the doomed moose hunt pt. 2

May 18, 2004 13:49

solo bicycle adventures through winding trails in the plains. the heat makes me pass out in the sand dunes for two hours. the pilot in his red airplane is always watching me. i lift a defiant middle finger at him and wish him death. later on i hear news that some rednecks caught a full grown bull moose with a broken leg out on the very same trails i had been riding on. the rednecks say "dont go out into the plains for a while. we reckon thars a buncha dem moose out there. real pissed off like." could this be a morbid calling for my doom? i can hear it like a faint whisper through the trees. im tempted to go back in. to find a moose and throw small rocks at it until it turns raging and bloodthirsty. death is an undead bull moose with a taste for flesh.
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