If I ever had any doubts at all about reincarnation, the picture of the Muscovy duck to your right has pushed them all aside. With a single glance, you may just have to agree with me. For those of you unaware of the resemblance, the Muscovy duck looks eerily like the villain from the movie Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. Yes, I am sure you can see it now. Before you stands Darth Maul, the Duck.

I’ve heard it a thousand times, and I am sure some of you are thinking the same thing right now. Muscovy ducks must be the ugliest of the duck species. It is arguably the truest statement that I have ever heard. So how did these creatures come about? That’s a very good question because I can’t think why God would make these birds so scary looking. And if you think they look weird, you should hear them quack/hiss. That sound is enough to make the hairs on your back stand up. If I were to come up with a theory though, it would sound something like this . . .One night a drunk Turkey and a Goose under the influence of an illegal drug got their groove on. And the rest is history.

For those of you still scratching your heads about the resemblance between this poor creature and the villain Darth Maul – let me show you a picture.

It is a toss up. I am not sure which one scares me more.

A lot of people say that if they could be a bird, they would be a Hawk, an Eagle, or maybe even an Owl, but if I could choose, I would be a Hummingbird. They are a very interesting species. Very beautiful and delicate. I just wish it was easier to get a picture of them, but because they are very skittish and faster than a speeding bullet, they make it rather hard. If you have ever seen one, I am sure you know what I mean.

So, that leaves me settling with pictures like the one you see to your right. And I guess until I get one super awesome hi-tech camera or figure out how to rig mine in a place where they can’t see it – pictures like that one will have to do.

They are very curious little birds. When I stand by the window sometimes, one will buzz down to check me out, and then buzz away. They make me laugh when they fight over a feeder that could easily feed a legion of Hummingbirds and remind me of cats when they do. They always seem to hate one another, but there seems to never be a shortage of a new generation. Thinking about it, I guess humans are no different – we just happen to rule the world.

I tried to conduct an interview with the bee you can find in the picture to your left, but all I could hear or make out was, “Pollen. Pollen. Pollen. Got to get more pollen.” Over and over that is what I heard. He repeated this as he flew from one blossom to another sometimes landing on blossoms he had already been to. “Pollen! Pollen! Pollen! Where is the pollen?!” He would buzz. I tried to interrupt him to tell him which blossoms where the most profitable, but he wouldn’t listen. He was head strong and distracted. I was the last thing he wanted to pay any attention to. When I got my camera close enough to him to snap his picture, he buzzed over and landed on my lens. “Pollen. Pollen. Pollen. Are you pollen?” He buzzed. “No,” I said. “I am not pollen.” And then he buzzed away and landed on another blossom. I snapped his picture, and went on with my day.

With my tummy satiated on lizard, I decided to travel further into the wilderness of Table Rock country. What I found was nothing short of a nightmare.

After hiking a considerable distance, and scaling a particularly steep granite rock, I accidentally stumbled upon a herd of hungry spiders.

Yes, I said spiders.

And to my unlucky astonishment they were not the small, squish with your foot variety.

No, I could never be that fortunate. But the again, if I was, I’d never have interesting stories to tell.

But anyway, back to the spiders at hand, or rather, ten times the size of my hand.

Frozen half in terror and half in awe, I thought about turning tail and running like hell, but then one of the Enormous Eight Legged Freaks turned one of his billion eyes in my general direction and spotted me.

Drat.

“Aww, lookie here, friends, we have a visitor.”

I had no idea I could understand Spider. They had never taught me that in The University of Hell.

“What? Me? No, I was . . . just . . . passing through. Don’t mind me,” I said as I turned to shimmied back down the way I had come.

“Oh, do not leave us Maniac Gone Awry, we have yet to speak to one another.”

I stopped.

“You . . . you . . . know my name?”

The biggest of the spiders began to approach me on his eight rather creepy legs.

“Maniac, you insult me. Of course I know your name. You are known far and wide around these parts. ”

“I am?”

“Now you insult yourself Maniac.”

“I’m . . . sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Maniac.”

I didn’t know what else to say – so I smiled.

“My name Maniac, is Borgous and this is my tribe. And we’re hungry.”

Gulp.

“We were going to split a lizard we spotted earlier, but it seems someone else got to him first.”

“I, uh, really?”

“Yes, Maniac. Someone did,” the monstrous spider grinned. “And now that we have lost our supper, we need to have it replaced.”

“Of course you do, Borgous.”

“That’s Mighty Borgous to you, Maniac.”

“Yes, Mighty Borgous. What do you suggest?”

“Well, you, unless you have another idea.”

Another gulp.

“Mighty Borgous, I’m really not that tasty. Not even a dash of salt could make me edible for any species – especially as one as great as yours.”

“And how would you know that.”

“Oh, it was published it Maniac Weekly last October.”

“And who was the author?”

“Well, um, me . . .”

“Oh really? What gives you such knowledge?”

“Simple. No one but me could be so knowledgeable about me. I know myself best.”

“Good point, I guess. But who or what else will my tribe and I have for dinner then if we cannot dine on you?”

“Well, Mighty Borgous, there is a path just over that ridge,” I said and pointed to where I knew the Table Rock path was. “Just go sit and wait over there. A traveler will appear before long. I promise.”

Mighty Borgous and his tribe deliberated and then bid me farewell, being sure to tell me that I was very lucky that a dash of salt would not make me an agreeable dinner. And on that note they marched toward the path I had pointed out.

Before long, as I walked in the opposite direction, I thought I heard the screams of innocent hikers, but perhaps it was the sound of some strange new species of bird I have yet to discover.

Yes, and that is what I will continue to tell myself after I watch the 11 o’clock news tonight. It was a bird. A strange and fascinating bird.

The Ladies Lizard of the Audubon Swamp tried his best to avoid me for several weeks. He did the best a lizard could do, but I, Maniac Gone Awry, did better!

I got word from one of my contacts that he had been spotted in the upstate of South Carolina. So, as soon as Nick at Nite finished airing another rerun of Mork and Mindy, I took off after the cheap bastard. After all, he owed me at least one good wish, whether or not he wanted to give it to me.

I was half way up Table Rock Trail and rather out of breath when I saw him.

As pretty as could be, he was laying beside the mountain river, relaxing on a prepared pile of fallen leaves. Very carefully I tiptoed up behind him and placed my hand above his green lanky body. But before I could snatch him his eyes popped open and he spoke.

“Maniac, you really must find better ways to spend your time.”

“What?” He had caught me off guard.

“Imagine all the things you could have accomplished had you not been trying to find me.”

“That doesn’t matter. You owe me a wish. And a good one.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes. Yes, you do.”

“No. No, I don’t. You had your two wishes. I granted them.”

“Exactly, two wishes. What kind of idoit grants only two wishes?”

“I’m not an idiot, Maniac. And I told you that I was no genie. I am a lizard. The Ladies Lizard of the Audubon Swamp and I only grant two wishes. That is just how it works. Take it or leave it.”

“But . . but . . . you . . . why in the hell am I arguing with you?! You’re just a lizard!”

And that is when I sorta went what they call a little psychotic.

By looking at the above picture you can only imagine how Mr. Lizard spent his last few minutes on beautiful planet Earth.

It was the most wonderful, fulfilling lunch I had ever eaten.

I came across a field of sunflowers mostly by chance the other day, and decided to investigate.

What I thought was a field of sunflowers ended up being a field of condominiums inhabited by a score of Monarch butterflies and a few rather menacing looking bumble bees.

They were all pretty perturbed at the fact that I was A) not invited, B) that I had not knocked(even though I swore that I had never seen a door), and C) that I was neither a Monarch butterfly or a bumble bee.

After much conversation about how rude I was, I convinced one of each species to pose for a picture. I assured them that I was a professional and that taking pictures of such beautiful creatures had been my calling. I don’t know if they believed me or not. Probably not.

Ms. Monarch came first, and she was a little shy. She demanded that I take her picture through her kitchen window. At first I argued this. I told her that I would not be able to capture her essence, but she wouldn’t allow any thing else. She said something about it not being proper with her being an unmarried Monarch and all or something to that effect. I wasn’t really paying attention because a certain, impatient bumble bee was eying my bent over beehind(sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

After taking Ms. Monarch’s picture, I bustled on over to Mr. Bumble Bee’s residence. He was buzzed(that’s pissed in Bee if you’re wondering) and it was rather obvious, but he still offered me a thimble of honey. It tasted a lot like sunshine, which is very good by the way. If you’ve never sampled it, you should take a side trip to the Sun sometime in the near future. The sun itself is a sight to see. But anyway, he buzzed some directions at me and I did strictly as I was told, afraid that if I did anything other than instructed, I would be screeching in agony while I smashed the hell out of one temperamental bee. And with a quick “click”, mine and Mr. Bumble Bee’s short acquaintance came to end.

As I strode away from the lot of Sun Flower condominiums, I scratched my head thinking nothing weirder could possibly happen. But as I usually am, I was sadly mistaken.

One of the, I’ll call them houses, stretched out in front of my path, and asked for a word with me. I obliged, for I had never had a house talk to me before.

“Before you go,” the sun flower condominium said, “take a picture of me.”

“A picture of you?”

“Yes. Would that be a problem?”

“Well, no . . . it’s just that I’ve never been propositioned by a house is all. It’s a first.”

“Ah . . .”

“May I ask why?”

And her answer was this.

“I am more beautiful and complex than that of my tenants, but you must get close to see. I am not a single flower, but a thousand flowers that create one.”

And with another simple “click”, I continued along the path and crested the hill.

She left the land of eternal bliss so that she may come down and savor this.

“Earth is beautiful from a distance,” she had said, “but nothing compares to being there.”

But that was years ago, as you can see. Long before the forest she loved was hacked to bits and made into some firewood. Long before the animals that roamed far and wide to find her perished from this earth forever more. Long before man ever learned her name, and now forgotten it.

But still she sits atop her stone fountain in the opening of the wood that she found ever so intriguing those many years ago. The hands of time have caressed her and eroded her beauty and her grace, but never will she complain.

Upon her chipped finger a robin will forever perch and together they will sing a sweet, sad song filled with infinite silence and untold wisdom.

And no matter what happens to this place, she will always see in it its original beauty, the beauty that tempted her from the land of eternal bliss all those many years ago.

He is the Infamous Ladies Lizard of the Audubon Swamp, and I, Maniac Gone Awry, found him!

For days, I trudged through the swamp, upturning rocks and trees, stopping only to ask the wildlife where I might found the Ladies Lizard of the Audubon Swamp.

Few new where to direct me. Others dare speak his name. But one brave soul spoke loudly.

“Lady, he is over there!”

Turning ever so slowly to the right, I looked, and BEHOLD!!! There he sat! Amongst the green I would have never seen him. He cocked his head and looked at me, a smirk lingering on his face.

“You have found me Maniac Gone Awry, although I have tried valiantly to avoid you these past several days,  Since you have found me, I shall grant you two wishes.”

“Two wishes?”

“What do I look like, a genie?”

“Well, no, not really, but two wishes? That’s a little bit cheap, don’t you think?”

“Maniac, your first wish. I do not have all day.”

“Fine, I wish for three wishes.”

“Granted, you have two more.”

“Oh, you cheap bastard.”

“Was that a wish?”

“No! That was not a wish!!”

“Second wish then, Maniac.”

“I wish to be sane.”

“I’m sorry, no wish can grant that. You are too much of a maniac. Third wish.”

“Third wish? You said it could not be granted.”

“Well, I didn’t know that until I tried to grant it.”

“You cheap bastard.”

“Was that another wish?”

“No! Do you not listen??”

“Very carefully, Maniac.”

“Alright, my third and final wish . . . I wish . . . I don’t know, what would you wish?”

“Hmmm, for you Maniac, I would wish that Mork and Mindy would come on for another season.”

“That’s brilliant! Yes, that is what I wish.”

“Granted.”

And like that he vanished into the green foliage, and I never found him again.

As for Mork and Mindy, Nick at Nite followed through. Reruns, but another season.

That cheap bastard.

As I was tromping through the rain forest in Costa Rica last week, I came upon this very beautiful snake. Luckily, being fluent in Snake after my 4 year stint in the University of Hell, we were able to have quite a chat. I sat down under his tree and poured us both a glass of tea.

Maniac Gone Awry: So, what’s going on, Mr. Snake?
Snake: Nuttin much, just hanging around mon.
MGA: Do you always speak in a Jamaican accent?
Snake: As a matter a fact I do. That be where I from.
MGA: Well, how in the world did you end up here?
Snake: Hopped aboard a sailing ship, I did. Brought along my family for some travelin.
MGA: So you are just here on vacation?
Snake: Sure be! Beautiful ain’t it?
MGA: Very beautiful indeed. May I meet your family?
Snake: No, no, mon. They a shy bunch. Don’t like meetin no stranger you know.
MGA: I understand. So where will you be going next?
Snake: Can’t say I know. Maybe Brazil. Africa. Where you from, mon?
MGA: Columbia, South Carolina.
Snake: Can I hitch a ride with ya?
MGA: I’d say sure, but the only place for you would be the Zoo.
Snake: The ZOO???!!! Why I NEVER!!

And that was pretty much how our conversation ended. Mr. Snake was too worked up, couldn’t talk no more, so he slithered away. And I never met his wonderful family.

This little turtle would appear to have it all, but even for turtles, the grass is always greener on the other side.

He lives in a gigantic home, has a plethora of rocks in which he can sun bathe himself, and all the food he could probably ever want, but even still, he sits and stares into the mountain of green that he’ll never be able to get to. What stands in his way? A fence. A blasted fence.