I’m jogging this morning out in a semi-wild area. As I am going over a small bridge spanning a decent sized stream, I hear a huge splash. I look down to the water, and see a huge buck that had bounded over the fence bordering the bridge plummeting into the water.
Then I look forward, and at the far end of the bridge, there is a small deer. It sees me, and is clearly terrified, and is trying to escape the far end of the bridge. However, it is blocked by a gate at the end and the fences along the sides and, unlike the buck, is too small to bound over the fence and into the stream.
So I, in the heat of the moment, climb over the fence bordering the bridge, shimmy along the bridge on the outside, and then descend onto the far bank of the stream. As soon as I let go of the bridge, I slip down onto my side and start to slide down the bank–which was soft goopy mud–into the motherfucken stream. So I reach out and grab hold of a tree trunk, stop my slide, scurry back up the bank and onto the gravel road I was heading for in the first place.
While I am haplessly fuckeing uppe like this on the stream bank, the small deer sees that the coast is clear, and runs away to freedom across the bridge in the direction I originally came from, which is not blocked by any gate or fences. I look down at myself, and I am completely coated in mud, and my hand is bleeding like a motherfucker, as I had bruised and slashed it open on the tree that I grabbed to prevent my slide into the motherfucken stream.
I have absolutely no explanation for why I didn’t simply run back across the motherfucken bridge in the direction I originally came from, get out of the small deer’s way, and allow it to escape to freedom without fuckeing myself uppe on the bank of the stream.