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.”

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