Fun With Uncle Sunny And The Kids

Cornflakes and survival skills in the desert

Fun With Uncle Sunny And The Kids

It is surmised that the hottest place on Earth is the Equatorial Desert. The inside of an active volcano might come close, might compete but we have never been there to experience it so we won't speculate. Uncle Sunny is our favorite uncle. He is the only relative alive, relatively speaking, so it goes without saying. Mom and dad were killed in a car crash or plane crash or cruise ship collision or something like that. It does not matter at this point because Uncle Sunny is our caretaker now and he does that very well. He takes us on safari, on other unforgettable adventures and tells the bestest stories ever, true stories for sure.

Right now we are in the center of the desert in question. It is a flat land of yellow-orange sand that stretches on for thousands of miles in all directions, including the ones not mentioned here. You can see for miles around into the distance; but for the heat waves rising from the scorched earth, punished surface, shimmering in the monstrous red sunlight burst, visibility had its limitations. Uncle Sunny thought it would be a good idea to give us kids some real life experiences in the cruel outer reaches of the unknown, far from home. He said it would build character and help us to grow up.

I'm John. I'm seven. If you had any sense at all you would stop reading at this moment. Sally is my younger sister. She is five but she tells people that she is five and a half. Her delusional mind is without rival or equal. She is cute that way. I love it when she toys with trivial matters in life.

Our uncle is the greatest and most honest man alive. He always starts his stories with, “I swear on a stack of bibles this is or that is true.” He has yet to produce this phantom stack, so we are left to our own devices, so our imaginations will have to suffice. He must also be the oldest man in creation, (biblicaly speaking). He told us his real life experiences while living and fighting along side the Iroquois Indians in the early American north east. They called themselves The Haudenosaunee but that was too difficult for the white man to pronounce and there were entirely too many letters to write down so Iroquois it is.

He acquired his stealth and guile tactics from them. He told us how he and his Indian friends would gather leaves from the oak and elm trees, lay them out one by one around the floor of the forest and allow them to dry out. They would hide and wait for the French and other Europeans to come by. They would listen for the crunching crackling sounds of the leaves coming from the heavy boots of the enemy, tipping off their location. Their footfalls sealed their fate. The freshly broadcast-ed leaves created the perfect alarm on the autumn forest floor. The trap was set. The slightest sound would be their signal to attach without mercy. The white man never saw it coming.

These old experiences of his, learned ages ago when he might or must have been young, would now come into play here in the barren desert. Sally, Sunny and I were just laying out our sleeping bags on the nights cool sand when Sunny decided to tell us his master plan. There are secrets hidden in his head that only he and the national brain trust could have access to for the safety and security of our nation. There are secret agents and plans hanging out in the deeper recesses of his skull, according to his recollections, that he must protect at all cost. It is hard to conceive of or even imagine all those people running around, fitting in, filling up that small place he calls his brain, but he only tells the truth so it must be true.

There are ninja forces out to get him. Of that he is sure. They dress in pure white silk gowns in day light and wear penguin black outfits at night. They are always camouflaged discretely. They wear only the most expensive materials imported form oversees. They dress in the most stylish, modern, comfortable, appropriate fashions to adapt adequately to any and all environments and living conditions. Sally and I could not wait to hear what the old man would say next. If nothing else, to say the least, our uncle is an interesting character to the marrow of his bones.

As you know, as you might have suspected, there are no trees or leaves in the desert but there are cornflakes.

Here is his plan. He never goes anywhere without his mule and many boxes of cornflakes. The mules' name is Mule. Sunny is big on simplicity. He does not think it appropriate to question about the sex or to elicit any personal information about or from a given species. Mule is gender neutral. We'll leave it at that.

Uncle has so many things going on in his mind that he really can not fit anything or anyone else in their. Mule carries the required supplies for their basic survival. End of story. Cornflakes is an imperative. He also brought along a few cows. He likes milk with his cereal. Cows don't fare well in the oven like prevailing conditions of desert life. They shriveled up and died after a few days of being baked under the unforgiving burning sun. None of us had any use for over done meat or baked leather jacketss so we moved on without them in the morning of the fourth day.

Uncle's master plan would kick in on the fifth night of our journey. We were all surprised that Mule made it this far. Its endurance surpassed that of the cows by leaps and bounds. It was a small, sickly creature; thin and gray and missing one eye. No one knew how it went missing. It is unknown if it was born that way or the dumb animal simply happened upon some calamitous event somewhere along the road of its miserable pathetic existence. It also had a shriveled up left leg, withered away to the crooked deformed bone. We are not sure if it was the left front or left back leg. In any event, it did not bode well for the animal to continue a prosperous, productive or happy life under such harsh conditions.

Sunny had a premonition, a sinking feeling, a wave of paranoia that crept into his already over heated shrunken mind. It was overloaded, over crowded with too many entities. He feared the night ninjas might be closing in on their position. He recruited us to unload the mules corn flake supply. There must have been over 10 boxes stashed away on the beast. We were instructed to pour the flakes out on the desert sand in a circular motion, being careful not to make too much noise in the process as to disturb the ninjas who might be lurking about. We placed extra flakes around our sleeping area for that extra crunch and added touch of protection.

Uncle Sunny was employing the same logic and stealth tactics from his time with the Iroquois, only we did not have crunchy dead leaves. We had cornflakes at our disposal as our first line of defense against ninja attacks. It was our best early warning alarm system. No one could get to us without our hearing the noises of the flakes. The sound of cornflakes would surely wake us.

CORNFLAKES WORK- Not a blessed ninja was ever spotted or found around the camp site during or after our mission.

Our uncle Sunny was a genius. He is the smartest man we know. He even thought about bringing bananas along for the cereal and for something the ninjas could slip on. He had to cover all contingencies. Too bad the lazy cows and milk didn't work out.

We returned home victorious from our adventure. As proof as to how smart our uncle is; we all returned sunbathed, unscathed and ninja free.

True, we were unbathed, missing a few critters and flakes along the way. Sally was missing a tooth or two but the tooth fairy would rectify that situation soon enough. Uncle Sunny kept us safe. It is the American way. He was a regular Kris Kringle and Lincoln all rolled up in one, a man who could never tell a lie and that's the truth, according to his story. National security and us kids is what it is all about. What a guy!

I'm John. I'm still seven. My sister Sally however is 5 and a half plus a few days older according to her calculus. She tells a different story. She's cute that way.