I Really Went Out Like A Punk-Ass

I Really Went Out Like A

Punk-Ass.

by Uncas, son of Chingachgook,

Second to Last of the Mohicans

I’ve had a little time to process the depth of how terribly bad I did in my fight to the death with Magua. Lets face it, it wasn’t pretty. Magua handed me my ass. I got owned, hammered, shellacked, massacred or whatever you want to call it.

I can’t think of any other contest I’ve ever witnessed or been a part of where someone beat someone else so completely and unmercifully. It’s really unprecedented.

Now I’m not one to make excuses, but I wasn’t a hundred percent going in. You can think whatever you want, I’ve heard it all before, but I’m telling you it’s the truth.

A few days earlier, I really jacked up my thumb when we all jumped through that waterfall. Not to mention that the night before I slept wrong on my side and my shoulder was bothering me that whole day. Nobody knew about that part.

In hindsight I almost certainly would not have just tried to rush all those Huron, but they kidnapped the only girl that ever flirted with me. I I don’t have to tell you, but there aren’t a bunch of girls about when you run around the damn forest all day.

I should have tracked them until they made camp for the night and then, with my father and brother, attacked with a well thought out strategy.

But I wanted to be a big-shot in front of my girlfriend. You know, I never had sex with her. We didn’t even kiss. I died a virgin. Pathetic.

When a mohawk dies, his ethereal spirit goes to the council-fire of his ancestors. Getting used to being dead takes quite a while. It’s a terrible sensation. You feel like you’re going to throw up along with a headache.

Now couple that with every ancestor at the council-fire, who had a front row seat to my execution, laughing his ass off about the severity and one-sidedness of my murder. People were high fiving each other, which i thought was a bit much, and

Elder Swift Rain laughed so hard he peed his loin-cloth.

After the laughter wore off, the mood turned to contempt. My ancestors were really angry with how I represented our people, and nobody would speak to me except to rehash and dissect the whole thing almost every day.

So here i am, a laughing stock, the butt of many jokes. If this is my eternity, it's really going to suck. I am waiting for my father, Chingachgook, to take his place at the council-fire of our people, so I’ll have someone to talk to.