Petra was savage. She ate her chocolate cake before her main entree. Utter chaos befell her after taking a bad trip of acid. She ran out of the restaurant and off into the woods, stripping off her fancy hat and shoes. Snarling using a piece of stone, she carved into a flat rock the blueprints for her design for a log cabin. It was to be far enough from the camping site to go unnoticed, yet close enough to steal camper food when necessary. After two glorious years living off fresh rock salmon that flipped in a nearby stream, Petra completed her task with quiet construction. Granted the log cabin looked a bit commercial-like, complete with a rock hearth fireplace and porch, but no one was watching. No one. The blissful sound of crickets and fresh air rocked her gently to sleep every night.  

While on her usual expedition for pigeon eggs, she was going to make a nice Gorgonzola salad, she heard the rumbling sounds of a car approach the empty campgrounds. It was off season now, the kids were returning back to school. Petra peered off from a pine tree above them, her wild golden brown hair in a tangled mess. A limo pulled up and two bulky menacing men stepped out and pulled a large bag from the trunk.

“Don JebBush, apologies boss... where do we bury the body?”

Don JebBush sighed.  He didn’t expect this business deal to go sour and he had to go back to the casino in a few hours.

“Just bury him somewhere away from the stream. If the water rises, the body will float up to the surface.”

“Can’t we just toss him in the lake?”

“Did you bring the cement block and ropes?”

“Yes boss.”

"Are you willing to drag it that far?"

"Yes boss."

“Okay, how long will this take?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes?”

“Fine, do it.”

Don JebBush decided to get some fresh air and stepped out of the limo. His super sonic hearing abilities from shooting a people made him look above him. 

Hmm, that’s not an animal...sounds like walking…

Don JebBush started heading towards that direction of the noise. He enjoyed the change of scenery, yet noticed a few things that were off. Broken branches, bits of rocks and feathers strung together to make necklaces, a pig’s head on a pike. This was not the work done of tourist campers.

Pulling out his pistol, he kept heading in the same direction. Hidden behind some heavy shrubbery was a well constructed log cabin glowing softly with windows that had no glass . Inside, Petra was roasting pigeon eggs. She heard a knock at the cabin door.

“Who dis?” Petra called out.

“Eh, Don Rev..I mean Don JebBush.”

Petra felt the name sounded familiar but wasn’t too sure. Pulling out a spiked club she constructed as a way to ward off nearby wolves, Petra opened the door.

Don JebBush stared calmly at her his elegant pants suit and white dress shirt, a stark contrast to the cricketing forest.

“Look, I don’t have much time you got an outhouse I could use?”

Petra not having human contact in over two years other than stalking the campers and stealing their potato chips ran down the creaking porch and hugged him, soiling his dress shirt with mud. She hugged him hard kissing his neck, then his chin then his…

“Whoa whoa, hold on whoa,” Don JebBush pulled back, coughing a bit from the stench of grass and dirt.

“Don JebBush,” Petra wrinked her nose and kissed his nose.

As he felt the warm suck off the tip of his nose, he wasn’t sure if he should just run back to the limo or walk. Either way Petra followed him.