Jobu Tried To Kill Me.

One bright and lovely spring weekend The Legion Of Doom had convened on the hill for our usual merriment. It was a wonderful trip. With one exception. Jobu tried to kill me.

We camped in the bend in the road campsite. It is a nice site. It has a few good things going for it. It's very secluded. You cannot see it from the road. It has a nice fire ring. It's in a nice peaceful little valley with a creek on one side. It's really quite nice. About the only drawback is there is not a flat piece of ground to be found to place your tent on. You just need to make sure you sleep with your head pointing up hill. No biggie.

Being spring I was miserable. If it is a plant, I'm allergic to it. I think spring is a pretty time of year, but I can do without all the pollen nonsense. I've come up with a list of over the counter allergy medication that when ground with a mortar and pestle, and then snorted up each nostril seems to help. I've also discovered that when camping in the spring I should drink large quantities of beer. This helps me forget how utterly miserable I am.

We made it through Friday night and all day Saturday without getting ourselves harmed in any serious manner. The camping trip was shaping up nicely. Saturday night rolled around and we began to drink seriously. (We really hate to bring home lots of beer.) It was a beautiful night the was not a cloud in the sky.

One beer lead to another and pretty soon we decided to chunk one in the fire. This was before we began to make huge fires so the bottle had time to get good and hot before it exploded. It went off with a thunderous BOOM. It was pretty cool so we stoked the fire back up and did it again.

This time the bottle did not explode. Instead the beer inside began to boil. You could see the bubbles rolling through the brown bottle. It then began to hiss. Then it began to shake. The shaking worried us a bit. It really need to be relived of some of its pressure. So...we threw rocks at it.

The problem with throwing rocks when you have been drinking is your aim. Its hard to aim at something that keeps moving back and forth. I decided that I needed to aim somewhere in the middle. I did hit it a few times but with not sufficient force to break it. Now we were begging to panic. The bottle was starting to jump around the fire pit. Something had to be done!

Just when we were getting ready to duck as the possessed beer from hell was beginning to fly about camp, some one yelled "Hit it with a shovel!" Ordinarily this would not be a big problems. Most shovels have a 5 foot long handle. Our shovel was an E-Tool. If you don't know what and E-Tool is its a folding shovel about 2 feet long that our government uses to torture our Armed Forces.

Being the drunkest in the bunch and thereby the most bullet proof I snatched up the E-Tool and began to battle with the flying beer bottle. I began to swat at it with all my might. I wounded it and The demon settled back into the fire pit. I then began to whack it with all I had. From behind me I heard my "Friends" yelling "Hit it like a Man!!" I turned to look at them and all I saw was three heads poking out from behind a large white pine. I thought "What a bunch of cowards!" and smacked it one last time.

I remember admiring the mushroom cloud as I was flying backwards carried by the shock wave. If you have never surfed a shock wave I highly recommend it. I recall looking down on Jerry , Kevin, and Pete as they hid behind the tree. The puzzled looks on their faces was priceless as they tried to figure out where I had gone. Before I lost sight of the campfire I saw what I thought was two eyes and an evil grin forming in the mushroom cloud...It was the face of Jobu. He was laughing.

The next morning I woke up in the creek. The water was rather cold but the crayfish that were picking the glass from my clothes gave me some warmth. I walked the two miles back to camp.

When I got there I noticed a silhouette of my body on the tree that was behind me during the "smacking." It was the only bit that did not have glass embedded in the bark. The ground around the fire ring was stripped bare. It looked as if someone had pressure washed it. And the rocks that made up the fire ring looked to have been sandblasted.

I did recover from my injuries. There is still a piece of glass embedded in my scalp and my right hand still twitches every now and then. And when ever I hear "Hit it like a Man" I flinch and have the sensation of flight but I can live with it. Jobu didn't succeed in killing me this trip or the few dozen that followed it. But he still tries.