The Art Of Trekking

Firstly, I'm on the farm now, Santiago is a distant liver punching memory (a month ago!). I will post a specific farm blog soon when I have something interesting to say or make up. Meanwhile munch on this tasty post people.

Well, what a a day of soloman trekking indeed. I decided to go to the National Park Huerquehue (pronouncing that requires you to shit your pants a little) to see what the fuss was about and also as to inform tourists that stay at the farm/hostel thingo I am volunteering at. Started off Plain Jane enough, packed a lunch (with everything except the fucking bread!). Because I was trekking alone I power-housed it blitz style up the mountain – a whole damn kilometre more or less straight up. I have felt in poor form since my three month experience in Santiago but my spirits soared as I overtook rapidly everyone (middle aged people, fucking hippie tourists and an unusual amount of fat children).


The views where as you would expect, not bad. That's Volcan Villarrica and it's active my friends (it just didn't want to smoke for the camera).


Yes, very nice forest 'n that. Although one thing that seriously gets up my goat here is the lack of even semi decent signage. I didn't have a map because I didn't think I would need a map in a fucking famous national park. I didn't really know where I was going and actually lost the damn track altogether for a good five pants-shitting moments. But that, dear fans, turned out to be the least of my problems.


I noticed there were a lot of insects on the mountain and especially and unusual amount of DEAD insects. Suspicious? You bet.


This poor bastard had half his back crushed off!


This fucker doesn't look dead does he? A kind of beetle/spider hybrid, I got within LICKING distance and he still didn't move. So I did what I had to do...


I poked him with a stick to see what he was playing at. He was playing at being dead and he was playing it very well indeed. He moved ever so slightly, like being turned over by a creature a million times bigger than you is barely an inconvenience. I became bored and moved on reasonably quickly so maybe he played it right?


This dude was ALIVE and on a mission. A mission to not get his back crushed out I bet.


Dead.


Totally dead. This is one of those beetles that looks normal until you get too close and it SPLITS it exoskeleton in half to reveal a killer set of wings and scares yesterdays breakfast out of you.


I encountered a suspicious couple on the path too, just like this, therefore I was alert and ready to roundhouse before any words were exchanged. And those words were Would you like to join us for a cup of tea in our Bungalow? I know a pair of intersimian homos when I see them and those poses spoke a thousand dirty, dirty words. I bid them farewell and walked briskly away ready to defend a monkey punch to the back of the head.


Then things got much, much worser. My Hok Se Tong Long senses told me something was wrong in this part of the forest. I couldn't put my finger in it but I kept On Toes. Then something caught my eyes. Up Dere En Dem Treeees. An unnatural blur thing. Looks kind of like.... hell no... it couldn't be...


...the Predator! Shitcakes, what's he doing here!?


He dismounted the tree and got the show-pony tricks out. Face mask off, screechy shouts through his ridiculous crab face and some serious haunching. Then he pulled out the skull and spine combo, most likely of some other dumb National Park Tourist Hippie (hopefully a fucking Belgian) like I haven't seem that a million times before. I haven't fought the Predator before (although he has been emailing me for ages to set something up) but I am pretty sure I could take him, all smoke and mirrors that guy. So I made and equally impressive show of taking off my back pack and stretching my hamstrings. But before we could get the party started...


... in jumped his gay little insect friend and they were off batting each other about. I'd seen more than enough extraterrestrial foreplay and legged it out of there.


Back to the scenic route thanks. Now that's an impressive high altitude lake. Still, calm, tranquil. I cleared my mind and focussed on relaxing something serious. Then my super-hyper-alert-maxi-trekkers-intel mind flickered with a thought, what was that I just passed a moment ago...


...was that an old tree stump? Or was it... could it really be... a fucking old massive petrified... giant lizard turd.... oh my god... that means.... he's....


...HERE...FUCK! He found me again! GODZILLAAAAAAAA! That'll teach me to leave the house without anti-aircraft arsenal again. Shit, I got nothing but a Leatherman (and I can barely open the bastard)! He saw me and screamed that pathetic (and funnily enough Clam sounding) 'I'm a massive lizard' scream. Once again I took of my backpack, but this time I REALLY meant business. I'm trying to have a relaxing hike for fucks sake.


Most of you would probably remember the history G-Zilla and I have. A few years back when I was Chief In-House Mr Technological Inventor Maverick Master for DeWalt (aka The Dewalt Dude), we had a massive run in. He and his 'buddies' where getting smashed in an isolated Siberian desert mine watching the Aurora Borealis, the same place Dewalt test their dangerous new Drill-Or-Kill products. Mothra got way too smashed and started picking fights. It turned into a free-for-all-massive-punch-up-oversised-mascot-style-shit-fight. Eager to test out my new DeWalt modified industrial jackhammer, I stepped in and put a very rapid end to the show. Needless to say there is a little bad blood out there. Personally, I hate that fucking lizard, so now I did what I had to do...


I stepped out into the lake (did I mention all my clothes were in the wash so I was wearing my Deathbat outfit with cape because I had nothing else?) and dished out another pain session. You can't wear the Deathbat outfit and not carry a table tennis bat (you never know when you might get called up for a quick knock) so I was fully charged with Champion's Juice. We sparred freehand a little to warm up but I don't fuck around with competitive sport-like warm ups, I went hard and fast with a Ionized TT Forehand Ray (left handed too – how cocky is that!) straight to the lizard groin. He dropped like a sack of wet shit, I exited the lake, remounted the backpack and ran like the wind. Needless to say he will definitely be after me now for some retribution.

And of course it's been all over the news here like a tropical rash. I have agreed to a trilogy movie deal for a SHITMINE of money. My only requirement was that I write, direct, edit, art direct, critique and star in all three movies. I knocked out the screen plays quicksmart, shot all three in a week using mainly spliced stolen footage to help keep my profit margin respectable and now I am currently in edit phase (on a laptop upon a single bed, in an insect infested room in the Chilean countryside). I know trilogies are a dime a dozen these days so we are going to try something new and risky; release all three movies at the same time! Fuck waiting to see what happens next, just walk out the cinema, take a leak, top up the pop corn and walk back in.

The assistant writers and I thought the National Park setting was a bit gay so we slightly tinkered with it and now all three movies are set in Mega Cities.


Part One: Once Upon a Time In China (There Was A Fucking Massive Fist On Between Godzilla And Man Abroad)
Godzilla's spine has been reset, hes' finally passed that school bus that Man Abroad set on fire and drove down his throat and he's got revenge on his primitive reptilian mind. Man Abroad is working undercover as a tight pants wearing militant in Asia trying to bring down a massive fake chinaware triad gang in Shanghai. Godzilla knows where he is and is coming for him (and maybe some of those cute bambo shoots in pots for the new Asian themed room in his ocean lair). Buckle up action lovers and get ready for some hardcore city wide destruction Asian style!


Part Two: The Rookie and the Lizard: Santiago Nights
Slip in a Prequel? Yes please. Back to Santiago 1971. The mullet is taking flight, the dirty mo has settled in to stay, shirts are skin tight with 12 inch collars and pistols look very lady-like. Godzilla's ocean lair is being re-wallpapered so he's come to the city to see if he can pick up some new curtains to match. But Santiago doesn't want a 30 metre high fire-breathing lizard shopping in the CBD. So who do they call? Man Abroad is a rookie fresh out of Carabinero Academy, his pants are painted on and he's eager to shoot his pistol. Get ready for a shit fight on a scale never before seen (except in the first movie but that was set in the future so technically it hasn't happened yet).


Part Three: Godzilla Vs Mandroid Abroad
The eagerly anticipated climax to the trilogy. Its the year 2130. Godzilla finally stitched his arms back on, had a rest and is now back. And this time he's REALLY fucked off. Man Abroad is well and truly dead (he slipped in the shower and broke his neck in 2080). But modern medicine kept his head and penis on ice for 50 years while they upgraded him to Super Droid. In this final chapter the old score between two long time enemies is finally settled in the only way possible; hand to hand fighting on top of mega sky scrapers style.

Most of the hard yards of delivering this epic trilogyologised Man Vs Nature Vs Alien Vs Lizard biography to the people are done now and soon I can sit back a ride the cash wave all the way to the bank.