Camping Collectors

“Bobby, what did you just put in your backpack?”

“Nothing. It’s just a souvenir from our camping trip.”

“Bobby…”

“Dad, it’s just a little snake. I found him over by that tree. His name is Slimy and I can feed him and take care of him and he is lonesome. There are no other snakes around. I think he’s all alone. All of the others snakes must have migrated for the winter. Can I keep him Dad; can I?”

“Snakes migrate?”

“Sure they do. Everyone knows that.”

“Listen Bobby, he is a wild animal. We need to respect nature and leave everything as we found it. Now toss him over in that trash can and come help me get this tent into the car.”

“Aw Dad.”

“Not another word. Now lift your side and I’ll back in and….Hey! What the hell is this?”

“What is it dear?”

“You have got to be kidding me. All of you kids…front and center, on the double.”

“What is it Dad? I have to finish doing my nails. This camping is so primitive! I swear I woke up last night with a pine cone stuck in my hair.”

“Okay you little monsters…who put the beaver under the back seat?”

“Dad, I am going to need him for my science class. Last year, my teacher said that seventh grade science will include the study of wild animals. I don’t want to be the only one in class without a beaver.”

“Jackson, not everyone is going to have a beaver. I think a mouse or a frog will do just fine. Now please tell me how I’m supposed to get this thing out of the car.”

“He likes marshmallows. I’ve been feeding them to him for the last week.”

“Well that explains the white sticky-looking stuff all over his face….wait a minute! We’ve had a beaver living in our car for a week?”

“He hasn’t been in the car the whole time. I put him on a leash and walk him after dark. He is really smart. I even taught him to sit.”

“You taught a beaver to sit?”

“I think so. It’s actually kind of hard to see if he is really sitting or not. He may just be squatting.”

“Heh, heh…you said squatting.”

“Shut up Bobby. Listen Dad, I think it may be against the law to let a trained beaver back into the wilds. He’s what you call domesticated.”

“Hmmm, you may be right about that. Okay, the beaver stays, but no snakes!”

“Aw Dad.”

“Honey, bring the kids over. Lunch is ready. We can finish packing after we all have a bite to eat.”

“Alright everyone, over to the picnic table.”

“Pass the Kool-Aid please Bobby.”

“Dad, listen, I can explain.”

“Explain? Explain what? Hey! What the hell is a trout doing in the Kool-Aid pitcher?”

“Please Dad. His name is Floppy and I can feed him and take care of him and he is all alone. His parents must have migrated.”

Word count 500