Cranks My Tractor

Published: Thursday, August 22, 2013 at 09:19 AM.

I thought about all of the folks I wanted to see again, the places I wanted to go and then I thought about being torn apart by a hungry bear.

The tearing got louder, there were heavy breathing sounds.  I was mumbling some of Daddy’s “sailor words” because I was scared.

Just when I thought the other two fellows were going to sleep through this, the colonel popped up and said, “Something’s in the trash.”

I had worked myself into a frenzy; our conversation got louder and the ripping and tearing got louder.  The headhunter continued to sleep.

At this time, I could only think to myself, “The colonel has had three tours of duty in war zones and places folks don’t want to think about, HE should go deal with the bear.”  I, of course, did not say this because we were kind of in a state of attack.

I shined my flashlight through the window of the tent and could only see a furry paw about the size of a human hand on the trash bag.

More sailor words and laughter filled the tent.  The headhunter continued to sleep.



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