One who explores. The first to map out a territory. Pathfinder.
Also a Microsoft browser .

A popular sport utility vehicle, manufactured by the Ford motor company. Frequently forest green.

So, right, the plot’ll probably run something like this. You have this guy who’s like an English explorer type, traveling by canoe up some totally unknown tributary of the Orinoco. You know, I saw this program once where these English students went up the Amazon river and there were these flies that laid eggs in your head, and you have to slice open the bite and extract this maggot, it was absolutely disgusting, there are some sick fucking species on this planet.

But anyway, this English explorer guy is paddling along, cutting through overhanging branches and lianas with his Sheffield Steel machete, whistling Rule Britannia, catching piranha and cooking them over a fire he starts by rubbing sticks together. I mean this guy is hard, he’s tanned to a crisp and his hair is bleached blonde from years of roaming around Africa. He can tell a leopard from a jaguar at two miles. He picks his perfectly white teeth with a bone from the ribs of a king cobra. I am probably waxing too lyrical here.

So, like, he eventually meets these Amazon Indians, this wild stone age tribe no-one’s ever seen before. He heard about them from local legends and his own translations of the Mayan Codices combined with this savage instinct he has about places and people. He’d passed by this place before on a bigger boat and he just knew, like he could smell their skin, you know? The reek of godless and queenless flesh. So he comes back and ties his canoe to a tree and plunges into the jungle, and after a couple of days he finds them.

These guys may be living in the stone age but they’re smart. They haven’t stayed secret by accident. In fact when they gather around him and start touching his clothes he realizes they’re speaking a dialect of Portuguese, but full of words he doesn’t understand. From his huge computerized knowledge of languages he susses out that their grammar is a funny mixture, sometimes conventional Indo-European, and other times just weird juxtapositions that don’t make sense to him.

He knows he’s on to something big. He figures maybe this is the tribe who is guarding the ancient secrets of the Mayans, you know, their superscientific formulas and doomsday machines, maybe they didn't die off, they just ran into the jungle and hid from the white man. I mean, you know, he doesn’t exactly know what he’s found but he knows it’s BIG. Maybe the queen would personally congratulate him. Maybe he’d get a knighthood.

So to get on with the plot, he figures he’ll get the ball rolling by impressing the shit out of them from the word go. I mean, they are already mightily impressed and confused by the way he’s dressed, in fact by the fact that he is dressed at all, them being naked and stone age kind of guys, but he thinks, if I’m to get them to show me their secrets and their scrolls of ancient wisdom, I’m going to have to convince them that I’m a god.

I’m sure you've heard this part of the plot before - he remembers he is carrying a diary, which he keeps assiduously, an entry every day, like "Today it rained for 24 hours and I was soaked", or "Today extracted worm from abscess in head caused by egg-laying fly", that kind of thing. So he remembers that there is a partial lunar eclipse due in a week or two, and because he’s seen the same movies that you and I have, he figures this is his chance. He’ll announce that he is going to blot out the moon, and when they see it happening, they’ll be so shit scared that they’ll beg him to stop and promise him anything he wants. Thereafter they will worship his godlike English ass.

So he explains in broken Portuguese and hand signals and drawings who he is and what he is going to do to prove it. Like, he is the son of Quackillcattle, some unpronounceable Mayan god, and he is so hungry he will eat the moon, you know? So they piss themselves laughing because after weeks in the jungle this guy does not seem like any kind of deity, despite the fact that he shaves every morning with rainwater and his second-best machete. However they are a curious kind of people so they let him hang around until the night in question.

During this time he shacks up with the daughter of the chief, her having turned up at his bivouac draped in necklaces with, like, a sign on her head saying ‘Shag Me Silly’. He is thinking of his wife and kids back home and being a morally sound person he is going to refuse, but she convinces him otherwise by the gentle and endearing way in which she kneels down and makes snack food of his big English prick. No man can say no to a good blowjob.

So along comes his big night, and the whole village gathers around to watch as he sits down cross-legged with his Book of Power, i.e. his diary, open in his lap. It’s a bit cloudy, but not too bad considering this is a rain forest, and the moon can be seen clearly over the tops of the nearest trees. The village, by the way, have quite sensibly chopped down most of the bigger trees in the area to make room for their huts, having never heard of the Greenhouse Effect. They are probably the least eco-friendly people alive. They kill anything that moves and fuck its gutted carcass into the river, they slash and burn the undergrowth to flush out food. If they had invented the aerosol they would just spray it into the air all day to appease the rain gods.

So anyway English is reading aloud all this stuff from his diary, probably his ruminations on the state of the Empire and his pride in bringing the gift of English culture to all the benighted wogs he can find. He’s making like it’s high magick, waving his hands around and pointing up at the moon. Right on time the eclipse starts, a little dark crescent sliced off the edge, and the village notice right away and they all gasp. Gradually, as he keeps up his incantations, the shadow grows until there is quite a clear segment missing from one side of the moon. He is meanwhile glowing inwardly with satisfaction, imagining the scenes as they crown him their returned god and present him with 3000-year-old Mayan lasers and football-sized diamonds that have been buried for centuries. He imagines the look on his children’s faces as the queen touches the sword to his shoulder. He also wonders whether he can bring this stone age girl home with him, because she fucks like a bunny.

As he’s getting to the point at which he will pause and ask the village to appease him so that he can return the moon to normal, the village elders are looking at each other with astonishment, babbling things he can’t understand. He figures they are saying, "This is the great god himself, his power is real and we must please him!"

Actually, what they are saying actually translates roughly as,

"Shit, I can’t believe it, he’s actually doing it!" "Quick, top him before he finishes or we won’t be able to see a fucking thing at night-time any more."

So saying, one of the elders runs over to where he is sitting and splits his smiling head open with a stone axe. There is much relief and rejoicing when the moon returns to normal a couple of hours later. The chief’s daughter is as happy as Larry when she discovers that the god’s sperm has made her fertile. She is not overly heartbroken to see his brains on the ground, however, because he had bad breath, and a tendency to fart at the moment of orgasm and then fall asleep on top of her.

Afterwards the elders are chatting, and the one who killed him says "I was shitting myself. What if he’d cast a spell on me before I could do it?" They all nod and hum and haw and think for a while, and then the chief says, "I suppose we would’ve had to go get the laser," and the others nod and mutter some more.

No-one ever finds the village again. Eventually they are blown up and burned by McDonalds and their remains are made into hamburgers, McDonalds having recently made a shrewd but little-publicized move into human meat. The explorer’s wife never hears what happens to him, and eventually stops wondering, having found comfort in the arms of his best friend, who is equally tanned but doesn’t fart during sex, though he does lose his erection in an instant if he thinks inadvertently of the Queen.

The explorer would be very happy to know that eventually one of his kids eats a burger containing part of the leg of one of the villagers, not the one who actually did him in though, that would be too poetic for real life which as you and I both know is mostly quite plausible.

Ex*plor"er (?), n.

One who explores; also, an apparatus with which one explores, as a diving bell.

 

© Webster 1913.

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