Pooncarie Airstrip

Was doing a freelance piloting gig in my cessna-172 (pastel green) and when I landed in the airstrip there was a horrific sludging noise coming from the cargo hold. As I stepped out of the aircraft, arms crossed to ward of the night chill, the sludging receded as if hiding now that it heard me. Regardless, I had heard its calls, and I could not fight off my curiosity. I opened the cargo and what I beheld was beyond any earthly notion of beauty. What I had found in the bowels of my aircraft was a creature, no... a consciousness, a kind of sentience latent in a pool of gurgling mud. I was entranced, and as I reached into its earthen kinetic flesh I was assailed by visions of another world. No. A future. A future where we are all nourished by the amorphous blobs of sentient mud. That night, I supped and drank from the being in my cargo hold and my mind has since been opened. The mud lives within me, oozes from my pores and my eyes as I weep for the un-enlightened. Heed this call, for the great gurgling will come, and all will drown in eldritch glory. HAIL! HAIL MUDMAN!