Camping Fun
Darkness had set upon us and the drunks began to swarm about the place bawling loudly wherever they roamed. It was abnormal for me to be in a state of sobriety when so many of my brethren ran amok with overflowing cups of wine, but I had just recently committed myself to refrain from their fermented drinks.
Loud talk and louder laughter resonated throughout the camps; I chimed in at the appropriate times, but there was no real substance to content or appease my spirit. I should have been having a good time, but as I have stated, I was in an unfamiliar state of cognizance, and so when an unprovoked rambling drunk made me the target of his rants I did not smile and turn away.
“I’m going to kick his ass.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why not?”
I do not think that they believed me, for they laughed at my last remark as I stood up and walked over to the boy.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said before…”
“You’re a fucking cunt. I don’t want you here, get the fuck out of here.”
“So you want to fight, eh?”
Apprehension rushed over his face before he managed to manipulate it back into a demeanor of spite and malice. In that brief moment he had realized that a physical altercation would prove quite challenging in his state of stupor, but he also realized that his pride, and the respect of his peers was in a vulnerable state of compromise. He cussed and cursed and threatened me before finally acknowledging the fight, of course this spectacle brought an audience and now the stakes, for him at least, were even higher.
“We can’t fight here, we will start a shitstorm.”
“Follow me, I know where to go.”
I took off running and I could hear the sound of his steps behind me. I ran quickly and quietly through the woods. I reached cabin 9, which had been abandoned due to a lack of finance, long before anyone else. I went inside and started pushing old dusty furniture toward the walls to make room for an inner ring. As I worked I noticed an audience of about 10 or 12 had accumulated to witness the spectacle. I finished pushing the last couch, ripped and torn, toward the east wall when out of my peripheral vision I saw a rack of elk antlers coming down toward my head. I quickly grabbed onto one of the prutruding antlers before it had a chance to make contact with my skull, and then I yanked it out of his hands and threw it across the room.
I danced about the ring, taking pride in my creation, perusing every inch of it. I circled him and threw soft jabs into his face and then waited for his response. He was slow, he telegraphed every punch and he wouldn’t have been able to hit me if I had worn lead shoes, but I stepped into one of his jabs just to see what he brought to the affair; I realized that the fight would not last long.
He turned away as I let my guard down and then he walked over to a small book shelf. I watched in amazement as he picked it up over his head and started toward me. Before he even managed to walk four feet he began to rock and sway beneath its mass until it crashed down upon him. I walked over to him and pinned him down, and then I landed a heavy fist across his chin.
“Apologize!”
I started to feel uneasy about the extremely advantageous position which I held over him, but he was reluctant to give up. I gave him 3 more very light jabs on the side of his face hoping that he would apologize and I wouldn’t have to inflict any more harm on him.
“Apologize!”
He spat toward me, and still I wanted to give up, I wanted to walk away, I didn’t want to hit him anymore. I closed my eyes, I remembered something that really hurt, something from the intimate recesses of my mind, something that really angered me; emotion and compassion instantly died; I felt my blood burn and rush through me, I felt my fist cock back over my head, and then I opened my eyes while I released the hammer, my fist came down and exploded in his face. People rushed to his side as the blood and tears flowed; it was finally over.
“We didn’t think you were serious. Where you really that angry?”
The opinion of the crowd varied: some praised me, some condemned me, some threatened me. To this day I have no moral feelings on the matter; a boy provoked a fight and I supplied a fight. If anything he learned a valuable lesson, and this is not an easy lesson to learn, my friends, for it was not long before I had the misfortune of learning it for myself.