Swamp Monsters

I was attacked by Swamp Monsters the other day. There were about three or four of them. I don't know the exact number mostly because I wasn't sure how to count the swamp monster that had two heads.

So what did the Swamp Monsters want? My flesh? My soul? Nope. Money to go buy tacos. And they communicated this to me by using crudely drawn images of a person handing them money to go buy tacos. It was sort of like pictionary, except with a group of three or four angry taco-crazed swamp monsters making slobbery sounds at you while emphatically pointing at the drawings.

After I explained to them that I didn't have any cash on me, they forced me to drive them to the nearest Taco Bell and made me buy each of them at least a dozen tacos. Stupid pushy swamp monsters. The worst part is that I'm not sure how I'm going to get the swamp monster smell out of my car. I mean, those things reeked of nasty swamp gas. I smelled them long before they jumped out of the bushes (I thought it was just the river stinking to high heaven again, so I didn't really think anything of it until it was too late).

After they devoured the tacos with their icky tentacled mouthes, the three or four swamp monsters shambled off into the night leaving me with a foul-smelling Honda and a few lingering questions:

1. What on earth are Swamp Monsters doing here in Kansas? There aren't any swamps around here for miles!
2. Why did they want tacos?
3. Does a two-headed swamp monster count as one or two swamp monsters?

I don't really have a lot of time to ponder these important questions, of course, as I have midterms to do and a graduate school to visit next week. In fact, I'll probably forget all about the incident once I neutralize the odor in my car. Still, it was both more pleasant and less absurd dealing with taco-crazed swamp monsters than a hierarchical linear regression of variables in a data set about the taste and texture of different types of cookies. Go figure.