Drums And Smoke


Tom and I went exploring one hot day in July.

We walked across a field of waist-high grass in an attempt to get closer to the escarpment that arose from the valley just beyond.

After walking for awhile, we discovered that we were standing on the hill above a stream running below … at the base of the cliff that we had wanted to explore.

The area was well covered with trees and the shade was comfortable on a hot day.

As we came over the rise and started down the hill toward the stream, we were met with a lad dressed in feathers and a loincloth, holding a primitive hand-axe in his hand and looking very fierce.

He also looked ridiculous ini his half-denuded personna.

I said, “Who the hell are you?”

He replied menacingly, “We are (Uncivilized Natives) and you are our prisoners.”

Playing along, out of curiosity, we followed our “Captor” to the “Camp” he and his buddies had constructed at the edge of the creek below the rise of the cliff.

There, the “Chief” ordered us to be bound and tied to a tree.

“I informed “The Chief” that if such a thing were to be tried somebody was going to get their ass kicked.”

Several of the “(Uncivilized Natives)” took hold of us and overwhelmed us and tied us to a tree.

After that, they surrounded us whooping and hollering and threatening us with their bows and arrows and their (hand-held-axes), and even an air rifle.

Eventually, after we threatened them enough — “Release us or we will tell the police what you have been doing here” — they relented, untied us, and told us to run.

We ran through the forest for at least a mile and finally came to the railroad track leading back to town.

After reaching home safely, Tom and I relaxed for a while and talked about what had just happened.

Just thinking about what had happened to us that day angered us … really pissed us off …

So we gathered our courage and decided to make another visit to their “Camp.”

“They want (Uncivilized Natives), we will give them (Uncivilized Natives),” Tom and I agreed together as if we were of one mind with a single purpose.

We spent about an hour making our own loincloths and feather outfits and, then we set off back toward their encampment.

Arriving at the scene, we discovered that the whole bunch of them were swimming in a pool in the middle of the creek … swimming and smoking cigarettes … and trying to outdo each other in using profanity.

They had constructed a sort of inverted cone-shaped shelter out of long poles and leaves and grass. I have to admit that it was impressive.

With the “Uncivilized Natives)” preoccupied at the pool with their swimming and cussing, Tom and I entered the (Sort of Inverted Cons-shaped-shelter) to see what they had inside of it.

Inside the (Sort of inverted cone-shaped shelter) was their regular street clothing and some “Girly” magazines … some cigarettes and a few other things that rogue boys favor.

With the burning anger of the indignities that this gang had inflicted on us earlier still raging in our hearts, we decided to set a match to their (Sort of inverted cone-shaped shelter).

As the flames rose through the darkening night, I can still remember the screams coming from the errant group as they ran toward the fire screaming, “Not the clothes! Not the clothes! Oh my God, not the clothes!”

I can still see them in my mind’s eye as they probably sheepishly and cautiously wound their way through the streets of our little town, trying to get back to their individual homes without being seen.

Justice served.

Author Note: All the elements of the preceding story in parenthesis are in those parentheses because I wish to describe everything in as politically correct a manner as possible in order to avoid angering certain sensitive souls who may find the traditional definitions offensive.

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