Mystic hunting (I)

A tediously boring documentary on the Republic of Mornia (1) –a remote country that I couldn’t even place in the map- was on the TV. I was painting my toenails pink when the phone went.

- Hi Len. It’s me –said a male voice-.

You must be wondering who the hell it was and how the hell I bloody perfectly knew who it was.


- Wow! The dude who likes doing really naughty things in elevators! -I said-
- Yeah, the selfsame one!

We hadn’t spoken since that night at the elevator. Some days had passed but I didn’t dare to call him; I thought it was better to leave the ball on his roof. When I heard his voice again, I shuddered with pleasure and accidentally spilled some pink nail polish on my feet.

- Hey Len, are you there? –he asked-.
- I’m here, yes. How is it going?
- Perfect! How are you?
- I’m fine, thanks.
- Tell me, babe… do you have any plans for the weekend?
- Hm… not yet.
- That’s cool. Just in case Walt the Jerk would ask you out… give him the finger again, please. Would you like to go shooting with me?

Jeez. Shooting. I knew he enjoyed playing online war games, but I never thought he enjoyed real shooting. Some of his interests were history, wars and weapons. He was a natural born player and the kind of guy who needed an overwhelming victory from time to time. He played Enemy Territory (2) as a lonely soul; as a mercenary who would never team up. He released his spare adrenaline aiming at any moving target in his monitor, under the name of “Alec Magnus”.

Some days after we had met, he asked me what my e-mail was and sent me a summary of his weekly sessions, including a screenshot of the winners’ ranking –where he was the best- adding only this short sentence: “Alec Magnus strikes again”. From the very beginning I knew he was not the kind of guy who washes his car every Sunday.

I have always been afraid of firearms –of any kind of arms, in fact- and fiercely opposed to them. And about hunting… I could never understand why anyone would want to shoot a wild animal. That was definitely against my principles. I started squeezing my brains trying desperately to think of the politest way to say I wouldn’t go without hurting him.

- I’d love to, Bob. But I’ve never gone shooting. Fishing with my mom and dad in summer in a river overcrowded with trouts when I was a kid, is the closest I’ve ever been to hunting. -I said-
- It doesn’t matter, Len. I’ll teach you. That will be fun.
- With my kind of bad luck I’ll probably end up blowing a hole right through your feet!

We laughed. My first attempts to decline his invitation didn’t seem to be working. I continued talking as I looked for a credible excuse.

- I didn’t know you were a hunter, Bob –I said-
- I've been a hunter pretty much all my life, but I've never really shot anything terribly big. Only rabbits and pigeons.
- Hm. I suppose you have a license.
- Wrong assumption, baby.
- Oh my gawd! You’re a poacher!!!
- Yeah missy, my pleasure! This adds a charming touch to my hunting. But I am most confident: should anything happen to me, you could always be my lawyer.
- I don't think I could possibly do that!!! On top of it I will be shooting with you, the authorities will catch me too!!!
- Aww… what a lovely rhyme! Wouldn’t it be nice to go to jail together, Len?

I needed some seconds to catch my breath.

- At least I hope you don’t eat what you hunt. - I said-
- What do you mean?
- Say that you shoot a rabbit; will you cook it and eat it?
- Yeah, what’s the problem?
- It hasn’t passed the sanitation control.
- My rabbit has been naturally fed with organic stuff. No hormones. No stress in its blood. It has lived in the open air. Not encaged in a farm, but enjoying total freedom. What’s wrong with that?

My thoughts were getting very controversial at that point. I wouldn’t betray my ideas but my will was getting weaker all the time: I was quickly and dangerously running out of excuses.

- Say yes, Len.
- I wouldn’t trust you with a gun in your hands. I don’t even know if I can trust you without a gun!
- You're very funny, babe, but you know you can trust me. With or without a gun.

Bob was very persistent. I was struggling with the balance of pros and cons. I started thinking that maybe I didn’t have to be that strict, as far as my principles were concerned.

- Where are we going? What do I need to take? And how long are we gonna be out? -I asked-

- Forests of Lowenia (3). I’ll take care of the hunting stuff. We will be out Friday and Saturday and back home on Sunday morning.
- Hm… and where are we supposed to sleep?

- In the open air if it’s warm. In my tepee if it rains.

- I haven’t slept in a tepee since my college days and I swore to God I would never do that again unless I would be suffering from severe alcohol intoxication.

- Get pissed, then. But I won’t let you shoot if you do. I have a warm sleeping bag for two. But I’m sorry to say I won’t share it with you. And this was not meant to rhyme.

I smiled.

- That’s ok. Stop the cheap poetry. I have my own sleeping bag. -I said-

- Cool. I know what you’re asking yourself right now.

- Oh, it seems that this evening you can read my mind. And what is it, if I may ask.

- Yes, you may. You’re asking yourself if this is the bag where I used to sleep with my ex.

Fucking Orsinian babe again.

- Frankly my dear, I don't give a rat's ass!!!

- Yes, we used to sleep in it.

- Ok, thanks for this valuable piece of information. I hope you disinfect germs carefully before I get in, if I ever do, which is very unlike to happen out of Dreamland!

- We agree at last, baby. It won’t happen; not in a million years. Not even if you implore me on your bended knees! –he said, dying of laughter-

And then there was silence.

- Now seriously, Len, I know what you’re thinking: you’re against fire arms; against shooting and hunting; against illegalities; and last but not least: against my taste for transgressions, right? -he said-
- No, I really like your taste for transgressions. Honest.
- Do you think I'm an aggressive guy? Tell me, please. In all honesty.

- No, Bob, I don't.

- That’s cool, baby. Join me then. You will discover secrets about yourself that you haven't noticed yet but were always there, lurking like ghosts in the shadows of your soul: the sweet taste of wildness in your blood; the intense feeling of your primary instincts; the dark mistery of your animality hidden; the mystic experience of being one with nature; the magic brutality that you can control at all times and the pleasure you will be experiencing when you set it free. Let me give you a different perspective, so you can have more elements of judgement. Only then you will be able to decide what you want to think.

Gosh, how could I possibly say no??? This could be messy but I decided to run the risk: I had no choice but surrender my heart to his fascinating words.

- Ok Bob, I’ll go shooting with you.

(To be continued)

(1) Mornia: Another fictionnal country. The most remote and deadly boring fictionnal country on Earth.
(2) Enemy Territory, previously known as Wolfenstein, is an online multi-player game, where the players interact with each other over a network in two teams (Allies and Axis) to defend or destroy mission objectives during WW2.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolfenstein:_Enemy_Territory
http://www.enemyterritory.com/

(3) Forests of Lowenia: Fictionnal place too.

The Doors "The ghost song"