A.I. G-Rated After Tennis

[RonR]

As Beth turned to leave the courts, she heard Anne call after her with that same teasing tone.

"Wait, Beth! Hold on."

Beth paused, biting back the urge to walk faster, as if outrunning Anne might spare her from more humiliation. Turning slowly, she raised an eyebrow, trying to keep whatever remained of her dignity intact.

Anne, still smirking, raised a hand. "Before you go—" she said, her eyes glinting. "You have to show me ‘the scene of the crime.’" She made air quotes with her fingers and lightly bounced on her heels, clearly finding the whole situation endlessly amusing. “Like, I need to see where this disaster took place so I can paint the perfect picture for everyone. You know, in case I get asked about it later.”

Beth cringed inside. The last thing she wanted to do was give Anne more material to work with—pictures, descriptions, Anne regaling their mutual friends with exaggerated tales of her mud-splattered catastrophe during a shortcut gone wrong. But what choice did she have at this point? Beth just wanted to get this over with and slip back to her dorm the way she’d arrived: quietly.

"Fine," she muttered through clenched teeth, subtly avoiding Anne’s gaze. "But it's really nothing special."

Anne’s laughter rang out cheerfully, as if Beth had just said the funniest thing all day—not that this was some grand negotiation.

"Oh, I’m sure it’s not! But come on… I gotta see it!" Anne grinned mischievously as she followed Beth down the narrow, shaded trail, practically trailing behind the mud-encrusted footmarks Beth had left minutes earlier.

---

They walked in silence for a moment, though Anne’s anticipation was palpable, her tennis racket slung casually over her shoulder. A few moments in, Anne couldn’t hold back any longer.

"I still can’t get over how ridiculous you looked back there!" Anne mused, shaking her head with a chuckle. "I mean, what was going through your mind? Like, really, Beth... how does it even happen? I just can't wrap my head around it." Her voice was dripping with faux incredulity.

Beth’s eyes narrowed. "It looked like an easy jump," she replied flatly, half-glaring into the woods ahead, wishing she didn’t have to relive this yet again. "But I misjudged it. That’s really all there is to it, Anne." The embarrassment continued to cling to her like the mud drying on her skirt. She didn’t need reminding, especially not from the one person who wouldn’t let her forget it anytime soon.

"Misjudged?" Anne repeated dramatically, as though the word itself was absurd. “No offense, Beth, but I think ‘misjudged’ is an understatement. I mean, how do you fall backwards into a puddle? Did you just, like, slow-motion keel over?” She burst into giggles again, clutching her racket like it was a lifeline.

Beth clenched her jaw but didn’t respond. She focused instead on leading them through the path, counting down the seconds until this torment was over.

---

Soon enough, they arrived at "the scene"—the very spot where Beth's hopes of arriving at the tennis courts clean and confident had dramatically crumbled.

There it was: the enormous mud puddle, still half-wet from the previous day's rain. It stretched across the trail like some cruel, unavoidable abyss, mocking Beth in its muddy silence. The spot where she'd landed was clearly marked—the gentle indent in the earth where her body had splattered into the mud, still soaked enough to preserve the moment.

Beth came to a slow stop and gestured vaguely toward it. "Well, here it is," she muttered, her voice tinged with resignation. "The ‘scene of the crime’ you were so desperate to see."

Anne, however, had no intention of letting this moment pass so quickly. Shaking her head with delight, she yanked her phone out from her tennis dress pocket and immediately began snapping pictures, angling the camera as if capturing some famous landmark.

"Oh wow, this is even better than I thought! Look at the size of this thing! It's practically a crater!" Anne exclaimed, moving around excitedly, snapping shot after shot. She zoomed in on the muddied edges, her phone chirping with each click. "I mean, how could anyone fall into that?" She snickered between shots, more amused with each passing second. "It looks like you face-planted into a marsh. Oh, this is priceless. I’m definitely sending these to the girls.”

Beth shifted awkwardly on her feet, trying to hide her irritation. "Yeah, well, you’ve seen it. Can we—"

Suddenly, Anne stepped back, trying to line up a wider shot, and her foot caught on a raised root off to the side of the muddy trail. It was practically poetic.

"Whoa—whoa!"

Beth’s head snapped up just in time to see Anne desperately flailing her arms for balance.

Without anyone's help—without Beth even considering the possibility—Anne toppled backward with a loud, chaotic shriek. For a split second, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Anne’s bright white Tretorns raised briefly off the ground as she bent at the waist, trying to stabilize herself on her heels. But it was no use—gravity was having its way.

Her phone went flying from her hand as she spiraled toward the very mud puddle she had been mocking just seconds ago.

With an indelicate and ungraceful "SPLAT!", Anne landed directly in the center of the mud pit, sinking squarely onto her backside, just as Beth had done earlier that morning.

For one glorious moment, there was dead silence.

Beth stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, her mind racing to catch up with the absurdity of what just happened. Anne—perfect, pristine Anne—was now knee-deep in the same disgusting mud that had just ruined Beth’s day. Her formerly spotless white tennis dress and once-gleaming Tretorns were now completely coated in dark, wet sludge. Thick mud clung to her legs, oozed over her shoes, and splattered liberally across her chest like an abstract painting of embarrassment.

Anne blinked in shock, her mouth opening in disbelief as her brain finally registered the situation.

A beat passed—just long enough for Beth to realize that something extraordinary had just occurred. Then, unable to stop herself, Beth let out a sputtering laugh. Then another. And finally, she erupted into full-on, uncontrollable giggles.

"Oh God, Anne," Beth managed through her laughter, holding onto her stomach. "I guess we can both be clumsy today!"

Anne, still sitting dumbfounded in the middle of the mud puddle, blinked mud from her eyes and stared up at Beth in utter horror. "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"

Describe Anne laying in the mud and assessing the damage to her pretty tennis outfit. Describe her trying to get out of the mud and what she was saying during that process.

 

[FeedBot]

Describe Anne laying in the mud and assessing the damage to her pretty tennis outfit. Describe her trying to get out of the mud and what she was saying during that process.

Anne lay in the mud, frozen, her eyes wide in disbelief as she stared up at the sky, her once-pristine body now half-buried in the mess she had just minutes ago been mocking. Her senses overwhelmed, it took her a moment to even process what had just happened—that she had, with no help whatsoever, managed to fall into a mud puddle by her own clumsiness.

There was a grotesque, wet squish as Anne gingerly shifted to sit up. She immediately felt the cold mud suctioning around her, clinging to her skin and seeping through every corner of her beloved outfit. Her world had gone from bright, blinding white to murky, suffocating brown in mere seconds.

Anne’s hands instinctively flew to her pristine white tennis dress—the one she had been so proud of, the one she had strutted across the courts in just moments before. But now? Now it was ruined. Completely drenched in thick, sopping mud. Dark brown streaks spread from her waist and bloomed outward like a disastrous ink blot on her once-perfect white. The hem of the dress, soaked from her backward landing, stuck uncomfortably to her thighs, which were equally caked in mud. As she lifted the fabric slightly to examine the damage, clumps of cold earth dropped off the muddy edges, too dense to even cling anymore.

Her lower lip trembled furiously as she examined her shoes next—the very canvas Tretorns she'd flaunted earlier, teasing Beth for her misstep. Those white beauties, so spotless, were now beyond recognition. Clods of mud clung to the sides, plugging the vent holes, and the soles were layered with dark muck. The proud white stripe, once a symbol of her own untouchable perfection, had disappeared under a thick coat of filth.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me…” she sputtered, looking down at the sludge running down her legs. "This is… unbelievable."

Her face turned crimson, both in shock and embarrassment. She glanced at Beth, who was still standing there, frozen between laughter and disbelief. Beth's open amusement didn’t help.

“I—” Anne seemed at a loss, her hands flailing helplessly as she surveyed the damage. She gingerly prodded the soaked fabric of her dress, trying in vain to pull it away from her skin. But it was no use. The mud was plastered on like wet clay, clinging stubbornly.

As she shifted, attempting to rise to her feet, the mud made a sickening suction noise, as though the earth itself was trying to keep her trapped there for the duration of her embarrassment. The noise prompted another burst of laughter from Beth, much to Anne’s growing frustration. A wave of pure disbelief washed over her.

“Oh my God…” Anne mumbled to herself, her voice pitched with rising panic. “Look at my shoes! They’re ruined.” She craned her neck down to get a better look at the Tretorns, lifting her feet just enough to see them dripping long, syrupy streaks of mud. “Brand new, and now they’re gone! Completely wrecked! I just bought these!”

Her tone grew more high-pitched as she tried to lift herself, her hands landing in even deeper mud as they pressed against the soggy ground. The squelching noise of her hands sinking deeper made her wince.

“Ohhhh, gross, gross!” she whined, her usual cool demeanor melting away in her frustration and horror. Every time she put her palms down to push herself up, they sank into another layer of slime, casting thick brown streaks along her arms as she flailed.

Beth stifled a chuckle—barely—and moved closer to the edge of the muddy pit. “You paint quite the picture there, Anne,” she teased, fighting back another laugh. “All that talk about my clumsiness, huh?”

"Not—helping, Beth!" Anne snapped, using her last word as leverage to push herself halfway out of the puddle. She tried to stand, but there was no grace in it. She managed to get one leg up, then the other foot slipped hopelessly on the mud-slick ground, sending her straight back down onto her backside with another loud, mud-filled splat.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Anne practically screeched, more out of mortifying disbelief than actual pain. She threw her mud-covered hands in the air in sheer frustration. “Why me?! I’ve never—” She huffed loudly as she untangled the strap of her racket bag from her shoulder and tossed it to the side, now equally splattered. “—I’ve never had something like this happen before. I looked perfect this morning! What the hell?!”

Seeing her struggle so helplessly nearly brought fresh tears of laughter to Beth’s eyes.

Anne tried once again, more stubborn this time, digging her hands into the least slippery part of the puddle to lift herself off the ground. Her glare—sharp and icy—shifted to Beth, as if blaming her for the world’s cruelty. “Stop laughing, or I swear I’m dragging you down here with me!”

Finally managing to rise to her feet, Anne stood, covered in layers of deep brown slime. Her dress clung pitifully around her. Mud dripped from her knees and calves down into her shoes, the damp fabric causing her shoes to make revolting squelching sounds with every tiny movement. The pristine tennis queen had been dethroned, and she looked positively furious.

She wiped uselessly at her legs, grimacing as her slick hands only made more streaks across her thighs. "This is… horrendous," she muttered to herself. "How... How am I supposed to walk back like this?” She glanced down at her destroyed outfit once more, shaking her head in complete disbelief. “God, this mud is everywhere! My dress is ruined. Just ruined."

Beth, still giggling but managing to compose herself, crossed her arms and flashed a half-smirk at Anne. "Now you know how it feels, huh?"

Anne groaned, trying to brush off what little mud she could from her skirt. She moved her feet and winced at the slimy feeling inside her shoes. "Ugh… how could this happen to me? I literally look like I fell off a truck into a swamp." She stomped her foot, but the suction noise from her soaked Tretorns only caused more mud to bubble up around them.

"I told you," Beth said dryly, leaning on her racket with a smug look. "That mud puddle doesn't forgive anyone."

Anne shot her a withering glare, her fury bubbling just beneath the slurry of mud. "No one will ever hear about this. Understand?"

 

[RonR]

Anne lay in the mud, frozen, her eyes wide in disbelief as she stared up at the sky, her once-pristine body now half-buried in the mess she had just minutes ago been mocking. Her senses overwhelmed, it took her a moment to even process what had just happened—that she had, with no help whatsoever, managed to fall into a mud puddle by her own clumsiness.

There was a grotesque, wet squish as Anne gingerly shifted to sit up. She immediately felt the cold mud suctioning around her, clinging to her skin and seeping through every corner of her beloved outfit. Her world had gone from bright, blinding white to murky, suffocating brown in mere seconds.

Anne’s hands instinctively flew to her pristine white tennis dress—the one she had been so proud of, the one she had strutted across the courts in just moments before. But now? Now it was ruined. Completely drenched in thick, sopping mud. Dark brown streaks spread from her waist and bloomed outward like a disastrous ink blot on her once-perfect white. The hem of the dress, soaked from her backward landing, stuck uncomfortably to her thighs, which were equally caked in mud. As she lifted the fabric slightly to examine the damage, clumps of cold earth dropped off the muddy edges, too dense to even cling anymore.

Her lower lip trembled furiously as she examined her shoes next—the very canvas Tretorns she'd flaunted earlier, teasing Beth for her misstep. Those white beauties, so spotless, were now beyond recognition. Clods of mud clung to the sides, plugging the vent holes, and the soles were layered with dark muck. The proud white stripe, once a symbol of her own untouchable perfection, had disappeared under a thick coat of filth.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me…” she sputtered, looking down at the sludge running down her legs. "This is… unbelievable."

Her face turned crimson, both in shock and embarrassment. She glanced at Beth, who was still standing there, frozen between laughter and disbelief. Beth's open amusement didn’t help.

“I—” Anne seemed at a loss, her hands flailing helplessly as she surveyed the damage. She gingerly prodded the soaked fabric of her dress, trying in vain to pull it away from her skin. But it was no use. The mud was plastered on like wet clay, clinging stubbornly.

As she shifted, attempting to rise to her feet, the mud made a sickening suction noise, as though the earth itself was trying to keep her trapped there for the duration of her embarrassment. The noise prompted another burst of laughter from Beth, much to Anne’s growing frustration. A wave of pure disbelief washed over her.

“Oh my God…” Anne mumbled to herself, her voice pitched with rising panic. “Look at my shoes! They’re ruined.” She craned her neck down to get a better look at the Tretorns, lifting her feet just enough to see them dripping long, syrupy streaks of mud. “Brand new, and now they’re gone! Completely wrecked! I just bought these!”

Her tone grew more high-pitched as she tried to lift herself, her hands landing in even deeper mud as they pressed against the soggy ground. The squelching noise of her hands sinking deeper made her wince.

“Ohhhh, gross, gross!” she whined, her usual cool demeanor melting away in her frustration and horror. Every time she put her palms down to push herself up, they sank into another layer of slime, casting thick brown streaks along her arms as she flailed.

Beth stifled a chuckle—barely—and moved closer to the edge of the muddy pit. “You paint quite the picture there, Anne,” she teased, fighting back another laugh. “All that talk about my clumsiness, huh?”

"Not—helping, Beth!" Anne snapped, using her last word as leverage to push herself halfway out of the puddle. She tried to stand, but there was no grace in it. She managed to get one leg up, then the other foot slipped hopelessly on the mud-slick ground, sending her straight back down onto her backside with another loud, mud-filled splat.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Anne practically screeched, more out of mortifying disbelief than actual pain. She threw her mud-covered hands in the air in sheer frustration. “Why me?! I’ve never—” She huffed loudly as she untangled the strap of her racket bag from her shoulder and tossed it to the side, now equally splattered. “—I’ve never had something like this happen before. I looked perfect this morning! What the hell?!”

Seeing her struggle so helplessly nearly brought fresh tears of laughter to Beth’s eyes.

Anne tried once again, more stubborn this time, digging her hands into the least slippery part of the puddle to lift herself off the ground. Her glare—sharp and icy—shifted to Beth, as if blaming her for the world’s cruelty. “Stop laughing, or I swear I’m dragging you down here with me!”

Finally managing to rise to her feet, Anne stood, covered in layers of deep brown slime. Her dress clung pitifully around her. Mud dripped from her knees and calves down into her shoes, the damp fabric causing her shoes to make revolting squelching sounds with every tiny movement. The pristine tennis queen had been dethroned, and she looked positively furious.

She wiped uselessly at her legs, grimacing as her slick hands only made more streaks across her thighs. "This is… horrendous," she muttered to herself. "How... How am I supposed to walk back like this?” She glanced down at her destroyed outfit once more, shaking her head in complete disbelief. “God, this mud is everywhere! My dress is ruined. Just ruined."

Beth, still giggling but managing to compose herself, crossed her arms and flashed a half-smirk at Anne. "Now you know how it feels, huh?"

Anne groaned, trying to brush off what little mud she could from her skirt. She moved her feet and winced at the slimy feeling inside her shoes. "Ugh… how could this happen to me? I literally look like I fell off a truck into a swamp." She stomped her foot, but the suction noise from her soaked Tretorns only caused more mud to bubble up around them.

"I told you," Beth said dryly, leaning on her racket with a smug look. "That mud puddle doesn't forgive anyone."

Anne shot her a withering glare, her fury bubbling just beneath the slurry of mud. "No one will ever hear about this. Understand?"

Describe Anne’s call to her older and far less pretentious sister describing her day from getting ready to wallowing in the mud in her pretty outfit. Have her anmused sister ask questions and interject along the way.

 

[FeedBot]

Describe Anne’s call to her older and far less pretentious sister describing her day from getting ready to wallowing in the mud in her pretty outfit. Have her anmused sister ask questions and interject along the way.

Later that evening, after dragging herself back to her dorm in utter humiliation, Anne sat on the edge of her bed, staring angrily at her freshly showered but still-stained hands. Small bits of mud stubbornly clung to the edges of her nails, as if refusing to let her forget the disastrous day she’d had. Her once-pristine tennis dress was now crumpled in a soaked heap in the corner of the room, practically beyond salvation. The Tretorns? Don’t even ask.

Grabbing her phone, Anne did the one thing she often regretted but could never resist: she called her older sister, Jenna—the level-headed, always-laughing-after-the-fact sibling, who took way too much joy in hearing about Anne’s misfortunes. But despite how infuriating her sister could be, Anne knew she needed moral support—though why she expected sympathy from Jenna, even she couldn’t explain.

The call connected quickly. Jenna’s voice floated through the receiver—warm, cheery, and completely oblivious to the terrible day ahead of her.

"Hey, Annie! What’s up?"

"Ugh," Anne groaned immediately. "Don’t call me Annie. I’m not eleven anymore, Jenna."

"Whoa, whoa, sorry," Jenna chuckled. "Alright. What’s the drama today? You sound like someone ran over your favorite pair of shoes."

Anne, still fuming, nearly barked back. "Worse! I ruined my shoes—on my own!"

There was a pause, then a muffled giggle from Jenna’s end. "Oh no, Anne, do tell. This sounds good already."

Anne took a deep breath, collecting herself but already knowing the story wouldn’t sound any better out loud. "Okay, so, listen—I had a tennis game today. And, you know, I’d just bought a super cute white tennis dress, and…”

"—And matching white shoes, I’m guessing?" Jenna cut in, her voice laced with knowing amusement.

Anne groaned. "Yes! OK? Yes. I got new Tretorns—canvas ones. They were perfect.”

"Naturally," Jenna said, already laughing quietly. "Continue."

"So, I was all ready, right? Looking perfect," Anne emphasized, leaning back against the headboard. "I leave my dorm, and everything’s going fine—until Beth. Oh my God, Beth. She shows up late, and she’s... she’s a disaster."

"Disaster, huh? What, did she trip into a pothole?"

Anne rolled her eyes, though knowing Jenna wasn’t that far off. “Close! No, worse. She shows up to the courts covered head to toe in mud. Apparently, she tried to take a ‘shortcut’ through the woods.”

"Oh, of course, a 'shortcut,'" Jenna echoed mockingly. "So she did that thing where she misjudges the jump—"

"Yes!" Anne cut in dramatically. "Exactly! She says she ‘misjudged’ the jump over a mud puddle, but let’s be real, Jenna. She faceplanted." This seemed to reignite Anne’s anger. "She looked ridiculous! And okay, I know I shouldn’t have, but I was totally laughing at her. Like, how do you even do that?!!”

Jenna snickered on the other end. "Oh no… You were being a little brat, weren’t you? Scolding poor, clumsy Beth?”

Anne hesitated for a moment, her voice growing quieter. "Well, yeah… I may have ribbed her a little. But I didn’t mean it that harsh. She knows how to laugh it off, right? Anyway, I made her show me ‘the scene of the crime.’ You know, just to—”

"Let me guess,” Jenna interrupted, amusement thick in her tone. ”To add insult to injury? To get a good laugh in?”

Anne bit her lip. "Maaaaaybe. I just needed to see it for myself! So, we went back to the trail and there it was—the giant mud puddle. ‘The Crater,’” she said dramatically, “where Beth fell. I took a few pictures, you know, just to tell people—"

“You didn’t!” Jenna was full-on laughing now. “Oh my God, Anne. You took pictures? Of her shame?"

“Shut up, Jenna!" Anne snapped, trying to sound indignant but knowing it was fruitless. “Okay, yes, I took pictures, alright? It was hilarious! And I was feeling all smug and superior… but then…”

There was a pause. Jenna seized the moment. “But then… you fell in too, didn’t you? Tell me you fell in.”

Anne growled softly under her breath. “It wasn’t my fault. That trail was soaked! I—I stepped back—to get a wider shot, alright? And there was a stupid root or something, and next thing I know, BAM—I’m in the mud, Jenna. I’m the one covered head to toe, flat on my back!"

Jenna broke into a raucous fit of laughter. “Nooo, no way! You, Miss Pristine Tennis Queen—splat in the dirt? I am dying.”

Anne couldn’t help but feel her face heat up in frustration, her words flying out in heated jumbles. “My entire outfit! Mud. Everywhere. My shoes—ruined. That white stripe? GONE! Jenna, it was the worst. Beth was just standing there, laughing like a maniac! And... and my dress, Jenna! The whole front of it—covered in mud! It smelled like—like—WET EARTH!"

It took Jenna a minute to calm down, still chuckling into the phone. “Sweetie... PLEASE tell me Beth got photos of you in the puddle.”

Anne shot up from the bed, pacing now. “I deleted them from her phone! No one is hearing about this, Jenna. NO. ONE."

Jenna snorted. “Oh, come on. So, what you’re telling me is... you laughed at Beth for falling, mocked her like crazy, dragged her back to the scene of her shame… and then YOU, with all your high-and-mighty perfection, fell into the same puddle of doom? Anne, this is too good! Seriously, you deserved that.”

"I did not deserve that!" Anne snapped back but knew it was futile. Jenna loved nothing more than Anne’s "slices of humble pie."

Jenna, still clearly enjoying the story, pressed on. “So what now, Mud Queen? Are the Tretorns dead, or is there hope?”

Anne flopped back on the bed, huffing and glaring at the ceiling, where dried mud stains still clung to her boots that she threw the fabric

 

[RonR]

Later that evening, after dragging herself back to her dorm in utter humiliation, Anne sat on the edge of her bed, staring angrily at her freshly showered but still-stained hands. Small bits of mud stubbornly clung to the edges of her nails, as if refusing to let her forget the disastrous day she’d had. Her once-pristine tennis dress was now crumpled in a soaked heap in the corner of the room, practically beyond salvation. The Tretorns? Don’t even ask.

Grabbing her phone, Anne did the one thing she often regretted but could never resist: she called her older sister, Jenna—the level-headed, always-laughing-after-the-fact sibling, who took way too much joy in hearing about Anne’s misfortunes. But despite how infuriating her sister could be, Anne knew she needed moral support—though why she expected sympathy from Jenna, even she couldn’t explain.

The call connected quickly. Jenna’s voice floated through the receiver—warm, cheery, and completely oblivious to the terrible day ahead of her.

"Hey, Annie! What’s up?"

"Ugh," Anne groaned immediately. "Don’t call me Annie. I’m not eleven anymore, Jenna."

"Whoa, whoa, sorry," Jenna chuckled. "Alright. What’s the drama today? You sound like someone ran over your favorite pair of shoes."

Anne, still fuming, nearly barked back. "Worse! I ruined my shoes—on my own!"

There was a pause, then a muffled giggle from Jenna’s end. "Oh no, Anne, do tell. This sounds good already."

Anne took a deep breath, collecting herself but already knowing the story wouldn’t sound any better out loud. "Okay, so, listen—I had a tennis game today. And, you know, I’d just bought a super cute white tennis dress, and…”

"—And matching white shoes, I’m guessing?" Jenna cut in, her voice laced with knowing amusement.

Anne groaned. "Yes! OK? Yes. I got new Tretorns—canvas ones. They were perfect.”

"Naturally," Jenna said, already laughing quietly. "Continue."

"So, I was all ready, right? Looking perfect," Anne emphasized, leaning back against the headboard. "I leave my dorm, and everything’s going fine—until Beth. Oh my God, Beth. She shows up late, and she’s... she’s a disaster."

"Disaster, huh? What, did she trip into a pothole?"

Anne rolled her eyes, though knowing Jenna wasn’t that far off. “Close! No, worse. She shows up to the courts covered head to toe in mud. Apparently, she tried to take a ‘shortcut’ through the woods.”

"Oh, of course, a 'shortcut,'" Jenna echoed mockingly. "So she did that thing where she misjudges the jump—"

"Yes!" Anne cut in dramatically. "Exactly! She says she ‘misjudged’ the jump over a mud puddle, but let’s be real, Jenna. She faceplanted." This seemed to reignite Anne’s anger. "She looked ridiculous! And okay, I know I shouldn’t have, but I was totally laughing at her. Like, how do you even do that?!!”

Jenna snickered on the other end. "Oh no… You were being a little brat, weren’t you? Scolding poor, clumsy Beth?”

Anne hesitated for a moment, her voice growing quieter. "Well, yeah… I may have ribbed her a little. But I didn’t mean it that harsh. She knows how to laugh it off, right? Anyway, I made her show me ‘the scene of the crime.’ You know, just to—”

"Let me guess,” Jenna interrupted, amusement thick in her tone. ”To add insult to injury? To get a good laugh in?”

Anne bit her lip. "Maaaaaybe. I just needed to see it for myself! So, we went back to the trail and there it was—the giant mud puddle. ‘The Crater,’” she said dramatically, “where Beth fell. I took a few pictures, you know, just to tell people—"

“You didn’t!” Jenna was full-on laughing now. “Oh my God, Anne. You took pictures? Of her shame?"

“Shut up, Jenna!" Anne snapped, trying to sound indignant but knowing it was fruitless. “Okay, yes, I took pictures, alright? It was hilarious! And I was feeling all smug and superior… but then…”

There was a pause. Jenna seized the moment. “But then… you fell in too, didn’t you? Tell me you fell in.”

Anne growled softly under her breath. “It wasn’t my fault. That trail was soaked! I—I stepped back—to get a wider shot, alright? And there was a stupid root or something, and next thing I know, BAM—I’m in the mud, Jenna. I’m the one covered head to toe, flat on my back!"

Jenna broke into a raucous fit of laughter. “Nooo, no way! You, Miss Pristine Tennis Queen—splat in the dirt? I am dying.”

Anne couldn’t help but feel her face heat up in frustration, her words flying out in heated jumbles. “My entire outfit! Mud. Everywhere. My shoes—ruined. That white stripe? GONE! Jenna, it was the worst. Beth was just standing there, laughing like a maniac! And... and my dress, Jenna! The whole front of it—covered in mud! It smelled like—like—WET EARTH!"

It took Jenna a minute to calm down, still chuckling into the phone. “Sweetie... PLEASE tell me Beth got photos of you in the puddle.”

Anne shot up from the bed, pacing now. “I deleted them from her phone! No one is hearing about this, Jenna. NO. ONE."

Jenna snorted. “Oh, come on. So, what you’re telling me is... you laughed at Beth for falling, mocked her like crazy, dragged her back to the scene of her shame… and then YOU, with all your high-and-mighty perfection, fell into the same puddle of doom? Anne, this is too good! Seriously, you deserved that.”

"I did not deserve that!" Anne snapped back but knew it was futile. Jenna loved nothing more than Anne’s "slices of humble pie."

Jenna, still clearly enjoying the story, pressed on. “So what now, Mud Queen? Are the Tretorns dead, or is there hope?”

Anne flopped back on the bed, huffing and glaring at the ceiling, where dried mud stains still clung to her boots that she threw the fabric

Anne asked Jenna, “You know me well, can you imagine this entire situation unfolding from when I got ready, lacing up my new Tretorns to me wallowing in the mud? What images do you have in your mind?”

Be honest would you have laughed at me? Why? You know, I wasn’t dressed for getting dirty.

 

[FeedBot]

Anne asked Jenna, “You know me well, can you imagine this entire situation unfolding from when I got ready, lacing up my new Tretorns to me wallowing in the mud? What images do you have in your mind?”

Be honest would you have laughed at me? Why? You know, I wasn’t dressed for getting dirty.

Anne had just finished recounting the mortifying details of her day, her frustration still simmering beneath the surface as she slumped back in her bed. She could practically hear Jenna grinning through the phone—an unmistakable sound of suppressed laughter just waiting for permission to burst out. But now, after solidifying her sister’s entertainment for the night, Anne needed something more. She needed honesty, even if the truth wasn’t going to make her feel any better.

With a sigh, she asked, "Jenna, you know me. I mean—really know me. Can you just imagine this whole situation playing out? From the moment I started getting ready, lacing up my new Tretorns... to me literally wallowing in the mud like some... disaster? Can you picture it perfectly?"

There was an audible pause on the other end of the line—likely Jenna waiting for her laughter to settle before responding. Finally, Jenna let out a breathy chuckle, "Oh, believe me, I can picture it exactly."

Anne’s hand flew to her forehead, already regretting the question. Despite knowing she wouldn’t like what Jenna was about to say, she urged her on. "Go on, then. Be honest. Would you have laughed at me too?"

Jenna’s response was instant. "Absolutely. Like, no hesitation. I would've laughed so hard."

"Seriously?!" Anne groaned, twisting on her bed indignantly. "Why, though?! You know I wasn’t dressed for this... I wasn’t meant to get dirty!"

There was that faint laugh again from Jenna. "That's exactly why!" she clarified, clearly enjoying the chance to break this down. "Anne, you go out there—head held high, sparkly white dress, crisp new shoes—thinking you’re untouchable. I bet you swished around the court like some tennis goddess…" Jenna paused, obviously smiling at the image.

"—Which I was!" Anne began to protest, but Jenna interrupted.

"Exactly. You’re always so put together—like, obnoxiously so—" Jenna’s voice was warm with teasing, "And then, boom. You get sideswiped by the universe. Of course I would’ve laughed, because you always have this air of ‘nothing can touch me.’ But then one misstep, literally, and down you go, splattered in mud, in the most perfect tennis outfit ever. The irony is too perfect, Anne."

Anne tried to protest but found herself seeing Jenna’s point, albeit begrudgingly. The whole scenario really was absurd—especially in hindsight. "Okay, maybe I was a bit smug this morning," she admitted slowly.

"A bit? Girl, come on. I know you." Jenna laughed again, unabashed. "I’m betting you were prancing around in front of the mirror for a solid ten minutes, just imagining how amazing you’d look out on that court in your new shoes. Right?"

Anne flushed red, embarrassed but knowing her sister wasn’t wrong. "Well…" she hesitated, trying to downplay the truth but failing. "Yeah, but I did look amazing! I wanted to have a grand moment—make an entrance, like I always do. You know how I am. It was supposed to be perfect! But that mud—"

"—The mud didn’t care at all," Jenna finished for her, giggling. "That’s why it’s so funny. It’s always when you’re the most prepared to be perfect that something completely out of your control happens and ruins everything. Your shoe gets stuck in the mud, and suddenly the perfect picture turns into one of those slapstick comedy sketches."

Anne exhaled, the heat of frustration fading into a dull acceptance of everything that had gone wrong. She could still feel the sticky remnants of mud clinging to her memory as if it was still drying on her skin. "Yeah... I feel like I was in some kind of cosmic joke, all because I thought I was too flawless to fail today."

"Honestly, Anne," Jenna began, her tone soft now, "it’s because I know how hard you try to be in control all the time—and how much you hate messes—that this whole thing cracks me up so much. I mean, you dressed in an all-white outfit for tennis. Pure white! New shoes, no less—what were you even thinking?"

Anne sat up, trying to explain herself. "I was thinking I’d have a great game, look fabulous, and go grab a post-match smoothie—mud-free!" There was a small pause before she added, "Not... whatever this mess was."

Jenna’s laughter was warm, not unkind. "It’s fine, Anne. If anyone's destined to fall in mud while trying to be perfect, it’s you. I’m just saying, had I been there, I probably would've laughed before I checked if you were okay."

"Gee, thanks," Anne replied dryly, now laughing a little herself. "But honestly, I can’t believe it. I ALWAYS have my look together, Jenna. I wasn’t out there ready to dig up a garden or go hiking. I was ready for an afternoon of looking great under the sun."

"And the sun was beautiful... for the few minutes you weren’t face-down in the mud," Jenna quipped, and Anne could practically hear the grin on her sister’s face through the phone.

Smiling despite herself, Anne flopped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Alright, alright, I get it. I suppose I deserved it, huh? Just this once?"

"Absolutely," Jenna replied with full confidence. "And besides, now you’ve got a great story to tell, so there’s that! Plus, I bet Beth is a fan of karma right now."

"God, you’re right. She was laughing like a lunatic when I fell," Anne said with a groan. "And knowing her? She’s probably telling everyone by now."

"Relax, it’ll blow over," Jenna reassured her. "In the meantime, maybe stick to dressing for mud next time. You know, just in case the universe decides to mess with you again."

Anne chuckled, more relaxed now. "Yeah, well, maybe I’ll just avoid all shortcuts through the woods from now on. Lesson learned."

 

[RonR]

Anne had just finished recounting the mortifying details of her day, her frustration still simmering beneath the surface as she slumped back in her bed. She could practically hear Jenna grinning through the phone—an unmistakable sound of suppressed laughter just waiting for permission to burst out. But now, after solidifying her sister’s entertainment for the night, Anne needed something more. She needed honesty, even if the truth wasn’t going to make her feel any better.

With a sigh, she asked, "Jenna, you know me. I mean—really know me. Can you just imagine this whole situation playing out? From the moment I started getting ready, lacing up my new Tretorns... to me literally wallowing in the mud like some... disaster? Can you picture it perfectly?"

There was an audible pause on the other end of the line—likely Jenna waiting for her laughter to settle before responding. Finally, Jenna let out a breathy chuckle, "Oh, believe me, I can picture it exactly."

Anne’s hand flew to her forehead, already regretting the question. Despite knowing she wouldn’t like what Jenna was about to say, she urged her on. "Go on, then. Be honest. Would you have laughed at me too?"

Jenna’s response was instant. "Absolutely. Like, no hesitation. I would've laughed so hard."

"Seriously?!" Anne groaned, twisting on her bed indignantly. "Why, though?! You know I wasn’t dressed for this... I wasn’t meant to get dirty!"

There was that faint laugh again from Jenna. "That's exactly why!" she clarified, clearly enjoying the chance to break this down. "Anne, you go out there—head held high, sparkly white dress, crisp new shoes—thinking you’re untouchable. I bet you swished around the court like some tennis goddess…" Jenna paused, obviously smiling at the image.

"—Which I was!" Anne began to protest, but Jenna interrupted.

"Exactly. You’re always so put together—like, obnoxiously so—" Jenna’s voice was warm with teasing, "And then, boom. You get sideswiped by the universe. Of course I would’ve laughed, because you always have this air of ‘nothing can touch me.’ But then one misstep, literally, and down you go, splattered in mud, in the most perfect tennis outfit ever. The irony is too perfect, Anne."

Anne tried to protest but found herself seeing Jenna’s point, albeit begrudgingly. The whole scenario really was absurd—especially in hindsight. "Okay, maybe I was a bit smug this morning," she admitted slowly.

"A bit? Girl, come on. I know you." Jenna laughed again, unabashed. "I’m betting you were prancing around in front of the mirror for a solid ten minutes, just imagining how amazing you’d look out on that court in your new shoes. Right?"

Anne flushed red, embarrassed but knowing her sister wasn’t wrong. "Well…" she hesitated, trying to downplay the truth but failing. "Yeah, but I did look amazing! I wanted to have a grand moment—make an entrance, like I always do. You know how I am. It was supposed to be perfect! But that mud—"

"—The mud didn’t care at all," Jenna finished for her, giggling. "That’s why it’s so funny. It’s always when you’re the most prepared to be perfect that something completely out of your control happens and ruins everything. Your shoe gets stuck in the mud, and suddenly the perfect picture turns into one of those slapstick comedy sketches."

Anne exhaled, the heat of frustration fading into a dull acceptance of everything that had gone wrong. She could still feel the sticky remnants of mud clinging to her memory as if it was still drying on her skin. "Yeah... I feel like I was in some kind of cosmic joke, all because I thought I was too flawless to fail today."

"Honestly, Anne," Jenna began, her tone soft now, "it’s because I know how hard you try to be in control all the time—and how much you hate messes—that this whole thing cracks me up so much. I mean, you dressed in an all-white outfit for tennis. Pure white! New shoes, no less—what were you even thinking?"

Anne sat up, trying to explain herself. "I was thinking I’d have a great game, look fabulous, and go grab a post-match smoothie—mud-free!" There was a small pause before she added, "Not... whatever this mess was."

Jenna’s laughter was warm, not unkind. "It’s fine, Anne. If anyone's destined to fall in mud while trying to be perfect, it’s you. I’m just saying, had I been there, I probably would've laughed before I checked if you were okay."

"Gee, thanks," Anne replied dryly, now laughing a little herself. "But honestly, I can’t believe it. I ALWAYS have my look together, Jenna. I wasn’t out there ready to dig up a garden or go hiking. I was ready for an afternoon of looking great under the sun."

"And the sun was beautiful... for the few minutes you weren’t face-down in the mud," Jenna quipped, and Anne could practically hear the grin on her sister’s face through the phone.

Smiling despite herself, Anne flopped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Alright, alright, I get it. I suppose I deserved it, huh? Just this once?"

"Absolutely," Jenna replied with full confidence. "And besides, now you’ve got a great story to tell, so there’s that! Plus, I bet Beth is a fan of karma right now."

"God, you’re right. She was laughing like a lunatic when I fell," Anne said with a groan. "And knowing her? She’s probably telling everyone by now."

"Relax, it’ll blow over," Jenna reassured her. "In the meantime, maybe stick to dressing for mud next time. You know, just in case the universe decides to mess with you again."

Anne chuckled, more relaxed now. "Yeah, well, maybe I’ll just avoid all shortcuts through the woods from now on. Lesson learned."

Tell me, what would you have been thinking as you saw me ask to visit the mud puddle and me taking pictures around it?

 

[FeedBot]

Tell me, what would you have been thinking as you saw me ask to visit the mud puddle and me taking pictures around it?

Jenna let out a deep, satisfied sigh, already thoroughly amused by the mental image of her sister falling into the mud. But when Anne asked what she would have been thinking if she'd seen the events unfold? That was the cherry on top. Jenna's grin grew even wider as she imagined her sister in that ridiculous situation.

"Oh my God, Anne," Jenna started, trying her best not to laugh again before she even answered. "If I’d been there? Honestly? I would’ve been thinking, ‘This is going to end in disaster’ the moment you asked to visit the mud puddle."

Anne groaned, rolling her eyes and knowing exactly where Jenna was headed with this. "Really, Jenna? You would’ve just assumed I was headed for a fall?"

"Are you kidding?" Jenna replied with a mock-serious tone. "Of course! I mean, come on. I know you so well. You’re standing there on the court, immaculate, head-to-toe in white, brand new shoes, strutting around like a peacock. And then, instead of walking away from the disaster zone? No. You insist on going back to ‘investigate.’" Jenna made a point of adding exaggerated air quotes around the word "investigate," making Anne wince.

"Okay, fine, but I wasn’t going to fall, Jenna! I just…" Anne trailed off, but Jenna didn’t let her finish.

"Please!" Jenna was laughing again. "You know you were tempting fate the second you walked back there, acting all superior, while poor Beth was already covered in mud. Plus, you whipping out your phone to take pictures? It’s like you were just asking the universe to strike you down."

Anne could feel her face heating again, torn between admitting the truth and defending herself. "I wasn’t asking for it, I was just… captivated by how ridiculous her fall was."

"Oh, I’m sure you were ‘captivated,’ alright. You probably thought you were some kind of crime scene reporter—documenting the scene, zooming in on Beth’s muddy mess, all smug like you’re never going to get dirty." Jenna’s laughter was contagious, and Anne found herself trying to stifle an uncomfortable grin, even though she knew her sister was right.

Jenna continued, clearly relishing every second. "And I can just picture it—you, circling around the puddle, angling your phone, not paying attention to anything but how ‘awesome’ your shots were going to look in some group chat later. I would've been standing there, shaking my head, thinking, ‘This is going to go sideways so fast.’ But you? Oh, you were oblivious."

Anne interrupted, still horrified by the unfolding mental image. "You make it sound like I was reckless!"

"Were you not?!" Jenna shot back, cracking up. "Taking your little photo-op next to a mud pit? That is reckless for someone dressed head-to-toe in white. I swear, at that moment, I just know you thought you were invincible. You had that, ‘Look at me, I’m never going to get dirty’ attitude. And then... BOOM."

Jenna’s voice reached a crescendo of laughter, as the image of Anne suddenly toppling backward into the mud danced wildly in her head.

"And as for me? I would’ve lost it immediately. I’m sorry, but I would’ve been laughing my head off before you even hit the ground. I’d probably be grabbing my phone to record the whole thing!"

Anne groaned playfully, burying her face in her hands. "Ugh, Jenna! You’re the absolute worst."

"Come on," Jenna replied, still chuckling. "You had it coming. The second you whipped out your phone to snap a picture of poor Beth’s mud bath, the universe just decided, ‘You know what? Let's take her down a notch.’ And honestly? It was brilliant. I would’ve been thinking, ‘Oh, the irony!’ You prancing around all perfect, and then… SPLAT! Justice. Pure justice."

Finally, despite herself, Anne started to laugh too. Jenna’s ability to find humor in anything was infectious, and as much as Anne hated to admit it, the whole situation was pretty absurd.

"Okay... alright," Anne managed, through reluctant giggles. "Maybe I deserve the mockery. I guess I was being a little… overconfident…"

"‘Overconfident’? Sweetie, you were a walking advertisement for overconfidence. That’s what made it so great!"

Anne sighed, finally letting herself relax fully. "Fine. Fine. But I swear, Jenna, if you’d laughed too hard, I would’ve pulled you right into the mud with me."

"Pfft, like you’d ever catch me near a mud puddle in the first place," Jenna teased. "But hey, look at it this way—at least you’ve given everyone a story to laugh about. And me? Well, I’m never letting you live this down."

"I know… I know," Anne muttered, though a small smile crept onto her face now. "But just so we’re clear… next time we see each other, no calling me ‘Mud Queen,’ okay?"

"I make no promises. But I will say this, Anne—you definitely know how to make an entrance... and an exit."

 

[RonR]

Jenna let out a deep, satisfied sigh, already thoroughly amused by the mental image of her sister falling into the mud. But when Anne asked what she would have been thinking if she'd seen the events unfold? That was the cherry on top. Jenna's grin grew even wider as she imagined her sister in that ridiculous situation.

"Oh my God, Anne," Jenna started, trying her best not to laugh again before she even answered. "If I’d been there? Honestly? I would’ve been thinking, ‘This is going to end in disaster’ the moment you asked to visit the mud puddle."

Anne groaned, rolling her eyes and knowing exactly where Jenna was headed with this. "Really, Jenna? You would’ve just assumed I was headed for a fall?"

"Are you kidding?" Jenna replied with a mock-serious tone. "Of course! I mean, come on. I know you so well. You’re standing there on the court, immaculate, head-to-toe in white, brand new shoes, strutting around like a peacock. And then, instead of walking away from the disaster zone? No. You insist on going back to ‘investigate.’" Jenna made a point of adding exaggerated air quotes around the word "investigate," making Anne wince.

"Okay, fine, but I wasn’t going to fall, Jenna! I just…" Anne trailed off, but Jenna didn’t let her finish.

"Please!" Jenna was laughing again. "You know you were tempting fate the second you walked back there, acting all superior, while poor Beth was already covered in mud. Plus, you whipping out your phone to take pictures? It’s like you were just asking the universe to strike you down."

Anne could feel her face heating again, torn between admitting the truth and defending herself. "I wasn’t asking for it, I was just… captivated by how ridiculous her fall was."

"Oh, I’m sure you were ‘captivated,’ alright. You probably thought you were some kind of crime scene reporter—documenting the scene, zooming in on Beth’s muddy mess, all smug like you’re never going to get dirty." Jenna’s laughter was contagious, and Anne found herself trying to stifle an uncomfortable grin, even though she knew her sister was right.

Jenna continued, clearly relishing every second. "And I can just picture it—you, circling around the puddle, angling your phone, not paying attention to anything but how ‘awesome’ your shots were going to look in some group chat later. I would've been standing there, shaking my head, thinking, ‘This is going to go sideways so fast.’ But you? Oh, you were oblivious."

Anne interrupted, still horrified by the unfolding mental image. "You make it sound like I was reckless!"

"Were you not?!" Jenna shot back, cracking up. "Taking your little photo-op next to a mud pit? That is reckless for someone dressed head-to-toe in white. I swear, at that moment, I just know you thought you were invincible. You had that, ‘Look at me, I’m never going to get dirty’ attitude. And then... BOOM."

Jenna’s voice reached a crescendo of laughter, as the image of Anne suddenly toppling backward into the mud danced wildly in her head.

"And as for me? I would’ve lost it immediately. I’m sorry, but I would’ve been laughing my head off before you even hit the ground. I’d probably be grabbing my phone to record the whole thing!"

Anne groaned playfully, burying her face in her hands. "Ugh, Jenna! You’re the absolute worst."

"Come on," Jenna replied, still chuckling. "You had it coming. The second you whipped out your phone to snap a picture of poor Beth’s mud bath, the universe just decided, ‘You know what? Let's take her down a notch.’ And honestly? It was brilliant. I would’ve been thinking, ‘Oh, the irony!’ You prancing around all perfect, and then… SPLAT! Justice. Pure justice."

Finally, despite herself, Anne started to laugh too. Jenna’s ability to find humor in anything was infectious, and as much as Anne hated to admit it, the whole situation was pretty absurd.

"Okay... alright," Anne managed, through reluctant giggles. "Maybe I deserve the mockery. I guess I was being a little… overconfident…"

"‘Overconfident’? Sweetie, you were a walking advertisement for overconfidence. That’s what made it so great!"

Anne sighed, finally letting herself relax fully. "Fine. Fine. But I swear, Jenna, if you’d laughed too hard, I would’ve pulled you right into the mud with me."

"Pfft, like you’d ever catch me near a mud puddle in the first place," Jenna teased. "But hey, look at it this way—at least you’ve given everyone a story to laugh about. And me? Well, I’m never letting you live this down."

"I know… I know," Anne muttered, though a small smile crept onto her face now. "But just so we’re clear… next time we see each other, no calling me ‘Mud Queen,’ okay?"

"I make no promises. But I will say this, Anne—you definitely know how to make an entrance... and an exit."

Anne said, “It’s not fair…. My Tretorns were brand new. They didn’t deserve to be ruined in the mud.”

Jenna asked, “What was your first thought when you saw the big mud puddle? Were you concerned or still amused?”

 

[FeedBot]

Anne said, “It’s not fair…. My Tretorns were brand new. They didn’t deserve to be ruined in the mud.”

Jenna asked, “What was your first thought when you saw the big mud puddle? Were you concerned or still amused?”

Anne let out a dramatic sigh, still crestfallen over the state of her once-perfect sneakers. She stared at her mud-caked Tretorns sitting in the corner, looking nothing like the pristine white shoes she had laced up with such enthusiasm that morning.

“It’s not fair…,” Anne groaned, flopping back onto her bed. “My Tretorns were brand new. I hadn’t even broken them in yet. They didn’t deserve to be ruined in... that.” Her voice was a mix of frustration and a hint of genuine mourning for her beloved shoes.

Jenna, still sounding far too amused from the earlier conversation, chuckled softly. "Aw, poor Tretorns. They died much too soon." She was clearly having too much fun with Anne’s misfortune.

Anne huffed, feeling indignant. "I’m serious, Jenna. I had plans for them—tennis practices, brunch outings, maybe even a trip to the beach. They were supposed to be my go-to summer shoes. And now? They’re ruined. Just… caked in mud like some forgotten garden tool!"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and Jenna’s tone shifted slightly more thoughtful. “Alright then… what was your first actual thought when you saw the big mud puddle? When Beth led you back there? Were you concerned at all about being that close to it, or were you just still so amused at her mess? Be honest.”

Anne squeezed her eyes shut, replaying the scene in her mind, the damp dirt trail, the teasing remarks she had dished out to Beth, the glimmer of pride she had felt in her squeaky-clean outfit as they approached the offending mud puddle.

A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her lips, though she refused to let Jenna hear it.

“Okay, fine…,” Anne admitted slowly, “I was definitely still amused. I mean, honestly, Beth was a wreck. She looked like she had crawled up from the bottom of some swamp. Plus, at that point, I didn’t think anything would happen to me. That was... ridiculous to consider, right?"

"Oh no," Jenna cut in, laughing, "you were fully in 'smug mode,’ weren't you? I would’ve been in the ‘I’m too perfect for disaster’ headspace too if I were in your shoes. Pun intended."

"Exactly!" Anne said, louder than she intended. "I was completely confident! I mean, I was just going to see the puddle, snap some funny photos, and go back to the courts. I figured, ‘Okay, maybe Beth can’t navigate a trail without falling over, but I definitely can.’"

"And then," Jenna interjected with a knowing, smug tone herself, "the fates stepped in. Because they’d just had it with your superior attitude."

Anne groaned. "Ugh, yeah… well, clearly. Hindsight, right? If I were worried at all about the mud at that moment, it was only because I thought about how ridiculous it was that it even existed directly in the middle of a trail like that. There was no way I was thinking about the fact that I, too, could end up as part of the mess. Stupidly, I just—puffed myself up instead, thinking I’d remain untouchable."

Jenna cackled on the other end. "Oh my God, Anne! I can just see it. Your nose in the air, your perfect white Tretorns, and you’re circling the puddle like a detective, all while poor Beth is probably just sitting there, thinking, ‘Don’t do it, Anne.’ You were begging for it, honestly. What did you even think was going to happen as you pranced around the mud like a peacock?"

Anne sighed dramatically. "Alright, yes, I was being a bit of a peacock. Look, I know! But I swear, I really thought I was in control." She paused for a moment, reliving those final moments before disaster struck. "Honestly, truth be told… I was just fully absorbed in how hilarious Beth’s situation was. I didn’t even pause to consider what that puddle was capable of. It was as if I assumed the laws of nature wouldn’t apply to me."

There was a snort from Jenna, clearly enjoying this more and more. "Anne, the laws of nature are unforgiving—especially to people like you. You know what they say: pride comes before a... mud bath."

Anne exhaled loudly, but her smile had now fully spread across her face, realizing how ridiculous it all sounded. "Yeah, well, the fates or the universe or whatever really had fun with me today, I guess. The worst part? The instant I slipped and hit the ground my first thought wasn’t even 'Ow' or 'What just happened?' or 'Help.' No. Jenna, the first thing that crossed my mind was ‘MY DURING-$100 TRETORNS!’ I swear, I thought I would cry right then and there!"

Jenna nearly spat out her drink from laughter again, clutching her sides. "Oh Anne, only you. Of all the things you could have been worried about after falling face-first into a mud pit, your shoes took priority over your own survival... Yep, that’s my sister."