Grab some coffee and fill your mod…
Youngest boy and I were camping in Yellowstone. Bob. Hada be mid 20’s. We’re camping alongside some river. (Don’t recall which one, but it was wide and shallow). Evening, sun’s thinking about setting, he goes to look for stuff to burn. Comes back. “Dad, look at this huge mushroom I found!! Ummm. You see that hair, 5 to 6’ up on the pine trees? Bison like to scratch themselves on those trees. “Yeah?” When Buffalo take a shit it’s called a chip. “yeah?” You’re holding a chip.
“Wait, you’re telling me this is buffalo shit?” “Pretty sure…” Tosses it forward. Lands in the campfire and freaks out. “It’s okay, Cowboys did it forever”. Next day, it’s still smoldering. Pours water on it. Never read a Zane Gray that said anything about that, so I made him drag the tent, WAY far away!
Had a Cam Corder. Recorded to a VCR tape. He’s watching some mountain goats with my binoculars, swinging to the left, he spots a moose on the other side of the river. Big sucker!
We hiked over with the camera, I’m recording and the kid says, “man, she’s looking right at us!” “Actually” said I, “she’s looking behind us.” I swung the camera around, and we both saw a calf. The kid goes AWOOOO! Damn near took a swing to the back of his head. Via his nose!
Turned back to the moose. Halfway across the river. Not moving slowly, but definitely cautious. We both dropped the F-bomb simultaneously and RAN!!! Me? Not like the wind. Kid? Gone with the wind!
Dropped the camera. You think I’m going to go back and get it? I aint even LOOKING back!
Soon after a TV show came out called America’s funniest home videos. Never missed an episode. Never saw my video. How’s that even possible?
Speaking of rivers… I have a niece that lives upstate in New York in a small town called Ogdensburg. Smack up next to the St. Laurance, river. Can see Canada. She LOVES to fish in a river named Oswegatchie. Shares custody with an illegitimate son. I call it the Azwhatgotchi in trouble, river.
Older brother was in the Coast guard, there. Searched ships for drugs. Mostly giggle smoke. Every couple of months I’d get a package with a quarter pound. One time I got some shit he called a creeper. Told me not to smoke a half joint with less than 3 friends. Right, I know my tolerance. Was baby sitting a niece. No friends around. Smoked a half joint. Nothing. Riding my bike. The other half. Nothing. Riding my bike. Fuck it, a whole other joint.
Fuck it. Rode back to her house, she’s 12 years old, can take care of herself. BAM! First half hits. Holy shit! I’m stoned. Never been so high. An hour later the 2nd half hits. An hour later the next joint hits. I’m freaking hungry. I go to the grocer to get a pound of bacon. Except the last place I was, was Canada. I had no $ and they didn’t know jack about currency exchange rates.
I’m fucking wiped. Find the nearest bank. I’m like, here, I got this pretty paper, but nobody wants it. Chick is helpful, but I couldn’t remember where the store was at. That was some good shit! Took me a couple hours to get back to my sisters house. She and her husband were home. And PISSED!
Went out to the garage and introduced them to – Azwatgotme in trouble in the fist place. I know their tolerance, so I let them take only 3 hits each. I abstained. Explained what happened, how I got so freaking high, the search to rescue bacon.
Sister. Did you look in the fridge?