"How far can a dog run into a forest?"
"Um... you know, I'm not sure. How far?"
I decided to play along for his sake, remembering how I had hated know-it-all no fun adults, and sure enough he snapped right back.
"Half way! After that it's running out of the forest!"
At the time I hadn't the heart to tell him that I never liked that one in particular either. Maybe it was because I thought about it too much, but I always imagined the dog getting ten feet into the forest only to get caught in a bear trap or to drown in a lake.
The salty ocean air reprimanded me for thinking about it a second time with a graze across the cheek, and I supposed it was right. Retiring to the warmth of my cabin was anything but reassuring. A relaxing journey into the great beyond! - the advertisement had promised. Surely an oxymoron, I had thought at the time, but I did my best to prove myself wrong in the spirit of my journey. I emptied my pack onto the luxurious stained sheets.
"First thing's first," I felt it necessary to say aloud.
I grabbed the old bottle of wine I had saved for just such boredom.
"And of course, no need for formalities."
I drank with the thirst of a dying man, it only felt right.
As the sun sank under the water and the boat began to quiet, I retrieved the candle and matches I had so romantically decided to bring. I struck the first match but finished with that. The flame became my mistress of the night. I found it rather interesting, the concept of a match, at the time. Simply a small stick made to be burned up. I wished dearly for someone to strike me, to start my fire and let it consume me until I was nothing but a pile of hot ash. The match burnt my fingers and I lit another, bidding my first mistress adieu and lighting my candle with the second.
I laid on my bed staring at the candle, thinking back to the old riddle. That night I dreamed of the boat catching on fire, not quite making it half way across the ocean.
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