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Wednesday, June 08, 2005

The Restless Night of the Natives

And still a Continuation...
Note: Many rumors have circulated about the tribal customs of Bachelorongo. The below is a rare excerpt from a converted anthropologist. It is known that most wedding parties are silent about their prematrimonial rites but such an exotic account was handed down to me by unmentionable circumstances, therefore I feel compelled to share what dark and barbarous rites are a part of such a fierce culture. -Gus Flichenborg, National Geographic Explorer

The night fell slow. But when it did, down fell all propriety with it. That night all the wild mayhem was to break loose. It was Jeremy Bojarski's final step out of barbaric bachelorhood and into domestic servitude. -And we were the men that would give him the initiation rite, the passage from our savage world of brutish behavior and guttural grunts into a world of matching bathroom towels and pleasant dining room placement sets. The whole theme for the night was going to be a jungle scene, thought up by Jonathan Bojarski, Jeremy's youngest brother. We transformed their basement into a rainforest. We hung green streamers from the ceiling and cleared the area for some candles. Then when the whole tribe was assembled we dressed in grass skirts and bare-chested we applied our war paint. There was about 10 or 11 of us in all. Before Jeremy arrived some girls made the mistake of stopping by to deliver cookies. We chased them all off with hoops and hollers and water pistols, after the cookies were delivered, of course. The female tribe was a rival tribe that was stealing one of our own. Therefore we were going to annoint this stolen one as chief for the night. It was the tribal custom. Of course he didn't know this at this time. But he was soon to find out.
I do not know what Jeremy's thoughts were when he approached the basement and he could hear the primitive chanting along with the bongo drum being hammered and see the shadows move wildly across the wall from the flickering candlelight. I'm not sure he was ready for this. As he walked through the two trees in front of the entrance, I'm sure he thought about stepping back and escaping from the loud cries. Maybe he thought if we really did have superpowers what comfort they might bring him. Nevertheless, before his eyes could take in this wild assembly of savagery, hands were on him, hooping and chanting were in his ears and before long his clothes were stripped off and replaced with a grass skirt and headress. Next the surprised inductee was slapped with warpaint also. Then a scepter was thrown into his hands, and he was seated on a primitive throne around a bunch of candles. Then we all hailed our new chief. A drum beat began to play and we all began to dance around. Jonathan bust forth playing on a set of pan pipes with his racoon-like face paint as we all welcomed our bewildered cheiftain.
Then the tribal games began and each of them was rigged where Jeremy would lose and perform some sort of punishment. This was followed by our very own stripper for the night. Having no money, and because of morals and such we opted out on a very normal seductress and just dressed up Jonathan's dog with a grass skirt and a bra and made her came out and perform, yes, strange, I know. We just wanted Jeremy to have the best bachelor party ever.
After that, we had a devotional and each tribe member wrote down something uplifting for whenever Jeremy might go through some hard times in his marriage, which probably won't ever happen. But just in case ever a difficult moment does fall Jeremy can tear open an envelope and read something encouraging.
Next, came the outdoor games. It had been raining a little bit and it was slightly chilly. But regardless of the weather, ever tribe member slipped on a plastic bag. We were going to go mud or grass sliding. But first we made our way to the Cornwall 7/11 where it seemed that every person under 30 was congregated in that little Canadian town. In here we pull up, 2 car loads full of aborigines. We all fall out and enter all of us rushing over to the slurpy machine and filling up our cups with the stuff. Everyone's staring and laughing in the store. There is a group of girls outside the entrance. Being in the garb that I am in, I can't help but to try sweet talking them. I assure them in absolute confidence, that I bet that they wished they knew where the party was at. They shook their heads saying that I was exactly right. Just then, some other tribe members told me to come on and get in the car. That there's no time for any mating rituals.
Out at the soocer fields, we splashed ourselves with soap and then we tried sliding down this hill. Well, the hill was very small and it wasn't very fun. So, somehow we all ended up on the soccer field in front of the goals playing human soccer. We had a goalie or two that would watch for the rest of us as we would run and try to slide into the goal. Pretty soon, we poured soap all over the grass in front of the goal which made everything slippery. Just then, from out of nowhere, someone yelled and within seconds this huge wrestling match was taking place. Everyone was tackling each other. People on the ground, other people trying to grasp onto others but failing because everyone was coated in soap. I could barely see, my grass headress was in my eyes. But I remember going into a war-like frenzy and taking down several people. That's when someone yelled all the Canadians against the Americans. Now there was only 3 Americans in this group. Myself, Ryan, and this guy named Caleb. But I was ready for it. I hollered, "Bring it on!" But before anyone knew who was who, and before everyone was back on their feet. Someone else yelled that they had lost their glasses in the melee. So the riot stopped and we all began looking for his glasses. We combed through the grass, tuning our ears to the slightest crunch that a pair of glasses makes when a tribe of wildmen pass over it. Well, Mark, the guy whose glasses they were found them. At that point it was decided that we had our fun and that we should probably head back for tomorrow was going to be a long day. As we rode back in the cars, Mark, was talking while driving, when he looked up on his left hand only to cry out in exasperation. He had lost his wedding ring, also. The soap and all the wrestling must of slipped that ring straight off his finger and who knows where on that soccer field it was. All of us got dressed in more suitable clothes, it was started to get pretty cold out there, or least cold enough where you need some shoes and a shirt to be comfortable. Then, we all went back out there searching on our heads and knees, shifting through the blades of grass, covered with soap and bits and pieces of grass skirts hear and there. No ring. We quickly decided to find a wedding ring in this field was impossible during the night, so we would be back out there early the next morning and see if we could find it. Mark, in the meantime would just keep it on the downlow from his wife. This was all very ironic for me, seeing how is wife was none other than the girl I used to date. Oh, the problems with marriage. Like, worrying about rings flying off when you're soaped up and dressed up like a jungle savage wrestling on a soccer field. There should be warnings about such things in premarital counseling.
The next morning, we all got up early, too early...at least for the lack of sleep I'd been getting lately. For we had only a couple of hours until the ceremonies was to begin where Jeremy would then receive his ring that would keep him from ever wrestling in soap-splashed fields without worrying whether he took it off or not. So that morning found us all again on our hands and knees looking for the faintest glitter of gold shining through all that green. I never would have thought 2 years ago that I would be looking for this guy's ring which was the very symbol and token of his and Carmelle's love. I didn't mind at all. I'm happy for the both of them. I like Mark alot, and they both have a little one on the way. But I also like thinking such thoughts like, "What if back then i could've looked into the future and seen me crawling in this large soccer field looking for the covenant ring of the man who belongs to the very women that I was then dating?" Fate is such a funny concept. About the only thing predictable about it is that it is going to be completely unpredictable. And if a man or woman would learn to turn with this strange tide of events, and accept this mysterious rolling of the waters that we call life, he or she will then have learned to be happy. And now it was Jeremy's day to take such a plunge, that his life was about to detour into passages where there is to be no return.
Just then, after almost 2 hours of searching, Mark screams "Hallelujah!" and begins to sing the same hymn aloud with his hand lifted up, clutching his ring he had just found. Everyone was happy and relieved. I thought it befitting that Mark should find his own ring. I mean, it would have been kind of awkward had I found it. But, no worries about that. It seems that I'm content with being such a poor ring finder. I'd be the last to stumble upon a ring even if it was shining there before me. We brushed off the grass and went to get ready for the wedding. And still to be continued....


Blogger папа said...

Wow, Where do I start with this one? A good writer will have the ability to stir the immagination, to place the flow of words and thoughts in such a manner as to thrust the reader into his own thoughts and wonderment. That you have done! I cannot cease to wonder what precisely was the dog's name? You speedily glossed over this portion of the tale as if this was of no concern. I do not believe I have ever caught a glimpse of a dog wearing a bra. I'm sure she (thankfully, I do believe you mentioned it to be a "she", should it have been otherwise there would be a possibility of deep emotional scarring realized by this very innocent subject of humor)must have a regal name. I wonder if you even took the time to ask it of her? There are several other questions that come to mind; who exactly dressed this canine; who exactly donated the above mentioned apparel? And of course what breed of mongrel was she? I very much enjoyed the dive into the abiss of doom with the tale of the lost glasses and the lost ring. I actually felt the thrill of overjoyed exaltation of the found items of preciousness!! I even heard the joyious blare of trumpets as the ring is found. If I did not know your moral belief basis,or the abnormalcy of your life, I would think perchance that only alcohol could be responsible for much of the events of this recorded night. I find it hard to believe that there are that many individuals that would partake in this type of celebration. Perhaps I need to get out more. I must admit,very good story, Brian.

3:44 PM  
Blogger Brian Harrison said...

The dog's name was Ty. Sorry, about leaving this detail out of the story, but sometimes you get caught up in the climax of the narration, you forget important details. And I think she was some sort of a german shepherd, but I could be wrong, I don't know much about dogs, seeing how my parents took great measures to avoid me and my siblings from that wonderful world of pets. But, I am glad that you enjoyed the story.

12:11 PM  

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