Camping Trip
In an effort to spice the page up a bit, let me describe my weekend. After work on Friday, Kathryn and I loaded up the car and headed into the Ozarks for a camping trip. But when we got to our destination a little after 7:00 pm, the campground was full. So we drove twenty minutes to the nearest town and got a hotel room. A tiny, over-priced, smoking room with stained towels, cool air coming out of the heater and ill-fitting sheets that kept slipping off the bed. It still turned out to be a fun evening, as we wondered around town sipping hot chocolate and listening to several impromptu folk music groups playing. Is this getting to ho-hum already?
Saturday we did get a spot at the campsite next to what appeared to be a young Jewish boy, but later turned out to be an old woman of undeterminable religion. We purchased a bundle of firewood from a nice country gentlemen with the thickest Ozarkian accent I’ve ever encountered. Later in the day, I tried to jump a several-foot gap that had been cut into a hill for a stairway. I cleared the gap but landed wrong and fell down hard, pulling a grown muscle and bruising a shoulder. I could go on about the weekend, but the rest is basically more of the domestic bliss that has already been panned.
Comments
You've got a good premise there. But I'm still not sold. Let me see what I can do with it:
"Kathryn and I took off for the Ozarks this weekend with a bowie knife, a broken coleman lantern, a couple of cans of baked beans and a sheet of canvas. We got to the campground, and finding it full, we hiked off into some random woods, where I built a fire from a small tree I uprooted with my bare hands, hacking limbs from it with the bowie knife. It was at this point that the inevitable happened: the sheer strength exhibited by my display of manliness caused my shirt to burst apart into tiny shreds. Sweat poured down my chest and I howled savagely like a wild beast. Then I went back to hacking away. After I had a roaring blaze, I waited patiently. Sure enough, off in the distance I spied a rabbit, which I hurled my knife at from a crouched position.
The next day, we encountered a rabid Ozarkian named Clem. He had an axe. We assumed, therefore, that he was selling firewood, and wanting to support the local economy (and not having packed enough extra shirts) I offered to buy some from him. He promptly and fiercely sprang on me. I knocked the axe out of his hands, but he caught me with a wicked uppercut. I jumped on him and dragged him to the ground... after which it's all kind of a blur. The next thing I clearly remember, I was standing over a ravine with a handful of teeth and a mouthful of hair. I spit out the hair, pocketed the teeth, brushed off my hands and went off to find another shirt.
Posted by: Page Police | October 24, 2006 01:02 PM