Stuck

The beginning of a guy... an assignment...  Warning, Martin cusses a bit.


He was stuck in the mud.
     “Damn it,” he said. Stupid.
     He tried to pull his leg from the muck, but could not overcome the suction and felt the mud’s chill reach over his knee. Shit.
     “Willem!”
     He tried to crane his head to see where his teen was, but the reeds were tall, blocking his view.
     Overhead, the sky was deepening to an unholy gray. Thunder rumbled across the horizon. 
     Shit.
     The day had not been a total loss, unlike his boot, but it was quickly turning to crap now.
    Willem met him at the gate of the apartment complex, so he had not had to deal with ex-wife Sharon.  Willem was even in a good mood, probably the first time since the boy had turn thirteen.  They had chatted about baseball, the girl he liked and how many fish they would catch.  The ride to the lake was uneventful, also a first, since Deputy Dawg had had it in for Martin since they fought over Sharon at prom and made sure to pull Martin over for some trumped up beef every time he drove up. 
     “Willem, man, I’m stuck! Sure could use you over here!”
        If Willem could hear him, he was not responding.  Martin pulled harder as he tried to free his leg, but the mucky shore was not giving it up easily.  He bent his ankle and felt the boot slide free.  It was a loss, but he was finally out of the mud. 
     Martin threw his fishing rod to the shore and trudged back up where the ground was firmer. 
     Damn it.
     He looked around, but still could not see Willem.  Sharon would give him hell. So would Gineen.  The boots were an expensive gift for his birthday.  She had beamed when he opened it.
     The sky opened up and a steady rain began to fall.
It was cold and stung his skin.
      Shit. He grabbed his pole from the ground.
     Grumbling, Martin made his way back to his truck.
      In the front seat, earbuds in, arms crossed, sat his son.

     Damn it.

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