(From the previous post: Finally, we came on the main road. Here at least we could see some passerby and ask for help. A vehicle came along. We flagged it down by frantically moving our arms. X proceeded to talk to the driver. To me he looked like the Misfit, a serial killer from Flannery O’Connor’s story, "A Good Man Is Hard to Find." )

The Misfit

The Misfit explained that we had strayed too far, and offered to drive us back in his clunker. I suspected that he was laying a trap for us, so hesitated a bit, but before I could think of any strategy to escape, all three of my friends occupied the back seat, leaving only the front seat for me.

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Sarah Palin the Author

I like Sarah Palin because she is so pretty and her name rhymes with Para Sailin', a recreational activity, where you don’t mind being tied with a rope and dragged by a boat over a distance. Para Sailin' scores over other activities, because even if you are like me, too cautious and economical to pay for a life-threatening activity, you can still post your pictures enjoying it on Facebook.

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A Bright Young Boy

Bright young boys
Take the world in stride,
Spin fine webs,
To catch butterflies.
It’s too late
When they realize
They’re awfully tangled
In the self-spun ties.

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Camping: Hiking Trail

After suffering the grumbling crowd over lunch and tidying up the place, a few hiking enthusiasts among us expressed a strong desire to go test-drive their legs on the walking trail. Although, I am against all sorts of walking, jogging, running, or any other exercise fad that puts unnatural strain on one’s body, I went along because the best of the gossipmongers—X, Y, and Z—had decided to go, and I was afraid in my absence they would invent some juicy stories maligning me and reinforce their pre-conceived prejudicial notions about me.

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