bears & Death

I was once asked to go with some friends on a float trip, and that if I went one of my gal pals said she’d show me her impersonation of Eve. Talk about pressure, not only is peer pressure a bitch but throw in the buck nekked chicks and it all gets confusing. But I told em that I was gonna pass. It’s all about the bears because somewhere out there is a bear with my name on it. And I just know that if I were to go camping in the woods it would come and I don’t want to be fighting nobody’s stinking ass bear. Oh yeah, they tell me that there’s no bears in the state of Missouri and I got nothing to be afraid of but they don’t know bears like I do. Plus there’s the shitting in the woods and all that. If I want to get back to nature I’ll watch the fuckin Learning channel.

I’ll most likely get called a pussie but my fear of bears runs too deep. Plus with my luck it’ll be a gay bear and I’ll end up with bear cock in my ass and then get eaten. And don’t even get me started on the fact that I can’t swim, I tend to float like a cork but that’s as good as it gets. Yeah, like vicious bear rape is worth seeing the full Monty and having fun or do I just leave well enough alone? I mean it’s like goddamn, I’m a brave man and all that but I know shits not like the fuckin movies. Where every time the heroine or hero of a scary movie hears a noise or spots a strange light off in the woods they have to go to see what’s up. Well, I’m here to tell ya, fuck that! No way, kiss my ass. It’s like I said, that I like to consider myself a brave man, but when it comes to unknown shit in the woods I know exactly what to do. Which is to move rapidly in the opposite direction.

I’ve been in over five or six thousand bar fights as a bouncer over a twenty-year period, but I still have a problem watching scary shit on the TV. When some cats in front of me throwing a punch, that’s something I can see, feel, and react too. Something glowing and floating and humming to it’s self off in the woods is just wrong. Some years ago the Man sent me to St. Louis and instead of taking the interstate I decided to take 50 highway, which runs through the Mark Twain National Forest. I hit the national park after the sun had set and I’m here to tell a muthafucker.

I will never pull that crap again

I’m now driving through the middle of a dark forest with nothing in sight but trees, trees, and more trees. I’m a city boy and these weren’t the friendly city trees I was used too. These muthafuckin trees were huge, and scary. I kept expecting Bigfoot to come jumping out at me. As the road curved and the headlights cut into the darkness, I could see green and yellow glowing spots way off in the woods. The minds a funny thing cause I knew in my head that I was safe and all that. I knew that the glowing spots were nothing more then the headlights reflecting off the eyes of small animals. But it still fucked with me. I couldn’t help but think that as soon as I turned the next curve some giant hairy Sasquatch muthafucker was gonna show up in the headlights. That’s why I don’t go camping.

Shitting in the woods ain’t no fun and getting punked out by bears and Yeti and other furry mean pieces of fur wearing beasts ain’t kosher either. I have much admiration for the early settlers and hunters who traveled the land back in the day but that was their gig, not mine. As a kid I was always off in the woods crawling over rocks and shit like that. But now I’m an adult, and I know what the fuck’s up. Shit, I can see it now. I’m off camping in the middle of some national forest. The campfire’s blazing and the stew pot’s bubbling. I’m all comfy and not a worry in the world, just laying back staring at the campfire waiting on supper. When all of a sudden the fucking trees start shaking and shit whilst crashing through em comes fucking Bigfoot to kick my ass!

Or I think it’s him cause after staring into the damn campfire for hours my eye’s can’t adjust fast enough to see shit. But I’m kind’a sure because my muthafuckin arm just got torn off at the fucking armpit, and some little furry four footed fucker’s running off with it! Oh great! Now there’s a fucking bear biting my ass out by the chunks! I would kick at it but some Jar Jar Binks looking muthafucker is sucking on all ten toes and I can’t get em off! Excuse my language, but this is muthafuckin humiliating. I just wanted to get in touch with nature and camp out, and now I’m getting all ate up and shit by the fucking Muppets. Now you know why I don’t dig the woods and camping. And I know all about the “how bad can it be factor”. But I’ve garnered a lot of advice from experienced people on the subject and I’ll share a few with you.

• Getting squirted by a skunk is just fucked up.

• Nothings sucks like getting bitten by a tick that’s spent the last few days suckin on a dead deer’s ass.

• You’ll be beggin God to kill the mosquitoes.

• The Blair Witch was real.

• Do the words “squeal like a pig” mean anything?

• Shitting in the woods and suddenly feeling something knockin at your back door.

• You wanna shit like a hero? Then drink river water. It ain’t like the fuckin movies.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"