Wildmyan in...
APACHE THUNDER
Follow these links for previous chapters in the Saga: Where it all Began, Covered Wagon Escape, and The Dark Side of Duluth.
Covered in salad dressing, Wildmyan calculated his next move. From the looks of things, it appeared Wildmyan had gotten into a barbecue fight with Greta Van Susteren. But sadly this wasn't the case. As you may recall, Wildmyan had just dispatched the outlaw Geoffrey James back in Duluth. Unfortunately, that still qualified him for manslaughter, so he had to be on his way.
WILDMYAN WAS ROLLIN' LIKE A TUMBLIN' WEED!
He left that Duluthian bar with 6 shots of whiskey on a barren stomach. Literally. His stomach was like a mutant uterus meant not to have children. To remedy his dizziness and achieve some comfort, Wildmyan decided to fill up "short ribs." Unfortunately again, Wildmyan had actually found some diseased calf meat on the side of Route 61. Thank god his stomach was a mutant uterus. He digested the rotting puppy cow meat no problem.
This is also when he discovered "blue cheese." He swiped a few small buckets of it from the bar counter as left, and took to the blue cheese dressing like a rabid dog to a ham bone, sucking fluidic ounces of it as if it were strawberry milk for a juvenile diabetic.
Wildmyan knew he must continue his way out of Duluth, but the food coma was coming on strong. He had eaten merely 12 lbs. of festering veal carcass, but it was enough to facilitate the slumber. Finding an oak tree about 100 yards off the median, Wildmyan circled it four times, and then nestled at its base.
WILDMYAN BEGAN DREAMIN' LIKE CRAZY!
Wildmyan slept the sleep of a tired warrior that night. What felt like only an hour or two had actually been five hours of aggressive hallucination and rapid eye movement. Those five hours were filled with just about every dream you would imagine an illiterate Southwestern recluse could have. From sun-bathing with coyotes, to playing "cactus football," and even fantasizing love-making to an Apache woman while Amy Grant played in the background.
Wildmyan was a survivor, and he soon got up and rolled around, stretching out from what seemed like either 2/3 of a day's worth of sleep or a violent seizure. He yawned a barbaric yawn, his eyes bulging out of his orbitals, his upper lip nearly commandeering his forehead. Just as it appeared that Wildmyan would slip back to slumber, he saw something. Thinking fast he grabbed something. He worked with this newfound instrument while keeping his eyes out toward the horizon. His stare diligent and steady.
"What a great day to die" Wildmyan muttered as he sharpened the business end of an oak branch. A puma nervously eyed him from a hundred yards away.
WILDMYAN VERSUS THE PUMA
The Puma wasn't purring, this mountain lion was eyeing a feast as nearly as big as Wildmyan's previous meal. The cat oscillated her whiskers, lowered her haunches, and CHARGED!
Wildmyan stood still for a moment, contemplating his objective and adjusting his eyes to the Great Plains sun. The Puma leapt for his throat, but hit the ground without securing her victim. Wildmyan spun around, shoved his oak branch spear, and hit nothing but butthole. The puma let out a vicious roar. The cat sensed equal portions pleasure and pain as nine inches of oak branch had been crudely shoved through her exit door.
The cat's gait was compromised, and Wildmyan knew this was time to finish her off. He raised his arms, ready to choke the Puma into the afterlife when he noticed something... empathy.
Instead of choking the feline lifeless, Wildmyan aggressively stroked her fur. At first the Puma coiled back in anger, but then she smelled the road carnage on his breath, she sensed that perhaps her and the Wildmyan might be equals. After a brief toe-to-paw encounter, the Puma lowered her guard. So did Wildmyan. Thus beginning what would become a fruitful symbiotic relationship.
Wildmyan started the next leg of his journey with his new Puma companion. He carefully removed the oak branch from her quivering buttocks, and she thanked him by becoming his animal guardian. Wildmyan now had a dog in the fight, and this dog was a mountain cat.
... TO BE CONTINUED
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WILDMYAN WAS ROLLIN' LIKE A TUMBLIN' WEED!
He left that Duluthian bar with 6 shots of whiskey on a barren stomach. Literally. His stomach was like a mutant uterus meant not to have children. To remedy his dizziness and achieve some comfort, Wildmyan decided to fill up "short ribs." Unfortunately again, Wildmyan had actually found some diseased calf meat on the side of Route 61. Thank god his stomach was a mutant uterus. He digested the rotting puppy cow meat no problem.
This is also when he discovered "blue cheese." He swiped a few small buckets of it from the bar counter as left, and took to the blue cheese dressing like a rabid dog to a ham bone, sucking fluidic ounces of it as if it were strawberry milk for a juvenile diabetic.
Wildmyan knew he must continue his way out of Duluth, but the food coma was coming on strong. He had eaten merely 12 lbs. of festering veal carcass, but it was enough to facilitate the slumber. Finding an oak tree about 100 yards off the median, Wildmyan circled it four times, and then nestled at its base.
WILDMYAN BEGAN DREAMIN' LIKE CRAZY!
Wildmyan slept the sleep of a tired warrior that night. What felt like only an hour or two had actually been five hours of aggressive hallucination and rapid eye movement. Those five hours were filled with just about every dream you would imagine an illiterate Southwestern recluse could have. From sun-bathing with coyotes, to playing "cactus football," and even fantasizing love-making to an Apache woman while Amy Grant played in the background.
Wildmyan was a survivor, and he soon got up and rolled around, stretching out from what seemed like either 2/3 of a day's worth of sleep or a violent seizure. He yawned a barbaric yawn, his eyes bulging out of his orbitals, his upper lip nearly commandeering his forehead. Just as it appeared that Wildmyan would slip back to slumber, he saw something. Thinking fast he grabbed something. He worked with this newfound instrument while keeping his eyes out toward the horizon. His stare diligent and steady.
"What a great day to die" Wildmyan muttered as he sharpened the business end of an oak branch. A puma nervously eyed him from a hundred yards away.
WILDMYAN VERSUS THE PUMA
The Puma wasn't purring, this mountain lion was eyeing a feast as nearly as big as Wildmyan's previous meal. The cat oscillated her whiskers, lowered her haunches, and CHARGED!
Wildmyan stood still for a moment, contemplating his objective and adjusting his eyes to the Great Plains sun. The Puma leapt for his throat, but hit the ground without securing her victim. Wildmyan spun around, shoved his oak branch spear, and hit nothing but butthole. The puma let out a vicious roar. The cat sensed equal portions pleasure and pain as nine inches of oak branch had been crudely shoved through her exit door.
The cat's gait was compromised, and Wildmyan knew this was time to finish her off. He raised his arms, ready to choke the Puma into the afterlife when he noticed something... empathy.
Instead of choking the feline lifeless, Wildmyan aggressively stroked her fur. At first the Puma coiled back in anger, but then she smelled the road carnage on his breath, she sensed that perhaps her and the Wildmyan might be equals. After a brief toe-to-paw encounter, the Puma lowered her guard. So did Wildmyan. Thus beginning what would become a fruitful symbiotic relationship.
Wildmyan started the next leg of his journey with his new Puma companion. He carefully removed the oak branch from her quivering buttocks, and she thanked him by becoming his animal guardian. Wildmyan now had a dog in the fight, and this dog was a mountain cat.
... TO BE CONTINUED
Need more Wild Western Dude content? How about this? Or this? Or... This
Follow me on Twitter and Tumblr
