Return to the Cabin

Warm regards to you, my closest friends.

I write this now as a farewell to you. Tomorrow, I venture off into a remote Indian Reservation in northern Minnesota to stay at a cabin owned by my grandparents for the weekend. I have been to this cabin before, and have experienced many wonderful and disturbing things there. After I returned from my cabin trip last summer, I tried to pretend that things were still the same, but alas, it became increasingly clear that I had become a stranger in the strange land of the Twin Cities. The bustling downtown and thriving community atmosphere that I once savored now felt overly urban and repugnant. The characters that I would meet on the street and regard fondly I now feared being raped by. The Timberwolves suddenly sucked. Nothing was the same, and deep in my heart I knew the decision that had to be made.

Now, nearly a year later, the pieces have been put into place, and my destination is set. I am venturing off into the wilderness, up to the cabin that is so dear to my heart. There I will become one with the elk of the forest, and we will live in communion with one another. I will be humbled by their wisdom and tested by their might. I will be challenged by the dominant male, Elklor the Strong, and be forced to wrestle him into the lake and drown him to death. Then I will deliver Strohs beer to the elk-beasts, and we will drink deeply from it and be satisfied. We will discuss the latest Arctic-Cat developments, groom our mustaches and eat the delicious berries of the forest. It will be magnificent.

And so, goodbye my friends and readers. If you see me again, I will be covered in dog pelts and speaking a language unfamiliar to you or any other human. I will attempt to stab you in your kidneys before finding your mother and punching her. Consider yourselves warned.

I’m off. Wish me luck!

P.S. Can I borrow some mosquito repellant from any of you?