One of the greatest inventions of mankind is the canoe. This weekend I was reminded that canoeing is one my favorite things to do, which in itself is sad because I haven’t done it since I was in middle school. I was reintroduced to the glory of the canoe on a visit to a relatives’ cabin where Rebecca and I paddled the shallow waters of some lake up north where everyone owns a pontoon boat. She got fed up with my piloting skills and suffered a bout sea-sickness which resulted in hours of puking and cursing me to my face.
But I was to be deterred.
I began to secretly lust for the canoe and would visit my parents under the guise of wanting to spend time with them, but my real intention was to devise a plan to steal the canoe hanging in their rafters. My obsession paralleled that of Captain Ahab’s mania over Moby Dick, though in less vengeful terms. Soon I enlisted the help of the stout Brent Berg and saddled the canoe upon his sturdy frame ordering him to march the edge of the lake. Without the proper licensing we spit the eye of the DNR, and flouted our courage by leaving behind the life jackets. Anyone who capsizes their craft deserves to drown!
We braved the surly waters and splashed through the nefarious waves with maniacal laughter, scoffing at the speed boats who tried to leave us forlorn in their wake. Encountering a sneering water-skier we beat him mercilessly with our paddles to a bloody pulp and left his carcass in the blood-soaked sea for the sharks to tear limb from limb. In response to our egregious offense, Mother Nature tried to threaten us with her thunder and lightening, but we proceeded to punch every drop of rain until her scurrilous clouds fell out of the sky.
Finally we ran aground after navigating through treacherous icebergs and swatting seals and batting penguins out of our way. Our journey had come to an end and we climbed into the strapping Toyota pick up and left the dead to burry their own dead.
Then Brent took the canoe home for the 4th of July weekend I finished my homework.