Becoming A Man
Hey everyone! I’m going to meet my new nephew this weekend. I’m pretty excited. I think I’m going to take him fishing and bowling. And if there’s enough time left over, I’ll teach him how to kill a deer with his bare hands. That sounds like a fun day for a two-week old, don’t you think?
I wish my father had taught me to kill animals when I was a younger, but that was something I had to figure out on my own. Because when I was 3, my dad drove me to the edge of the woods and told me to get out of the car. Then he handed me a flint, some twine and a juice box, and told me he’d see me in a week. He said, and I remember the exact quote to this day, “Son, it’s time you learned this world can be a harsh place. If you can make it through this, you can make it through anything.” Then, for some reason, my dad made a really loud fart sound with his mouth and drove off laughing. That was the thing about my dad. He was an enigma. And he really liked making fart sounds. Thought they were hilarious.
The first two days in the woods were the toughest. I had never really spent much time outside of my parents house, and this was the first time I had ever been alone. I missed the comfort of my bed, my stuffed animals, my pop-up books. But I had none of those comforts in the woods. I had to rely on myself. And if I wanted to survive, I had to find some food. Up until that time I had mostly eaten baby food, cookies, and mashed potatoes. I was a picky eater, no question about it, but that was about to change. Just like there are no atheists in a foxhole, there are no picky eaters in the woods. I started eating berries, flowers, bugs, even rocks at one point. Give me a freaking break. I was three years old. How the hell would I know rocks weren’t food?
By the fourth day I was famished. I knew I would need some major sustenance if I was going to make it through the week. It was time to go after the big game. So I did what any kid would do. I dug a pit and filled it with punji sticks. Luckily, one of my uncles fought in Vietnam, and he had filled my head with stories about the VC and their various traps. If it was good enough for charlie, I figured, it was good enough for me. I covered the pit with leaves and brush, then lay in wait for my prey.
After a few hours a deer came walking by. He circled the outside of the pit before finally walking across it. He fell through and was immediately impaled. Sweet! I rigged up a pulley system using an overhead tree branch and some vines. Then I pulled the deer out. I skinned him, roasted the meat, and used the hide as a coat. I saved his ears to make a necklace.
I made it through the next two days without a problem. When my dad picked me up on the seventh day, I was fat with deer meat, covered in dirt, and nearly insane from living in the woods for that long. I also missed my mommy. Anyway, I kind of doubt my sister will let me do the same thing with my nephew. And I can’t really blame her, since I’ve had to see a pyschologist ever since. And sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up screaming. Oh, and all of our family pets have died in mysterious accidents involving punji sticks. Other than that, I don’t think I’ve suffered any long term effects.
