John Marsh is flirting with disaster, walking through the swamp in a tan tanga brief, a hat, and sunglasses ... and nothing else. He steps from the relative safety of ankle-deep mud into a soft spot that looks like the surrounding mud, but nearly swallows him instantly. Once he is in up to his armpits, the quickmud has him where it wants him. He is slowly engulfed in the muck until all we can see is bubbles, bursting on the surface.

John Marsh is flirting with disaster, walking through the swamp in a tan tanga brief, a hat, and sunglasses ... and nothing else. He steps from the relative safety of ankle-deep mud into a soft spot that looks like the surrounding mud, but nearly swallows him instantly. Once he is in up to his armpits, the quickmud has him where it wants him. He is slowly engulfed in the muck until all we can see is bubbles, bursting on the surface.