Jungle Love
Today in my jogging class (yes, jogging) we were discussing possible dangers of jogging. My classmates responses ran the gamut of what most suburban anglophiles could expect; dogbites, twisted ankles, getting lost, car accidents. Then it came to me. My input? “When my military unit was deployed in Kenya we had a running trail along the beach and through the jungle, one day a marine was running alone wearing short running shorts, he was chased down and raped by a male baboon. Not dry-humped; raped.” It wasn’t a contest, but I’d like to think I won. For the record, had I been that marine, I would have kept that to myself.