Free Turds in the Punch Bowl (A Story of No Ordinary Friendship) by Jen Ashton Page A

one of us weren’t so hard headed. We would’ve surely turned back long ago if I would’ve been rational about our hike. It was getting late, we were out of drinking water and the tiny stream we had been following disappeared deep into the rocks above us. We had reached the end of this adventure.
    Unfortunately, the end didn’t come soon enough for us. As we made our descent down the rocks, scrambling and climbing carefully, time slipped through the hourglass and we found ourselves nowhere near the base by sunset. We were on the east side of the mountain and once the sun dipped beyond its peaks, the darkness fell over the land and blinded us.
    “Well, that sucks,” Joey mentioned as the last light faded quickly.
    I tried not to seem panicked, but I knew we didn’t bring flashlights. We opted to walk outside the greenbelt where the trees were sparse and we could hear the dirt and gravel crunch under our feet. At least that way we knew there were no surprises. That was until I ran face first into my first Joshua tree. We were going to need a better plan. We weren’t going to be able to rely on our eyesight alone. The desert is a dark, dark place at night and we happened to go for a hike on a moonless night.
    Joe had his cell phone, so we tried using it to light our way. It worked for a while, until the battery ran out. We were still at least a mile from the road. We could see headlights of passing cars in the distance and hoped we were pointed in the right direction as we guessed the approximate place that we parked. We kept our eyes glued on that highway as we trekked on. Then, we saw flashing red and blues coming down the road. It never donned on us that it could mean trouble, we were just hoping for a glimpse of our car in its aura as it passed by. To our dismay, the patrol car stopped short of where we thought we parked and remained there for some time.
    Just then, as I narrowly dodged another tree in the face, I heard something echo through the canyon. I wasn’t familiar with the sound, but I knew that it came from an animal. I stopped dead in my tracks.
    “Joe, did you hear that?”
    “What?”
    “Shhh,” I shushed him. “Stop. Listen.”
    We waited a few seconds.
    “I don’t hear anything,” he started to say.
    “Shhh!” I scolded him. “Just wait.”
    All we could hear was the dirt shifting under our shoes. The canyon was silent. Even the lights flashing in the distance were not accompanied by sound. No sirens, no birds, no bats, no frogs from the creek. The night was still.
    “HEEHAW!”
    I screamed! It was right behind me. I have no idea how big or small that burro was, where he came from or what he wanted, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I bolted.
    “Wait for me!” Joe called out, but I was long gone.
    “Omigod, omigod, omigod,” I kept repeating as I held my hands up in front of my face feeling for branches as I ran. I was laughing, but I was scared. So scared I didn’t even realize I was headed in the wrong direction. Suddenly, I was surrounded by heehawing donkeys! They were everywhere, but I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t tell how close or far they were because their voices were echoing all around.
    “Joe!” I screamed. “Joe!”
    I was starting to panic. I was alone in the dark with a herd of wild burros, who did or did not eat meat. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I was a small human wearing a small bikini in a big desert. I didn’t have much meat on my bones, but if those beasts were as hungry and parched as I was from being in the dry heat all day, it was mere moments before they surrounded me like a pack of rabid wolves.
    “Joe!” My voice was getting higher in octave as I reverted back to being a scared little girl. I was paralyzed with fear. “Joe!”
    I heard the donkeys moving in to get me. Their footsteps were getting closer. I covered my head with my arms and squatted down into the fetal position. I was done for.
    “Monkey?” I heard Joe say as he