Describe Martha offering Jill a had out of the mud only to have Jill pull Martha into the mud in her powder blue Hoka’s. Describe Martha’s frustration and disbelief.
Martha, still giggling and trying to downplay the situation, finally decided to offer Jill a lifeline. She straightened herself up, wiped the remnants of the early laughter from her eyes, and extended a hand toward her friend, trying to show at least
some sympathy.
"Come on, Jill, let me help you out of there," Martha said, still fighting a smirk but a little more composed now. "I think you’ve suffered enough.”
Jill glanced down at the extended hand, her lips still tight from holding back a flood of emotions, ranging from embarrassment to sheer exasperation. She hesitated for a moment, staring at Martha’s hand as if weighing her options: accept the help with some dignity intact, or make this day even more memorable. In a split-second decision—likely fueled by the fact that her brand-new Nikes were beyond saving—Jill’s eyes flicked up to meet Martha’s, and something mischievous flashed in them.
Just as Martha realized something was off, it was already too late.
Jill grasped Martha’s hand,
firmly, with the force and intent of someone with revenge on her mind.
"Oops," Jill said, with absolutely zero sincerity in her voice, yanking Martha forward with a force that was much more deliberate than Martha anticipated.
Martha, caught completely off guard, instinctively tried to step backward to regain her balance, but her foot shifted awkwardly on the uneven grass beside the sidewalk. Before she knew it, she lost her footing entirely, her pristine powder blue Hoka sneakers slipping from the dry patch and plunging directly into the soupy mud—almost in slow motion. And with a soundless gasp, Martha toppled forward.
SPLOOOSH.
There was a wet splash, followed by the unmistakable sensation of cold, slimy mud speckling up both of Martha’s legs as she sank ankle-deep into the same muck she had just been so generously trying to rescue Jill from. Mud oozed over her Hokas like a relentless wave. The light blue fabric immediately darkened, splattered with thick brown sludge. Her shoes looked like they had been dipped in absolute defeat.
For a moment, there was silence. Utter disbelief hung in the air. Martha’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide with shock.
“Jill, oh my
god!” Martha’s voice shook, half incredulous, half furious. She quickly glanced down at her newly ruined Hokas, mud dripping off the once-crispy-fresh soles and laces. The sleek look they’d had just moments ago was now all but a distant memory.
“I cannot believe you just did that! These were my
new ones!" Her frustration was palpable as she stared down at her mud-caked shoes, then at the slimy mess creeping up her leggings. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Jill, still standing in her own muddy wreckage, didn’t even try to hide her satisfaction. A sly little smile crept up the corners of her lips.
“Well,” she said, her tone almost sugary sweet with mock innocence, “now we can
both say our new shoes are officially
loved, right?” She threw Martha’s own earlier words back at her with precision, relishing the irony.
Martha blinked, still processing the sheer audacity of what had just happened. She could feel a mix of disbelief and annoyance simmering under her skin. “Jill, you are—” she started, but the words stuck somewhere between a frustrated groan and a disbelieving laugh. She didn’t know whether to cry or hurl her water bottle into the mud.
Standing there, both of them soaked in dirty, ruined shoes, Martha finally threw her hands up in surrender. “Un-
believable,” she muttered, wiping some rogue mud splatter from her shin, glaring at her powder blue Hokas’ demise.
Jill, to her credit, just laughed softly. "
Very believable," she quipped, wiggling her own toes in what could only be described as pure, mud-soaked solidarity.
