Hey there,

This is a short story I wrote this morning. It's
about a man defying the forces of nature and following his dream, in an
odd sort of way.

Anti-Cinderella

Buck sat on the couch with a beer in his hand and watched TV. Buck’s dream was to be a worker, but every time that he would try to do some work, hid wife would say, “Honey, do you want another beer?” And there was nothing he could do.

One day his wife left to go run some errands, but before doing so, ordered Buck some pizza. Buck felt helpless. He decided to pray. Buck wasn’t religious, but he once has been a surfer, so he prayed to Huey - the god of surf. He said, “Huey, dude, you know how it is. Amen.”

And Huey did answer. A septic pipe that was running through his neighbor’s property had burst. The smell had spread to all of the block, and her desperate calls to plumbers alerted him to an opportunity. Now was the time. “Thank you, Huey,” said Buck, but there was a catch. The TV said that it would rain at mid-day, so he only had an hour.

Buck put on the boots that his brother forgot some years ago, along with overalls of unknown origin, and stepped outside. He breathed in the foul air with delight, “Ah, the smell of work needing to be done.” There was no carriage waiting for him, his wife took it, and besides, it was only to his neighbor’s that he was going. Buck grabbed a hammer, some duct tape and a shovel, and journeyed west to his neighbor’s lot.

The trek was just right, it took about thirty seconds, and there he saw it - the Pipe. The Heavenly vision with shit and mud all around it. His eyes watered (partly from the smell). He was so close to his dream.

Buck grabbed his shovel, and it’s wooden handle sang as he dug and shoved the shit aside. Buck felt good. He came closer to the pipe, and got out his duct tape. On his knees in the pool of mud he tried to duct tape a leaking pipe.

It did not work. But Buck’s spirit did not fall. He remembered what his grandfather had told him, “If it don’t work, hit it with a hamma!” Buck weighed the wisdom in his grandfather’s words, and since nothing else came to mind he grabbed the hammer and hit the pipe, very diligently, with faith and good intentions.

It burst, naturally, and within a few seconds Buck found himself in a pool of mud, covered with shit from head to toe. Life was good. Buck didn’t feel disturbed in any way, he knew that the plumbers will eventually come and all will be fixed, and besides, it’s not the destination, it’s the journey that counts. Even when his neighbor came out screaming at him, and when one of his boots got stuck in the mud while getting out, Buck’s content was unshakable.

He took the long way home, and as it started to pour, Buck’s worries and frustrations were washed away along with all the shit. Buck wanted to cry, but he was a manly man, so he didn’t. He walked on. Today he followed his dream. Buck was a happy man.

The next day Buck’s neighbor came with the police. They had a boot with them that was covered in dry mud. Buck’s wife opened the door, and they explained to her that a man, who fit her husband’s description, but who could not be recognized because he was covered in mud and excrement was seen destroying government property and disturbing the neighborhood peace. “But that cannot be,” replied the wife. The police, however, insisted on trying on the boot. It fit Buck perfectly. “But that cannot be,” said the wife. And they took Buck to the station, and to a work camp from there, where he had to disassemble TVs.

And they lived happily ever after.

The end.