THE RED TUSSOCK

I saw that tussock thing in the field before anything else. It stuck up like sore thumb.

It was a dark day. Winter full done. The sky was heavy as quicksilver and my mood were no better having told my Father in Law to shove his blue potion up his arse.

Sick of him balling at me I'm no good. That I'm a wastrel. A retard. He can fix me. Well, he's a pompous old crusty bastard warlock. Yes. He damn well is. I don't need fucking fixing!

The tussock thing was right before me now. I'd walked across the whole rank plot. It was more reddish than green and stank to high heaven.

I prodded it with my boot and I could have sworn it moaned. It groaned like a kicked dog. I kicked it this time proper and it screamed. I had to cover my ears.

"By Jesus! What the fuck is that!" I heard myself shout as the high pitched wail filled the air.

It then split. Scarlet gunge oozed out and spilled onto the ground, sizzling like puke. It reeked like rotten meat and bubbled and popped as it pooled.

The scream had stopped but the liquid just kept coming. It was then I noticed some on my boots and socks. It fizzed and stung. It burnt through my cloth and hurt. More of the stuff poured over my feet and before I could turn and run it had smothered my legs.

The pain was inexplicable. It was agony as the red fluid turned my limbs to fizzling puss. I fell onto my hands and knees and it was I that now screamed.

My entire body from head to foot was blathered in the foulsome gunk and I felt my form dissolving.

"What is this vilest magic!" I yelled till my thinning lungs burst.

Only my head remained fully intact resting on the ground. I could see a figure approaching. His cape blowing in the winter gloom.

He arrived and towered over my pitiful carcass. I looked up.

My Father in Law!

He was Holding a big bottle of red potion.

"You sorcering gobshite!" I burbled.

He laughed and tipped out the rest of the bottle onto my face.

"Nooooooooooo!" I croaked like someone drowning.

"You should have drank the blue stuff you fucking wastrel!" he said and pressed his boot onto my head. 

It squashed like a duck-egg and just like that he was gone.