Episode 9: The Hunting Trip

It’s a sunny, crisp morning out in the woods and everyone is passed out around the campfire.  Ewan and The Deer are the first to wake up.  They slowly sit up, stretch, rub their eyes, and look around at each other and everyone else still sleeping.  The sun is just starting to peek over the trees and so they can still see their breath in the cool, morning air.

Ewan and The Deer throw some more wood on the fire and start preparing their usual breakfast of kegs and eggs.  They finish their second helping and are about to load up their plates with thirds when the quiet calm of the morning is broken by a sudden ruckus.

A half naked man covered in mud bursts through the tree line, “RUNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!  GOOOOOOOOOO!!!  GET TO DA CHOPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” he yells at the top of his lungs in a thick, Austrian accent as he runs by the campfire at full speed, disappearing back into the tree line.

Ewan, quite startled, looks at The Deer and just blinks for a moment while he takes in what he just saw.  "Is that..." he starts to ask The Deer.

"Yep, that's Arnold Schwarzenegger," replies The Deer.

"What's he doing all the way out here in these woods?  Doesn't he have a state to govern, or Salma Hayek to impregnate, or something?"

"Well he retired from being governor of California.  But it appears he's out here because he's being hunted by Predators."

"Predators?"

"Yep."

"Like, as in the movies?"

"Yep."

“You guys have Predators out here in the woods?”

“Yessir.”

"What Predators?"

"Those Predators."

"Where?"

"Over there in the trees."

"I don't see anything."

"That's because their cloaking devices make them nearly invisible to the naked eye."

"So how come you can see them?"

"I have an app for that."

"What?"

"My iPhone; it has an app for that."

"Your phone lets you see invisible, inter-planetary, super-hunters from a distant galaxy?"

"Of course it does!  It can do anything; it's an iPhone!"

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?  After all, the movie Predator was based on a true story.”

“It was?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Of course!  Do you think someone could just make all that up?  The truth is often stranger than fiction, my friend.”

“Huh.  I guess you’re right.  Well what about Predator 2?”

“As in the one with Danny Glover?”

“Yeah, that one.  Was that also based on a true story?”

“No way.  That was fiction.  That was just some made-up, Hollywood movie magic.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely.  I mean, let’s think about it for a minute; if Arnold and a bunch of expert commandos armed to the teeth can barely defeat one Predator, then there’s no way detective Danny Glover armed with a pistol could take one out.  After all, that guy was foiled by a bomb under his toilet!  I mean, c’mon!  Like, duh!  Of course there’s a bomb under your toilet!  Duhhhhh!” says The Deer in his best pseudo valley girl voice.

“I know, right?” agrees Ewan.  “What a rookie mistake!  I know I always check for bombs before I drop trow anywhere.”

“Riggggggggggs!  My pants are down and there’s a bomb under my toilet!” says The Deer, mockingly.

Ewan laughs.

“Riggggggggggs!  The ring came off my can of pudding!” mocks The Deer again.

Ewan laughs some more, then they laugh together.  “Ummm, okay, so what should we do about it?” says Ewan, wiping a tear from his eye as the last few chuckles slip out.

“Want to join them?” asks The Deer.

“Who?  The Predators?”

“Yeah, who else?” replies The Deer, rhetorically.

“Can we do that?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Ummm, wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

“Nahhhh.  We’ll be fine.  Come on,” says The Deer, motioning Ewan to follow him into the tree line.

               The two of them prance about fifty feet into the tree line when The Deer slows down to a halt near a big tree.  “Why did we stop?” asks Ewan.

               “We’re here,” replies The Deer.  “Hey guys, what’s up?” calls out The Deer toward the big tree.

“Who are you talking to?” asks Ewan.

“The Predators.  They’re right over there,” says The Deer pointing at the tree.

“Where?  I don’t see anything?”

“There’s one up on that first thick branch, and two on the ground in front of that bush; look closely.”

Ewan peers in that direction for a moment when he notices the woods moving just ever so slightly in a curious fashion, almost like they’re people.  He then notices the thin, subtly shimmering outline of three human-like figures.  “Oh, okay.  I think I see them now.  They seem to be holding pretty still though.”

“Hey guys, seriously, we can see you,” says The Deer again to the predators.

The predators one by one each turn off their cloaking devices and face Ewan and The Deer.  Each one stands at about eight feet tall with long, black dreadlocks.  Their leathery skin is akin to that of a crocodile and has a base color of a light tan with black striping over it.  Covering their thickly muscled bodies is an assortment of piece-mail body armor decorated with skulls and bones from the spoils of previous hunts.  They are heavily armed with various weapons including clawed gauntlets, a shoulder mounted cannon, and blades of varying shapes and lengths.  Covering their face is a chrome hunting mask with two glowing eyes.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” asks The Deer very nonchalantly.

The predators just stare back at them blankly with their glowing eyes.

“Out for a hunt, are we?”

Still more silence and blank stares.

“Can we come along with you guys?”

The three predators look at each other awkwardly for a moment until the one in the middle finally shrugs his shoulders and motions them to follow.

“Cool, thanks,” says The Deer to them in an appreciative tone.  He turns to Ewan, “You ready, buddy?”

“Ummm, almost.  Give me one sec.”  Ewan reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a fifth of a dark liquid with a black label.  He unscrews the cap, takes a few healthy swigs, screws the cap back on, and puts it back into this inside jacket pocket.  “Okay, let’s do this.”

               The five of them stealthily pick their way through the quiet of the woods in pursuit of their prey.

               SNAP!

               Everyone freezes in place and turns to look in the direction of the noise.  Ewan looks down and sees that he has stepped on a twig, snapping it in half.  “Sorry, everyone,” he apologizes.

               “You should probably take your shoes off, buddy,” says The Deer.  “We gotta be quiet.”

               “Ahhh, good idea,” agrees Ewan.  He takes his shoes off and holds them up apologetically in the direction of the predators.  Satisfied with the gesture the predators start moving forward again.

               They come to a clearing and pause for a few minutes.  “What are they doing?” whispers Ewan to The Deer.

               “I think they’re trying to figure out which way Arnie went and which way they should go after him,” The Deer whispers back.

               “Oh, okay,” whispers Ewan.

               A few more minutes go by and they’re still holding their position when they hear a small pop followed by soft crunching noises.  The predators instinctively squat down and take cover as if they were being fired upon.  Then they look behind them and see Ewan holding an open can of Pringles potato chips.

               “Oh; sorry,” says Ewan, suddenly realizing that everyone is looking at him.  The Deer just shakes his head at him.  “Sorry!  We didn’t get to finish eating breakfast and I was starting to get hungry again.”

               “You had two plates of eggs!  And toast, and bacon, and some sausage, too!  That should be more than enough to hold you over until we get back,” exclaims The Deer.

               “Yeah, I know.  But we usually have three and so my stomach was starting to growl.  I didn’t want it to growl too loud and make a bunch of noise, so I thought it best I eat something.”

               “And so you picked potato chips?”

               “It’s all I had!”

               “Here,” says The Deer reaching behind his back into his wormhole.  He pulls out a chewy granola bar and hands it to Ewan.  “Now give me those,” he says reaching a hoof out for the can of Pringles.

               “Just one more--man these things are good!  It really is true what they say in the commercial about how once you pop the top you just can’t stop!”  He grabs a couple more and hastily shoves them into his mouth before surrendering the tube of chips to The Deer.

               “Shhhhhhh!” says the lead predator holding up a claw to the mouth of his chrome hunting mask to the both of them.

               “Sorry,” whispers Ewan.

               “Sorry,” whispers The Deer.

               They are about to start moving forward again when they hear more popping sounds, but this time in a sudden, rapid succession.  The predators and The Deer hit the deck and flatten out on the forest floor, covering their heads as they brace for incoming artillery rounds.

               But the rounds never come.
               They look over at Ewan and he’s standing in front of a stove happily cooking up some Jiffy Pop popcorn.  “What?  Did someone say something?” asks Ewan as he looks around at the group.  Ewan hears the hum of a high-pitched electronic device, then notices three tightly packed, laser red dots in the shape of a triangle on his chest.  “Oh… right; sorry!” apologizes Ewan to the lead predator.  The lead predator turns off his shoulder mounted cannon and points it away from Ewan.

               No sooner does the lead predator look away does he hear another pop.  He quickly turns his head back toward Ewan and glares at him.  Ewan holds his hands up and out at shoulder height, “That wasn’t me this time!” he says.

               “Sorry, that was me,” says The Deer holding the can of Pringles.  “I got a whiff of them when Ewan gave them to me and just had to have a couple; they really are irresistible!  Does anyone want some?” says The Deer, holding the tube of chips out towards the predators for a moment to offer them some.  “Anyone?  No one?” says The Deer still extending the tube of chips.  The lead predator just glares back at him, visibly seething with anger from under his chrome hunting mask.

The other two predators look at each other for a moment and then each extend an empty hand, palm facing up, toward The Deer.  “There ya go, fellas,” says The Deer pouring out a couple chips from the tube into each of their extended hands.  “You guys are both dudes, right?  It’s hard to tell, what with the masks and all the body armor.”

The two predators cautiously slip a chip under their masks and crunch them up.  Then they slip another and another as look at each other, nodding their heads in unison as if to say, “Hey, these are pretty good.”

“I know, right?” says The Deer to them.

The lead predator smacks the other two predators in the chest with the back of his hand to encourage them to pull it together and regain their hunting composure.  They quickly brush the chip dust off their hands and get their game faces back on.

The group walks for about another half a mile when the lead predator stops them.  Ahead they see Arnie lying in a mud pit with what looks like one leg pinned under a giant log.  “Come on!  Come get me!  I’m ova he-ah!” he calls out to them in a thick, Austrian accent.

The lead predator is about to take a step forward when he suddenly stops as his shin brushes up against something.  He looks down and sees a tripwire cleverly hidden in the brush lightly touching his shin.  He takes a step back and flips open the cover on his wrist console revealing an iPhone.

“Predators have iPhones?  I thought they had those weird, alien wrist consoles like in the movie.” says Ewan a little surprised.

“That was twenty-five years ago, buddy!” replies The Deer.  “No one uses wrist consoles anymore.  Everyone uses iPhones now.  Everyone but you, that is.”  The other two predators do a double take at that last statement.  “I know, right?!” says The Deer.  “He’s the last guy in the galaxy, and probably even in the whole universe, to not have an iPhone!”  The two predators laugh in response.

“You guys are all just pulling my leg.  They don’t really have iPhones,” says Ewan in disbelief.

One of the other two predators walks over to Ewan and motions for him to come in closer.  The Deer and the other predator crowd around him as well.  He flips open the cover on his wrist console revealing an iPhone.  Extending a single finger he brings up his photo reel and gracefully begins flicking through the stream of pictures.  “Wow,” says Ewan looking at the pictures.  “Rome… China… video of a cat in a sink… there’s even a picture of you planking on the Brooklyn Bridge!  Now that’s pretty cool.  I like how all the hipsters biking across the Brooklyn Bridge stopped to pose for a picture with you after your plank.  That’s a great selfie of you guys.”  The predator nods approvingly at Ewan’s comment.

“Wow, cool,” remarks The Deer.  “Can I follow you on Instagram?” The predator earnestly nods his head in response.

The lead predator clears his throat, indicating to the group that he’d like to get back to business.  The predator giving the slide show quickly closes the app to conserve battery life and avoid any further roaming data charges from Verizon, then he and the other predator hastily get back into hunting formation.

The lead predator touches his iPhone and brings up a predator trap detection app.  He points his iPhone at the tripwire and surrounding trees and can clearly see the intricate configuration of ropes, pitfalls, spiked logs, nets full of rocks, and other various traps.  He extends a blade from his spiked hunting gauntlet and makes a couple incisions at key spots in the network of traps thus disabling them and leaving them hanging lifelessly in the trees.

The Deer’s iPhone dings.  He looks at it and laughs.

“What happened?” asks Ewan.

“I follow Arnie on Facebook.  He just posted ‘I’m boned.  Hasta la vista, baby’ via Twitter.”

“Ha!” laughs Ewan.

The lead predator walks over to Arnie and with one arm reaches down into the mud and pulls him out.  He carries him over by the scruff of his neck like one would do with a small dog and puts him down sitting up on a large rock.  Then he just stands there for a minute.

“What’s he doing?” asks Ewan.

“Probably savoring the moment,” replies The Deer.  “His race has been hunting Arnie for twenty-five years and so this is probably like Captain Ahab catching Moby Dick for him.”

“Wow, that’s pretty epic,” agrees Ewan.  "Who's Moby Dick?"

“Yeah.  We should be quiet and let them enjoy the moment,” instructs The Deer.  Ewan nods his head solemnly and silently in agreement.

The lead predator paces back and forth in front of Arnie.  Arnie sits there on the rock visibly scared, but still holding it together in hopes of an opportunity to escape.  The lead predator stops pacing, and holding his arms outstretched, palms and head facing up toward the sky, deeply inhales, basking in the fresh air and warm glow of the sun.

He’s about to exhale when the silence is broken.

CLACK-CLACK-CLACK- CLACK- CLACK- CLACK- CLACK-ZZZZIT-CHING!

The predators assume a defensive formation and fire up all their weapon systems.  They look around, their weapon systems tracking for incoming, hostile fire, but don’t find any potential threats. 

Then they look behind them and see Ewan busy at work.  “Oh, sorry guys,” says Ewan.  “I was just typing up a quick memo on this old-time, turn of the century type writer.”

"Where did you even get that thing?" asks The Deer.

"It was in your wormhole," replies Ewan.

"What did I tell you about touching my stuff without my permission?"

"Sorry, buddy.  I just figured since we have a little downtime right now it would be a good time to catch up on my correspondence."

"No worries, buddy.  It’s kinda my fault, too.  I've been meaning to get you a wormhole of your own, I just keep forgetting."

“I’ll write you a note on my typewriter next to remind you.”

“Thanks!  I’d like that.”

“No problemo.”

The predators, quite speechless, just stare at Ewan.

“What?  You didn’t get a copy of the memo?  I’ll make sure you get a copy of that memo,” says Ewan.  “Although, yeahhhhhh, I may need you to come in on Sunday, too, to pick it up, riiiiiiiiight.”

That’s the straw that broke the predator’s back for the lead predator.
The lead predator turns off his cloaking device, pulls off his facemask, and throws it on the ground in frustration.  Visibly agitated he starts spouting off in his native tongue, which sounds like the clicking of a large spider.

“What’s he saying?” asks Ewan.

“Hold on a sec,” says The Deer pulling out his iPhone.  “Let me turn on my universal translator app.”

The app fires up and The Deer puts his phone on speaker.  The lead predator is in the middle of rant, “…All I wanted to do was spend a nice, autumn day…”

“It’s autumn already?” asks Ewan in disbelief.

“It’s autumn again already,” replies The Deer.

“Dang, how long have I been out here in these woods?” asks Ewan.

“Shhh!  You’re interrupting the predator’s rant, which is just adding insult to injury,” chastises The Deer.

“Oh, sorry,” apologizes Ewan.

The lead predator rants on, “…a nice, autumn day with my buddies, hunting Arnold Schwarzenegger, but noooooooo, some loud mouth jerkwad had to come ruin this otherwise pleasant afternoon with his shenanigans.”

“Who’s the jerkwad?  Me?” asks Ewan.

“Shhhh!” interjects The Deer.

Ewan then tries to make a joke to lighten the mood a bit, “Well at least you caught him, right?  I mean, if they make another sequel he sure won’t be in it!”  He chuckles at his own joke.

The lead predator is taken aback a moment and then with a stupefied look on his face starts laughing hysterically.  One of the other two predators whispers to the other, “I think Frank has lost it.”

“The predator’s name is Frank?” asks Ewan, still chuckling a bit.

“It’s a very common name in the universe,” replies one of the other two predators.

“Told ya,” chimes in The Deer.

The lead predator stops laughing and addresses Ewan, "Oh, you think this is funny??  You think is a big joke??  Well I didn't spend twelve light years in the car to listen to your jokes, pal!  Now I have a joke for you…"

The lead predator flips open the console on his wrist, punches in a complicated sequence of code, and it starts beeping in a manner resembling a countdown.  He then starts laughing a deep, ominous, manic laugh.

The other two predators look around at each other for a few moments in a panic, then they hightail it out of there in the other direction.

Ewan starts grinning and laughing along with the lead predator, “His laughter is infectious!”  The Deer does as well.

Still sitting on the rock and covered in mud, Arnie looks at the three of them standing in a triangle facing one another, each holding their stomachs and laughing a deep belly laugh like Santa Claus.  Sensing that this is his moment he makes a break for it, “RUNNNNNNNNNN!!!  GOOOOOOOOO!!!  IT’S NOT A TOOOOO-MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” he yells as he disappears into the tree line.

Ewan, The Deer, and the lead predator, Frank, are still laughing hysterically.  When the counter on the lead predator’s iPhone gets to the last second Ewan remembers the movie, stops laughing, and says, "Wait a minute; is that a bomb?"

Then the nuke detonates and levels the forest a mile in every direction.

****

"Did a nuclear bomb just go off?" asks Ewan, now covered in a fine, grey, ashy dust.

"Looks like it,” replies The Deer, also covered in soot.  “There's the mushroom cloud forming above us."

"How come we're still alive?  I mean, we're standing at ground zero for the explosion!"

"Oh, my phone has an app for that."

"Your phone has an app that protects you from nuclear explosions?"

"Or course my phone has an app that protects from nuclear explosions.  It's an iPhone; it can do anything!"

---

If you enjoyed reading this story please leave me a nice comment; the more feedback I get the more encouragement it is to write!  :-)  You can also get automatic updates by using the follow links at the top of the page.

Thanks for reading!  :-)

---

• Next episode: Coming soon... 
• Previous episode: Campfire Stories
  

Episode 8: Campfire Stories

“I’m just amazed you all get cell phone reception out here,” says Ewan, despite the fact that what he should actually be amazed about is that a stuffed giraffe can send text messages.

“We have our own cell tower,” says The Deer.

“Really?” says Ewan.

“Well actually it’s more of a satellite uplink to all the major providers, and then some sort of wireless broadcasting thingy to push the signal out to all of us here in the area,” chimes in Tall.

“How did you guys get that?” asks Ewan.

“Tall got it for us,” says The Deer.

“What, did he just buy one on Amazon or something?  I mean, he’d probably get free shipping on it as it probably costs more than twenty-five dollars, but aren’t those things kind of expensive?  And it’s not like you can just put one together yourself,” says Ewan.

“Actually, you can,” replies Tall.  “We bought it from Sweden and so you could assemble the whole thing right from the box with just a single Alan wrench, which is provided in the box.”

“Those Swedes are pretty clever,” nods The Deer.

“Well yeah, the Swedes are clever.  Everyone knows that,” says Ewan as he opens his eyes wide to pretend that, like everyone, he also knew that.  “But still, where did you get the money for all this?  Did all the squirrels pitch in money from their internet businesses or something?” Ewan asks Tall.

“Nah, it was not a squirrel-subsidized project.  I used to own a geek-oriented beverage company and I made a small fortunate when I sold it to a larger beverage company,” replies Tall.

“So you started your own soft drink company, it started getting popular, and then someone like Coke or Pepsi came along and bought it from you?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Cool.  What was it called?”

“There was a soft drink product line, beer product line, and a bottled water product line.  The flavors of our soft drinks were ‘UNIX’, ‘Sprint Review’, ‘Gridbag’, ‘grep’, which contained chunks of Jell-o, and ‘Google Cola’,  which for some reason people in Italy insisted on calling it ‘Google-la Gola’.”

“What was the slogan for Google Cola?” asks Ewan.

“It was ‘F*** Pepsi and Coke; what have they done for you _lately_?  We brought you Gmail, Google Maps, and Droiiiiiiid,’" replies Tall as he lets out an appropriately timed, long beer burp.

“What about the beer?”

“It was called ‘pwd’ beer--tastes like UNIX!” says Tall, telling them the name of the beer and slogan.  “The geek water was called ‘/dev/null’.”

“Slash-dev-slash-null?  What the heck is that?” asks Ewan.

“It’s nothing,” replies Tall.

“What?”

“Exactly.”

Ewan shrugs his shoulders and continues, “So who was the bigger company that bought your geek beverage company?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“Apple,” guesses Ewan.

“Apple?  As in the computer company? ” asks Tall.

“Yeah.”

“That’s your guess?”

“Yep.”

“You’re not going to guess another beverage company like Coke or Pepsi, or even a food company like General Mills?  You’re going to guess Apple?” says Tall in half disbelief of Ewan’s answer.

“Yep.”

“No, it wasn’t Apple!” exclaims Tall.

“Well it should have been Apple,” mumbles Ewan, loudly and in a disappointed tone of voice.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, you’re probably right,” concedes Tall, pausing for a moment while answering.

“Why should it have been Apple?  Why would a technology company want to start a line of beverages?” asks The Deer.

“Because if Apple could make a soft drink that looked as cool as an iPhone or as one of their laptops people would drink the heck out of that.  And you know they could.  Apple may not offer as many products or services as other technology companies, but everything they make has that cool, clean, sleek look to it.  And that matters a heck of a lot more to most people these days than what the product actually does, or in this case what it tastes like.  They could rebrand Pepsi or Coke and people would still buy it just because the can or bottle would be so darn cool looking,” says Tall in defense of his argument.

“Very true,” agrees Ewan, taking another swig from his beer.

“And taste is kind of an unexplored area of technology,” continues Tall.

“What do you mean?” The Deer asks.

“Most of the emphasis on technology is focused on your sense of sight, i.e. they make the product as neat-o looking as possible so that you’ll look cool using it, which makes you want to buy it.  The secondary sense focused on is probably touch.  Everything has a touch screen now, and so when you touch stuff you feel like you’re actually doing something.  It won’t be long before touch screens are able to provide some sort of physical feedback, just like reading brail or something,” says Tall.

The Deer looks at Tall a bit puzzled, “So when you use your touch screen the screen will send a unique, physical sensation back to your hoof?  Like an electrical impulse or something?”

“Yeah, something like that, I bet,” answers Tall.

“Well that would be pretty cool.  But what does that have to do with soda?” asks Ewan.

“Oh yeah, that’s right.  So the one thing technology companies haven’t figured out how to do is how to get you to drink and smell their technology.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever wondered what an iPhone tastes like?”

“Not really, it’s just a phone,” says Ewan.

“It’s not just a phone!  It can do anything!!” defensively interjects The Deer.

“You’re right, it is the world’s coolest phone.  I retract my previous statement and apologize,” says Ewan, humoring The Deer to avoid an argument.  “But it’s made of metal and plastic and whatever and so I never really wondered what it tastes like.  It probably tastes like plastic,” says Ewan.

“True, but the fact that you never thought you needed something has never stopped the spirit of capitalism from trying to convince you otherwise.  As far as all the sales departments in the world are concerned you never thought you needed blank only because you didn’t know you needed blank.  And so if a company like Apple or Google were to come out with a beverage line, then all their loyal customers could feel like they are drinking their favorite products,” says Tall.

“I’m still not quite following you,” says Ewan, peering with one eye into an empty beer bottle, then into a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels, from which he takes a swig in hopes of improving his mental clarity.

“Okay, let’s take a step back then,”  says Tall.  “Look at rap music in the early 80s and 90s.  A new rap group would emerge on the scene, put out an album or two, one member might go solo and put out another album, but then the band would disappear into the pages of music history.  But what do rappers do nowadays?  They put out one album.  Then they start their own clothing line.  Then they put out a fragrance.  Then they do a couple TV shows, movies, and write a book.  Then maybe they think about putting out another album.  Today’s rappers are much more business oriented then they were twenty or thirty years ago, and it’s not really about the music anymore.  The music is just the vessel to create the initial image to pave the way for the other product lines.  And if you’re a new rapper who manages to hook up with an already successful record label, sometimes you don’t even need the album.  You just put out a single, or do a couple guest appearances on a label mate’s album, and bam, you’re ready for your own line of denim and edgy, graphic T’s.”

“Yeah, he’s right," agrees The Deer.  "All the old school rappers who made the transition to the new school stayed alive by doing that.  And now they’re helping all these young cats get from point A to point B to point C without having to spend a lot of time at point B since that’s not really where the money is.”

“Okay, I get that.  What does that have to do with soda and computers?” asks Ewan.

“Think about how wildly popular the iPhone is.  If Apple were to branch out and come out with their own clothing line, fragrance, soft drink, etcetera, they could expand their logo to new frontiers.  You could surf the web on your iMac while talking on your iPhone while drinking iCola while wearing iSmell Good/Hot Version 2.0 in your new iDenim jeans; iTights for the ladies and iTypes for the fellas.  They have a well defined look and marketing image.  They could expand on that into what that tastes and smells like,” explains Tall.

Ewan pauses for a moment to let everything he just heard sink in.  He then changes gears, “Well, do you have any of that PWD beer left over?”

“Yeah, I saved a few cases before I sold off the brewery.”  Tall gets up and walks over to the fridge, opens the fridge door, removes a bottle, and closes the door.  “Here,” he says, tossing Ewan a cold one.

Ewan pops the top and takes a swig, “It’s good!  What’s in it?”  He starts reading the list of ingredients on the label on the beer bottle, “Water, barley, yeast, hops, and megahertz.  …What are ‘megahertz’?”

“Magical elves,” jests Tall.

“Oh, I knew that,” says Ewan smiling contently.

---

If you enjoyed reading this story please leave me a nice comment; the more feedback I get the more encouragement it is to write!  :-)  You can also get automatic updates by using the follow links at the top of the page.
Thanks for reading!  :-)

---

 Next episode: The Hunting Trip

 Previous episode: The Campfire

Episode 7: The Campfire

It’s starting to get dark when The Deer returns to the camp site.  Ewan is passed out on his back on one of the logs and he’s snoring very loudly.  He’s still holding the remote in his left hand and a half full beer can in his right.  Half a dozen or so empty beer cans litter the ground in a loose pile nearby.  The television is still on.

“Hey buddy, wake up,” says The Deer as he nudges Ewan with a hoof.  Ewan grumbles something unintelligible and rolls over.  The Deer pokes him with a hoof again, “Come on, man.  Wake up.  We’re expecting company soon and I need your help getting ready.”

Ewan grumbles some more and rolls over a second time, but this time he rolls off the log and onto the pile of beer cans.  The surprising thud of his dead weight hitting the ground and the crunch of the aluminum cans shocks him up and to his feet, “What, what, I’m up, I’m up, what happened?  Where am I?”

“You’re in the woods.  You were passed out in front of the TV.”

“Ahh, that’s right.  Why does my face hurt?”

“You took a header off the log and did a face plant into a pile of beer cans.”

“Yeah, that’s about right,” says Ewan rubbing his face.  “That wasn’t cool.”

“Yeah, well if you recycle your cans next time instead of just throwing them on the ground that won’t happen.”

“You guys have recycling up here in the mountains?”

“Of course.  There’s a couple blue bins on the other side of the fridge.  Toss your empties in there.”  Ewan nods.  “Oh, and the others will be arriving soon so come help me make a camp fire.”

The Deer leads Ewan over to a large, chest-high wall of firewood that has been neatly stacked between two trees.  There is probably about three or four cords of wood total.  “Start grabbing logs,” says The Deer.  The Deer grabs a small log between his teeth and carries it over to the fire pit where he drops it in.  Ewan loads about eight or nine medium size logs into his arms and does the same.  “Wow, you’re good at that.  This is going to go pretty fast,” remarks The Deer.

“Thanks,” replies Ewan.  “Where does all the wood come from?”

“Beavers.”

“That’s nice of them.”

“They don’t do it out of charity.  We pay them in pizza and beer.”

“I thought beavers ate wood?”

“Yes, and pizza and beer.”

“Wow, there’s so much I don’t know about nature.  Is pizza and beer good for them?”

“I don’t know if it’s good for them, but it’s pretty hilarious for us.  They eat a bunch of pizza, get tanked off half a beer, and go back to cutting down trees, which is highly entertaining in their inebriated state.”

“I’ll bet.  I’m guessing it’s like that show Jackass, but with more beavers, more trees, and less full, male nudity.”

The pile of wood gets about three feet high in the fire pit, “That’s enough,” says The Deer.

“Do you have any patches or kindling to start the fire?”

“Nah, we don’t need any of that.  Just stand back for a second.”  The Deer pulls out his iPhone, brings up another app, and points his phone at the fire.  A red laser shoots out at one of the logs, which then begins to smolder before catching ablaze.

“You start fires with your iPhone?”

“Of course!  I use my phone for everything!”

“How does it do that?  Does it have a ‘laser’ built in?” asks Ewan, making air quotation marks with his fingers as he says the word “laser” in an evil-doctor sort of voice.

“Sorta.  It’s called Redtooth.  It’s like Bluetooth, but clearly better as you can also start campfires with it.”

“I’ll say,” agrees Ewan.  “Looks like we got the fire started just in time,” he says to The Deer as he points to the last bit of the sun peeking out over the horizon just as it slips below the distant line.  “It’s starting to get chilly out, too.  Can you pass me another bottle of Jack?  I’m gonna sit a little closer to the fire and start putting on my liquid long coat.”

“Good idea, me too,” says The Deer.  He pulls out a new bottle of Jack from the freezer, takes a healthy swig from it, and passes it to Ewan who does the same.

“So now what?”

“What do you mean?”

“So what do we do now?”

“Oh, we sit and we wait for the others to arrive.”

“That sounds pretty boring.”

“Well that’s not all we’re going to do.  We’re going to drink some more beers, too.”

“Oh, okay.  I’m back on board now.”

“We could also play some darts, too, while we wait.  Do you like darts?”

“Yeah, most definitely.”

“Great, let’s get in a couple games before everyone else shows up.”

The Deer walks over to a very large, very wide tree nearby on the edge of the tree line on the other side of the fire, grabs a hold of two knots sticking out of the bark, and tugs them open like cabinet doors.  They swing open just like cabinet doors, because in fact that’s just what they are, revealing a dart board behind them.

“That’s pretty darn slick!” says Ewan as he admires the craftsmanship of the built-in dartboard.

“Thanks.  A beaver did it for us.”

“Really?”

“No,” laughs The Deer.  “But you’re sweet.  Actually, I did it with my iPhone.”

“Really?” asks Ewan again, even less sure this time as to whether or not what he’s hearing is the truth.

“Absolutely.  There’s a tree-cutting app and a dart board making app.  You just link them together with the chaining app, and voila!  You can run apps together, you can pipe the results of one app into the next app, and so forth.”

“That’s a pretty slick idea.  I wonder if anyone has ever thought of doing that before.”

“Doing what before?”

“Chaining programs together, piping the results of one into another.”

“Nah, probably not.”

“Agreed.”

Ewan gets up and starts to walk away from the fire towards The Deer when he suddenly shivers.  “Brrrr!  It’s chilly away from the fire.  Better thicken up the ol’ liquid long coat a bit more.”  He walks back over to the log and takes two good sized swigs from the bottle of whiskey before placing it back down and walking over to The Deer.  “Okay, well here, you go first,” says Ewan, extending an open palm with three darts towards The Deer.

“Thanks,” says The Deer.  “Well, here I go!”  He throws the darts in steady succession at the bull’s-eye and all three land just outside the mark.

“Good eye,” remarks Ewan.  “Wait a minute; how did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Throw darts.”

“Oh, it’s easy.  Just like this, watch.”  The Deer gathers his darts and throws another one.  “See, there’s nothing to it.  Have you never played before?”

“No, I have played before.  I didn’t mean that.  What I meant was how can you throw darts when you have hooves?”

“It’s easy, watch,” says The Deer.  He fires another dart into the wood.

“How are you doing that?!” exclaims Ewan.

“It’s easy.  It’s just like using an iPhone,” he throws the third and final dart into the wood.  “See?”

“But…”

“But what?”

“Nothing.”  Ewan shakes his head for a second and takes the darts from The Deer after The Deer pulls them out of the dartboard.  He throws and has similar luck.

“Hey, you’re pretty good, too,” says The Deer.

“Thanks.  I used to play a lot back in college.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.  It was a heck of a lot better than going to class!”

“I hear that!”

They both laugh and cheers their beer cans together.

“Where did you learn how to play darts?  Here in the forest?”

“No, I also learned how to play in college.”

Ewan laughs then looks back at The Deer whose expression hasn’t changed, “Oh, you’re serious?  You really went to college?”

“Yeah, what’s so crazy about that?”

“You’re a deer!”

“What, just because I’m a deer that means I can’t go to college?”

“Well, usually, yeah.”

“That’s pretty close-minded.”

“You know, I guess it is.  My bad,” apologizes Ewan.  “I grew up in a pretty small town and so I didn’t have any deer friends growing up.  Heck, I didn’t even know any Indians until I went to college.”

“Indian as in from India?  Or as in Native American?”

“Both, actually.”

“Ahhh, okay.  Well no worries.  I could see that happening.  It was pretty isolated growing up here in the forest, so it was kind of like that for me, too.  Luckily I’ve had a chance to travel though, which has been a saving grace.  I think the first person I ever met from Asia was during my first trip to Vegas.”

“Really?  How’d that go?”

“Well I was somewhere in Caesar’s Palace trying to decide where to eat.  I had the choices narrowed down between this noodle place and this other place when out of the noodle place walks this nice Chinese couple.  Their kids see me and yell, ‘Oh my gosh, it’s Bambi!!’ and they run up to me and start hugging my legs.”

“Then what happened?”

“I insisted I wasn’t Bambi and after the third of fourth time I guess the kids heard me because they calmed down for a second and got this sad look on their faces.  I looked over at the dad and with a pleading look on his face he said to me in broken English, ‘Please, very much to be Bambi.  Kids love all Disney.’”

“So then what did you do?”

“What else could I do?  Little, Asian kids are so cute!  I sighed and said I was Bambi and the kids started flipping out again.  I posed for a bunch of pictures with the kids, and everyone was happy.”

“That was nice of you.  People often go to Vegas in hopes of seeing celebrities, and it’s cool when that actually happens.”

“That’s what I was thinking, and so it was only fair for me to meet a celebrity in Vegas, too.”

“Let me guess; you turned to the dad and said, ‘Oh my gosh, it’s Jackie Chan!’ and then asked to take a picture with him.”

“Close, but you’re way off.  That would have been too obvious.  Instead I turned to him and said, ‘Oh my gosh, it’s Tiger Woods!’”

“Tiger Woods isn’t Asian, he’s black!”

“He’s part Asian.”

“And then you took a picture with him?”

“Then I hit him with a golf club.”

“You hit some Asian guy with a golf club just because Tiger Woods is part Asian?  That’s not fair.”

“You’re right and I had the same thought.  So to be fair I only hit him with part of the golf club, and it was a small part.”

“Oh, okay.  Well, why Tiger Woods?”

“All deer love Tiger Woods.”

“How come?”

“Well like how every kid growing up playing basketball who’s not so good at it wants to be like Michael Jordan, every deer wants to be like Tiger Woods.”

“Deer aren’t usually very good at golf?”

“No, not usually.”

“Is it because you have hooves?”

“No!  It’s because golf is really hard!  Geeze, what is it with you and hatin’ on hooves??  Golf is really hard, period.  That and it’s pretty hard not to drive the ball into the rough when you live in a forest.  Everywhere you hit it it’s in the rough.”

“Yeah, I bet every course here is at least a par fifteen.  But anyway.  We were talking about college.”

“Right, college.”

“So where did you go to school?  Deer University?”

“Nah, University of Maryland, College Park.”

“Really?  Me too!  What year did you graduate?”

“I didn’t.  I flunked out.”

“Really?  Me too!  Hi-five!”  They hi-five.  “What was your major?”

“Agriculture.”

“And you failed out?”

“I know, right?  That’s what I said!  I’m a deer, right?  I should get a ‘B’ just for showing up to class, right?  Wrong.  Failed it.  Turns out I didn’t know spit about trees.  I knew grass out the ass, but I couldn’t tell a fur from a pine.”  The Deer sighs and slowly shakes his head, then continues, “What was your major?”

“Business.”

“Why did you fail?”

“Because business is all about numbers, economics, marketing, managing a team, etcetera.”

“Yeah, so where’s the problem?”

“I thought it was just all about being a baller.”

“Oh.”

“I still think I’m right, but I know now that if you write that on a test and hand it in your professors won’t take you seriously after that.  Not even if you’re wearing a really fly hat.  And I’m talking stupid-fly.”

“Yeah… I’m going to need you to come in on Sunday, too, right…” says The Deer doing a fake stretch with one front leg out and one front leg cocked.

****

Darkness has set in and everyone has arrived for the campfire party.  Ewan is sitting on the same log as before in front of the roaring fire pit.  To his right sits The Deer and Al and to the left sits two new guests he has never seen before.

The first new face sits to Ewan’s direct left and is a tall, lanky, middle aged man with long, stringy gray hair.  His beat up, faded green cargo pants match his old, light blue, tie-dyed T-shirt.  He’s wearing an old pair of sandals with no socks and the faded graphic on his T-shirt vaguely resembles that of something out of an old Voltron cartoon.

“Ewan, this is Tall.  Tall, this is Ewan,” says The Deer as he introduces the two to one another.

“Nice to meet you, Ewan,” says Tall extending a long arm to shake hands.

“You too,” replies Ewan as they shake hands.  “Cool name, by the way.  How did you happen to come by it?”

“It’s short for my Indian name, Tallasotherboy,” replies Tall.

“Tallasotherboy?” says Ewan while making air quotations.  “That’s an unusual name.  I’m assuming you mean that it’s Indian as in Native American?”

“Yeah, I never knew my real parents and instead I was raised by an Indian family in New Mexico.”

“And they named you Tallasotherboy?”

“Yep.”

“Why?  Why not something else like ‘Dances With Wolves’ or ‘Avatar’ or whatever?”

“Apparently when I was named I was standing next to their other son and we were about the same height.  Another member of the tribe passing by happened to refer to me as that and it stuck.”

“And you don’t ever feel like you got jipped out of a cooler, Indian name?”

“Nah, not really.  Everyone and everything has to be called something, right?  Tallasotherboy is good enough for me.”

“Fair enough.”

“How about you?  Ewan is a pretty unique name.  How did you end up with that?”

“I’m named after my dad; his name was Ewan.  So was his dad.  And come to think of it, so was my great grandfather.”

“That’s, um, pretty special,” says Tall as he tries not to make a strange face at what he just heard.

“Thanks!” replies Ewan with an oblivious smile.  “So who is the other person you said I would meet tonight?” asks Ewan of The Deer.

“Oh, that would be Geoffrey,” replies The Deer.

“K, when is he going to show up?”

“He’s here already.”

“No he’s not.”

“Yes he is.”

“What, is he invisible or something?  I don’t see anyone else here I haven’t met yet.”

“He is here.  He’s sitting on your left just to the left of Tall on the same log.”

“What, the giraffe?” says Ewan pointing his half-empty beer at an orange-ish, eighteen inches tall, stuffed giraffe sitting on the log next to Tall.  The stuffed giraffe has big, bright eyes, a button nose, and a sewn on smile.

“Yeah, that’s Geoffrey.”

“No, that’s a stuffed giraffe.”

“Exactly.  Geoffrey is a stuffed giraffe.”

“Okay, I agree with you on that part.  What I’m saying is that I may have had a few of these,” says Ewan jiggling the brown bottle in his hand, “but I haven’t had enough of them to believe that stuffed animal was invited to hang out with us as an honored guest.”

“Well of course he was.  Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Because he’s a stuffed giraffe!  He’s not a real person!”

“Then why is he drinking a beer?”

Ewan looks over at Geoffrey and notices a half-empty beer bottle in front of him, “One of you must have put that in front of him.”

“Nah, we don’t have to do that,” chimes in Tall.  “Geoffrey can hold his liquor.”

“Probably because he’s so absorbent,” replies Ewan.

“We don’t know where he puts it, actually,” continues Tall.  “He must have a hollow leg or something.  I’ll warn you though: just don’t get into a drinking contest with him.  Even if you win you’re going to lose in the morning; Geoffrey doesn’t get hangovers.  So he’ll just wait to celebrate his victory until then.”

Ewan stares skeptically at this stuffed giraffe for a moment.  The giraffe smiles back at him with the same sewn-on expression he always has.  “Okay, well if Geoffrey is real, I want him to say hi to me,” says Ewan facetiously to the group.  “I’ll even go first.”  He turns towards Geoffrey, “Hi, Geoffrey.  I’m Ewan.  Nice to meet you,” says Ewan to Geoffrey as he extends his arm to shake hands with the tiny giraffe.

Geoffrey just sits there motionless, smiling back at him.

“See?  No response,” says Ewan.

“He’s just a little shy,” replies The Deer.  “He’ll be more talkative once he warms up to you.  And he’s really not much of a talker anyway.  He’s more into text messaging and email, like the rest of his generation.”

“Oh yeah?  And how does he do that?  With his magic phone made out of a coconut?”

“No, he has an iPhone.”

“He does not,” says Ewan with complete and utter disbelief in his tone.

“Of course he does!  Everyone has an iPhone!  We all have one of them, so why wouldn’t he have one, too?”

“Because he’s a stuffed giraffe!!”

“You know what I think?  I think you’re just jealous that you’re the last person on the planet to not have an iPhone.”  The Deer’s iPhone dings, signaling to him that he has received a text message on his phone.  He pulls it out of his pocket, holds it up in front of him, and silently reads the message to himself, “…Ha!  Good one, Geoffrey!”

“What-what?” exclaims Ewan.

“Geoffrey’s text message says, ‘This guy doesn’t have an iPhone?  No way!  Is he for real?  Or is he a figment of my imagination?’  Hah ha!  Good one, G!” laughs The Deer.

“It does not say that,” says Ewan, still in disbelief.  He leans over toward The Deer who leans toward him and extends a hoof to show him the screen on his iPhone.  Ewan reads it, looks over at Geoffrey, reads it again, looks over at Geoffrey again and this time notices an orange iPhone out in front of him next to his beer.  “I’m still not buying it.  One of you guys must have put that phone in front of him.”

“Yeah, because we just have extra iPhones lying around that we’re not using,” scoffs The Deer.

“Alright, well, whatever.  We’re going to have to agree to disagree on this one for now,” says Ewan extending the bottom of his beer bottle towards The Deer and Tall.

“Fine with me,” says The Deer.  He clinks his bottle with Ewan and then Tall nods and does the same.  Ewan then extends his bottle towards Al, who just remains standing there, bobbing up and down as usual, except that he has a ping pong mallet in one hand and a beer in the other hand that was placed there by someone else that he doesn’t appear to be drinking.

“He hasn’t quite picked up on that social grace yet,” says The Deer.

“Okay, well no worries.  We’ll teach him later.  So on a different note, how did he get the name Geoffrey?” says Ewan pointing to the little giraffe.  “Is there a story behind that like with Tall’s name?”

“Nope, that’s just his name,” says Tall.

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Why, is that strange to you?”

“I don’t know yet.  It’s more like I’m not sure what name a stuffed giraffe would have, only that it wouldn’t be Geoffrey.”

“Well have you ever met a giraffe whose name wasn’t Geoffrey?”

“I’ve never met a giraffe before.”

“Well, brother, you just haven’t lived then,” says Tall rolling back on his log bench.  “Geoffrey is a very common name for giraffes.”

“Just like Frank is for deer,” chimes in The Deer.

“Exactly,” says Tall, nodding his head and pointing the finger of his beer-holding hand towards The Deer.  “Just like Frank is for deer.”

“Yeah… I’m not sure if I’m buying that yet…”

“You probably need to drink more,” says The Deer.  “Or less.  But either way you probably haven’t drunk just the right amount.”

“Well it’s too late to drink less, so press onward I must!” says Ewan downing his beer.

“Cheers to that!” says everyone else as they down their beers.

The Deer looks at Geoffrey, “Hey G, are you getting up to break the seal?  You are?  Can you get me another beer while you’re up?  I’m out,” says The Deer shaking an empty beer bottle.

“Yeah, me too,” says Tall.

“And can you get Ewan one, too?  He’s out, but he’s too proud or something to ask for one himself.  Thanks, G.”

Upon hearing this Ewan looks down at his empty beer bottle and then over at Geoffrey only to find that Geoffrey’s seat is empty.  “Whatever,” he says shrugging his shoulder.  “Let’s pass that bottle of Jack around in the meantime.”

“Good idea,” says Tall.  He stands up, grabs it from the freezer, and sits back down.  He unscrews the cap and takes a long swig from the bottle before passing it to his right to Ewan who does the same.

The bottle goes around the circle in this fashion for a couple minutes when it arrives back to The Deer.  He reaches down in front of the log he’s sitting on and holds up a fresh, cold beer, “Thanks, G,” he says toasting the beer in Geoffrey’s direction.

“Yeah, thanks Geoffrey,” adds on Tall.

Ewan looks over at Geoffrey who is back in his seat with a new, full beer in front of him.  He then looks down at his feet and sees a new, full beer of his own.  Very hesitantly he reaches down to pick it up, as if he’s expecting his had to pass right through it like ether.  It’s solid though and so he slowly raises it up towards his mouth to take a sip.  Again with great hesitation he slowly tips the bottle back and makes a face as if he’s bracing for impact.  The cold liquid hits his lips and splashes down his throat, giving him a mild jolt of surprise.  He lowers the bottle and looks at it as if he’s not quite what to think.  Finally he looks over at Geoffrey and raises his beer, “Um, thanks?  I guess?”

The Deer’s phone dings, “Geoffrey says you’re welcome.  See, Geoffrey?  I told you Ewan was a nice guy.  He just needed to warm up a little bit to you, too.  Looks like you’re not the only one here who is a little shy around new people.”

“Did that really just happen?” asks Ewan to the group.

“Did what just happen?” asks The Deer.

“All of that.  The beer.  The text messages.  A giraffe with a squirrel bladder is the first one to break the seal.  All of that.”

“Yeah, of course.  I get text messages from Geoffrey all the time, too.”

“Well then how come I don’t?”

“Probably because he doesn’t have your phone number as you’ve never met any giraffes before today.”  Tall’s iPhone dings and he looks down at the screen to read the incoming text message, “Oh, and because you don’t have an iPhone.”  He looks over at Geoffrey, “Thanks for the clarification, buddy.”

---

If you enjoyed reading this story please leave me a nice comment; the more feedback I get the more encouragement it is to write!  :-)  You can also get automatic updates by using the follow links at the top of the page.

Thanks for reading!  :-)

---

 Next episode: Campfire Stories
Previous episode: The Bridge