I knew a guy who got so sick of other humans
that he finally moved to a remote area in British Columbia with his dog Sparks. He set up camp and lived off the land. The wilderness can be a forbidding place for
anyone, especially those of us who need our creature comforts and precious
electronic devices. This guy was as hardy as they come, well versed in the art and
science of survival. Nonetheless, while
he found himself staving off hunger from time to time, and warding off bears
and wolves almost always, his biggest struggle was with loneliness. So he invented imaginary people to keep him
company during long nights around the campfire.
He gave them weird names like Dodge, Shenandoah, and Earl. Oh, but there was a female in the bunch as
well. Her name was Sheila, a chestnut-haired
beauty from Kansas, and her inventor savored moments with her (and his canine
friend) under the stars. He imagined her
sweet face and amber lips in the moonlight, tucked inside a hooded woolen jacket, as he ruminated on the meaning of life. A year or so passed and our wilderness man became
perturbed, though this state of mind had nothing to do with the daily struggle for food or the threat of predatory
animals. No, he had grown used to this
rugged lifestyle. What perturbed him
were his make-believe friends, as they had become more numerous and quite loquacious. All they seemed to do was bitch and moan. They'd complain about his unkempt facial hair or the mess he'd leave around the camp. One of them, a vegetarian named Joel, gave him a hard time about his "murderous diet of meat." So the guy moved back to the city and currently lives
with his wife Sheila (so to speak) and dog in a van off 43rd Street.