Back From the Wilderness

The stench of the latrine filled my nostrils as I approached the camp. With all of the stealth I could muster I crept closer and closer to the sound - and now smells - of the enemy who would immediately assail me if my presence was detected. I realized that I was holding my breath as my senses were on razor's edge; "must breathe normally" I told myself. Through the brush I could see the dimly lit faces that belonged to the people who wanted to cause me harm. It was the first time that I had laid eyes upon their evil flesh, and the sight made my blood run cold and boil at the same time. Here I would wait until they were asleep. Then I would make my move, and what a move it would be.

Silently I made myself comfortable against the base of a tree, not knowing how long I would have to be there. Close enough now to hear their breathing, I would wait until it achieved the measured rhythm of slumber, and then I would wait some more. To keep myself from also falling victim to Morpheus' spell, I began to think of stressful things that would stimulate my adrenal gland into releasing its magic hormone that would keep sleep at bay. I thought about my earlier near death moment, then about the time when I had been tortured to within an inch of oblivion; these two thoughts helped to stay my furor and fuel my will of revenge against these mongrels that lay just on the other side of the bush.

Then I thought of an even more stressful thing: It has been months since I last posted a decent entry on the hot dog blog. This thought became an over arching presence in my brain and I could not escape it. How could I engage in the battle that lay ahead with such a distraction hanging over my head? After a long internal struggle I decided that my nemeses' demise must wait for another day: I had more important things to do. Just as stealthily as I came, I retreated.

I promise, dear readers, this week there will be new reviews and other hot dog stuff posted.