Chapter ; Leopold Butters Stotch
Disclaimer 1 ; I don't own South Park.
Disclaimer 2 ; I own the crud in this chapter, so please don't steal it.
Author's Note ; Another short update. More to come next week. Enjoy.
The following events take place between 7:00p.m. and 7:16p.m. on June 5th.....
I hate camping.
Don't get me wrong, I love nature as much as any folk, but camping with my parents was always such a chore. They ask me to find firewood and smores sticks and get the bug spray and all those other things that adults cant do for themselves. They never let me do what I want to do. Do I get to climb trees? No. Do I get to play in the water? No. I get to find sticks and go to sleep.
I'd rather be at home playing Hello Kitty.
As I walk through the darkening woods, I realize I still only have an armful of twigs to bring back for the fire. I'm sure they'll burn for ten minutes before I'm sent out for more. I couldn't possibly go back now, or they'd yell at me and I really hate being yelled at. So instead, I walk deeper into the woods.
"Golly, its sure dark in here," I observe, peering through the looming darkness. Shadows dance all over the place, and I'm almost jumping out of my skin at any moment. I'm the kid that has to sleep with a night light, the covers tucked tightly around me, a flashlight next to my pillow in case the thing under the bed decides to come out for the first time in my life.
As I venture deeper into the woods, I forget all about the sticks I was sent to fetch and instead start thinking about the way to freedom and civilization. Shiny lights and the drone of engines really puts a person to sleep. The sounds of crickets and owls just doesn't bring the same comfort when the street lamp isn't shining in your bedroom window. It's all this thought of home that makes me stop walking suddenly, straining my ears to hear anything. The animals have stopped making noise, and I cant hear my parents if they're looking for me. I realize suddenly that my sense of direction is quite poor, and that I just may be lost.
Fishsticks.
Kicking at the leaves littering the ground, I almost walk directly into a stream. It must have been my lucky day, because a stream went through the campsite we were at. If I followed the stream, I would certainly come out next to the campsite. I learned that at scouts one year. It was one of the few things I retained for future reference. All the other things I just cant seem to remember.
As I stepped closer to the stream, my feet began to sink into the squishy, mucky ground. "Ewwey," I say, taking my foot back out to see my black shoes covered in mud. "Awwww, now I'm going to get in trouble."
"Wrrrrrrr."
The last thing I expected to hear in response was a low growl. Hopping on one leg, I turned around to see a large shape behind me. Yelping in fear, I dropped the sticks, falling on my rear in a combination os surprise and lack of balance. "Holy cow!"
"Wrrrrarrr."
"No! No, don't eat me, Mr. Bear! I-I'm sure I don't taste good!"