Now that we’re approaching the Ides of March, I find that one thing that cheers me up through all the mixed precipitation (a horrible mix of snow and rain that leaves the ground covered in a thin layer of ice and topped with a thick layer of rain and muddy slush–yummy) of this otherwise horrible period is, ironically, the dirty, slushy hell all around me—that and my pair of Wellington rubber knee-high boots.

You may be able to guess that I’m daydreaming of walking all over some unfortunate man in my boots, more or less using his body as a dry plank to walk over a patch of muddy slush rather than dirtying my glorious, shiny rubber boots. When it gets warmer in April, I’ll be thinking of finding a nice, broad, deep mud puddle to have a glorious barefoot romp in. And what would complete that scenario would be a man whose head I could step on and drive into the mud, either face first or the back of his head pushed in.

If anyone in Toronto would like to help me with a little wish fulfilment, do let me know!

Victor Black

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