Notes: Thanks to Dawn Capp for her beta reading and for posting this to the alt.tv.sentinel newsgroup for me.
There should be nothing in this story to offend anyone, so I don't feel any warnings are necessary.
I love feedback of any kind... write me!
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Sandburg slipped, his feet skidding out from beneath him. He managed to call out Jim's name as fell, his arms flailing as he tried to grab something -- anything -- that would halt his slide down the slippery slope to creekbed below.
His landing was soft enough. The mud was about 6 inches deep here, a watery mess of silt and clay left behind after the flooding receded. Sandburg had landed on his backside, braced with his hands.
He looked up as he heard Jim snicker, still standing on the trail above. "Very funny, man." he muttered. The anthropologist picked up his right hand and attempted to shake the mud off. A glop of it dripped back down to the creekbed but the hand remained a reddish-brown mess. A wicked gleam came into his eye as he lifted his left hand, fingers curled.
Jim barely ducked to the side in time to avoid the mass of mud that would have splattered him in the face. "Nice try, Pigpen. Come on, Simon's gonna come looking for us if we aren't back soon. "
"So? Let him come, what's he gonna do?" Blair was cautiously trying to tuck his feet under him enough to stand.
"So... he'll complain. And then we'll have to listen to him bitch all the way back to town. And I really don't feel like listening to that for over an hour."
"Good point. All right, I'm coming." Blair had just regained his feet and was nearly upright when his feet skidded out from under him again.
This time he landed face down. Reddish brown mud clung to the curls framing his face as he levered himself to his knees and sat back on his heels. Jim's laughter rang through the trees as Blair tried to wipe the mud from his eyes with the back of his hand -- virtually the only spot on him free of the filth.
"Hey, Chief, if you think you're riding in my truck covered in that...."
"Ha ha. Right. I packed some sweats... now, you wanna help me get out of here? "
Jim nearly managed to contain his laughter as he answered, "Sure... anything you say. "
The burly cop edged his way down the steep slope, using small sidesteps to avoid falling as his partner had. Looking down, he knew Blair wouldn't be able to climb the muddy bank without something to hang on to, until he was past the short drop-off.
Jim reached the edge of the muddy bluff and looked around for a sturdy sapling. He found a short maple, it's trunk as thick as a beer bottle. He gave it an experimental tug and was satisfied. His left hand firmly around the trunk of the sapling, he reached his right hand out to his partner.
For his part, Blair had managed to regain his feet and stood unsteadily in the slick mud near the bluff. He found a nearly clean patch of cloth on his jeans to wipe his hand on before he reached up to grasp Jim's.
The next thing Blair knew, he was back in the mud, flat on his back. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked over to where Jim was rising to his knees, covered in mud from chest to boots.
He knew it was suicidal, but he couldn't help himself. He began to giggle at the sight of his proud, dignified partner wearing a mud suit. The glare Jim threw his way only made him laugh harder.
"Whatsa matter, Jim?" he managed between bouts of laughter. "Not so funny now is it?"
"It's hardly the first time I've gotten muddy, Sandburg." Jim replied dryly, looking in disgust at the uprooted sapling that lay next to him.
The two spent the next five minutes attempting to climb the bluff, landing back in the mud each time. Blair was about to make another attempt when Jim stopped him, muddy hand on muddy shoulder.
"I smell Simon's cigars. He's on his way."
"Simon!! Simon!!" The two shouted for only a few minutes before their friend looked down the bank and saw them. Simon immediately doubled over in laughter at the sight below -- two sets of bright blue eyes looking up at him from two mud monsters, one slightly taller than the other.
The two mud monsters looked at each other for a moment, agreement in their eyes.
"Uh, Simon, if you're done, we'd like to get out of here. Can you get the rope from the truck?"
"Yeah, sure... be right back."
Jim was able to track Simon's progress back to the truck by listening to his chuckling and muttering as he walked. "Wait'll the guys hear this... gonna dine out for weeks on this... hehehehe.... Taggert's gonna bust a gut... hehehehe.... "
When their friend returned, it took only a few minutes for him to tie the rope to a nearby tree and toss it down to the guys below. Having something to brace themselves on made all the difference and they were back on the trail with no further dips in the mud bath.
Simon stood on the trail, smugly puffing his cigar as Jim pulled the rope back up the slope.
"Hey, Simon you'll never guess what we found down there." Blair's voice held a hint of amazement.
"What? the secret to a better facial?" the voice held a wealth of humor under the gruff tone.
"No, man... come here... you can just see it from up here. "
Shrugging the tall, black man moved to the edge of the trail, careful not to touch the muddy figures next to him. He peered over the edge, but couldn't see anything worth getting excited about.
With a motion so smooth, it could have been rehearsed, the two gave their captain a firm shove that sent him to muddy bank below.
The bellow that rang through the trees scared the birds into flight, as did the laughter that followed.
*End*