Swamp Thing: Urban Fantasy

The swamp thing visited his city cousins, but it wasn't really his thing. He missed the clean decay of a peat bog, the mulch of fish skeletons and scales sinking slowly to the bottom of the pond. Sure, he got a few beer cans, soda bottles, and the like tossed in, but it was more of an accessory than anything else. Not like his cousin Lis, who lined her den with snack bags that crinkled and sparkled in the light that eased through the murky water. Not like Bob, who had started biting rings out of glass bottles and using them as some sort of tribal art stretching, like the human teenagers who came to the edge of his overflow pond to do drugs more interesting than their hippie parents' pot.


Inspiration: A graffiti-art photo titled swampthing, though it looks nothing like a swamp thing. http://www.flickr.com/photos/belowwherewebelong/6877465005/
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: A predictable extrapolation of cyptozoology and modern cities, but nothing with the impetus to drive a story.