The Male in the Rubber Boots

Don't be afraid, he's just the male in the rubber boots.

THE MALE IN THE RUBBER BOOTS

The male in the rubber boots was sitting in his old boat, while the lake cradles his restless mind to peace. He stared off into the thick mist that was surrounding his aching flesh, which where the silences were overwhelming, like the death only could be. Unwilling streams dragged the palish piece of wood deeper out into the obscurity as if the lake was calling for him, the male in the rubber boots angling begun to bite. He hitches a bit as he notices that it was stuck. With a calm manner he tried to twitch the hook free from its bounders, and set the angling lose again. Something strange and unknown swam slowly up against the surface �" a grayish pile with branches and mud appeared. His lips spooked with words of oyez and his face told something. That he knew this floating shamble. He placed the oars and settled course towards the thing, the male in the rubber boots reached out his hand to grab the mound and drag it to the edge of the boat. Looking into those deep bluish hollowing mirrors of cold reflections made the male in the rubber boots to smile an inhumanity smile, a laughter oozed from his lips while he shoved the grayish pile back to its dark home on the bottom of the lake. The male in the rubber boots took his last trip back to solid ground as the sun rose over the dark mirror of the woods.

Author's Note

Rubber boots have never harmed anyone?