%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| Camping Trip - June 3rd Prompt Write about a campground in your area and how a visit there with Andre went haywire. Andre invited himself to camp with me at Lake Bernard Park. I had somewhat of an inkling as to his thought process when he tittered each time he heard 'LBP.' All he could think about was 'pee.' Then as if that didn't amuse him enough he kept repeating 'bee pee.' He wondered out loud if bees kept and used toilets. Where were they in a hive? Now that image is buzzing 'round my brain. Anyway, no bees bothered us, so who could we ask? That monkey had other more private concerns. Apparently, he'd never before encountered, or made use of an outhouse. The concept of no flushing water boggled his mind. Performing without an after swoosh seemed wrong to him. Shouting, "Bombs away," after his visits earned him a few glares from those waiting their turns. I believe he became the first camper ever to be chided about slamming the wooden door a bit too enthusiastically. Most people let the door swing closed with a distinctive screech, but not Andre. He felt the door needed more encouragement. He liked to trot along the floating, wooden dock and jump as if on a trampoline. I'm not certain his rocking of the boards was to blame , but a few people slipped into the water. Wet people are so dramatic with their flailing, splashing and scrambling to gain a toehold. Andre did what any rescuer would do. He tossed ropes to them, ropes conveniently left nearby and easily accessed. How was he to know those were the mooring lines for the boats lined up along the dock? We all learned loose, bobbing boats tend to bounce off stranded boaters and the dock alike. Andre became the first LBPer banned for life from the beach. Mothers were quick to cover their children's wide eyes and several also attempted to protect little, impressionable ears, too. No one had ever witnessed a naked, dripping monkey screaming obscenities as he streaked along the lake's edge. Amidst his high-pitched curses he wailed about a blood-thirsty monster that had snagged his swim trunks before biting him in the rump. Rumours flit here and there re leeches, but wayward sticks also lurk in the lake. Andre later admitted swimming might not be his 'thing.' By evening and campfire time, Andre felt mellow enough to sit and enjoy the roaring, dancing flames. He studied the marshmallow-browning techniques of others and decided to give it a go. I handed him a sharpened tree branch upon which he skewered a couple of soft, squishy treats. Like he'd observed, Andre held his stick above glowing coals. He fidgeted. He whistled. With a shuddering sigh, he plunged his offering into the middle of the fire. Instantly his marshmallows burst into flame and he reacted by flinging his charred, gooey, red-hot mess into the darkness. We all startled when a scream marked their passing target. Andre and I are still not sure if maiming by marshmallow is an actual crime.( 494 words ) |
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