text: Standing at an imposing 5 feet (159 cm), my camp mate hails from a particular kind of human species that I’m not sure science has discovered yet. His patchy beard crowns a beaming smile. A pungent odour seeps from his yellow teeth and clogs the nostrils of anyone unfortunate enough to stand in his way. A few cigarettes away from being a chain-smoker- his presence rarely goes unnoticed; either thanks to his uncontrollable coughing which might (and should) raise doctors’ eyebrows or thanks to an inner gurgling sound which is always followed up by a blob of spit slapping the ground. Yet despite these... *vices*, one might rarely meet a more affable and generous goblin. He converses with everyone, takes an interest in their opinions and never shies away from a pickle- no matter the magnitude. Being a powerhouse of exuberance, if there was ever a “can-do” attitude that self-important managers on LinkedIn dream about- he is the only person in the world who truly embodies it. Throughout the duration of the expedition I learned plenty from and about this peculiar man. He is a sous-chef who allegedly sliced his finger open at work one day, only to stitch it back together using a first-aid kit and copious amounts of what I assume was cocaine. The hospital took care of the rest. To show his devotion to his craft, he tattooed a carrot on his right arm. It wasn’t long into our adventure that I realized he harbours a very short temper which to my genuine delight, is never channeled on anyone else but Jesus Christ and his extended family. “Fuck the Holy Mary!” he barks whenever faced with the mildest inconvenience. Awed remain the people in his surroundings, too dumbfounded to speak but also too afraid to stand in his way. I suspected that he has Tourettes but his friends shook off my well-meaning explanation to this peculiarity, saying that he wasn’t always this way. The day I began to fear this entity arrived only a few days into our expedition. The night had crept quickly- too quickly for my camp mate to remember to shower before the rest of the people in the camp did. This was a fatal oversight. As I unzipped my pants, ready to empty the proverbial snake prior to crawling into my sleeping bag, he erupted. In full force, blasphemies fired from one of the shower stalls in an uncontrollable manner, echoing around the entire campsite if not even further into the forest. “The other motherfucking retards used up all of the bull-fucking water!” he squealed. My piss danced around the toilet seat as I attempted to regain control amidst my tearful laughter. He did not stop. Blasphemies shot out of his mouth like bullets from a mounded gun. The wall banged as he drove his demonic fist into it repeatedly. As my last drops of piss descended into the puddle beneath me, I tried to get myself together- fearful that he’d notice my presence and direct his wrath onto me. I zipped up my pants, rubbed my reddish eyes after laughing uncontrollably for the last few minutes and began sneaking out. “Dog-fucking Christ, what a bunch of greedy pieces of shit...” he bellowed prior to whisking the shower curtain aside, only to find me tip-toeing half way across the room. Our eyes met. Inside his, I saw Satan incarnate- wearing the guise of an ordinary, if boisterous man. Inside mine, he saw a realization that his inner demon had been compromised. Seconds passed unhurriedly. We both erupted in laughter.