Ditching the Demons

Why You Should Always Follow the Buddy System

Why You Should Always Follow the Buddy System

“You know, I’d hate to say ‘I told you so’ but...”

Meris pulled at one of the many thorned branches attached to his clothes. “No, by all means, say it as much you like. I should have listened to you in the first place.”

“The idea in general wasn’t bad,” Myra reassured him, while she attempted to detach herself from the spike laden bushes without drawing any blood (because their situation certainly didn’t need that added element). “But using this particular path—or lack of—to get down to the stream was not your brightest idea ever.”

“I definitely didn’t expect that drop-off to be there.”

This point was proven earlier by his girlish squeal and arm flailing which immediately followed his sudden discovery of the gully edge. And Myra, in response to his fall, went against her good judgment and raced to the edge, which quite predictably, crumbled.

Luckily, when she fell, she did not land on top of him in any cliché suggestive position, but rather, slid in behind him bumping his back lightly with her knees.

So now, exactly one minute and twenty-seven seconds later, they were finally attempting to ascertain a way to get out of their situation.

Since he was facing the other direction and couldn’t turn around, Meris talked to her over his shoulder, “Any ideas?”

“None. You?”

“Yes, one, but it’s not very good. And considering the results of my last three ideas which consecutively resulted in us getting lost, losing our dowels, and ending up in this rather uncomfortable position; I don’t think you want to hear it.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, “I already told you that they weren’t bad ideas. You’re a smart person. Any idea you have I know I can trust to be intelligent, not always well thought out, but... just tell me what it is, then I’ll judge if it’s good or not.”

He sighed and looked above them. “Well, basically it involves—that is a really big chicken.”

“Eh?” she pulled her hand back, startled at his words. But he grabbed it and held it tightly.

“Look!” he said, pointing up. “Is that, or is that not the biggest chicken you have ever seen?”

Myra’s eyes followed the invisible line from Meris’s finger. It ended on what was, quite definitely, the biggest chicken she had ever seen. The reddish brown colored bird nested on the large branches of a gigantic tree that was near them. Its size was at least as big a cow, but with its feathers all puffed out, it appeared much bigger. Golden-yellow eyes stared piercingly over a stubby, yet razor sharp beak which hung slightly open, showing off a forked tongue.

“This is bad,” Meris gulped. “I think I hear chicks.”

Myra, who had occasionally visited her uncle’s farm, knew just how dangerous a mother hen could be. “That idea you had earlier? What ever it is, I’m all for it as long as it gets us out of here quickly.”

“Actually, that basically is the idea.” Keeping a firm grip on her hand, he stood up, pulling her to her feet. Then he spoke the word which she wanted to hear most and least at that moment.

“Run.”

And run they did, with no purpose or direction in mind, save the one that led them away from the great fowl the fastest. Meris was taking most of the damage from the bushes because he was leading, but Myra was certainly getting her fair share of scratches and scrapes. They both used one arm to shield their faces while never letting go of the other’s hand.