MISTLETOE CAN BE DEADLY IF YOU EAT IT
watercolor pencil on paper
by Johnnie JungleGuts
Sonko Sleeping (Gift of Joy)
by Johnnie JungleGuts
Disposable camera photo, topsoil, Elmer’s glue
Fall 2010 (photo taken summer 2007)
CLICK ON THE IMAGE ABOVE AND THEN PRINT IT OUT SO YOU CAN DO IT WITH SOMEONE SPECIAL
Alphame 1st Growth- CORTAUD HAD IT EASY
by Johnnie JungleGuts
“WE’RE COMING UP ON A CLEARING. YOU CAN PROBABLY GET SOME CLEAN KILLS UP THERE”
“WELL I’M NOT BLIND!”
It was the usual job for Barry Neider and Butch Leripo. The two men could barely hear each other over the hum of the helicopter, which flew low over the snowy trees. Barry, a former crop duster, flew the craft, while Butch leaned out the window with a sniper rifle trained on the gray shapes which were moving swiftly through the wood. Wolf management had become routine and legal in Idaho after the Rockies wolves were delisted in late 2009. They had this a long time coming, Butch thought to himself. Wolves had been harassing and killing cattle for too long, and when it came time for hunting season, the deer had gotten so sparse that you didn’t even want to go out. It was all thanks to those damn wolves. He even heard that a pack would sometimes trap a bear in her den and eat her too. Boy, Butch thought to himself, If the devil was an animal he sure as hell would be a wolf. Wolf’s the only animal that kills everything.
The pack bursted through the tree-line as the helicopter approached the snow covered meadow. They had already been chasing them for a few hours so they were good and tired. Butch opened fire into the middle of the group and a bullet caught one of the wolves in the hind quarters. It wasn’t a clean kill but that was one wolf that wouldn’t be getting up. Butch resteadied his scope and then nearly jumped out of his seat when he noticed a human figure standing in the direct path of the wolf pack.
“BARRY I THINK THERE’S A GUY DOWN THERE!
‘YEAH I THINK I SEE HIM! HOW THE HELL DID HE GET ALL THE WAY OUT HERE?!?!’
Through his scope Butch could make out a tall Caucasian male with long brown hair. He wore a mottled light grey fur that camouflaged him somewhat in the snow. The figure seemed oblivious to the wolves but was staring straight at the chopper. There was some sort of long pole strapped to his back and in his one hand he held the center of a length of wood which tapered at each end. Butch could barely make out what he was doing with his other hand.
‘BARRY I THINK HE’s GOT A BOW OR”
the first arrow burst through the the plexiglass windshield, and continued on through the bottom of Barry’s helmet and into his jugular. Barry let out a groan and fell over onto the controls and the copter began twisting wildly in the air. The second arrow shattered through the plexiglass and struck the short wave radio transmitter, breaking it into several pieces. As his life slipped swiftly out of his throat all Barry could think about was how miraculous it was that the second arrow had made it into the innards of the helicopter when the vehicle was swerving so madly. Butch ripped his rifle from the window and jammed it into the space between the two seats. it took all of his concentration to pull Barry’s bloody body off of the dashboard. Butch leaned over the bloody carcass and took the controls of the helicopter which crash landed right side up into the snow mere seconds later, causing a small blast of the white powder to shoot up in every direction. Butch felt himself to make sure he was still alive and then reached to feel the pulse on Barry’s bloodsticky hot neck. There was nothing, Barry was gone.
