Just a bit of fun.
Sloggerhumps are smelly creatures,
chubby, sloppy, lazy, and mean.
They sprawl in swamps and bogs
and quags, sucking frog eggs
through hollow reeds, dangling
small fish from their ears.
With skin as bumpy as tree bark
yet as slick as oil or soap,
they slide and slip in the shallows
munching on swamp weed,
snakes and dragonflies.
While they enjoy the taste
of human flesh, they care not
for human bones, so when
a man thing steps to close
they spit gobs of bog and phlegm,
sloshing unlucky travellers
with a sticky, stinky splat.
Like leprechauns, however,
they do hide a bit of treasure,
but not near rainbows
in black metal pots. Sloggerhumps
stuff their bellybuttons with bits
of wealth and one can filch
each richly morsel if one dares
to venture close, close enough
to sway the beast with a sweetly
whispered lullaby, sway it into sleep,
that is, for what can’t be swiped
from the naval of a snoring Sloggerhump.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Four Stars.”