The Adventures of Ulysses

Ulysses made his way through the vines and bramble, his gamble all but
blowing up in his face. He had never intended for it to have ended this
way, and yet here he was, relentlessly hacking away at foliage, each
slash more frantic than the last. The brazen behemoth galloped not far
behind, causing tremors that were akin to a cyclops going for a midday
stroll. His .45 cried out, the acrid smell of gunpowder assaulting his
olfactor. The all powerful trampling sound slowed ever so much,
indicating that he had indeed struck, but not in a critical area. His
ankles were greeted with the sudden stab of cold water, and he realized
he was in a quickly deepening river. Could the beast swim? He looked
back and saw that the brute had abruptly stopped, the trees no longer
shaking whilst glaring at Ulysses. Guffawing with glee, Ulysses made his
way across the fairly profound trench, stumbling up to the other side
of it. He had even kept his beloved .45 from getting wet. His victory
was short lived however: At least 50 natives suddenly dropped down from
the trees, surrounding him, shouting at each other in an indecipherable
tongue. "Well, I'll be damned," Ulysses muttered.

Author's Note

Short story I came up with. Still trying to figure out how to continue it. My penchant for wordplay is on full display here.

Reviews

[Shallowed]

Based upon ______?

This was fun to read continue it

[Chellie]

This was great. I loved the wordplay happening in this. I would love to read more. Hopefully you can figure out a way to continue writing this.