Disclaimer: may contain non-PG material.***Closed unless requested.
The first thing I thought, as anyone else would naturally do in my situation, was how in the ever-loving fuck did I get to Norway?!
I mean, at first that’s where I honestly thought I was. It was snowing, heavily. There were endless pine trees in every direction, populated apparently by very hungry rats the size of dogs and even hungrier wolves the size of, well, large wolves.
Do Norway even have giant rats and wolves? I asked myself. It was a question that could really have waited until later, given how hungry they all looked. The wolves decided the rats would make an excellent appetiser, and I decided to not play host to this psychotic edition of Come Dine with Me. So, I ran, and left the dog-rat things to their fate.
It turns out that wolves are a lot quicker than they look. Like, a lot quicker. I mean, I’m slightly overweight and a bit unfit, so I had no business pretending that I could outrun a pack of wolves. Especially over a blanket of thick, sticky snow, through a labyrinth of pine trees and across a mile wide frozen river. To be fair, even if I had been running on freshly cut grass with Sonic the Hedgehog’s sneakers and the wolves had been wearing rollerblades, it still would have been a photo finish situation.
So, when they did catch up to me, I was on my arse at the edge of that river and in deep shit.
How do you fight a pack of wolves? was my next question, as they closed in on me with born fangs and agitated growls. One of them (I assume the alpha) loomed over me, a string of dog-rat thing flesh still swinging from between its incisors.
I’d always hoped I’d die in space, or at least in my sleep. I guess I’d have to settle with being eaten by a wolf, in the arse end of nowhere. A shame really. I’d never get the funeral I’d always wanted. That was the one where I would make the gathering sit down and listen to all twenty minutes worth of Shine on You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd. It wasn’t even my favourite song by them, it was just long and annoying to everyone else who wasn’t a Floyd fan.
Wonder what- wait. I couldn’t remember their faces. You know, my family and the people I’m supposed to love. Why? I remembered Ross, and Luke, and Mark. My mates, the boys. Why no one else? Was I suffering from, what was it called? Am-something?
I tried to explain my predicament to the approaching wolf, but surprisingly he didn’t really care. He bore down on me now, his frost covered snout investigating my scent and huffing clouds of rank vapour into my cold face.
I prepared for death, and an eternity surfing the lake of fire, jamming to Machine Head. There were worse things, I reasoned; like drinking rosemary flavoured vodka in Krakow. Fuck you, Luke.
I wasn’t really expecting the wolf to just explode in a cloud of red mist and mottled fur.
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