Deep in the steamy backwood bayous of the kudzu draped American South, the silent stench of the sweaty air is only permeated by the high-pitched whiny buzz of a mosquito in search of its next source of sustenance. Any intrepid guest to these weary waters proceeds with caution for there is no telling what camouflaged evil lurks in the ooze of the rising mists. Suddenly, wafting in and out of the silence is a low toned chortle that seems to emanate from every direction, a bone-chilling sound that grows like a fast spreading cancer into a riotous laughter. Then, you see it – a creature far too terrifying to even imagine – the mythical orange demon of the Everglades!!!
But what is this devilish hellion cackling about? Is he laughing because he knows your trousers are not exactly wet from the swamp? No. He’s seen that before. Is it because he knows you wish to run, but will be overcome by his swift aquatic maneuverings? No.
And then the sad sinking feeling hits you because you know in your heart of hearts, this ferocious beast of unearthly color is laughing at the stupid fishing hat your mother made you wear.