I like to spend a lot of time in the swamp. There are many swamps in Florida, but this swamp is my favorite. This is where my friend Cassie lives. Cassie is an alligator who's lived in the swamp for 40 years, and she's the wisest creature in the whole state. She's missing part of her tail, that's how you can tell it's Cassie. She gives me life advice, and we like to discuss politics. I prefer to discuss these things in the serene privacy of nature. I met Cassie in eighth grade, when I started camping in the swamp, and she told me my future would be bright.
Every creature here talks, including the mangrove trees. Their roots look like tangled spaghetti and sometimes they change colors and twist themselves into symbols and messages, like this:
The oldest tree, he won't tell me his name, he says he'll tell me once I live a few more centuries. He calls me "Young Sprout" and he tells me stories of all the other young sprouts who have wandered through here, such as the boy in the 1800s who prayed to the birds and would later become a master metalworker. Other trees just like to tell me jokes. Here's one, for example: "Did you hear about the child psychic who escaped from prison? He was a small medium at large!"
I have really bad eyesight, so sometimes the swamp looks like this on a bright sunny day:
I don't fuck with Independence Day, so when I'm elected president in 2040 I will change the 4th of July to Swamp Appreciation Day! Pastafarians celebrate Build a Pasta Sculture Day [sic] on that day, but it can be both. You can always build a pasta sculture as an homage to the swamp. This might be a far fetched idea, but we renamed the Gulf of Mexico for some reason, so anything's possible.