Thursday, October 11, 2007

Chapter Seven, in which we go camping.

I was invited to go with Weirdo’s family on one of their camping trips. Weirdo always talked about how much fun they have camping, so I figured there was no reason to miss out.

We got to the campsite late and the first thing we did was unpack our swimsuits and beach towels to have a quick dip, but it was too dark and we couldn't find the swimming pond.

We laid our towels across the picnic table and set up our tents in the dark. Weirdo and I shared a tent, his sister got her own and his parents shared one. Our tent leaned to one side really bad, probably because it was on the side of a little hill and we had one pole left that we didn’t know what to do with.

The ground was really hard and rocky. Plus, the slope we were on was so steep that if you moved a muscle your sleeping bag would slide downhill in the tent. I was sleeping downhill from Weirdo. He tosses and turns so much that he kept sliding into me and we both ended up crammed against the side.

In the middle of the night, I woke up. My sleeping bag was soaked and it smelled like pee. I felt Weirdo’s sleeping bag. It was soaked too. I was so confused about who peed. Did we both pee, or did he pee a big gigantic river and let it run downhill to me?

Either way I had to get out of there. I pulled my dripping wet sleeping bag from the tent and brought it down to the creek that ran through the campground. When I got there I took off my wet clothes and put them in the creek with my sleeping bag to rinse out all the pee.

I heard someone cough nearby. I thought I was alone. I hoped I was, because I was naked. I hid behind a tree and looked out from behind it.

Weirdo’s sister was walking near the creek. She was smoking a cigarette. I was so shocked that I stepped out and said, “You’re smoking!”

She gasped and said, “You’re naked!”

I jumped back behind the tree. “You can’t smoke. You’re just a kid."

"I'm older than you. So just mind your own business."

"Is that why you’re teeth are yellow?”

"They are not yellow," she hissed. Then she softened and asked, "are they?"

I was about to tell her just how yellow when there was a rustle in the brush nearby and a low growl. We ran back the campsite. I quickly grabbed one of the beach towels on the picnic table to cover up with.

“Where are your clothes?”

“Oh man, I forgot them in the creek with my sleeping bag.” I noticed something bright coming from the front of the sun dress she had on. “Where is your cigarette?”

“I threw it down by the creek. Why?”

“I think it went in your pocket.”

The front of her dress had a small flame growing at the front. She gasped and tore it off.

I saw her naked.

She grabbed a towel of her own and stomped the fire out and threw the burnt dress behind her tent.

We heard Weirdo coming out of his tent. He didn’t see us and was talking to himself. “Man oh man, one of us sure peed a gallon and a half.”

He took his clothes off and threw them behind our tent along with his sleeping bag. He turned around and saw us. He yelped and grabbed a towel from the picnic table.

We heard a zipper, and out stepped their dad.

“What are you all doing?” We thought we were in trouble deep. “It’s way too late to be going swimming. It's..." he looked at his bare wrist where his watch was before he took it off for the night. "It's too late. Everybody back in your tents.” He disappeared into his tent and zipped it closed.

The three of us stood staring at each other. Weirdo’s sister said, “How about we all just keep our mouths shut about what happened tonight.”

Weirdo said, "What did happen?"

His sister and I both said, "Nothing."

We agreed and went into our tents for the rest of the night.

* * * * *

In the morning we were woken by the sound of Weirdo’s dad calling us out of our tents. He didn’t sound happy.

“Kids, get out here right now. You have some explaining to do.”

The three of us appeared sleepy-eyed at the flaps of our tents.

“Can anybody explain to me why I found a burnt dress behind this tent, and soaking wet clothes and sleeping bags behind this tent and in the creek?”

We were frozen. We weren’t quite sure ourselves what happened. Weirdo’s dad was getting impatient. His sister was about to speak when an old man walked up to our campsite laughing.

“He he, I saw the whole thing, mister.”

“You did?” said Weirdo’s sister.

“Sure did little gal.” He turned to Weirdo’s dad and said, "Friend, these kids of your's are heroes.”

“We are?” asked Weirdo.

“Sure are, kiddo.”

Weirdo’s dad asked, “What did they do?”

“Well, it wasn't pretty,” the old man sounded like he was going to tell an old war story, “but it all started with me down at my campsite late last night. My old dog, Bojangles, got a little too close to the campfire and caught his tail on fire. He tore through the campground so fast I couldn’t catch up. I was scared my poor Bojangles was going to be a crispy critter.”

We all listened closely. We had no idea what the man was talking about.

He continued, “Your kids must have heard the commotion because they jumped out of their tents. Your daughter grabbed Bojangles by the legs. She sure is brave. She’s lucky her whole dress didn’t catch fire. Your boys ran down to the creek and dunked their bags and clothes so they could douse the fire. I guess they were in such a hurry that they forgot half of them down at the creek.”

Weirdo’s dad looked very proud. He put his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out.

Looking us over he said, “Well I guess they are some pretty good kids. They must take after their old man. I once saved a puppy from a hot car in a Walmart parking lot.” He turned to the old man. “Say friend, what’s your name?”

“You can call me Campfire Joe.”

“Well, okay Campfire Joe. Thanks for sharing the story. We’ll see you around, and best of luck to Bojangles.”

* * * * *

The three of us kids searched around the campground later that day for Campfire Joe’s campsite. We didn’t find him anywhere. We went to the campground office and asked the old lady behind the desk if she knew Campfire Joe. She cocked her head and looked at us with squinty eyes. “Who are you looking for?”

“Campfire Joe. We met him earlier today. We’re looking for him and his dog, Bojangles.”

The old lady scratched her head. “Well, that’s Bojangles over there beneath that tree.” There was a dog so old it could barely wag its tail. “But as for Campfire Joe, he died in a tent fire twelve years ago.”

“How did he die?”

“Nobody knows for sure, but most people think that he fell asleep while smoking a cigarette, and when the cigarette dropped out of his mouth he wasn’t awake to see the tent burst into flames. By then it was too late. Old Bojangles, he barely escaped. All that happened to him was his tail caught on fire, but some kids caught him and put the fire out.”

We stared at the old woman. She continued, "That was back before they started making these tents today that are all fire retarded, or whatever they are."

Weirdo suggested, "You mean flame retardant?"

The old lady looked over the top of her big plastic glasses at Weirdo.

We thanked her for the story and walked back to our campsite. On the way we stopped and pet Bojangles. He was so happy to get attention he mustered the strength to wag his scraggly bald-tipped tail.

* * * * *

That night we were sitting around our campfire. Weirdo’s parents left to get more firewood. As soon as they left we saw an old man walking toward us.

“So you like to smoke do you?”

Weirdo’s sister gasped, “Campfire Joe?”

“That’s right. Now you promise me to quit that smoking. Do you hear me?”

She nodded her head up and down real fast.

“And you two.” He turned to Weirdo and me. “Don’t you think it’s time you quit peeing your pants at night. That's kid stuff. You two want to be men someday don't you?”

We nodded, even though we still weren’t sure who it was that did the peeing.

Weirdo asked, “Are you a ghost?”

Campfire Joe said, “I guess I am if you say I am.” With that he turned around and walked away into the darkness. We heard him say over his shoulder, “Remember those promises. Don't go breaking them."

* * * * *

We didn't see Campfire Joe for the rest of our time camping, except for on the day we left. We were driving up the bumpy dirt road towards the highway and we saw Campfire Joe, the old lady and Bojangles sitting in rocking chairs outside the campground office.

The two old people held hands and the dog laid between them. I saw Campfire Joe point at our car and say something that made the old lady laugh.

I know that I broke my promise to Campfire Joe a couple times since then, and I’m sure Weirdo has too. His sister, on the other hand, never smoked again. She also developed a mild fear of matches and old men.


Copyright 2007 Jeffrey A Pierce

No comments: