Ah ha, this is where I post my work. Occasionally, I sit down at my computer and jokes fall out of me. I cobble these together into a resemblance of a story, and show it to my friends and family. They often respond, “Why the hell are you showing this to me?” Please, be rough. If I have feelings, they’re hiding.

Julie landed somewhere near the bank of the river and took off screaming. The sounds of pure terror mixed with the crashing of the undergrowth as she bolted back towards the camp. The snake and I were a little shaken up as well. It’s not everyday that you see someone execute two perfect, aerial flips in hip waders.

I knew that as a first time camper Julie needed someone to reassure her, so I did what any good outdoorsman would do. I tried three more casts into a promising riffle. As I told her later that night, if she wanted to come camping with me she’d have to learn not to freak out about every little thing. Copperhead fangs probably can’t penetrate hip waders.

“I didn’t want to come out here, you made me,” she retorted when she decided to speak to me again.

“Well, the principle still holds,” I said, choosing to ignore the two day gap in the conversation. “Besides, a Copperhead isn’t anything to get worked up about.”

“It’s a poisonous fucking snake, jackass.” It was good to see her in high spirits again.

She had a point. There are some dangers I ignore when I go out. It isn’t my fault. An animated raccoon narrated the only safety video I ever saw. I didn’t pay attention. Raccoons do two things well; eat garbage and die of rabies. I will not take survival advice from any of their number.

Mother Nature teaches me the rules as I go along. One day, I’ve learned never to step between a mother bear and her cub. Mother Nature taught me several valuable lessons that day. For instance, did you know it is not love that turns the wildest rage aside, but rather the scent of freshly evacuated bowels?

That’s the problem that beginners have with the outdoors. One wrong step can turn a leisurely summer hike into a memorable experience. Well, one wrong step into a nest of mud wasps can. My friends were as surprised as I was when they found out that wasps hover over a body of water and wait for the object of their ire to surface. The families at the campsite weren’t so intrigued. Something about a hairy, naked, swollen man applying salve to his ass while creatively referencing the son of a major deity upset their children. Kids are such pussies these days.

“So, you thought it would be a good idea to tell me those stories after you brought me into the woods,” Sara seemed upset. “I’m not sleeping in the same tent with you tonight.” Someone should write that raccoon to request a warning about taking city girls camping.

Bears, bees, snakes, and girlfriends aside, I still hold by my opinion that the most dangerous animal in the Pennsylvania woods is the squirrel. Natural selection has camouflaged them far too well. A squirrel sitting on a bed of dry leaves is invisible. That same bed of dry leaves makes the squirrel sound roughly the size of a boxcar if it takes off in a hurry. One of the little bastards, foraging along the side of a trail, ended one of my relationships. Apparently, women don’t find it attractive when a full grown man leaps onto a high branch to escape a rodent. In my defense, I thought it was a damn impressive display of athleticism. Not every man can clear those heights wearing a sixty pound hiking pack.

Another homicidal fur ball attacked me when I was crossing a slippery log over a cold, flooded mountain stream. I was halfway across when it burst menacingly out of the undergrowth on the far side. To this day, I am sure I saw it point and laugh as I fell off the log and into the current. The water, murderous in its own right, conveniently decided to ignore the laws of physics and remain liquid at ten degrees.

I came out shaking like Charlie Sheen in detox. If I weren’t a procrastinator, I would have died that night. Everything in my pack was soaked except my camp towel and my emergency blanket. I had never taken them out of their plastic bags.

My waterproof matches had dissolved. This didn’t surprise me. The suggestion of moisture renders waterproof matches useless. I’m fairly certain that they are actually an elaborate ploy on the part of PETA to kill off unlucky anglers and hunters.

“I want to thank you all for attending the annual PETA assembly. Oh, I almost forgot, remember never to bathe, not only is it standard practice for all members, but also it kills millions of parasites and bacteria. Finally, you ever go camping for the love of god, don’t use waterproof matches. Keep it too yourselves people, we’ve managed to take out several hunters, a few fish killers, and half a city block when some guy named Bob lit a cigarette with a dry one.”

Lucky for me, and I use the term loosely, I had a magnesium starter block with me. For the urbanites and suburbanites among you, I will explain. The magnesium block is purely aesthetic. Campers carry them and pretend to know how to use them so they can impress people. I don’t know why. The only person who ever seemed vaguely interested in my bogus mastery of the block was my nine year-old niece. She stopped eating dirt for a full three seconds when I told her.

Some people will tell you that a magnesium block is a handy survival tool. By this, they mean you can theoretically start a fire by shaving some of the metal into a small pile and using the built-in flint to ignite it. These people are full of shit. Praying for a lethal hit while you idly chuck the block at passing animals would be a better use of your time. There were five people in history that could use the block, and they all died around the turn of the last century.

I wish I could say I overcame adversity and mastered the block that day. If the air or the water had been slightly warmer I may have, but my body was routing blood away from my outer extremities to save my major organs. I had the motor control of a chimpanzee with Parkinson’s disease. I huddled naked and shivering, wrapped in my emergency blanket until another hiker wandered down the trail. After he finished laughing and questioning my manhood, he was nice enough to give me a change of clothes and some matches.

Some people named Julie question whether the five pound bass or a perfect view is worth the risk of death. The answer is a resounding yes. They are not, however, worth the embarrassment of having your worst moments recounted by your girlfriend, to her father, at Sunday dinner. That raccoon is definitely getting a letter.

:lol:

That was so funny, and I loved the way you summed it up at the end and tied it all up with the racoon.

And it's funny but I can relate to the story very well. I have recently moved to Geogia from the UK and there are just so many things here that can hurt you! I mean poison ivy, fire ants, brown recluse and black widow spiders, and that's not to mention the venomus snakes! The other weekend I was walking along the road and came across a copperhead. It was quite scary.

But there are plent of nice, safe aniamls too, and the dangerous ones just need to be given their due respect.

Well anyway, a very entertaining story that flowed well. It felt like it wandered a bit during the middle, but that's okay because you brought it back to the original point during the last sentance.

Thanks for sharing.

Aleana

funny shit, man. some light humor always helps the day go by easy

:D Absolutely brilliant. :D

It reminds me why I'm reluctant to take the Scouts camping - if only because of the squirrels. If you write anything else like this, post it up immediately.

Thanks for all the kind words and encouragement, all.

Thought Fox,

Yes, I have more of the same, in various stages of polishing. I’ll post another as soon as I find enough time to properly proofread it. These stories take me a relatively long time, because I have to write the stories, then insert the jokes, then word them perfectly.

and honestly, squirrels are the most dangerous of the woodland creatures. They talk waaaaaay too much crap to just be ignored, and if you arent looking, they might just throw a nut at you. Hence their other monniker, Stump Cougars

Lol, don't worry. We all know that it takes more than a while to write even the shortest piece, plus of course Life keeps getting in the way - hence the reason AU can get a little quiet.

Rest assured, we're waiting for your next piece :P