On the second night we were camping in the Canadian wilderness the men of the party began displaying their tremendous farting abilities. They farted to the left; they farted to the right; they farted explosively straight into their stained lawn chairs. Everybody was well pleased with themselves.
Then Sonja farted. You could hear her feminine fart bounce between cliff faces up the long valley. The men giggled. Sonja told them, "You motherfuckers fart like little girls in pink frilly dresses."
We were as deep in the wilderness as a car will go. We were so deep in the wilderness I heard the voice of John Denver. I heard the voice about the same time I finished off the bottle of Chartreuse I had brought along. It was the first time on the Chartreuse for me but it will not be the last. John Denver had this to say thanks to the monks of France, "Hey Country Boy. Why don't you smoke a little dope like everybody else? Here you are living in the middle of the Dope Kingdom and all you're doing is drinking. Get stoned motherfucker."
So I smoked a couple joints, drank some more beer and guzzled some blackberry port and vanilla tequila. At one point somebody put Hawkwind's "Hall of the Mountain Grill" in their 4x4's player. It did not take long before I was back in my spaceship, a Warrior on the Edge of Time.
I like to do the Canadian thing to do. The Canadian thing to do this weekend was to go camping.