Bogs

"What's that?" said the men on my left. "Somethin' wrong wit cha leg?"
I followed the direction of his pointing finger.
"This?" I asked, holding up my anatomy homework.
"No, that?" he persisted, pointing to my boots. The man was short and stout with a red face and nervous habit of repeatedly biting his lower lip.
"Oh, that!" I finally realized. "That is my part of my boot. It keeps me warm and dry."
He turned away, dissatisfied with my answer and done talking.