Snippet #13897

You heard that didn't you Mudd? Oh I'm sorry i forgot, you like to be called "Grave digger" now don't you? Think that sounds tough do you? WELL YOUR WRONG! But i digress, he called you crazy Grave Digger . He's just like those quacks in the asylum, and he diserves the same fate! Do it Mudd, end him!

While Mudd used what little rational though he possessed to come to the conclusion that killing the one in charge of this mission would be a bad idea, at least at this point, he did decide it best to appease the voice if only slightly. "Just who are yew callin' crazy you got'danged mule fucker!" He reached into the doorway of his room to grab his one true friend. His spade. Now armed the Grave Digger walked slowly towards the doctor, enjoying the scrapping sound the tip of his shovel made against the floor. "You got some helluva' nerve callin' me crazy! Do you know who yer fuckin' with boy! I AM NOT A MAN YOU WANT TO PIS-", and then he saw it. The mirrior.

Now to most this cheep imitation gold framed mirror would be used for vain purposes. However to one as far from their right mind as Mudd was it was something far more grim. It was Mudd in all truth, however it was a later version of Mudd. One after his time on this earth ended. His skin had a sick pale greenish yellow tone to it and was clearly stretched taunt to the point of looking nearly leathery. His left eye was completely albino, covered with the cataract of old age and both seemed to be sunken into the back of his skull. His lips were now nonexistent, reveling the few teeth he had left to be rotten down to his blacked gum and a maggot ridden muscle in the space his tongue used to reside in. Mudd's new face's sickly colored and flaking skin was covered in gashes, though none seemed to bleed not surprisingly.

"Whats wrong Mudd?" the voice in his head seemed to speak through the rotten hole obivously not capable of speech much to his host's terrified reaction. "Scared to see what the future holds for you? Well this is it! Even now your nothing more than a corpse waiting to be decayed. You have no soul, no life, and your body is barely even yours now isn't it? How does it feel to know your nothing more than a walking cadaver before you time has even come yet?"

The Grave Digger lost all control at his reflection haunting him in that cheep piece of polished glass. He raised his weapon of choice and trust it at the neck of his haunting reflection, only to see it laughing at his vain attempts to quell its taunts. It continued to laugh as it fell to the floor as it shattered blow after powerful blow, dealt by a weapon used to conseal the dead, now put to its purpose.

"I'M ALIVE YOU BASTARD! YOU HEAR ME I'M MORE THAN A FUCKIN' CORPSE GOD DAMNIT!!" He reached down and grabbed a large jagged piece of shatter glass and ran it forcefully down his arm, relived to see scarlet water rush to the surface of his punctured skin. It was all the proof he needed that he was different from that damned reflection.

He dropped the glass and took several shaky shallow breaths before retreating back to his room. Once inside he grabbed one of his "special" cigarettes, tobacco laced with 15mg of PCP. He quickly lit the drug up and ran it down to the filter in three long drags before throwing it to the floor and stomping it out.

He returned to his peers in the hallway, and rested his eyes as he leaned against the door frame for a few short seconds before collapsing and sliding down to the floor, his back never leaving the wall.