Departure

After what seemed like intolerable hours of mindless bullshit, the nameless kayaker finally appeared. He took his oar and began swatting at the bullshitters, sending them flying back into the lake. With an almost sarcastic bow he allowed us into the boat. "Looks you stirred em up!" he said and started laughing wildly. It wasn't particularly funny, but I guess if you're sent to Limbo for kayaking too much you're not really known for your social skills. Faulkner had a few final words with someone who had been asking him why 'Barn Burning' didn't sync up with 'The Hamlet', and then we were off. I was almost alarmed both at the thousands of bullshitters squirming underneath us and the speed that the kayaker could propel the canoe. "Why are we going so far out from the shoreline?" I asked. "Well, the Charybdis will suck in anyone whose in the immediate channel. You have to catch the outer rip tide and ride that along the edges of the lakes. I'm gonna take you through Pig shit and then Shit Mixed with Dirt, then ride the oil channel back into the Charybdis and drop y'all off at the lower level," the nameless kayaker responded. I turned to Faulkner and mouthed the phrase, "Charybdis?" He shrugged and spat over the side of the canoe at a bullshitter. "It's a whirlpool Kirk. Like in the Odyssey. Inside of it are all the Charybdi, people who suck away at human souls, and then it turns into a giant waterfall that feeds the lower flood plains. I think there is a map back in Limbo, but I never bring it. It's sorta hard to talk a person into riding around a giant lake of crap when they know it's coming." We paddled onward and came upon the lake of pig shit.