I decide to go hikingIt looks as if I shall be back in town for at least a week, now that we are embroiled in lovely four-way corporate litigation. The downside is that I may have to spend this week in a court room. The upside is that Irish Bob had to go to Taiwan in my stead. I truly am going to miss the 17 hour flight!
Being on the road so much lately has caused my rump to balloon to alarming dimensions. Clearly, something has to be done, but traditional exercise has drawbacks. If I go swimming, people keep pushing me back into the water when I want to get out, and the last time I tried went jogging, my easily alarmed neighbors called the paramedics, just because was lying in a ditch, wheezing and turning purple.
This time, I decided that hiking would be a better option as nobody could see me in the woods. I can turn as purple as I like without having to fend off overly enthusiastic hillbilly paramedics. They quite enjoy intubation and are not fussy about which mucus membrane they use. “Any port in a storm!” said one of them last time; a statement which was a very effective resuscitation tool when coupled with a semi-toothed, lust-filled grin.
Be that as it may, our woods are not without their own hazards. We have rabid animals, rattlesnakes, copperheads, wild dogs, boar, black bear and most frightening of all, deer.
It’s not as if deer will attack you intentionally.
Well, actually, one did a year or so ago. You see, after an evening trip to the hardware store, a large shape lunged at me from out of the darkness. I immediately assumed the defensive Kung Fu stance known as “Qwuan Lo Qing” in Mandarin, or “Curl up into a ball and shriek like a little girl” in English. The vicious, man-eating deer; a spike the size of a really large toy poodle, ran between me and my truck catching the hardware bag on one of its nubby antlers and then charged off into the night with my plumbing supplies. Luckilly for both of us, my bladder was empty.
While I don't think the assault was intentional, deer do constantly run into my truck. This just goes to show how stupid they are, since the word “Dodge” is printed quite prominently on the truck’s radiator grille. If they’ll run into a truck, they wouldn’t hesitate to careen off of my prodigious girth.
So I took a shootin’ iron with me, just in case I encountered a rabid raccoon or a deer with a copper clad antler.
Of course, this provoked a good deal of smirking from the house apes.
“What?” I snarled, but there was no reply. I bring home the bacon, and they know which side of the bread the butter is on.
Which is not to say that we butter our bread with bacon, but if ever a country was primed to use bacon as a condiment, it’s the U.S. so I’ll forgive you for misunderstanding me.
So primed, armed and well prepared, I set off through the back yard and into the wilderness…