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Mud Cat Marlin turned 30 and felt like he’d hit a brick wall.

He’d been working out at the Proving Grounds since he graduated from Jim Bowie High School, “Home of the Fightin’ Knives”, and struck out on his own.  He’d started out in the warehouse, working for minimum wage, learning the ropes under the tutelage of Pappy Crustopher who’d held the position for decades.  Pappy took the boy under his wing and trained him in all the intricacies of warehouse work, without ever sharing all of the finer details so that his own job security was never threatened.

Once Mud Cat’s probationary period was over and he’d gone another 180 days without sustaining an injury that required reporting, he was eligible for medical benefits, paid time off  for issues not related to family, health, or recreational activities, and received a quarter an hour bump in his wages, though most of that was eaten up by the mandatory union dues that were then taken out of his bi-weekly checks.  Nonetheless, he was moving up the ladder.

The increase in wages came with an increase in responsibilities.  Mud Cat found himself placed in charge of overseeing the transfer of all activity-based coatings, from the railcars in which they were delivered to the Proving Grounds, over to the assembly line vats where they were stored using computer-aided storage cycle measuring.  At first he thought he wasn’t up to the task.  But within weeks he was driving the forklifts full of coatings from one end of the warehouse to the other like he was Dale Earnhardt Jr. at the Daytona 500.

Of course, being responsible for something that important and learning how to manage such a task so quickly put Mud Cat in the spotlight.  That created some tension between him and Pappy Crustopher.  The break room was no longer the jovial place it had once been.  It may have been that feeling of being threatened that led to what happened next.

Pappy filed a Document Change Request asking for an Engineering Change Order that the Committee for Enterprise Resource Planning look at changing the entire production process.  He suggested that the steps involving the movement of the activity-based coatings be handled via an automated enablement line directly between the dock they were received on and the vat where they were stored.  “It’s only Good Manufacturing Process,” he told the Deputy COO of Production Market Risk.

It looked like Mud Cat’s time in the spotlight was up.

But, of course, what Pappy hadn’t figured on was a faulty Programmable Logic Controller on the new equipment.  The shutoff valve controlling the Restriction of Hazardous Substance didn’t function as it was supposed to according to the Stand Operational Procedure Manual.  The unfortunate result was Pappy slipping in the puddle of toxic waste that had been expelled.  His wife was given his Employee of the Month Award posthumously at a small ceremony in the break room after his funeral.

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Mud Cat not only was able to keep his duties, once all the equipment had been removed and the Return Material Authorization completed, he was also given Pappy’s old position.  His only obligation was to somewhat modify the Employee Witness Report that had to be filed with OSHA concerning the whole event.  A large discretionary bonus was paid for his cooperation.

That promotion and bonus began a series of events that cascaded into an embarrassment of blessings, or so it appeared.

The elevation in position and increase in income that came with it brought many more dating opportunities amongst the local eligible gals in Fort Stockton.  Before long he was squiring Sugar Natchez on his arm all over town.  A buxom young girl with a talent for baking, Sugar was an enviable companion by nearly anyone’s standards.  An engagement quickly followed.  And in pursuit of the whole kit and caboodle of the American Dream, a new home in Morning Wood Estates and a couple new vehicles in the driveway came quickly thereafter.

“Once the newness of all this stuff wears off, you’ll be stuck with the payments,” Mud Cat’s father told him standing next to the Big Green Egg smoker on the patio one evening.  But Mud Cat didn’t listen.  The New Car Smell of his new F-150 King Ranch and the Luxury Vinyl Tile of the McMansion they’d purchased in was intoxicating.

As Mud Cat turned 30, though, things shifted.

The payments on his King Ranch and Sugar’s Cadillac CT5-V Blackwing felt like they were choking Mud Cat.  The walls of the 4,200 square foot home in Morning Wood seemed like they were closing in, despite the size of the rooms.  Worst of all, the relationship between Mud Cat and Sugar seemed to be paying the price.  Where in the beginning it was all sweet nothings and Rice Krispie Treats, things had cooled off considerably.  Sugar seemed to never be in the mood; Mud Cat was too tired or financially burdened to be able to perform as he had, despite his best intentions.

Upon the advice of several of the older guys at the Grounds for Divorce, Mud Cat committed himself to changing things before it became too late.  The first thing he did was sell the F-150 King Ranch in order to get out from under the monthly obligation.  He paid cash for a 1972 Chevrolet K5 Blazer.  The truck was equipped with a 350ci V8, a three-speed automatic transmission, a dual-range transfer case, and a limited-slip rear differential along with 15″ steel wheels, manually locking front hubs, a white hardtop, a light bar, a roof rack, a tow ball, and a drop-down tailgate. The exterior wore red paint and primer, while the cabin was outfitted with front bucket seats, a CB radio, a Realistic cassette stereo, and a center console. Rust could be seen on the body, in the cabin, and under the hood, and the interior upholstery was ripped and worn.  But the Blazer didn’t have a payment attached to it.  Mud Cat was able to get it for a song from one of the custodians at the Proving Grounds who bought it as a project and had finally thrown his hands up.

The second thing he did was get a part time job delivering pizza in the evening for Pisano Pete’s Pizza Parlor.  He didn’t tell Sugar about the part time job; he just said he had to work late.  The goal was to gather up enough money between what he was saving on car payments and what he was making at Pisano’s that he could take Sugar for a week-long vacation to San Antonio to rekindle the flame.  Reignite the spark.  Put some Rice Krispie Treats in the oven again.

While exhausted, Mud Cat’s plan seemed to be paying off.  After six months he’d saved up just about enough for a full week on the RiverWalk in San Antonio.  He figured just another week or two and he’d have enough cash to be able to get tickets to SeaWorld and Fiesta Texas to top things off.  In fact, he’d decided he was going to give his two week notice to Pisano’s at the end of the shift he was working.

His last delivery that night was to an apartment at the Alamo Arms Apartments.  Pulling into the parking lot, Mud Cat looked over the three-spoke steering wheel, all cracked as it sat perched on the end of a tilt column. He glanced down at the factory instrumentation that included a 100-mph speedometer, a tachometer, and gauges for fuel level, battery charging, coolant temperature, and oil pressure. The five-digit odometer showed 78k miles, but he felt like he’d driven it that far in just the last six months.  He reached down and turned off the ignition, the 350 cubic inch V8 choking and coughing to shut down.

Mud Cat grabbed the large cheese crust Meat Lovers Special from the worn and torn passenger side bucket seat and made his way to the studio apartment on the second floor of the Alamo Arms.  He rang the bell and waited for the door to open.

A moment later a guy opened the door.  It was someone who looked vaguely familiar.  Mud Cat tried to place him, but wasn’t sure if it was someone who he’d one time worked with at the Proving Grounds, or maybe someone he’d gone to high school with a dozen years prior. Whomever it was, it looked like he’d taken just enough time to pull up his pants before he’d opened the door.

The girl standing behind him had not seen fit to fumble with such formalities.  She was as naked as a jaybird, reaching around and clawing at the man like a tigress not wanting to let go.  The pizza delivery had obviously been timed somewhat too early, or somewhat too late. Either way, it caught the couple mid-RKT.  Despite her disheveled state and aided by her complete lack of clothing, Mud Cat had no difficulty in recognizing her.

It was Sugar.  In a most unrefined state.

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