As a kid, running away always seemed so romantic to me. Like, that adventure kids on TV go on, where everything is just fine, and no one shows any concern for the 8 year old with a Toy Story backpack on walking the streets by himself at 11 at night. Hops on a cargo train and watches the skyline pass by. Hobos don't try to rob him, or rape him. Some generous store owners just hand the fucking kid a loaf of bread just for being cute.

Mind you, my childhood wasn't bad. I had no real reason to run away, it wouldn't benefit me at all, but I wanted to just cause it looked fun. So when I was like 8 I packed a backpack filled with like, one extra outfit, some goldfish crackers for the road, a Shawn Michaels action figure, you know, in case I get lonely. That's probably all that fit into my little backpack. I stashed it in my closet and waited for the perfect moment.

One night I almost did it, it was like 10 pm on a Saturday, my parents fell asleep, sister was asleep. This was my night, my moment. So I grabbed my backpack, put a sweater around my waist because god forbid it cold wherever the fuck I thought I was going, and headed out the front door. I didn't take keys because I didn't plan on coming back, but I didn't lock the door behind me either.

So, I get out onto the street, look around and realized. I don't know where the fuck to go. Where the fuck is the bus station? The train station? I live in an urban area, the movies are always kids in the suburbs. And I didn't have any fucking money. I turned my little ass right around and went back inside.

I've never been a super confident person. In school, I dreaded the day that I had to present my Powerpoint on the benefits of wind power, or on the history of agriculture in New Jersey, or some other dumb shit I had to google for 30 minutes the night before. Stage fright is a huge thing for me. One time I went to do an open mic at my high school, and the MC whispered to me right before I went on. "Hey, just imagine them all naked, it'll make you more comfortable." He seemed like a confident guy so I said "Fuck it." I walked out. I looked out onto the crowd and it got hard to breath, so I did what the MC told me, and imagined them naked. Didn't help with the confidence, but I had a massive boner now, and everyone could see. Had to drop out and change my name after that one.

I'm not really confident off the stage either. Ever been to a baseball game and tried to start a chant? I could never. Imagine being the only asshole screaming, "Let's Go Dodgers, Let's go!" And no one else joins in? Just silence. Everyone looking up at you. "Sit down asshole!" Screams a 60 year old lady with a cane. Now you just have to sit back down and scrunch low in your seat, hoping they forget. But they wont.

Same thing in small groups of people. Just at a party, you got like 4 buzzed teenagers around you, some girls, and you want to seem cool and funny. So you'd probably tell a cool story about your trip to Ibiza or something. Me? I'd fucking clam up, slowly try to back away from the conversation hoping no one notices. I don't want to tell stories, cause I'm afraid they'll flop. And to me, jokes flopping is the worst possible thing in the entire fucking world. Imagine everyone's having a nice time, chilling, you think "a funny joke would be perfect right now, no one's attention is focused on one thing, all eyes will be on me" But the only thing you can think off is "You guys see that shit Donald Trump said" In a super loud voice, the room goes silent, everyone's looking at you. Why the fuck did I bring up politics? Time seems to stop. You're only options are to just stand up and fucking leave, or swallow the cyanide pill you keep in your pocket for this very moment. I can't be the only one who does that right? No? Just me?

Now I know what you're thinking, Smokey the Bear has been in the woods fending for himself all his life, he knows how to keep himself alive. BUT, McGruff has seen some shit. Imagine watching a cat-nip addict spinning in circles on the floor, while his two buddies scratch each other to death for the last bit. Imagine walking in on an underground fight club and seeing massive pit bulls and doberman and having to fight your way in, AND out. Smokey is old and has been living with the rangers for years, he couldn't handle this police trained dog, who grew up as a street dog. McGruff would MURDER Smokey, and set his body on fire just for the irony, he's crazy like that. Thats what happens when you have to clean up a squeaky toy deal gone wrong, or having to deal with gang violence, and a shootout with blue noses and red noses.