X. Fake Snakes and Elephant Dung, Part One

My newfound sense of responsibility as the ever-diligent, ever-helpful Jungle Guide had a two-fold effect on the travelers. For the young men who, not unlike myself, came to Thailand looking for adventure, I was sucking the very life out of the jungle. They couldn’t see that I was doing it for their own good. Nothing bad was going to happen to them, not here, not on my watch.

Everywhere they turned, there I was, holding every branch, testing every step. If they wandered two feet off the path, I’d be an instant one-man search party. I’d be there to assist at even the smallest of river crossings.

“Here, let me help you across,” I’d hold out my hand.

“No, I’m fine. Really.”

“The rocks are very slippery. You’d better give me your hand.”

“Leave me alone already!”


As for the less adventurously inclined, those who perhaps felt a bit apprehensive about venturing into the unknown, my constant exhortations and warnings only served to confirm their fears. It was a dangerous place indeed, the jungle, and only under the watchful eye of a seasoned professional, such as myself, could they possibly make it out alive. With these travelers, the more I fed their fears, the closer they clung to me, and the closer they clung, the more I realized how easy it would be to fuck with them.

I led a group through open grassland, an area resembling what I’d seen (in documentaries) of the African Savannah. I loved this spot. I would imagine that I was leading safaris (as if the jungles of Thailand weren’t adventure enough). We passed a rather large elephant turd, measuring at least six inches in height. I bent down and held my hand over the massive mound of waste, “It’s still warm… no more than an hour old…” then I stood up and surveyed the grasslands with my knowing, inscrutable squint, “The elephant that made this is can’t be too far off. We’d better keep our eyes open. Stay sharp, everybody,” I moved on along the trail, the travelers followed, stopping short every time a twig snapped.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Elephants actually did come through here, the dung was proof of that. It was, however, a pretty dried-out turd, probably days, if not weeks, old. But there was no need of letting the travelers know that. Why spoil their excitement? I was giving them a little more bang for their baht.

At the far end of the grasslands, there was a decomposing tree stump. Deep inside the rotted-out hole at the top, something glowed like two tiny eyes. One week back, when I first saw it, I thought it was a large insect or a small snake, but after watching it for a while, I saw that the eyes never moved or blinked. I was pretty sure it was inanimate, so I reached my hand in and nothing bit. I found a long, skinny stick alongside the stump and placed it inside the hole for later use, specifically one week later.

“Hey, look!” I beckoned the group over, “I think there’s something in here!”

One by one, they cautiously peeked inside and saw the glowing eyes. They argued about what it might be. If anyone got in too close, I’d warn them to back off a bit; they didn’t know what was in there. I had them right where I wanted them. I rolled up my sleeves, “I’m going to find out what it is.”

“Are you crazy?” they protested, “You don’t know what’s in there!”

“Relax. I know what I’m doing,” I reached in and rooted around, “Hold on. I think I got someth-- Oh fuck!” I tore my hand out of the hole, “FUCK… FUCK!!!” I spun around in panic, flailing my arm every which way, trying to shake this “thing” off my hand.

“Oh God! Somebody help him!”

“Wait a minute. What is that? Is that… is that a stick?”

“You asshole!”

They stormed off without me. I let them go while my evil cackling subsided. I knew they wouldn’t get far, the trail forked up ahead. They wouldn’t know which way to go. They needed me.