Monday, October 09, 2006
2 chicks, a couple of guys, and a camp fire
Adam: (leans back, places hands behind his head) "So, if you could choose three weapons to kill a wolf, which would they be?"
My eyes grew wide. Seriously?! THIS is going to be the next thread of conversation?!! Cassey and I were highly amused. This weekend's camping trip has truly been an answer to every girl's wish to be a fly on the wall in a guy's room. (What do they talk about?!!)
Answers varied from javelin, long finger nail, bow and arrow, tank (that was my choice), etc.
Mike added his vote via SMS ... his trusty block of wood has never let him down thus far.
As the glow from the fire's flames cast odd shadows on our faces, Ben shared a story he had heard of an entire village's population (located not to far from the camp site) that had been massacred by a pack of wolves ... no survivors.
Jiri: "Then how do you know what happened?"
Me: "So ... what? The last entry read ... 'We've held them off for a solid week, but rations are low and we've run out of water. They've surrounded the house. There is no escape. Are we the last one's alive? I can see them pacing outside the window, yellow eyes glaring ... as if ... ACK! One just crashed through the window. Where's Pa? Oh no, it's chaos! I'm being wrestled to the ground. No, not my Jugulaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr (gurgle)'?"
Brian: "When did this happen?"
Brian: "Ooooooo ... nice. 1850's a nice creepy date."
and then SOMEHOW ... no one will ever to be remember quite how ... someone began to associate our names with the different sound-effects some of our weapons of choice would make. As a result, *this* story was invented with our camp mascot, Goldie (Cassey and Jiri's dog), playing the heroine.
Goldie, the Wolf-Slayer
The moon was full as Goldie pulled up to the campsite in her Harley.
(Briaaaaaaaaan Bri Bri Bri Bri Briaaaaaaaaaaan) [ok, so his was the only name not associated with a weapon]
She screeched to a halt when the pack of wolves ambushed her in the darkness. Grabbing her gatling gun she cranked out a couple of rounds to keep the savage pack at bay.
When she ran out of ammo, she reached for her bow and arrow.
(ben .... ben .......... ben ben ben ...... ben)
Her supply of arrows exhausted and the raging hoards closing in on her she drew her sword.
(ChriSTINE ... ChriSTINE ...... ChriSTINE)
Oh, no! Goldie's sword got lodged in the spinal column of one of the attacking wolves.
Unable to remove the weapon, she abandoned that hope and found herself backing up into a tree.
The pack surrounded her, inching closer and closer.
The snarling wolves stepped back unsure ...
With a flick of her paw, Goldie revealed her last resort.
The wolves flinched at the sound of Goldie's lightsabre being unsheathed.
Wounded wolves were scattered left and right as the female canine unleashed her fury on the ambushers.
(Jirrrrrrrrri ... Jirrri ... Jirrrrrrrrrrri ... Jirrrri)
And THAT is what seminary students talk about around camp fires.