Early Saturday morning Tom was up getting ready to go fishing for the day. On his way out the door, his wife Jane said, “Don’t be late, remember we are going to my sisters for dinner” “I can hardly wait” Tom replied sarcastically. With a smirk Jane replied, “Well if you get back in time, maybe we can have a little bit of fun before we go”. Tom knew what she meant. Jane added, “Make sure you wear your boots, I don’t want you getting back in the car with wet and messy pants.”
The drive took about an hour. He had heard about a good location from a co-worker and decided to check it out. Upon arriving Tom grabbed his fishing hat, put on his new hip boots and got his pole and tackle box out of the trunk. A short hike from the car, Tom found a spot next to the lake to put his gear down and enjoy the solitude. He got his pole, baited up his hook and waded into the lake. A short while later, Tom realized the coffee he had stopped for had gone through him. He did not want to pee right there in the open, so he got out of the water and started walking into the woods for some privacy. A short distance from there was a back water area with bushes and trees. While walking his mind started to think about what Jane said about “having fun”. The last time he came back from fishing, she was waiting for him wearing her old cheerleading uniform from college. He hoped she would do that again, it really turned him on. With his mind on that, Tom was not really paying attention to where he was stepping. Just them he stepped into a muddy patch. But his feet went down further than a few inches. He looked down to see his boots slowly sinking into the muck. He tried pulling up a foot but that only made the other leg go deeper. Just past his knees he started to panic.” Quicksand!” he exclaimed. He had heard that saying about not moving when you find yourself in quicksand otherwise, you will sink faster, but Tom couldn’t help but struggle to get out. Every movement created a pocket to sink a little deeper. Tom tried yelling for help, but no one seemed to be nearby. Almost to his hips now, Tom got out his cell phone. “Shit, only one bar!” 911? Not going through. Tom called home, not that Jane could do anything for him, but she could call the local sheriff and let them know his predicament. Jane answered but the connection was terrible. “Tom, is that you? I can hardly make out what you’re saying, you’re really breaking up. Did you say something about quicks…” The phone went dead.
By now his heavy boots were really locked into the muck. Past his hips now, the quicksand was tight against him. It even started to spill into to his hip boots. Trying to grab for anything to pull on didn’t help. The surrounding weeds and cat tails would just pull out from the swampy ground. To his chest now, Tom was finding it harder to breath. Like a boa constrictor slowly squeezing its dinner, the quicksand was tight against his chest. And, also like a snake that is slowly, inch by inch swallowing its prey, the quicksand was pulling him in to his doom. To his shoulders,… to his neck,… deeper he sank, unable to stop. To his mouth now, the wet muck started to go in. Gurgles and sputters as the quicksand displaced the air in his lungs. The last of the air was just bubbles coming to the surface. Then, like in a bad Hollywood B movie, the only thing left was his fishing hat, floating on the top of the bog.
Nature’s deadly booby trap claimed another victim
Lauren and Bob decided to go for a nature hike because it was such a beautiful day. Getting closer to the lake Bob looked over and saw something. “Look a hat! This must be my lucky day!” As he started for it, Lauren warned him, “Careful, it looks swampy over there, might be quicksand “Tom replied “Quicksand, don’t be silly. That’s an old wives tale. When was the last time you heard of someone drowning quicksand?” Lauren responded, “Well be careful anyways. Watch where you step, I don’t want you getting in the car with wet and messy pants”.
There’s an old saying that goes “Quicksand always gives up it’s dead.” Will it?
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