By: Brad Cox
One time, we all went on this canoe trip with Jenny ‘Tank’ Samms, Jeff Clemence, Farooq, Sean Haley, Jason Samms and a few others. We had all stopped at ‘party cove’, about half way down the river, we all stopped to do endless beer bongs, jump off a small cliff and choke down a few more Jell-O shots. In all the midst of the drunken shenanigans we all somehow got separated. As Sean, Farooq and I headed down river in a raft, little did we know something was following us, something evil… As we floated about 300 yards away we heard something, something so terrifying that devil himself would run away. Jenny was screaming at us to stop. We had made the mistake of taking off in the raft that had the cooler in it, therefore we had the sandwiches. If you know Jenny at all you know she is at her most venerable when she is away from her sandwiches. As we pulled over and waited for her to come to us, an extremely high Farooq had spotted a turtle some 20 yards back. As he went to go throw rocks at this alleged turtle, that no one else saw by the way, Jenny slowly approached. In a barrage of cursing and angry, angry body language she had finally made it to our position. Now, one would think that she would dock her raft next to ours on the shore of the river. Oh no, not in her state of rage. She decided that as she floated by, she was so angry that she would just barrel right over the side and come to us. As she jettisoned over the edge like an elite navy seal on a reconnaissance mission, she sank straight to the bottom of the river. Not being the most buoyant of people she sunk faster than a shiny new quarter flicked into a fountain for good luck. We new this could be the end of us all. As she sank; her raft which contained a passed out drunk Jeff Clemence kept right on down the river until it finally came to rest amidst a log jam a stones throw away. By this time Jenny was yet to emerge from the murky river that stood between us and our certain death. Soon she appeared, walking up the shore she came out of the water like ‘Swamp Thing’, covered in moss, mud and muck she had the look of death in her eyes, all while sporting a single strap, black, Andre ‘The Giant’ type bathing suite. She then verbally attacked Sean and I with language blows that would bring the most fowl mouthed heavyweight to his knees. She was looking for her cigarettes and she was not going to stop her relentless assault until she found them. As she flopped into our raft like a fish out of water, she ripped the lid off the cooler, tossing it into the air as if it were shot from a cannon, and demanded compensation for her stolen cigarettes. She threatened first with a half drunken bottle of Jim Beam. She swore that if her smokes weren’t returned in a timely manner that she would seek revenge by dumping out the glorious golden nectar that filed that glass bottle. As we assured her we had not stolen her cigarettes she, in the blink of an eye, tossed to bottle into the sky with the force of a thousand winds. As I watched the bottle land in the river I started to notice my life pass before my very eyes. She then continued with her gorilla tactics on a freshly opened bottle of Jagermeyster. As she latched onto it with her supple, supple hands we begged and pleaded for her to stop, only to be knocked to the ground with a stare, a stare that was more violent that the fires of hell. After more assurances that we had not taken her cigarettes, that bottle too, was airborne. At this point there was little we could do, with no horse tranquilizers nor bear mace in sight we assumed the fetal position and prepared for the worst. As we awaited our most certain death something strange happened, something extraordinary. Like a bloodhound tracking an escaped convict, she got the scent. Her head whipped to the left and her eyes locked on target like a well trained sniper. She had spotted Farooq, who was still looking for the ‘turtle’ he says he saw, she had spotted him and he was smoking her cigarettes. As she turned her attention form us she started the slow-motion ‘Baywatch’ beach run that would eventually lead to, quit possibly, the funniest thing I had ever seen. As she built up speed for the relentless 20 yard sprint to punish the brown creature that had stolen her cigarettes, we switched to survival mode. We got into the raft and the safety of the water and began shouting our warning cries at the still clueless Farooq. As she got closer to his position we all became worried. Finally in one last attempt to save a minority’s life Sean yells, ‘GET OUT OF THE KILL ZONE’!!!!! As Jenny reaches for Farooq’s hairless, helpless brown body to send him to a certain death, he hears our warnings. In the last split second, Farooq turns his shoulders and narrowly escapes into a dead sprint down stream to safety. At the same time, in her hastiness, Jenny had left her feet in one last great attempt to capture the brown cigarette thief. Needless to say she missed. As she splashed down into the waters right off shore, she was reminiscent of a great grizzly bear feeling the full effects of a scientists tranquilizer dart…. SHE’S DOWN!!!! Never to be out done, she’s back on her feet. Stumbling to and awkward slowing lethargic walk she finally runs out of breath after about five steps towards Farooq’s fleeing distance. During this hilarious display of uncomfortable awkwardness Jenny had put on, Farooq found his way to the raft and the safety of the river where we took off down stream. As Jenny then mustered enough strength to make one last attempt at out capture, she leaped into the river heading for our boat. Cursing our names and slowing to a turtles pace she slowly got smaller as we drifted out of sight. 30 minuets into our escape we spotted something amazing. Caught in the middle of a fallen tree into the river we noticed a half full bottle of Jim Beam and the green glow of a black liquorish delight, our Jagermeyster. The trip had truly turned out okay. Although the rest of the trip Jenny had to be distracted with uncooked beef.
