The Cap and The Lunchbox and Everything

Time for some good old-fashioned running and screaming, I think. The chill air whips against my face as I skitter through the undergrowth. This is what the great outdoors is all about: tangling vines poised to snag my feet, branches slashing my sides, stinging nettles in my eyes, leeches everywhere. I feel… exhilarated! No, wait, that’s not right. What’s that word I’m looking for? Terrified? Yeah, terrified. Exhilaration has nothing to do with it. Every single thing in the wilderness is pretty much designed to cause me the greatest pain possible. I hate nature. Which is a pity, because I now appear to be lost in a great swathe of it.

No worries, though. I’m a long-time listener of that Bruno Goes to Wild Places and Kicks Death in the Face radio drama, so I’ve got this shit down. I’m a bonified Junior Wild-Place-Goer. I’ve got the cap and the lunchbox and everything. Caps are totally lame, of course, but I wear it backwards so it’s cool. Anyway, I need to focus. Need to go through my Wild Places checklist:

1) Go to a Wild Place
2) Find Death’s Face
3) Kick It

I look around. Pretty sure no man has set foot in this nightmare arboretum in, like, ever. Step one check. Steps two and three prove a little bit trickier. I’ve never actually seen Death’s face. In fact, I’m not really convinced that Death is a physical entity, much less one with a face. He always showed up on Bruno’s show, but everybody knows it’s just DJ Reed. That man has a nice voice. This is probably one of these metaphor things I keep hearing about. I need to locate my probable cause of death and “kick” it in the “face.”

So how am I going to die?


~ by Grell on November 1, 2009.

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