A tent was appropriate. Rational, even. After all, I read the phrase ‘freedom is the greatest luxury.’
Indulge your inner wanderer, I thought. Take the dog and we can both meet him there.
After I cook what the great man wants for supper, I’ll ask him whatever happened to the Ubermensch.
I spent two hours putting up the tent while other campers had BBQ fun.
I turned to the dog to say that now I was finally going to understand how I can stop grasping for a sense of achievement.
Only, the bastard didn’t turn up. I rang him but he didn’t answer. Typical of Nietzsche.
It was like that moment when you finally realise that toast is merely burnt bread.
Just to spite him I joined the BBQ and got drunk instead.