheat flour to finishing preparing her meal.
She had lived here a while and knew a great deal
about who’s lived here before and the town’s history,
so my dad called on her to solve this mystery.
“Pat, do you know what was down there at the dead end?
The kids found foundations with some of their friends.
And it’s odd that with all these neighborhoods around,
that nothing has ever been built on that groun
d!”
“You know, I heard it was once a Nike test site…
an ABM site, but I don’t know if that’s right.
But it’s not public land, even though it’s not marked.
So it’ll stay growing wild,” resolved Mrs. Sparks.
“Thanks for the flour, Jules; I’ll return it one day.”
“Don’t worry about it!” Mom yelled back right away.
“What’s an ABC Nike?” I hushed, eyes opened wide.
“An ABM site,” my dad sat back and sighed.
“ABM stands for anti-ballistic missile.
It’s a missile that shoots down another missile.
If an aggressive country began an offense,
these ABM sites were our last-ditch defense.”
“A war in the dead end?” I gasped. “How exciting!
But Dad, do you know which country we were fighting?”
“There wasn’t a war, but to cover our backs,
we built defense systems in case we were attacked.
Now if what Mrs. Sparks has told us is right,
there would have been some missiles stored in that site
where you kids have your meetings and go off to play.
But I assume that they are all empty today.”
“We launched missiles right there? Out of the dead end?”
“Well, most of the town was just farm land back then.
You kids shouldn’t be prying lids off their covers.
Who knows what dangerous things you’ll discover!”
“There was a lock there, but it rusted away,
some kids whacked it with rocks and then went in to play.
It’s cooler down there, where we go to convene.
The older kids named the room the ‘submarine’.”
“Dinner’s ready!” Mom called from the kitchen upstairs.
“Don’t tell Ryan we talked,” I begged, suddenly scared.
“If he thinks I’m a snitch, he won’t take me again
to our cool meeting place deep down in the dead end.”
After dinner that night, once my chores were all done,
I chattered with Pam through our green hose-a-phone.
She was really excited to go to the creek.
This excursion had been delayed over a week!
And finally tomorrow, when Pam gets home from church,
we’d head out together to begin our work.
Chapter 9
I set out down the path, whistling a tune,
with my best friend Pam, Sunday afternoon.
‘cause life’s no fun if you live in fear.
So we went to the stream to ask why they’re here.
Our sneaks scuffed up dust into afternoon haze.
The tree leaves were parched and burnt from the sun’s rays.
Dead leaves broke beneath our hot, sweaty feet,
as we lumbered on dull from the afternoon heat.
Persimmon trees lined the long path to the stream.
We squished fallen fruit into disks of orange cream.
It seemed we’d never reach the end of our route,
but we stopped dead in our tracks when we saw the boot.
There was only a rim sticking out of the mud.
A few green polka dots peeked through all of the crud.
And that one lonely boot stood testament to
the importance of what Pam and I had to do.
I walked slowly past and Pam followed suit.
We both knew this was typical Mud Gullumper loot.
The sight made us solemn, but not scared just yet.
We marched on towards the stream, where we knew it’d be wet.
We rounded the bend past a huge hedge of briar.
We heard water trickling, entering the quagmire.
My eyes popped wide open; Pam’s hands went to her head,
when we saw all the boots trapped along the streambed.
There were red ones and green ones and yellow ones too,
submerged at different levels in the vile, stinky goo.
Some were lying down sideways -some propped up by rocks.
Some were plugged up with brown, crusty, dried socks.
What a sight to behold! Like neglected old graves!
Like small beings entrapped, but begging to be saved.
We were drawn to them, while at the same time, repelled.
We felt solemn as all doubts were quickly dispelled.
Cattails swayed gently in the soft autumn breeze.
We stood safe on the bank and searched across the stream,
looking for signs of life or some movement beyond
the soft dribbles of water seeping from the main pond.
But when the breeze stopped, we were quickly engulfed
in a thick, acrid smell that made us want to barf.
Pam’s eyes quickly watered from the rank malodor.
This was not something we had prepared ourselves for.
Through the oppressive heat and our watery eyes,
all things looked wavy, floating up to the skies.
Momentarily dizzy from the refraction,
the smell prompted us to spring into action.
We swatted through thick clouds of black water midges.
There were no dry paths or natural rock bridges
that would bring us closer to the water’s edge,
so I perched myself high on a sandy side ledge
and I took a deep breath and called out through the air,
“Who lives in these waters? Is there anyone there?”
We stood there and waited in an eerie silence.
I called out once more, and we waited with patience.
Then Pam suggested a move that was so astute:
“Hey Bits, why don’t we try to steal a boot?”
So I found the boot closest to where we two stood,
and I grabbed it and yanked it as hard as I could.
But that boot was so set, so trapped, and so snug!
It just wouldn’t move no matter how hard I tugged.
“Help me pull,” I begged Pam. She gulped nervously.
“If we pull it together, it’s sure to come free.”
We pulled ‘til we groaned, then we felt the boot wiggle.
When the mud pulled it back, Pam breathed a tense giggle.
“It’s just suction,” she said, very ‘matter of fact’,
as if that was the only way boots could retract.
“On three…” I whispered, as we tightened our grip.
“One….two….three!”
The boot popped out, and both of us slipped
back hard on the sand from the force of our jerk.
Triumphant smiles confirmed our efforts had worked.
Yet this shared happiness was quickly replaced
by surprise and horror on each other’s face.
For a long stretch of mud came out of the hole,
and it reached for the boot with the utmost control.
That’s when quick-thinking Pam snatched up that boot fast,
as she scurried away to the edge on the grass.
Before I realized just what I was doing,
I reached out and grabbed the thing I was pursuing.
Taking hold of the long, muddy, alien arm,
I gave a quick tug, hoping I’d bring no harm.
Then I dropped it, afraid to hold any longer.
It was clear from his grip that this fellow was stronger.
and although it was I who stirred up this alien,
I did not want to seem too easy to pull in.
Mud gushed out of the hole in a powerful surge.
I crab-walked up the bank as this creature emerged
like an octopus spilling out of its cave.
Pam and I knew the time had come to be brave.
Pam clutched the boot tightly as we
sat side-by-side.
Our screams trapped inside us, we just stared bug-eyed
as the Mud Gullumper rose in a glistening mound
like huge, burping lava coming out of the ground.
We were both paralyzed, with not one thought beyond
this creature that we had evoked from the pond.
But we had to speak up before it went away
and I stuttered a bit, deciding what to say.
“He- Hello,” I spoke finally, “ho- how do you do?
We’ve come down here to the pond to talk to you.”
A form became clear from that deep, muddy mess.
Rising up to at least eight feet of highness.
Facial features emerged, as did a neck,
and a gelatinous, quivering belly and back.
Dripping eyes slanted down and stayed softly closed,
as the mud slid away like a windswept silk robe.
He then took a deep breath, proving he was alive,
like a swimmer rising from a very deep dive.
Two flaccid arms rested down into the creek.
The contact with water made their boundaries leak.
Glistening in the sunlight, that aquamarine,
oily Mud Gullumper appeared so serene.
Unlike the one I had caught in the past,
who frantically struggled from under my glass.
“Hello,” he spoke slowly, in a sad, gurgily voice.
“I’m King Hou Yi, but king, no longer by choice.”
Pam and I sat up straight upon hearing the news
we were in a king’s presence (and stealing his shoes!)
“My name’s Bits, Your Highness. This is Pam; she’s my friend.
We’ve come to meet what’s living in our dead end.”
“Your dead end?” the king scoffed. “Tell that, if you wish
to the creatures that live here – all the bugs and fish!
I know for a fact I’ve been on the earth longer.
My alliance with all of these creatures is stronger.”
“We’re not challenging you, King.” I announced sincerely.
“We’ve come here to indulge one little query.”
I glanced at Pam sideways, nervous what to do.
She nodded toward the king, to say ‘continue’.