Diary of Stuff (Volume I)
2002-04-15 00:59:18 (UTC)

Parasytic Paratroopers

Damn! Tarzan, wild man of the jungle, approached me as I
was breaking camp, and asked me what I was up to. I
said, 'Huh? Wut choo talkin' about Tarzan, my man!' I was
hoping that the ghetto talk would confuse him, but he was
left unphased and kept on insisting about what it was that
I was hiding in my rustic burlap sack that was on the
ground next to my left foot. 'Wat? Oh dis? Well, huh,
well, I, uhhhhh, it's for my cousins back home. Just some
cocunuts and some shit!' I was thinking, man, if Quentin
Terrantino was writing this screenplay, this would be
exactly what he would write...heh heh, yeah......... But
anyways, before I had a chance to do anything, he dived at
the ground and did some rolls and somersaults and backflips
and some other crazy stuff until he finally rolled up next
to me and grabbed my burlap sack and pulled it away from
me. He quickly pulled out his bone carving knife and cut
through the sack (At this point I was livid!) and out fell
all the amputated monkey hands and elephant tusks that I
was collecting in the jungle at that time. 'What the ...?'
I yelled out in ignorance, but it was obvious that he
didn't believe me, from the way he looked at me with an
unbelievable expression with tears flowing from his eyes
and every muscle in his body taut with anger and
retribution. I said, 'Hmmmm, okay,' and then ran.