This is an idea I've had since 7th grade that I've never used. This story has a mind of it's own… It'll tell you the whole story itself. Oh… And don't forget to leave a grilled cheese sandwich – it gets hungry.
Oh, and this will be one of the only times I'll ever do a disclaimer – I don't own much of anything in this story, least of which the red-haired bastard with the blue truck – if the actual person ever figures out that this guy is supposed to be him and sues, he had it coming to him.
Swamp Tour Around the Pond
By Burning Bridges
Introduction
It all started with a seventh grade science class, being led about fifty yards across the campus grounds toward a pond by the primary school to take water samples.
A small group of guys, including one that used to threaten to kill the author, spotted the assistant principal's pick-up truck parked alongside of the back steps.
It was an ugly truck, possibly the ugliest truck that was ever made, owned by a guy that everyone hated.
Enter Mr. McElroy – a red-haired-red-faced bastard, and the absolute worst assistant principal ever hired; the devil's advocate himself. Renowned for being crude, his main hobbies were targeting random students, stereotyping people, and harassing the parents of students that he didn't like. He simply couldn't handle anything that stated one's mind, or showed unconventional things (man, I have some stories about that…).
All his distance from humanity eventually came back, when at the end of the four years during the eighth grade class's graduation, only one person stopped to shake his hand up on the stage in front of all the parents – the author (out of benevolence), whom he DEFINITELY did not like.
Anyway, this midnight blue piece of rusting scrap metal was totally covered with slimy green blotches, reminiscent of blue-green algae. The boys of the class wanted to wash his truck for him, while the author and her friends pondered what the green stuff was.
"It looks like he drove it through a swamp…"
"It's looks like it was in the pond!"
And hence, it was decided that he had been giving tours of the pond (and the swamp down the road). Unfortunately, this inspired a certain trio to start a business…
"Welcome to Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service's Nature Tour – otherwise, known as the U.B.C.S.N.T.," Carlos said, in a less-than-eager manner to the small crowd huddled in the two-foot tall grass by the pond, staring warily at his assault rifle. "We'll begin the excursion very shortly."
He turned away from them, and looked around for Nicholai, whom was supposed to be bringing the truck around, but wasn't anywhere to be seen.
"Hey, Mikhail – where's Nicholai? He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago…"
Mikhail shrugged and stood up, holding a beaker full of light green water. "I don't know. Hey… You don't think there's pfiesteria in this, do you?"
"Fa-what?"
"Pfiesteria. It's some sort of microbe that eats human blood, I think…"
"Well, then I certainly hope not," Carlos said, trying not to picture what Mikhail was describing. "Where did you hear that?"
"I don't remember… It was either on a health show, or from one of those Umbrella brainiacs…"
Just as the group started to inch further away from the water, thanks to Mikhail's little factoid, an algae-encrusted blue truck came careening around the corner and slammed on the breaks just before it came to the water. Nicholai slid out of the driver's seat, a smile on his face as he cheerfully greeted the party, now almost cowering in the grass.
"Hey, everyone! Are you ready to go on an adventure?"
The other two mercenaries gave each other a funny look. They had been wondering for some time if he had lost his mind after the incident in Raccoon City, or if he just had some secret love of chauffeuring people around and scaring them.
The group gave a very soft and broken 'yeah', and started to come a little closer.
"Okay, single-file into the back of the truck. Carlos, it's your turn to sit in the back with them."
"Um… Alright…" Carlos didn't like riding in the back – usually 'cause that meant Nicholai was going to drive – but also because he more often than not ended up being the one to get smacked in the face with a tree branch. He was slowly beginning to hate being on top of a mountain after all this time.
Carlos helped the edgy people into the bed of the truck, finally getting in himself. Mikhail carefully put his water samples in a cooler before getting in the passenger side, while Nicholai checked on everyone.
"You'll all be perfectly safe, don't worry. It's our duty to make sure you come back unharmed. We may run into dangerous wilderness beasts - "
There was suddenly a loud sound from nearby, and a fat man with a red moustache came running at them. Without a second thought, Nicholai produced a shotgun, and maimed him. Mr. McElroy rolled around in the grass on his back.
"You stole my truck, and then you shot me! You'll go to prison for this!"
"Oops, sorry," he said a little too cheerfully. "I thought you were a bear. Anyway, good luck with that."
He beamed and gave the group a blissful wave before turning his back on the wounded hell-spawn to get in the driver's side. Carlos just covered his eyes and shook his head slowly, while the tourists looked at the infuriated McElroy in horror… And one took a photo.
Hopefully, this tour would turn out normal for once. Boy, was he wrong!
The truck revved a few times, and then lurched forward straight into the pond, the tourists screaming like they were on a roller coaster.
Carlos covered his ears.
The truck bounced along the rough hills towards the Dead Tree Swamp, dodging birches and pines while the tourists attempted snapshots of the fly-by scenery, and Carlos got hit in the head with young pinecones.
In the cab, Mikhail turned warily to Nicholai and questioned, "Can't you drive a little more safely, just this once?"
"Nope!" Nicholai said happily, and Mikhail looked back out the window.
The truck flew off the last hill, soaring over a few yards of probably poisonous shrubbery and landing right in a large pool of brine, splashing everyone in the back with slimy green and black material. The group started getting out before Carlos could even lower the door, apparently ambitious to touch the earth again. Carlos climbed slowly out of the back, covered in who-knows-what, and with a sense of carsickness… Err… Make that "truck sickness".
Mikhail came up to him, and tried to fight back a laugh.
"You have a pinecone in your hair."
"Shut up," Carlos muttered, pulling the sticky thing out of his badly disheveled locks.
"Okay, everyone!" Nicholai said to the tourists, "This is the swamp. Swamps are full of strange and wonderful plants – some of which are deadly so don't eat them. And be on the lookout for snakes. This area is full of copperheads, and they love their water!"
The crowd gave a frightened murmur, looking around the ground nervously for anything long and rust-colored. Nicholai had failed to mention their neighbors, the often bad-tempered water snake, one of which was sneaking up on Mikhail right now. The slender, grey creature slithered leisurely along the branch of a tree with red brush-like flowers until it was nearly touching the back of the man's head. Carlos stared at it, and pointed.
"Um… Mikhail…"
"What is it? You look a little pale."
He continued pointing.
Mikhail turned sharply, coming face to face with the brown-eyed snake.
"JEEZ!" he shouted, taking a step back, and landing in the brine on his back.
Carlos laughed. "Scared of a little snake, Mikhail? After all those zombies?"
"Haha," Mikhail said sarcastically, standing up, and holding his arms out so the water could run off.
"See, here's a bit of wildlife now," Nicholai said taking the snake gently from the tree. "Isn't it beautiful? Now go find a toad to eat."
He tossed it over his shoulder, and moved on.
"All kinds of animals live in and around here. Look a deer!"
Everyone turned to look at a buck standing in the distance, drinking from the black water with little concern as to what they were doing. Nicholai cocked his shotgun.
"Eat lead!" And he shot it.
"And over there, a pretty little black squirrel." He shot it.
"And a fish." I don't know how, but… he shot it.
There was a snippy "Hey, you!", and everyone turned to see a bearded bald man standing up on the rise by the road with his arms crossed. Next to him, was a shorthaired girl, looking a little weird with the combination of her grass green hoodie, primary green Converses, and the candy-apple red streaks in her hair.
"Is there a reason you're shooting random animals?" he asked.
"Yeah. It's fun," Nicholai replied simply, a smile on his face.
"Okay, so maybe it's fun. But for one, it's not hunting season, and for two you're leaving a lot of animals to rot out here and go to waste. I'm okay with killing 'em, but I'm not with squandering 'em."
"Who are you?" Mikhail asked, and the man started to come down the slope. His head caught the sunlight, and blinded nearly everyone in the vicinity temporarily.
"Call me Mr. Petro. I'm an Environmental science teacher. I brought this student here to drop this infant snapping turtle off in the swamp to grow up. She found it by the river."
"Aww, it's so tiny and endearing… Let me shoot it!" Nicholai said, cocking the shotgun, and the green-clad girl put the small creature in her hoodie pocket.
"No way, asshole. I saved this little guy from dehydrating to death, and I'm not letting him die without a fair chance to grow into an over-sized, finger-eating safety hazard."
"Eh, alright. If he can grow up to be like Nemesis, then he deserves a chance to live."
"Sir, I think you should reconsider that statement…" Carlos said, and Nicholai shrugged it off.
"Doesn't matter. Isn't that sweet?"
Carlos and Mikhail nodded in response, watching the girl drop the little snapping turtle into the water, and watching it hesitantly swim away.
"Bye, Chopper!" she said, "Hope to hear you got somebody in a couple years!"
With that done, Nicholai decided to ask the question on everyone's mind.
"Hey, Mr. Petro – do you…?"
"I don't care how much of a reflective property it has, the chrome dome does not get shined in a bowling ball polisher," he said.
"Well, it's time to go then!" Nicholai said gleefully, and the other two mercenaries groaned, getting to work. "You two want a ride?"
"I'm all for that." the green-clad girl said, hopping into the back of the truck next to Carlos.
"No, but thanks," Mr. Petro said, "I've got a method." He began to flap his arms, and flew away over the treetops, into the sunset like a bird.
Nicholai started the truck, revving it a couple times, then blasting up the side of the hill and onto the road. Mikhail somehow started to doze off beside him, occasionally being jolted awake by the potholes.
Meanwhile, Carlos was getting whacked in the face by passing tree braches, and the green-clad girl was laughing at him, while the tourists were taking photos of him.
And that is how crazy people up here are.
"If the animals could talk, they'd be cursing my name.
I'd be getting death threats if they could write.
And if the animals could shoot, I'd be hanging from the wall.
They could get me first, so I gotta get 'em all."
-Blacklight Posterboys, "If the Animals Could Talk"
Well, that's the truth. People up here are nuts. Oo Great tourist location, and my dream about Nemesis only confirmed that.
The green-clad person is me – and I did have a baby snapping turtle for a short time, named Chopper. I let him go in my community's lake. Mwahahaha!
Mr. Petro is another person I know – my E.S. teacher from 11th grade. He was weird, and he did make jokes about the "chrome dome" a lot.
And, dude, is Nicholai crazy or what… He must have had a concussion to be that cheerful…
Well, leave me a review and let me know what you think! If you do, you must be a crazy, like everyone says I am.
Mikhail just gives me that look like it's that obvious that I'm a nutjob. Nicholai shoots at some geese. Carlos hides in a closet somewhere, trying to avoid ever being in one of my stories again.