In the jungle. Rich. Dark. Green. It smelled green… and wild. Even the air has weight. Leaves, wide and leathery, silken almost, brush against her. The trees tittering. An alien music. A pagan hymn. She stumbles through this cursed Eden. Alone. Bloodied.
“Who in the hell goes on a honeymoon safari? I wanted to go to Hawaii. Lie on the beach in a teeny tiny swimsuit drinking sweet rum drinks from hollowed out coconut shells complete with paper parasol. But nooo, he wants to go to Africa. And the cheap bastard got some local ding-dongs instead of reputable guides.”
Abruptly she halts in mid-stride, stunned. “Oh my God, I’m a freakin’ widow!”
Wailing and bawling like a spoiled child she stomps through the jungle, slapping the leaves out of her way. Suddenly everything is tossed head over heels and she finds herself face down on the jungle floor.
Gasping, she sits on her haunches, legs spread in a most vulgar way. “Who is there to care? Those damn yapping monkeys?”
“Wait… It’s so quiet. Where are those little pests? Oh, who cares? Finally a minute’s peace.”
“OH MY GOOOODDDD!!!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAHHHHHH.”
Then sudden silence… but for an odd smacking sound.
