It was that time of year again. Fred knew it wouldn’t be good to go out, however, his supply of coffee was running low and that meant a trip to the store.
The ground was covered in a frozen crust but Fred wasn’t fooled. He knew Mud Season was in full career and that lying just under that bit of frost was several inches of stinking, sucking mud. He hoped it wouldn’t go over his boots.
He’d managed six steps to the car when, in an instant, he was knee deep in brown goo. His boots only went ankle high.
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