Mud Man

“I am a mud man,” said the Mud Man, whose name will only be capitalized once.

“Okay, what can I do for you?” asked the store clerk.

“I need something to help me with mud,” he moaned.

“What are you trying to do with mud?” the clerk asked.

“I need help with it,” he repeated, impatiently.

The clerk knew this was going to be difficult, so she lifted her shirt up, grabbing under her bra, and flashed the Mud Man her bare breasts.

“WHOAAAA” he moaned, and fainted.

When the mud man awoke, he was tied to a chair. The clerk was there.

“My name is Karen, and I’m a grocer,” she said, “And if you don’t tell me what you’re trying to do with mud, I’m going to cut you into pieces and no one will ever know because you’re made out of mud.

The mud man tried to scream, but a sock was inside his mud mouth.

Karen took a baseball bat, and slammed his mud knee with it.

Mud man moaned in pain.

She removed the sock and he confessed.

“I’m not  really a mud man, I’m a man covered in mud,” he admitted.

Karen took a bucket of water and splashed him with it, revealing a man who actually WAS made of mud.

“I LIED,” he laughed, “I’M MADE OUT OF MUD, BABY.”

And then he broke free from the chair and stormed out of the room, back into the store. He grabbed a bottle of sun tan lotion and scanned it by himself.

“2 dollars and forsssometimes it’s better to just not write anything at all than to write a story about a mud man visiting a convenience store. Maybe some day I’ll actually get my shit together and be able to sit down and actually write something worth reading,


” the mudman said to himself as he sighed and looked over at Karen. Beautiful sleeping Karen, his wife, supporting a failed writer who was also a mud man. What a joke his life was. She deserved better, as hard as he tried to be a good man. He knew he made her happy though, and as long as she was happy, he could keep on in spite of his own disappointment in himself.

Mudman took a cigarette from the bedside table and stepped outside. The air was cold and uncaring of the concerns of a man made out of mud. He shivered a little as he lit up and thought about how he’d gotten here.

He thought in particular about that day in high school when he’d first met Karen; him a foreign mud-exchange student, her the president of the Science Club with an interest in how a man could be made out of mud and somehow talk and walk like an actual human.

And Ricky Chang, the bully who almost stole her from him.

Ricky fucking Chang.

To be continued.

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