Star Date #33

Other me to me: I hope you know what you’re doing.

Me: I have not a single clue. You?

Other me: I’ve done this a thousand times.

Me: Literally?

Other me: No, like five but yeah. I know what I’m doing.

Me: Of course you do.

I tie the hand made vine cord around my ankles extra tight and look down. Chief is there, looking up, with the girl. I’ve stopped calling her my girl because I know what will happen. I know I’m not going to win. This contest or her heart. I know I’m going to fail, miserably. I know I’m going to drop down screaming like a little girl, flapping like a convulsing baby bird with no feathers, come up either way too high or way too low and look awfully not cool in the process. But I don’t care anymore. It’s my fate. And instead of avoiding or fearing it I’m going to face it, head first and yes, upside down after jumping from a ceremonial platform some hundred feet up in the air. I look my adversary in the eye and go.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. BOOSH! My face hits the forest floor, I came up too low. The ground is quite cushiony thankfully, being prepared for this event to save the pretty faces of the attractive forest people. For a split second I kind of feel allright. Then I feel the teeth of several liquor snakes penetrate my face and I’m right back to feeling like shit. I bounce up and pass out.