They Don't Exist

“I hope I’m never eaten by a Cannibal.” William had whispered that morning. He was always worrying. In Crystal and Will’s trek around the world, Will fretted every inch. But Crystal didn’t mind holding him together through it all. She loved Will and enjoyed seeing how her coaxing, prodding, and encouragement brought out his manhood. On the Camels in the South of Egypt, he was a regular Lawrence of Arabia after she washed off the spit and assured him that nobody ever contracted rabies that way. In the Himalayas, he was her mystical shaman once she convinced him the hallucinogenic beverage would not have any permanent effects. Yes, she was pleased at how he was turning out.

Now, here, in the thick green forests of Borneo, the routine should not be any different, really. Crystal certainly had sympathy for Will, but couldn’t quite understand why he was making such an extra fuss. Sure, things were a little tougher than usual, but after the ants the hike was “all downhill” as they say. “And at least these weren’t the Bullet Ants of Central America, which have a positively nasty sting in comparison!” These were the words she used to comfort Will.

Then there was the matter of these natives, of course. Their guides went missing some miles back on the trail (probably catching up this minute)- so it was an annoyance they couldn’t talk to the interesting men who had tied them up and now carried them about on long poles. Poor Will, bless his heart; he was beginning to whimper. “I knew it! I knew this would happen. I’m going to be eaten by a Cannibal.”

Crystal gave a little laugh as she felt her motherly instincts rise to the occasion. “Cannibals! Will my darling, they don’t exist.”

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