We went out for a game of Frisbee.
While chilling on my stay at home vacation yesterday, my kids prodded me into waking up from my three hour nap to go outside. Ugh, fine, I said. I did my best to pretend to be a good dad, so when they asked that I throw the Frisbee around, I grudgingly agreed, despite the bitterness I feel toward their lack of catching and throwing skills. A cool breezed rushed through my lack of hair and patience as yet another of the Frisbee tosses went awry.
One more in the ditch, another caught in the tree, another movement I had to make toward one that hit my car and caused another dent before rolling underneath so I had to fetch it. I was a dog, an unwilling dog. One that didn’t wag his tail, didn’t run obediently after it, and one that didn’t beg for them to throw it way over my head yet again. Just when I was ready to say, “Um did I hear someone say ‘Dinner’?, one floated over another kids head. Into the forest. Right next to our house is a small section of forest guarded by the evil, bittersweet, sticky, and prickly Blackberry bush of Death.
Don’t be afraid of us. We are but simple, friendly blackberry bushes.
Aaand that’s where I give up. Time for another 3 hour nap. That was exhausting and well, hope is lost. Nothing has ever been recovered, nor escaped the evil clutches of the evil Blackberry Bush of Death. And I’m not about making history. History is about making me bitter.
But the call for dinner never came. And the kids didn’t just want their Frisbee. They needed their Frisbee. So I searched the forest for a sword. I turned out to only be a stick, but the blacksmith wasn’t available and I was not only fighting the BB of D, but the daylight, and hunger. So I started blindly flailing. If the production company of Youtube was there, they would have had the new funniest viral video of the week to replace the Laughing Chewbacca Mom.
Hope was slowly dying, just like my arm, and my feet were getting a little tired of getting torn to bits by the thorns of doom. So I gave up. There was simply no way to get the Frisbee. Time to throw in the sweaty towel.
“What about from behind?” they said. There IS a path in the middle of the forest that would lead to rear of the Frisbee area. But the path from there is even further. And there were thousands of other things I could be doing other than this. Like playing video games, or robbing a bank or not that. But they insisted we try.
So I went from the rear.
I hacked away with my weak, stupid sword. I kicked with my opened toed sandals. I thought raged thoughts in my head. Somehow, the path kept clearing. Barely visible inside the bramble of weeds, was a flitting spattering of green. Not the dull green of the forest, but a bright florescent green of the Frisbee. It was mere feet from me. All the hacking, all the scars and scratches and blood and sweat were finally paying off for something. I reached my sore hand for the Frisbee, my feet being pulled back by a stray thorned string at my feet, when a familiar sound wafted in the air….
“Time for dinner!” and I turned immediately around and went to eat.
I mean come on, there was food at steak(I know it should be stake, but maybe steak was what was for dinner) here.
ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH
Bitter Forest Journey of Death Ben