Indiana Jones'n

When Jonny finally climbed above the second tier of branches and vines, he poked his head into the open, into the sun for the first time in days and squinted into the harsh light. A subtle breeze ruffled his beard, stirring the small birds that had taken nests inside. He saw no signs of civilization in any direction, and reached for a branch to steady himself as he felt faint suddenly, quickly losing hope for rescue or a chance run in with friendly natives. He regained his equilibrium and slid down the bark into a squatting position. Reaching into his pack he removed his pipe and tin, and sighed, knowing he was about to smoke himself out of pot. But the tin was empty already- he lost track of how much he'd smoked with the drunken orangutan the night before. He was truly Indiana Jones'n at this point, and threw the pipe in a childish outburst that made him angry all the more. He was losing composure...