A Walk On The Wild Side by Barry Denson

Walk on the Wild Side 

by Barry Denson

It was a morning like any other when Gary Marsh, a mild-mannered accountant with a penchant for Earl Grey tea and memorising train timetables, decided to take a walk on the wild side. 

Not metaphorically, of course. Gary was the least metaphorical person you could imagine. If someone told him to think outside the box, he’d politely remind them that boxes have measurable dimensions for a reason. 

No, Gary was about to take an actual walk, on what the locals referred to as the wild side – a mysterious strip of woodland behind the Tesco Express, teeming with untamed nature and, rumour had it, the occasional unhinged squirrel.

You see, it all began with a bet in the office. Karen from accounts, who had an eyebrow perpetually raised like she was suspicious of life, dared Gary to "loosen up a bit" and do something adventurous. "Adventurous?" Gary had replied, "I did a jigsaw last week without checking the edge pieces first."

But Karen, unimpressed said "Go on then, Mr. Adventure, take a stroll down the wild side. Bet you won't."

And that’s how, on a dreary Tuesday, armed with nothing but his trusty clipboard (just in case there were numbers to be recorded), Gary found himself at the entrance. He hesitated, considering the potential hazards: mud (unsanitary), uneven paths (trip hazard), and the ultimate terror – the unknown.

He took a deep breath and entered.

At first, it seemed relatively tame. A couple of birds chirped above, oblivious to Gary’s internal turmoil. The path was manageable, though it did seem to slope in a manner that he found unsettlingly unpredictable. "I could be doing my tax return," he muttered to himself, clutching his clipboard tighter.

Just as he considered turning back, there was a rustling in the bushes. His heart skipped a beat. What was it? A feral teen? A rogue badger? But no, out from the undergrowth emerged... a squirrel staring with an intensity that suggested it had seen things no squirrel should see.

Gary froze. "I’m not intimidated by you" he declared, realising as he said it that he was indeed deeply intimidated by the rodent. The squirrel blinked slowly, then – without warning – scurried up a tree. It was at that moment Gary realised something profound: he had survived an encounter with wildlife.

Emboldened by his victory, he pressed on, the path growing wilder with each step. Ferns brushed against his legs, leaves crunched ominously underfoot, and somewhere in the distance, a duck quacked in a tone that could only be described as menacing.

Just as he was beginning to feel at home, he slipped with all the grace of an untethered balloon. Clipboard flying, arms flailing, Gary landed face-first in nature.

For a moment, he lay still, wondering if this was the end. Not the end of his life, necessarily, but the end of his dignity. Slowly, he got up, covered in mud, his glasses askew but miraculously intact. He wiped his face with his sleeve and straightened his jacket as best he could.

"Well," he said, "I think that counts as adventurous." 

And with that, Gary Marsh, the man who had never once deviated from his daily planner, marched back to the office, his muddy footprints marking the ground behind him. As he pushed open the door, Karen raised an eyebrow.

"Wild enough for you?" Gary said with a grin, already dreaming of his next adventure: alphabetising his record collection… backwards.