it was hot and the tears and hugs were too enormous. time to leave that bad scene and head southeast towards the waterfront. but by the time i had collected all the necessary means of good camping i was told by my companion that the word had changed. storms, huge gas filled clouds with flying friends and cattle prods would soon slap the island. trees would collapse, babies would cry, all the beer stolen by greedy sand monsters biding their time. no that tasted like bad company. a bad combination of intoxicated babble and full on nature conniptions. we'll be run down like dogs and strung up in the trees for decoration, all of our gear eaten by savage village people out for a good time.
best we stay here in the confines of our own amusement. leave those blood filled nights to the strong, burly types with baseballs for teeth. that couldnt be too much to ask for, could it? a sane night away from all the tortures one night in the bad tempered wilderness could create? either way im taking that ticket and theyll have to construct some heavy device with lots of lights and buttons to pry the thing out of my protesting hands if they plan on stopping me.
time for amusement. time for loud music and the manifestation of inside jokes. set the table and arrange those plastic red cups into a double-sided bowling arena where we can splash the alcohol with little white balls that we will be forced to consume. someone brings out a bowl of old bayed shrimp and i feast. beer after beer and im a weasel with thumbs, ready for the next round.
the case had turned into a box of rattling aluminum before my legs forgot how to successfully operate. it was a dream i was having out loud and the objects around me lunged in my general direction with every step i took. a green lobster filled ottoman flies out from underneath the sofa to redirect my path into the kitchen where familiar faces laugh enormously at the battering moths of the overhead light.
i said to my companion, "pink at night sailor's delight." he nods in agreement as we remembered the setting sun hours earlier. the clouds had been dusted with a flamingo type color, a sight which usually means the morning to follow would be something better than expected. too late for canoes by then.
best we stay here in the confines of our own amusement. leave those blood filled nights to the strong, burly types with baseballs for teeth. that couldnt be too much to ask for, could it? a sane night away from all the tortures one night in the bad tempered wilderness could create? either way im taking that ticket and theyll have to construct some heavy device with lots of lights and buttons to pry the thing out of my protesting hands if they plan on stopping me.
time for amusement. time for loud music and the manifestation of inside jokes. set the table and arrange those plastic red cups into a double-sided bowling arena where we can splash the alcohol with little white balls that we will be forced to consume. someone brings out a bowl of old bayed shrimp and i feast. beer after beer and im a weasel with thumbs, ready for the next round.
the case had turned into a box of rattling aluminum before my legs forgot how to successfully operate. it was a dream i was having out loud and the objects around me lunged in my general direction with every step i took. a green lobster filled ottoman flies out from underneath the sofa to redirect my path into the kitchen where familiar faces laugh enormously at the battering moths of the overhead light.
i said to my companion, "pink at night sailor's delight." he nods in agreement as we remembered the setting sun hours earlier. the clouds had been dusted with a flamingo type color, a sight which usually means the morning to follow would be something better than expected. too late for canoes by then.
