Thursday, October 22, 2009
Today I had a daydream that Bentley and I were living in the wild. By 'in the wild' I mean basically in the Appalachian Hills. I had a log cabin and a bow and arrows that I'd carved myself. Every day, Bentley and I would go hunting together. I would hunt and kill, oh I don't know, deer? Bentley would revel in my successes and sympathize with my disappointments as well. He would be the expert Squirrel killer as this is the prime passion of his, the obliteration of the Squirrel race. I decided that in this scenario I would keep the hides of all the Squirrels he killed and mend him a winter coat from the furs of those who'd been made the victims of his lightning agility. We would lord over the land, Bentley and I, and people would tell stories of the Jim-Bentley killer duo that stalked the hills of East Tennessee. Children would be warned about going out at night alone for fear of being hunted like Squirrels by the Jim-Bentley. All missing persons would be attributed to our menacing presence in the area. Then I decided that fate would deem it so that one day, on a hunting trip, Bentley would be struck dead by a poisonous snake while I helplessly watched on unable to intervene because of my extreme phobia regarding snakes. That's when I decided that maybe 'life in the wild' wasn't right for us.