The Straw that Broke the Camel's Back
The straw that broke the camel's back was more of a log.
This was not surprising, and Bob's lumberjack friends would have been the first to tell him that it served him right, bringing a camel into the forest to do his dirty work for him. But they saw how broken up he was at having broken his camel's back.
He lumbered into camp at around half past seven, grime streaking from the sweat running down his face. Most of the lumberjacks, if questioned separately, would have also voiced their opinion that there were tears mixed in with the sweat, as well, but none would dare say that out loud in company. His formerly faithful camel, Wiggy, named so for reasons unknown, was flung over his back and Bob struggled mightily. He would explain later that this was largely due to having bounced off a number of trees in the course of his eight mile walk back to camp, carrying a camel on his back, trying to thread closely clumped trees. He would muse that he couldn't imagine shoving a camel through the eye of a needle, especially not if you had to carry it through on your own back.
As the crowd gathered, leaking out of tents into the campground like worms and crawly things from under a rotting tree when it's flipped over, Bob gently lay Wiggy down on the warming stones at the outside of the just-started fire. He straightened his back, looked to the sky, and started recounting the story to the mob.
"He was out by the larger trees, I was hacking away at the younger trees, working out some kinks in my swing. I'd been putting something amiss when I'd been working on the larger trees earlier than morning, and I left them aside to ensure I was getting better swings in for the final fell. He'd spit, every once in a while, which was making the ground near him quite disgusting.
"I'd stopped stacking felled tree bits on his back about the time I took a break to work on my swing. So he didn't have a lot on. That might be why he was spitting so much. Usually I stack him so heavily that he can't think of anything but the weight on this back and can't seem to work up the concentration to spit.
"But then, as I was really getting into the backswing (Yeah, Tom, I still had that weird hitch you saw a couple weeks back, I don't know where it's come from), and my right foot stepped back, slipped on a huge patch of camel spit, slipped, the axe head swung skywards like the pendulum in the Pit & the Pendulum...
"And then, *crack*! Down comes the tree I'd started on that morning, right onto poor Wiggy's back." He pointed at Wiggy, lying on the rocks beside the camp fire.
To be continued... ?
disclaimer:
So. Anyway. That was that.
And that's, hopefully, all we'll say on the matter.
SPONSOR MESSAGES:
Support Sane:
Tshirts & clothing: The Sane Magazine Shop at Cafe Press
- New designs trickling in now.
A Book: Fenway Fiction
A Second Book: Further Fenway Fiction
For you writerly types: Download Writer.app (which is free, so it's not really supporting us in a monetary, sugar daddy or mommy sort of way, but more in a "hey you guys go!" sort of way)
Or, visit our store at Amazon... check out some of the books that inspire or otherwise provoke the Sane Magazine writers.
Discuss this in the forums
Discuss the horoscopes in the forums
Forum hosting provided by forumthing.