I crouched down to tie my shoe, but before I even touched the laces a snake sprang out striking me in the arm. Instantly I felt the sting of the venom as...
I was reaching for my survival knife. I knew the bite of a black mamba gave me few precious hours to live. And out here in the bush of wild Africa, my hotel and the closest medical facility were about a 5 hour hike from our location. My camera man stopped filming and stood there staring at me with fear in his eyes. "I left the snake bite kit back at the hotel," he said. "Why on bloody earth would you do a stupid thing like that!" I proclaimed. "Because you told me too," replied the camera man. "Oh, yea. Well I need something to boost ratings anyways," I said.
I told him to turn the camera back on and point it right at me. I was Edward Michael Grylls nick named BEAR and I wasn't going to let this black mamba have a laugh at my expense. The camera man put the camera back on his shoulder and said "Go."
"I'm now going to show you how to survive a snake bite from Africa's largest venomous snake, the frightful BLACK MAMBA."
I then started to scream and run as fast as I could. Then I stopped, dropped, and rolled and started to cry. Finally, I regained my bearings and said, "Bruce, put the camera on the tripod. I need your help." I then cut an "X" over the bite and said, "Look, I need you to suck the venom out, Bruce." Bruce grimaced, flared his nostrils, and started to sweat. "Bruce!" He hesitantly started to extract the venom with his mouth. "You know," I said softly, "my nickname isn't really 'Bear' like the animal. It's the other 'bare.' Do you want to hear the story behind it?"
Bruce backed slowly away, then turned and sprinted back toward town. I dont know what that's about.. he should know where the nickname came from. As my cameraman, he's always catching footage of me naked.
With Bruce gone, I'd have to handle this on my own.
First I severed the head of the mamba to keep as a souvenir, next I made a tourniquet from my sock, tying it just below the shoulder to keep the venom from flowing any further. Then I jabbed my survival knife deep into the soft tissue at the joint of my shoulder. The pain would have caused a lesser man to cry out in agony, but I'm no 'lesser man'.. I am Bear Grylls, super-macho survivalist! I gritted my teeth, facing the pain head-on as I sawed through flesh, tendons and rippling muscles. Once the soft tissue was out of the way, I pulled the humorous from its socket. Normally, an amputated limb could serve as food in an extreme survival situation, unfortunately, this limb was full of extremely toxic venom, so the meat will have to be discarded. However, the bones might come in handy, especially the long bones; so after I strip the meat off, I'll take the bones along to use as tools.
Hopefully everyone will be so distracted by my last show of machismo, they'll forget all about my previous screaming and crying.
As I studied my severed arm, I noticed very little swelling and discoloration beyond the location of the actual bite. This meant that the venom had not spread far before I applied the tourniquet, which meant that I could use some of it for food! I set to work building a fire. Using my remaining arm to turn the bow drill and holding it place with my foot, I should soon have a roaring fire on which to cook the salvageable meat from my amputated limb. It had served me well while it was attached but now it would make a tasty and satisfying meal.
After I finished cannibalizing a small but pretty damned important part of myself I decided I'd better get something else to eat. I checked a trap I had set earlier not to far from where I had set up camp. There was a young boar stuck in the trap so I set about preparing it over the fire. While I was kickin' back trying to play a harmonica like that Canadian bloke, an African bushman appeared out of the dark. He said he was a herdsman who was after a few lost sheep. I told him he could set up camp with me for the night as I thought it would really add to the wildness of this story. I introduced myself and told him what I was doing and pointed at the camera on its tripod. He said his name was Samuel, Samuel L. Jackson. We had a funny little exchange when I offered him a juicy piece of my wild pig: Me: Want some boar? Samuel: No man, I don't eat pork. Me: Are you Jewish? Samuel: Nah, I ain't Jewish, I just don't dig on swine, that's all. Me: Why not? Samuel: Boars are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals. Me: Bacon tastes gooood. Pork chops taste gooood. Samuel: Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat it. I ain't eat nothin' that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces. Me: How about a dog? Dogs eats its own feces. Samuel: I don't eat dog either. Me: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal? Samuel: I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy but they're definitely dirty. But, a dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way. Me: Ah, so by that rationale, if a boar had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true? Samuel: Well we'd have to be talkin' about one charming boar.
Me: well if you don't eat boar. Would you like some of this tasty roast arm? It's chewy and nicely smoked.
I thought to myself.. hey, that guy has two arms.. maybe I could take on of his and sew it on where my arm once was.. but then I realized, people might notice if I had one beige arm and one dark brown arm.. I should probably get an arm from a white guy.
Samuel looked at me with an odd, confused expression. He looked at the roast arm I offered, then at my armless shoulder. A look of understanding crept across his face. His eyes grew wide and he gaped in horror from the tasty roast arm and my shoulder.
'oh my holy freakin crap!' he cried, jumping to his feet. He sprinted into the darkness and disappeared into the night. Maybe arm isn't kosher either.
He'll be back. You can't survive in the wild without protein, and thanks to my huge muscles, my arm has a plentiful supply. I bent my arm to flex what was left of the bicep. "I'm huge!" I said aloud.
I knew I'd be needing more, and certainly Samuel would be back to get some much needed sustenance and didn't want my arm to get rotten, so I went about collecting from natural sources everything I would need to make jerky. Nothing like "Bare" meat, I always say (except, by that, I usually mean something different).
I stripped the bulging, buff muscle from my humorous, ulna and radius, and began the salting and drying process on a hot rock. Perhaps if I got lucky, I could find some fat wild yams as a side dish. Who doesn't love those? Mmmm... yams and "Bare" jerky.
Just then, my camera man returned, looking pale, chapped and gasping for air with a raspy voice, still flaring his nostrils and sweating more than ever.
"Bare," he said softly, "I'll do anything. I need food."
"Whoa!" I said, "Slow down. I'm not even sure I like men, much less am I sure whether I like you in that way or not. But, if you need food...
'Arm jerky?' I offered. I'd have to consider whether I'd get bare or not... even with only one arm, I'm still an impressive specimen and rarely miss an opportunity to show off the goods for the camera... and I'd have to know what he meant by 'anything'.
Then it dawned on me... he wasn't requesting that I 'bare'... he was merely addressing me. That gets confusing sometimes. Which is why I so frequently end up naked in my series. So that evening, as Bruce and I sat, chewing on arm jerky and washing it down with fat, roast yams which we found growing wild in the African wilderness. Bruce and I often enjoyed deep, philosophical conversation. That night we were discussing the constitution of his native United States and the 'right to bear arms'. We were at that moment, enjoying our right to bare arms.. and a tasty arm it was! Now, that right could also be interpreted as the right to wear sleevless shirts. Then it occurred to me that I could theoretcally be endowed with the right to bear arms... sand bears! that's it! If we could track a sand bear, I could take one of its arms to replace my own! it would be so fitting! Bare Grylls, with his bear arm! We would set out before sun-up to track the elusive sand bear!
Before I could get the words out to offer Bruce a bite of lovely roast "bare" arm or a piece of wild boar, Samuel came bursting back into camp. He was breathing hard from an all out dash. "What's up Samuel?" I queried.
"It's a whole pride of lions." he said between breaths. "It's the arm. They caught the scent of the arm and now they're on their way," he gasped.
I began to tell Samuel that lions "dig on swine" but before I finished the last word I heard a soft pitter patter of paws headed right towards the camp. I swiveled around only to be knocked flat on my back by a large lioness. Other members of the pride soon rushed in the camp and I'm not sure how Bruce and Samuel were fairing but it felt like two or three began shredding me. I reached my survival knife and barely managed to unsheathe the blade and began plunging the knife in one lion. Bruce pulled out a flair gun from his pack and began to fire off rounds. Samuel ended up with my harmonica and started playing it loudly. The combination of the flair and the quite awful sounding harmonica playing must have scared the lions off. I sat up bleeding from many scratches and bites. Bruce came rushing over and grabbed my right leg or what was left of it. As I looked down to the end of my legs I could tell the bottom half of my right leg had been eaten completely off. Samuel rushed over with the pinky toe to my. I told him to dust it off, wrap it up and save it to eat later.
"Please tell me you brought the first aid kit?" I asked Bruce. He retrieved his pack and handed me a kit. I turned it around in my hand and let loose a series of expletives not suitable for a family program (after all the camera was still rolling.) "You bloody imbecile!" I yelled. "You did bring the snake kit but FORGOT a basic first aid kit!?" I sterilized my knife in the fire for a minute and tied a tourniquet a little above my right knee. I then began cutting off what was left of my right leg just below the knee.
I'm not sure what hurt more, the pain from just getting half of my well traveled and might I add, fine specimen of a leg and foot bitten off by blood thirsty lions or the ear splitting sound of Samuel's harmonica play.
As he played I watched with amazement. How could he be so calm? He didn't seem interested in helping me. Instead he continued blowing into the obnoxious toy, as the blood dripped down the knife. My hands covered in the sticky wet liquid.
The harmonica's sounds echoed around us. I became agitated with his adaptation of SKIP TO MY LOU. Unable to take it any longer I screamed at him.
"Will you just shut up!" "If I stop you'll never survive the night. Those loins aren't far and I'm sure given the chance..." He warned, never finishing the words I didn't want to hear. His lips touched the instrument again, and the song played on.
He was right. As much as I hated to admit it, I was really worried. In reality I probably had only a few minutes left. If only we had a jeep to get us out of here. I might actually be able to make it back home. That was wishful thinking at this point.
Things went from bad to worse when Bruce began singing along with Samuels playing! 'Skip Skip Skip to my lou... skip skip skip to my lou...' It was horrible! Bruce's off-key, nasally, high-pitched and frequently cracking voice were even more ear-splitting than Samuel's harmonica playing!
This all brings me back to my plan to find a sand bear and remove its limbs to replace my own. I would now need one sand bear leg and one sand bear arm to be whole again. For some reason, that reminded me that at least we had some yams left, after all the lions had attacked.
What's worse, there were LOINS close by, and if THEY had a chance, it would be a nightmare. Don't get me started on loins.
I woke up in the morning a little depressed. I was after all sans most of my right leg and I had no left arm, even though I still considered it a right not just a mere privilege to find a sand bear, kill it and re-bear my left arm. These realities were as a bitter pill but I want to make sure that I'm baring the full truth of the matter. If my body was the stock market it would definitely be bearish right about now.
Anyways, as I woke up. I noticed that Bruce and Samuel were chipper. They had stayed up all night singing various songs and really got stuck on ABBA, Barbara Strieshand, the Wiggles and songs from the Broadway musical, Cats. It was bloody awful.
One of my ears was stinging quite bad. At first I thought it was from the torture of listening to Bruce and Samuel. Then I noticed that I had fallen asleep rather close to a mound of giant African Leaf Cutter Ants. They had been biting little bits of skin and cartilage off my ear all night.
"Uh, Bare, you're ear," said Bruce. "I know mate," I said as I brushed away a few ants that continued to gnaw away. "You're pitiful singing and harmonica playing caused the ants to go stark mad and take it out on my ear," I told the two dunces who stood there nibbling on my little roasted toes. "I once had a guitar," said Samuel between bites "and i played it so much it also drove my aunts crazy. Seriously, they're now in mental institutions."
"Look on the bright side," followed Bruce, "at least the music kept the lions away." "Well there is that," I replied.
"Here goes my ear now," I said with determination as I began slicing off the remains of my sad ear. Samuel and Bruce watched in amazement, then looked at each other and in unison began singing "What would you do if I sang out of tune… ." "Is nothing sacred?" I exclaimed while they continued on. "LEND ME YOUR EARS AND I'LL SING YOU A SONG… "
"So, Bear, I should mention," he said as Bruce plucked my ear off his forehead, "Remember those loins I mentioned earlier? How close they were and how given the chance they might do something bad?"
"I see what you're getting at, Samuel. I'll get to making loin jerky right away!"
Samuel looked at Bruce, grimacing and shaking his head: "I was just going to say that I meant 'lions' not 'loins' just so you guys wouldn't be confused."
"Not to worry!" I said, "It's too late to change your mind! Loin jerky it is!"
'Yeah' I conceded. 'I guess it may not be the best idea, but ya gotta admit it sounds tempting doesn't it?'
Samuel stared at me for a moment. I couldnt read his expression but his words said it all. 'Man,' he started, shaking his head in what I initially mistook for awe. 'There is something seriously wrong with you, ya know that?'
Bruce's eyes grew wide and he muttered something about the sanctity of fecal matter. He then took a few shufling steps backward before turning and breaking into a full sprint and disappearing into the brush. 'Well...' I turned to Samuel. 'I guess that leaves YOU.' Samuel glared at me for a moment. 'You try it and I'll tear off your remaining leg, beat you with it and bury you up to your neck in the sand, you freakin psychopath.'
I began to suspect that Samuel and Bruce may not have known just what 'loins' were, so I asked my remaining companion directly. 'What do you mean, do I know what loins are?' Samuel retorted. 'I can figure it out by context.. 'burning in my loins' and stuff.. I know what it means' 'Nope!' I laughed.. 'No wonder Bruce sprinted out of here so fast!' Then I explained. 'Loins are the muscles of the lower abdomen and back... as defined on wikepedia...' 'yeah...' Samuel scoffed. 'You still ain't turning my loins into jerky you sick mutha...' Samuel was interrupted by the roar of a lion... 'ooh! Lion jerky!' I cried happily.
I struggled a bit hoping around as I hacked at the lone lion that came into our camp. I got the better of the young lion but unfortunately I ended up losing my nose and a few fingers on my good hand. Samuel started skinning the lion while I hobbled around cursing about how bad I must look without my perfectly proportioned nose. "You are so vain" said Samuel.
Finally Samuel stopped and said we should get going back to his village and that it was about 300 paces to the east of our camp. "Why didn't you tell me!" I shrieked. "I could have got medical attention and at least shared the meat off my own body with the village."
As we came into camp I spotted Bruce surrounded by villagers and lots of kids singing Abba's 1975 hit single "Mamma Mia." Samuel turned to me and said "I should have told you, it's Abba week around here." I've got to get out of here I thought, before I lose my other ear.
Samuel took me to a village elder who new about the mysterious sand bear. He said if there are any sand bears left they live on the peak of Kilimanjaro. I convinced Samuel to come with me and pulled Bruce away from Abba week with the promise of an Abba edition of Man Vs Wild. Next morning with some provisions and a wooden peg leg I led my fearless team north bound to find the legendary sand bear.
"That's a rap people" the director cried. I came over and hugged Samuel (L. Jackson) and Jack (Black). It was a grueling scene and I endured more than a few scratches from the lions. Although the lions are trained and all safety precautions were taken, they are still very dangerous. I peeled the make-up off my nose while our director, JJ (Abrams) stood on a craft services table to make an announcement.
"Great work everyone!" he said as the whole set cheered. "One more scene to go. This one is going to be tricky. It's the Kilimanjaro scene where a quadriplegic Bare will fight off Sean Connery and having an intense staring contest against Harrison Ford before being joined by Stephen Hawking in the struggle to take down the sand bear. We'll need everyone's help again to pull this final scene off. Thanks again and we'll see you here at studio, tomorrow bright and early."
It was an emotional shoot and before I went to special affects and make-up to have everything removed I strolled around the green screen to have a private moment. I reflected on how incredibly awesome of a star I had become with my hit show and now my own feature length film. People are going to learn a lot from "Man Vs Wild the Movie: The Right to Bear Arms."
I was reaching for my survival knife. I knew the bite of a black mamba gave me few precious hours to live. And out here in the bush of wild Africa, my hotel and the closest medical facility were about a 5 hour hike from our location. My camera man stopped filming and stood there staring at me with fear in his eyes. "I left the snake bite kit back at the hotel," he said. "Why on bloody earth would you do a stupid thing like that!" I proclaimed. "Because you told me too," replied the camera man. "Oh, yea. Well I need something to boost ratings anyways," I said.
ReplyDeleteI told him to turn the camera back on and point it right at me. I was Edward Michael Grylls nick named BEAR and I wasn't going to let this black mamba have a laugh at my expense. The camera man put the camera back on his shoulder and said "Go."
"I'm now going to show you how to survive a snake bite from Africa's largest venomous snake, the frightful BLACK MAMBA."
I then started to scream and run as fast as I could. Then I stopped, dropped, and rolled and started to cry. Finally, I regained my bearings and said, "Bruce, put the camera on the tripod. I need your help." I then cut an "X" over the bite and said, "Look, I need you to suck the venom out, Bruce." Bruce grimaced, flared his nostrils, and started to sweat. "Bruce!" He hesitantly started to extract the venom with his mouth. "You know," I said softly, "my nickname isn't really 'Bear' like the animal. It's the other 'bare.' Do you want to hear the story behind it?"
ReplyDeleteBruce backed slowly away, then turned and sprinted back toward town. I dont know what that's about.. he should know where the nickname came from. As my cameraman, he's always catching footage of me naked.
ReplyDeleteWith Bruce gone, I'd have to handle this on my own.
First I severed the head of the mamba to keep as a souvenir, next I made a tourniquet from my sock, tying it just below the shoulder to keep the venom from flowing any further. Then I jabbed my survival knife deep into the soft tissue at the joint of my shoulder. The pain would have caused a lesser man to cry out in agony, but I'm no 'lesser man'.. I am Bear Grylls, super-macho survivalist! I gritted my teeth, facing the pain head-on as I sawed through flesh, tendons and rippling muscles. Once the soft tissue was out of the way, I pulled the humorous from its socket. Normally, an amputated limb could serve as food in an extreme survival situation, unfortunately, this limb was full of extremely toxic venom, so the meat will have to be discarded. However, the bones might come in handy, especially the long bones; so after I strip the meat off, I'll take the bones along to use as tools.
Hopefully everyone will be so distracted by my last show of machismo, they'll forget all about my previous screaming and crying.
ReplyDeleteAs I studied my severed arm, I noticed very little swelling and discoloration beyond the location of the actual bite. This meant that the venom had not spread far before I applied the tourniquet, which meant that I could use some of it for food!
I set to work building a fire. Using my remaining arm to turn the bow drill and holding it place with my foot, I should soon have a roaring fire on which to cook the salvageable meat from my amputated limb. It had served me well while it was attached but now it would make a tasty and satisfying meal.
After I finished cannibalizing a small but pretty damned important part of myself I decided I'd better get something else to eat. I checked a trap I had set earlier not to far from where I had set up camp. There was a young boar stuck in the trap so I set about preparing it over the fire. While I was kickin' back trying to play a harmonica like that Canadian bloke, an African bushman appeared out of the dark. He said he was a herdsman who was after a few lost sheep. I told him he could set up camp with me for the night as I thought it would really add to the wildness of this story. I introduced myself and told him what I was doing and pointed at the camera on its tripod. He said his name was Samuel, Samuel L. Jackson. We had a funny little exchange when I offered him a juicy piece of my wild pig:
ReplyDeleteMe: Want some boar?
Samuel: No man, I don't eat pork.
Me: Are you Jewish?
Samuel: Nah, I ain't Jewish, I just don't dig on swine, that's all.
Me: Why not?
Samuel: Boars are filthy animals. I don't eat filthy animals.
Me: Bacon tastes gooood. Pork chops taste gooood.
Samuel: Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat it. I ain't eat nothin' that ain't got sense enough to disregard its own feces.
Me: How about a dog? Dogs eats its own feces.
Samuel: I don't eat dog either.
Me: Yeah, but do you consider a dog to be a filthy animal?
Samuel: I wouldn't go so far as to call a dog filthy but they're definitely dirty. But, a dog's got personality. Personality goes a long way.
Me: Ah, so by that rationale, if a boar had a better personality, he would cease to be a filthy animal. Is that true?
Samuel: Well we'd have to be talkin' about one charming boar.
Me: well if you don't eat boar. Would you like some of this tasty roast arm? It's chewy and nicely smoked.
ReplyDeleteI thought to myself.. hey, that guy has two arms.. maybe I could take on of his and sew it on where my arm once was.. but then I realized, people might notice if I had one beige arm and one dark brown arm.. I should probably get an arm from a white guy.
Me: so, how bout it, Samuel? Arm?
Samuel looked at me with an odd, confused expression. He looked at the roast arm I offered, then at my armless shoulder. A look of understanding crept across his face. His eyes grew wide and he gaped in horror from the tasty roast arm and my shoulder.
ReplyDelete'oh my holy freakin crap!' he cried, jumping to his feet.
He sprinted into the darkness and disappeared into the night.
Maybe arm isn't kosher either.
He'll be back. You can't survive in the wild without protein, and thanks to my huge muscles, my arm has a plentiful supply. I bent my arm to flex what was left of the bicep. "I'm huge!" I said aloud.
ReplyDeleteI knew I'd be needing more, and certainly Samuel would be back to get some much needed sustenance and didn't want my arm to get rotten, so I went about collecting from natural sources everything I would need to make jerky. Nothing like "Bare" meat, I always say (except, by that, I usually mean something different).
I stripped the bulging, buff muscle from my humorous, ulna and radius, and began the salting and drying process on a hot rock. Perhaps if I got lucky, I could find some fat wild yams as a side dish. Who doesn't love those? Mmmm... yams and "Bare" jerky.
Just then, my camera man returned, looking pale, chapped and gasping for air with a raspy voice, still flaring his nostrils and sweating more than ever.
"Bare," he said softly, "I'll do anything. I need food."
"Whoa!" I said, "Slow down. I'm not even sure I like men, much less am I sure whether I like you in that way or not. But, if you need food...
'Arm jerky?' I offered. I'd have to consider whether I'd get bare or not... even with only one arm, I'm still an impressive specimen and rarely miss an opportunity to show off the goods for the camera... and I'd have to know what he meant by 'anything'.
ReplyDeleteThen it dawned on me... he wasn't requesting that I 'bare'... he was merely addressing me. That gets confusing sometimes. Which is why I so frequently end up naked in my series.
ReplyDeleteSo that evening, as Bruce and I sat, chewing on arm jerky and washing it down with fat, roast yams which we found growing wild in the African wilderness.
Bruce and I often enjoyed deep, philosophical conversation. That night we were discussing the constitution of his native United States and the 'right to bear arms'.
We were at that moment, enjoying our right to bare arms.. and a tasty arm it was! Now, that right could also be interpreted as the right to wear sleevless shirts. Then it occurred to me that I could theoretcally be endowed with the right to bear arms... sand bears! that's it! If we could track a sand bear, I could take one of its arms to replace my own! it would be so fitting! Bare Grylls, with his bear arm!
We would set out before sun-up to track the elusive sand bear!
That night I dreamed about the United States' Constitutional right to bear arms... bare arms... Bare's arm... bear's arms...
ReplyDeleteBefore I could get the words out to offer Bruce a bite of lovely roast "bare" arm or a piece of wild boar, Samuel came bursting back into camp. He was breathing hard from an all out dash. "What's up Samuel?" I queried.
ReplyDelete"It's a whole pride of lions." he said between breaths. "It's the arm. They caught the scent of the arm and now they're on their way," he gasped.
I began to tell Samuel that lions "dig on swine" but before I finished the last word I heard a soft pitter patter of paws headed right towards the camp. I swiveled around only to be knocked flat on my back by a large lioness. Other members of the pride soon rushed in the camp and I'm not sure how Bruce and Samuel were fairing but it felt like two or three began shredding me. I reached my survival knife and barely managed to unsheathe the blade and began plunging the knife in one lion. Bruce pulled out a flair gun from his pack and began to fire off rounds. Samuel ended up with my harmonica and started playing it loudly. The combination of the flair and the quite awful sounding harmonica playing must have scared the lions off. I sat up bleeding from many scratches and bites. Bruce came rushing over and grabbed my right leg or what was left of it. As I looked down to the end of my legs I could tell the bottom half of my right leg had been eaten completely off. Samuel rushed over with the pinky toe to my. I told him to dust it off, wrap it up and save it to eat later.
"Please tell me you brought the first aid kit?" I asked Bruce. He retrieved his pack and handed me a kit. I turned it around in my hand and let loose a series of expletives not suitable for a family program (after all the camera was still rolling.) "You bloody imbecile!" I yelled. "You did bring the snake kit but FORGOT a basic first aid kit!?" I sterilized my knife in the fire for a minute and tied a tourniquet a little above my right knee. I then began cutting off what was left of my right leg just below the knee.
I'm not sure what hurt more, the pain from just getting half of my well traveled and might I add, fine specimen of a leg and foot bitten off by blood thirsty lions or the ear splitting sound of Samuel's harmonica play.
As he played I watched with amazement. How could he be so calm? He didn't seem interested in helping me. Instead he continued blowing into the obnoxious toy, as the blood dripped down the knife. My hands covered in the sticky wet liquid.
ReplyDeleteThe harmonica's sounds echoed around us. I became agitated with his adaptation of SKIP TO MY LOU. Unable to take it any longer I screamed at him.
"Will you just shut up!"
"If I stop you'll never survive the night. Those loins aren't far and I'm sure given the chance..." He warned, never finishing the words I didn't want to hear. His lips touched the instrument again, and the song played on.
He was right. As much as I hated to admit it, I was really worried. In reality I probably had only a few minutes left. If only we had a jeep to get us out of here. I might actually be able to make it back home. That was wishful thinking at this point.
Things went from bad to worse when Bruce began singing along with Samuels playing!
ReplyDelete'Skip Skip Skip to my lou... skip skip skip to my lou...'
It was horrible! Bruce's off-key, nasally, high-pitched and frequently cracking voice were even more ear-splitting than Samuel's harmonica playing!
This all brings me back to my plan to find a sand bear and remove its limbs to replace my own. I would now need one sand bear leg and one sand bear arm to be whole again. For some reason, that reminded me that at least we had some yams left, after all the lions had attacked.
ReplyDeleteWhat's worse, there were LOINS close by, and if THEY had a chance, it would be a nightmare. Don't get me started on loins.
I woke up in the morning a little depressed. I was after all sans most of my right leg and I had no left arm, even though I still considered it a right not just a mere privilege to find a sand bear, kill it and re-bear my left arm. These realities were as a bitter pill but I want to make sure that I'm baring the full truth of the matter. If my body was the stock market it would definitely be bearish right about now.
ReplyDeleteAnyways, as I woke up. I noticed that Bruce and Samuel were chipper. They had stayed up all night singing various songs and really got stuck on ABBA, Barbara Strieshand, the Wiggles and songs from the Broadway musical, Cats. It was bloody awful.
One of my ears was stinging quite bad. At first I thought it was from the torture of listening to Bruce and Samuel. Then I noticed that I had fallen asleep rather close to a mound of giant African Leaf Cutter Ants. They had been biting little bits of skin and cartilage off my ear all night.
ReplyDelete"Uh, Bare, you're ear," said Bruce. "I know mate," I said as I brushed away a few ants that continued to gnaw away. "You're pitiful singing and harmonica playing caused the ants to go stark mad and take it out on my ear," I told the two dunces who stood there nibbling on my little roasted toes. "I once had a guitar," said Samuel between bites "and i played it so much it also drove my aunts crazy. Seriously, they're now in mental institutions."
"Look on the bright side," followed Bruce, "at least the music kept the lions away." "Well there is that," I replied.
"Here goes my ear now," I said with determination as I began slicing off the remains of my sad ear. Samuel and Bruce watched in amazement, then looked at each other and in unison began singing "What would you do if I sang out of tune… ." "Is nothing sacred?" I exclaimed while they continued on. "LEND ME YOUR EARS AND I'LL SING YOU A SONG… "
at which point, I threw what was left of my ear at them. It hit Bruce squarely in the forehead and stuck there.
ReplyDelete"So, Bear, I should mention," he said as Bruce plucked my ear off his forehead, "Remember those loins I mentioned earlier? How close they were and how given the chance they might do something bad?"
ReplyDelete"I see what you're getting at, Samuel. I'll get to making loin jerky right away!"
Samuel looked at Bruce, grimacing and shaking his head: "I was just going to say that I meant 'lions' not 'loins' just so you guys wouldn't be confused."
"Not to worry!" I said, "It's too late to change your mind! Loin jerky it is!"
'oh, holy mother of crap! NO!' Cried Samuel. 'Please tell me you're not going to do what I think you are!'
ReplyDelete'Yeah' I conceded. 'I guess it may not be the best idea, but ya gotta admit it sounds tempting doesn't it?'
ReplyDeleteSamuel stared at me for a moment. I couldnt read his expression but his words said it all. 'Man,' he started, shaking his head in what I initially mistook for awe. 'There is something seriously wrong with you, ya know that?'
"Come on, Samuel," I said, "Loin jerky. Think about it. Come on. It's not that crazy, when you think about it."
ReplyDeleteBruce's eyes grew wide and he muttered something about the sanctity of fecal matter. He then took a few shufling steps backward before turning and breaking into a full sprint and disappearing into the brush.
ReplyDelete'Well...' I turned to Samuel. 'I guess that leaves YOU.'
Samuel glared at me for a moment. 'You try it and I'll tear off your remaining leg, beat you with it and bury you up to your neck in the sand, you freakin psychopath.'
I began to suspect that Samuel and Bruce may not have known just what 'loins' were, so I asked my remaining companion directly.
ReplyDelete'What do you mean, do I know what loins are?' Samuel retorted. 'I can figure it out by context.. 'burning in my loins' and stuff.. I know what it means'
'Nope!' I laughed.. 'No wonder Bruce sprinted out of here so fast!' Then I explained. 'Loins are the muscles of the lower abdomen and back... as defined on wikepedia...'
'yeah...' Samuel scoffed. 'You still ain't turning my loins into jerky you sick mutha...'
Samuel was interrupted by the roar of a lion...
'ooh! Lion jerky!' I cried happily.
I struggled a bit hoping around as I hacked at the lone lion that came into our camp. I got the better of the young lion but unfortunately I ended up losing my nose and a few fingers on my good hand. Samuel started skinning the lion while I hobbled around cursing about how bad I must look without my perfectly proportioned nose. "You are so vain" said Samuel.
ReplyDeleteFinally Samuel stopped and said we should get going back to his village and that it was about 300 paces to the east of our camp. "Why didn't you tell me!" I shrieked. "I could have got medical attention and at least shared the meat off my own body with the village."
As we came into camp I spotted Bruce surrounded by villagers and lots of kids singing Abba's 1975 hit single "Mamma Mia." Samuel turned to me and said "I should have told you, it's Abba week around here." I've got to get out of here I thought, before I lose my other ear.
ReplyDeleteSamuel took me to a village elder who new about the mysterious sand bear. He said if there are any sand bears left they live on the peak of Kilimanjaro. I convinced Samuel to come with me and pulled Bruce away from Abba week with the promise of an Abba edition of Man Vs Wild. Next morning with some provisions and a wooden peg leg I led my fearless team north bound to find the legendary sand bear.
"That's a rap people" the director cried. I came over and hugged Samuel (L. Jackson) and Jack (Black). It was a grueling scene and I endured more than a few scratches from the lions. Although the lions are trained and all safety precautions were taken, they are still very dangerous. I peeled the make-up off my nose while our director, JJ (Abrams) stood on a craft services table to make an announcement.
ReplyDelete"Great work everyone!" he said as the whole set cheered. "One more scene to go. This one is going to be tricky. It's the Kilimanjaro scene where a quadriplegic Bare will fight off Sean Connery and having an intense staring contest against Harrison Ford before being joined by Stephen Hawking in the struggle to take down the sand bear. We'll need everyone's help again to pull this final scene off. Thanks again and we'll see you here at studio, tomorrow bright and early."
It was an emotional shoot and before I went to special affects and make-up to have everything removed I strolled around the green screen to have a private moment. I reflected on how incredibly awesome of a star I had become with my hit show and now my own feature length film. People are going to learn a lot from "Man Vs Wild the Movie: The Right to Bear Arms."