What I'd Like To Do

I’ve been thinking about life and how precious it is, and how we so often squander the time we’re given by doing the things we think we have to do. What a waste of life. We should think more about what we would really like to do, instead of what we’ve been told to do. This is what I’ve decided. Rather than live among the masses of mongrels we call mankind, I’d rather live in a tent up a mountain by myself, cooking sausages on a small stove. I'd probably have a dog for company. One that would kill rabbits and squirrels for me to cook in stew. Maybe two dogs that could bring down small deer and protect me from pumas and such. I'd probably have to fashion a bow and some arrows and practice until I could hit a moving squirrel at fifty yards. Then I would make a sewing needle from some kind of rabbit bone and sew deer skins into a warm coat for the winter months. I might eventually build a log cabin and stuff sewn hides with goose feathers for a bed. Maybe I'd use a stuffed rabbit as a pillow. I would learn through trial and error which berries were nutritious, and which would kill me. Then I would build up an immunity to the deadly ones in case I ever needed to trick somebody else into eating them so I could feast on their flesh. Of course I wouldn't do that unless I was really, really hungry. I would live wild and free on the mountain until people learned I was up there and came to gawk or teach me about the Lord, their saviour. I would have to kill them. I guess after a few went missing the law would start looking for me and I would have to retreat farther into the wild. I would leave my log cabin and my deerskin bed, but I would bring my rabbit pillow, because there really isn't anything softer and more satisfying to sleep on than a rabbit pillow. I would pack my bow and what little arrows I had carved from saplings, call my dogs, and head out to live in a tent I had made from the hide of a black bear. There would also be a smaller tent for my dogs, made of smaller dogs. We would have to keep moving, only staying in one place for a night or two. Eventually the law would catch up to us and there would be a terrible battle. Many would fall to my arrows. My dogs would be slain protecting me, and I would be shot in the leg. I'd probably limp to the nearest river and follow it down so their hounds would lose my scent. Then I'd quickly chop down a mighty tree and ride it further away from my pursuers. I would pass out at some point from blood loss and wake up on a distant shore. There would be strange looking people surrounding me with pitchforks and gaffs. They would be jabbering in a language I couldn't understand, but through hand signals and a lot of howling I would make them understand I needed a doctor to get the bullet out. A young girl would then take the bullet and put it on a necklace for me to wear. Over time I would gain their trust and learn their language. I would marry their daughters and father many children. I might even shave my beard. One day I might get a new dog. I would name it, "My Old Dogs" in memory of those that died so that I may live. There would be some kind of ceremony, maybe with roast pig, I'm not sure. I guess I'd be getting old at that point. My health might be failing. Maybe I would start forgetting the names of my many wives and they would conspire against me. They might want younger husbands. They would probably make me a hot drink made of some sort of poisonous berries. I would drink it and pretend to die. They would carry me into the woods and dig a hole to bury me. When they weren't looking I would fill my canteen with air to breathe while I was being buried. They would bury me alive, unknowingly, and go home quite proud of themselves. They would probably all drink and laugh together and talk about the new rich husbands they might find. In the morning they would pretend they hadn't seen me. Weeks would go by and everybody would think I had wandered off and been eaten by the local tribe of rabid monkeys. Of course I would have dug myself out after the women left and befriended the monkeys, plotting revenge. I would allow a suitable amount of time to pass, so that all my ex wives would forgot about me. I don’t know how long that might be. I would have a rabid monkey spy on them and report back to me. Also, it would throw shit at them. I’m sure it would take a long time to make my army of rabid monkeys understand why they were attacking a human village, but I would eventually show them a picture of a chimp dressed up as a maid, with another chimp smoking a cigarette. Their rage would boil over. We would attack that night. While the rabid monkeys were creating havoc in the village I would start a large fire and stand before it laughing loudly. Villagers would hear my bellows and see my specter-like silhouette in front of the flames and they would think I had risen from the dead. My ex-wives would go mad at the sight of me, thinking I had come to drag them back to hell. Some would cry, some beg forgiveness, but all would be pelted mercilessly with rabid monkey shit. All my children would be spared. I would tell them to go out into the world and conquer it. I guess after that I would be pretty tired. I’d go back to my monkey home in the trees and sleep. I think I might die then, in my sleep, content that I had lived a full life. The monkeys would honour me as a great monkey leader, and leave my body to the scavengers. My bones would be picked clean by birds and feral dogs. Ants would swarm over me devouring my rotting flesh and bringing bits back to their queen. Some day, far in the future, scientists would find my bones. DNA tests would show that I was the ancestor of many great leaders and tyrants. I would be placed in a museum and gawked at for many generations. Maybe scientists would learn how bring people back to life, through stem cell research, and they would recreate me. I would come back with all of the knowledge I once had. It must have been stored in my bones somehow. Then I would stand trial for killing those missionaries and police officers so long ago. I would argue that having been dead for many a year I had already paid my dues to society. A jury of my peers would agree. I would live for a time in their futuristic city, but I would not be happy. One day I would pack a few things and wander off into the wilderness, looking for peace, solitude, and adventure.