Mud Shoes

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Took my mud shoes out to the side yard today. Leaned ‘em up against the concrete wall. Poised the hose, set on jet, and said to them, “Stick ‘em up, I want to see your laces”. Then I shot upon them like a firing squad, the hard stream of water pelting against leather. I was a merciless executioner, and did not stop my assault until the pair of them were drenched down to their soles. The water darkened the concrete behind like a blood splatter.

When I was satisfied with my handiwork I shut the water off and left the sorry culprits dripping their tears down onto the ground. “Now then,” I started with a smirk forming on my lips, “I suspect that you wont be getting into any further trouble for quite some time now”. I wiped my wet hands down across the legs of my jeans, leaving streaks.

The two shoes merely stood there, still leaning against the concrete and looking rather sorry for themselves. I didn’t worry myself though, because after a few hours of roasting in the sun they would be dry and ready to get back to work.





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