In retrospect, his statement seemed, perhaps, erroneous. I RAN up the hill back towards the field with George trailing me yelling, “Stand next to me! I’m kind of wearing orange!” When we made it to the top, we caught our breath, and I whapped him on the arm. “WHY IS NOTHING WE DO EVER NORMAL!?” I gasped. “Isn’t it great,” he asked back, beaming.
Needless to say, we made it back safely about 30 or so minutes later, only to encounter another gang of hunters in the parking lot who gave us a quizzical look, as if to say: “Who are you morons, and why did you emerge from the woods wearing inappropriate outfits consisting of at least one sparkly sweatshirt?”
Friends, I really gave it all I had, but I officially think I’ve had enough of the outdoors for one year.