So, I'm on vacation right now, just for a week. As the circus is currently in Hartford, Connecticut, I decided to travel North for my week of freedom into the New England states. I've never been here, and as usual it's a place I've now visited that I don't care to visit again.
I decided to go into the mountains, like on all of my vacations. I usually like the mountains for whatever reasons of my own, and I couldn't exactly describe to you why. This time it happened to be in the fall, in New England...which means tourists. Granted, I'm a tourist in the sense that I don't live here, but I'm not here as a tourist. I'm here because my crazy shit French Canadian job is here, these are the mountains here, and this is where I drove.
So here I am, driving through the mountains, and there's a sign that advertises "The Lost River". Now I don't know about you, but who can possibly resist the idea of finding the Lost River? Not me...in fact, I'm here to put the Lost River on the map, mutherfuckers. I shall find your Lost River, and deliver it safely to mankind for future generations to enjoy.
So, I pull into the information center to find out just where to start looking for this "Lost River", and they say, "Will that be Visa or MasterCard?�. I pay the trinket man with the information and start heading down the patio-decked marked trail. My first encounter was a cave called "The Cauldron", or something like that. The inviting handrails told me I could explore this cave at my own risk, so I entered. There I am standing on a 4 foot high rock I'd decided to climb to observe my new
cave, which was in fact just a small 10 foot wide circular chamber. That�s when the bitch entered.
I call her a bitch, and I apologize for that. I apologize, because the truth is she was actually an annoying cunt. I didn�t know this when she first entered my cave.
There I was, on my rock, and I�d decided to climb down for this new person to enjoy the little cave in serenity, like I got to. That�s the exact moment I forgot how to use my legs. I lost what little ounce of sobered balance I had left and fell on my ass and elbows, and then slid down this rock into a mud puddle. FUCK.
The fall wasn�t so bad, just a bruised ass and elbow�oh yeah, and I felt stupid as fuck! Even my map from the trinket man got fucked. I peel myself out of the mud and start to check myself over to make sure my spleen wasn�t dangling from my waist, and that�s when the bitch spoke.
�Are you OK?� she�d asked. OK, I can tolerate that; I may have asked someone the same thing after I stopped laughing. But no, she continues�
�Those rocks are slippery, you know�.
I just looked at her.
�These rocks are wet and covered with moss, they weren�t meant for you to climb on�.
I�ve now folded my map and am heading for the exit, starting to get a bit pissed off. The stupid bitch continues.
�You should be more careful when climbing in the caves, they�re dangerous because they�re wet, and you don�t look like you should be climbing around in them.�
I�d stopped at this point because I needed to know something. I needed to know if this stupid bitch, which appeared in her late 20�s, was actually retarded or something. So, I stopped and turned to her.
She continued, �You should really think about the fact that you could have hurt yourself. Do you realize this is nature, and nature has moss on it, and moss is slippery? You need to start being more careful�.
This is the exact moment I had to decide if I was willing to spend the rest of my life in jail for murder. All I wanted to do was smash her face on the rock, and say to her, �You�re right, it is slippery, look, and your brains can�t even keep a grip on the wet moss�.
Just then, more people were poking their heads into the cave to explore it, so I bit the bullet and walked outside. Now, let me ask you this. Did that stupid fucking cunt really think that maybe I�d overlooked the fact that the rock was slippery when I was lying at the bottom of it in the mud? Did that stupid fucking cunt really think she needed to point out to me that wet moss was slippery when I�m trying to brush myself off? Did that stupid fucking cunt really think she needed to try to tell me to be more careful climbing on wet rocks when I was looking for random blood leaks on my body?
Did that stupid fucking cunt realize, and I mean really realize, just how close she was to a violent death? Now let me ask you this. How hard is it, when someone falls, to just simply help them up again? How hard is it to help someone brush themselves off? How hard is it to see in someone�s eyes that they�ve made a stupid mistake? These things are second nature to some of us. Fuck man, have a good laugh, then help a man to his feet.
I swear to fucking god, if I ever fall in front of any of you, and you try to explain to me in detail why I fell, and how stupid I am for falling, before I even get a chance to get up�you better just run for your fucking lives, because as soon as I brush myself off I�m going to fuck you up. I may even replay your own mistakes into your ear as I rip it off your fucking head.
Lesson of the day: Never kick a man when he�s down.
To bring this tale to a happy ending, I continued my adventure, and climbed much bigger wet moss covered rocks. And whenever I happened to see that stupid cunt trailing behind me I noticed she couldn�t do anything but hold onto a handrail for dear life. I imagine she�s probably the type that becomes a random �hit by a bus� death statistic.
I found the "Lost River", but due to Vermont law I had to turn it in to the authorities to see if anyone claims it within the next 30 days.