Okay, I had the urge to write an immediate sequel to one of my most famous stories. This is really short.
The Dough Boy got to the bottom of the hill. The rain beated down on him hard, even though it was the softest rain ever.
Then, he slipped.
Mud smeared all over him. His cleaved rolled down the hill, and lodged itself into the mud.
The Dough Boy got up, annoyed as hell.
He felt like killing.
