Several places in Arkansas have unusual names. Here are some examples:
- Bald Knob
- Possum Grape
- Toad Suck
My personal favorite strangely-named attraction is Glory Hole Falls. This glory hole of the gods is a waterfall that goes through a hole and is glorious. If you ever want to visit it, I recommend doing so after it has rained a little, because then the Glory will be magnified tenfold. But beware if you go here after it has rained in the springtime! You may encounter some creatures stranger than the aforementioned names of Arkansas’s hottest destinations.
Last weekend Ben and I decided to do some hiking, so we ventured out to the Glory Hole. To get there, we hiked down a trail that sported the best of early spring’s fern coils, mushrooms, and covered-in-bright-green-exuberance trees.
We saw the Glory Hole and picnicked on top of a boulder and bushwhacked our way to the stream that runs out from the Hole. And everything was bright and warm and wonderful.
Everything was bright and warm and wonderful except that I forgot to mention what we found in the trail puddles.
Like I mentioned earlier, it had rained a few days before, so every now and then along the trail we would come to a water-filled rut. As we walked past one of them, Ben called out, “Hey, what’s that?”
I turned around, looked into the water, and saw a long, coiled telephone cord. “It’s a long, coiled telephone cord,” I replied.
Being environmentally conscious, and not wanting to have some fool from 1997 pollute the lovely Glory Hole Falls trail with his telecommunications technology, Ben got some sticks and set to gently pulling a part of the cord out of the water.
This was roundabout the point where I started what would become an unending exclamation of, “YUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”
Because that long, coiled cord was not telecommunications technology at all. Instead, we discovered with horror that it was THE SLIMY BIRTH CORD OF TINY ALIEN EGG BABIES.
We were fairly disturbed at that point, but our terror increased when we broadened our focus to inspect the rest of the puddle. All around us, in giant globs of solidarity, were dozens of fist-sized clear balls of Neptune-only-knows-what.
After poking and prodding the globs for a good while longer, we decided that these wee alien babes were most probably planted here to grow in obscurity until a time when their tiny black dot alien brains were big enough for them to FORCIBLY TAKE OVER THE EARTH. We then got the Hades out of there pretty quick and continued on our merry adventure.
Later we found out that these seeming monstrosities were actually just toad and salamander eggs. But if I had had any say in the matter, these puddles would have been the secret breeding ground of tiny extraterrestrials, who any day now would birth themselves out of the primordial sludge and shout out, “Boo! We scared you! We were hiding in the gloop of your Glory Hole the whole time, and you didn’t even notice!”