__

[Jim]

___

[Jim]

Bear already deep in his horn was slowly making the transition to happy camper, all while complaining about our location. As if the rain wasn’t enough, being outvoted didn’t set all that well with him.
“Shit man, we could have been at Otter Creek by now”
Trying to enjoy myself, and not wanting to hear his bellyaching I snapped off - “Yeah we could have been at Otter Creek by now the last two times you’ve told me. Have ye a shot of Crown, it’ll brighten up your dark place”
Snatching up my full cup, The Great Bear loudly exhaled and said - “Why not ?” Pouring the contents down his coarse gullet. Extending my cup forward, he called for another. Finishing that one seemed to level him out somewhat. He looked about our camp, flashed everyone a wide smile and inquired about dinner.
“Feel better now, eh you big oaf ?” I laughed - “Amazing how a good several jiggers of whisky, improves upon a sour disposition”
“Ain’t that the truth !” Bear wholeheartedly agreed, then growled - “What’s for supper, Flippy ?”
“Beans and franks” The Birdman replied. Having not going into Waynesboro earlier for groceries and other supplies, we bought several cans of pork-n-beans and two packs of hotdogs at the Afton store. Rough fare for this evening but it was better than naught. At least the little store had some overpriced ale and beer to be added in with our supply of brew. Filling his horn with ale the Bear slurred - “ I suppose we’re better off here tonight, but tomorrow we continue to Otter Creek, that is if this damned weather gives”

The sliced hotdogs and beans proved to be a fine wet weather supper which elevated all of our spirits including Bear’s. Then again it could have been the continuous flow of alcohol. As the last spoonfuls of supper was scooped off of paper plates, Susie, Charlie and R.W. had already got into the rum. Flip pretty much stuck with ale while Bear and I had a little of everything. Susie was just as much a seasoned toper as any of us and would no doubt drink one or two of our party under the table. Lanky and somewhat lighter of skin than her brother, Susie had dark brown hair and huge blue eyes as she looked more Gaelic than Shawnee. A real wildcat if provoked, she was very protective of Charlie, especially once he started ailing.
Forest green L.L.Bean outdoor shirt, brown woolen sports jacket, new Levis, and Wellington boots, R.W. was topped off with a wide brimmed plantation hat. I couldn’t quite tell what look our darling dandy was trying to achieve, perhaps somewhere between Rob Lowe goes camping or Clark Gable in ‘Blown away with the Wind’. A hip southern gentleman, R.W. had a taste for fine spirits, good food and wealthy women, be they William and Mary students impressed with his worldly ways or rich, older adventurous Williamsburg housewives he could charm into paying his bar tab, then romp about with at one of the colonial capitol’s many motor lodges. Despite his foppishness, he proved to be good company most of the time.
As far as mismatched colors, Flip stood out like a sore thumb. Clad in a vintage pair of burgundy corduroy bell bottoms, a bright red and blue plaid flannel shirt along with an olive green fedora, Flip had something going on I could never quite pinpoint. Occasionally his dark beady eyes would dart over to our fire pit. Like most other normal campers, the Birdman felt more at ease with a good blaze bestowing it’s warm flickering glow. All in all we were ready revelers in good company with nowhere to be but where we perched. Tonight that place happen to be Sherando Lake and we had enough provisions for a decent celebration.
Aside from a few cases of ale and beer, our liquor stores boasted of home distilled peach brandy, mescal, rum, vodka and whisky with enough mixers and chasers to see us through. For those who enjoyed an over the ridge view, there were a few varieties of high quality Whoodee in camp.
Susie, mixing up another rum and coke smiled at Bear, telling him - “I’m glad you’re feeling better” She then asked Flip to help her wash cookware down at a sink beside Sherando Lake’s shower house. Rain or not, this was still Bear country and we didn’t want them coming in later.

No sooner than they rolled off, Charlie came out of his pocket with a very small amount of cocaine in a glass vial and dumped it on a cassette tape case. Chopping up not even a decent line with a pocket knife, he tooted it up with a 3” length of pre-cut plastic soda straw. Snorting the coke deep inside his head, Charlie gritted his teeth and started complaining about not having enough time to score an 8ball before splitting for the hills. Using a finger to stuff any residue further into his nose, he gave me a twisted grin and requested - “Whoodie ?”
“If you didn’t spend all your party money on toot, you’d have your own to spark” I scolded, adding - “And you didn’t think to split that line with me”
“You don’t fuck with coke, Jim” He returned while closely watching R.W. pull a fat, well twisted bone from his cigarette pack. Sparking up, taking a good hit and passing to Charlie, R.W. shook his head as Charlie proceeded to bogart until I demanded a go. Paying close attention to this burning wonder passing back and forth, Bear grimaced as he could not partake in fear of a positive piss test at work. What a fucking dilemma on a Friday evening watching friends get way up there from far below.
“Not bad” I said, feeling the Whoodee tinge well with fine hard spirits.
“From south of the James” R.W. coughed out on an exhale. The big # went around a good several times and a few more for the bogarting Charlie who was pretty much up there, soaring somewhere over Loopyville.

Just as Susie and Flip pulled in, the rain tapered down to a mist, right before a thick fog suddenly rolled in blanketing Sherando..

[redshift]

O.K. I actually tried to read the whole story here, but has anyone actually completed it? I am just curious. I am pretty bad with the thing called "focus." Sorry. waay too long for my attention span.

[Jim]

O.K. I actually tried to read the whole story here, but has anyone actually completed it? I am just curious. I am pretty bad with the thing called "focus." Sorry. waay too long for my attention span.

Oh well, free world.

Sorry, I really can't sum up a drinking story in a paragraph. And no the story is not finish, I'm just waiting for the spam bumpers to go away. At least they're not spam bumping my stories.

Maybe I'll finish later.

[Resident Asshole]

I read the whole thing. Good stuff, as usual.

[Jim]

I read the whole thing. Good stuff, as usual.

Thanks.

And it continues -

[Jim]

Storing our cookware away, Flip was jubilant - “Yay ! I can make a fire now”
Along with the other supplies we brought, Flip had packed in a half dozen or so bundles of well seasoned Oak and Walnut along with a good amount of cabinet shop scrap wood for kindling, all kept dry under a tarp. Experience had taught us that most places such as this were pretty devoid of decent firewood and what was being sold at the camp stores was usually overpriced, often too green or else old and going into rot. A good campfire was very important for off seasonal revelers such as us. A good campfire enhanced fellowship more than any indoor social event or religious service.

Taking his army surplus trenching tool in hand, Flip set about scooping out old wet ash from our fire pit. Laying some pre-cut scrap Cedar slats in a floor-like manner over wet dirt at the pit’s bottom, he then arranged kindling and firewood in a suitable way, thus well to burn. In short time with a can of charcoal starter, he had a decent blaze dancing, Adding more Oak, the Birdman had us a roaring fire which illuminated our fog shrouded camp with a weird golden glow. Standing with great pride, Flip watched flickering flames and marveled at how the heat pushed away some of this gloomy mist. Turning away, he seated himself at our table and swiftly noticed the brown stained, spent roach in the ashtray - “You jerkwads couldn’t even wait for me ?” He hissed, no doubt feeling slighted by missing such a function.
Finding some amusement in this, R.W. replied - “We burned that while waiting for you to come back so we can another”
“Relax Flippy” I said - “I’ll pack us one” Getting up and going in the tent, I grabbed our ceremonial pipe bundle. Obscured by fog, I felt it was safe enough to do this outside at our table. Pulling out the long stemmed pipe and a small jar of minced Whoodee, I loaded the big stone bowl then as always, offered it first to the four winds. Passing it to Susie first, she declined. Like Bear, Susie was tested at work, so our pipe went to Flip instead for the initial spark-up. I blessed our bowl with butane flame as Flip deeply drew in the pungent smoke. I was glad he passed it back to me instead of my bogart cousin Charlie and after passing R.W.’s way The Great Bear growled - “Must not be all that good”
“Why you say that, Bear ?” R.W. asked while attempting to hold his hit in.
“Cause y’all just put one out a short time ago”
Recalling past days when Bear use to burn massive amounts of Whoodee, I laughed - “Yeah, don’t get the good shit anymore, like in the old days” In all truth R.W.’s stuff did enough to provide me with a very good bump, decent smoke all in all, just as what I had was nothing to sneeze at either. Bear, no doubt wishing he could partake always made it a point to gripe about this particular aspect of these celebrations. Why not indulge ? Why not get way up there ? It had been almost two years since we had gathered together in the Blue Ridge. Sickness, ill feelings, bad luck, strange behavior and even death had taken a toll upon us since the late summer of 1986, but at least now, seemingly, we were on the mend.
Our large pipe very much complemented the five cups of whisky and three ales I consumed earlier. I felt damn good, but was far from slacking off especially here nestled between the bosom of these Blue ridge Mountains.

Putting away our pipe bundle, I ambled up the wooded base of Torry Ridge a short ways for a good wizz.

Nearly blinded by thick fog, I became a little fearful, but soon felt a sense of comforting security in the big Khyber knife, sheathed and hanging from my belt. Aside from both near and distant merriment, the highland woods were strangely still without even a hint of a soft breeze. Finishing up with a shake and zip, I returned to our small Heathen encampment.
Like Bear, I would rather be camping beside Otter Creek as the fishing here at Sherando Lake was not all that great, but when not affected by heavy weather this recreational area offered some spectacular scenery and had showers, toilets and a camp store which at least sold the basics at an increased price. The booze and Whoodee whirling around inside my skull made this quaint location rather pleasurable. The whisky had heated my blood and the distant laughter of Pagan women spurred on certain yearnings. Bear turned his shaggy head in the direction of our neighbors, grunted then rose from our table, heading in the same direction I had just returned from.
Susie, having spent most of her life in the coastal region said - “This is even thicker than fog on the Chesapeake” Even with both glowing lantern and blazing fire, our visibility was only about 10’ outside camp.
“Shit” Flip returned - “This is a common occurrence up here, especially this time of year” He went on to recount the time him and I were once fogged-in high atop the Skyline Drive at a scenic overlook pull-over for over 24 hours. Such weather conditions have been the bane of many mountain travelers. Having thanked any local friendly, fool-loving friendly spirits watching over us and commending our own good judgment, Flip entered his tent only to emerge a short time latter with some pretty depressing news - “I forgot to pack a deck of cards”
“What ?” I barked - “Look again !”
“No need to Jim, I always put them in the same place in my travel bag. In fact I remember leaving them on my kitchen counter”
“You remember how you forgot the cards ?” Charlie laughed - “Maybe if you forgot to remember them, we’d have a deck now”
At any rate, we were at a loss for tonight as our drunken camp poker was a tradition.

From the way Bear hurried out of the brush, it was apparent that he cared little for these foggy conditions.
“Something moving around up there” He informed us.
“Up where ?” I asked.
“About 50 yards above us”
“You were probably hearing my piss cascading downhill,, a mighty river”
Lighting up a cigarette, Flip said - “It was more than likely a Bear, Bear”
“Fuck the Bear” R.W. sneered - “Flippy forgot the cards”
Cackling like a simian, Charlie said - “He remembered to forget them”
“Too damn foggy to wager on knife and ax throwing” Bear growled - “Might as well have some music”

At least we had a wide selection of our favorite tunes on cassette tapes and at my request Flip popped in some James Gang- Rides Again..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7JBTLnyJ2g

[Jim]

No doubt thinking about the Pagan women as well, R.W. inquired upon if Susie and Flip saw any of our neighbors while washing cookware down at the facilities.
“How could we miss them” Susie returned rather sharply - “Those freaks are wandering all around the campground. We saw a big group of them congregated in the parking area. Looked like a Samantha Stevens family reunion. Hopefully the good witch Glenda will pop out of a floating bubble and take the whole bunch of them back to Kansas”
“Oh come on, Susie” I returned - “From what I’ve heard these Pagans are suppose to be a peaceful nature loving sort”
My cousin laughed, then stared at me with her large glassy eyes and said - “Yeah, peaceful and nature loving alright,, when they’re not sacrificing animals or humans”
At that Bear issued a howl and growled - “Let em try dragging me to some flat cold altar stone”
“Oh they’d have a time with that” I laughed. Flip however gazed outwards into the gloom and asked - “Think there’s any critters like Claudia down there, Jim?”
Hearing our neighbor’s exotic music filter in through the fog, I replied - “Who knows. I hope fucking not, but it may be a good idea if we stay on guard if any interaction occurs”
The Great Bear loudly inhaled through his nose, issued a low rumbling grow then snatched up my full whisky cup and drained it’s entire contents. Slurring his words he said - “Stay on guard ? Interactions ? Weirdoes, witches and mooncalves ! Pah ! I’m not going to have my vacation molested by anymore strange shit because you fuckers get all heated up over some whacked-out camping cuties !”
“Let’s go down there and have a look at them” Charlie suggested with a feral gleam in his eyes prompting a savage snarl to play upon Bear’s face.
Flip agreed - “I could stand for a walk”
“Let us wait until it gets darker” I advised - “It’s better that way”
“Hell Jim” R.W. chuckled - “Can’t hardly see out here as it is”
Giving them a better reason I informed them that a few more cups would be in order before such a venture.
“I think we need to leave them people the fuck alone and mind our own” Bear warned, then requested another cup of whisky.

In these foggy conditions dusk arrived unnoticed and was swiftly followed by night turning all into a thick dark gloomy grey. Itching to stretch our legs we first attempted to convince Susie and Bear to come along, but they would not hear of it. Reaching over and playfully pinching Susie’s leg, Bear commented that everything he needed was right here in camp. This mirthful moment was cut short by noisy footfalls and a loud voice booming in from the gloom - “Where did you find dry firewood ?”
Following a tense several seconds of us rising from our table and trying to peer through the gloom we heard this voice again - “Is there dry wood here ?”
As who ever they were approached us, Bear moved near his ax and roared out - “Who wants to know ?”
Three of them stepped within our misty light, two males and a female. She was the same big-boned rangy gal we had seen earlier. Even in the dim fog tinged light of our camp I could see that her raven hair did not match her rather pale features. Her eyes were sky-blue.
“You have dry firewood ?” She asked.
The youngest of the trio, a long sandy haired lad probably in his late teens somewhat garbed in pseudo hippy fashion with a Green Man shirt at least had enough courtesy to extend a greeting, introducing himself as Jeff. We would of shaken his hands but they held a bundle of what looked to be wet rotten wood.
We had seen the other fellow earlier as well, the one with the little hair spikes. Now he held a camping hatchet while standing behind both Jeff and the woman who again inquired about dry firewood.
“After that good rain and all this fog, I don’t rekkin y’all are gonna find any dry woods here abouts” Bear said then unexpectedly growled - “Just who the hell are you ?”
“Your friends got names, Jeff ?” Susie asked in a more pleasant manner.
Looking not at us but rather off to the side of camp, the black haired woman dryly introduced herself as Shadow Dancer - “But you can call me Shadow”
“What about you ?” Susie demanded from Spike.
Boldly pressing through his companions, he told us - “My name is Shadow Fox”
“Lot of shade around here” Susie laughed - “Can we call you Shadow too ?”
“You can call me Fox” He started to say something else but was quickly interrupted by Shadow Dancer - “Where did you find dry wood ?”
Flip shot the young woman a surprised look , but Bear however was beyond surprise - “Wait a minute there darling, don’t you want to know who we are ?”
“Well who are you ?” Shadow asked in a haughty tone.
For awhile Bear regarded the woman with smiling grey eyes and a grin on his bearded face. Lifting his horn from it’s carved antler stand, he deeply quaffed a good amount of ale, belched, laughed and replied - “Who are we ? Ha ! We are those who have dry firewood. That’s who we are”
As Shadow’s jaw dropped Bear continued - “Now at that camp store down yonder, there’s a fellow who would be happy to sale you folks some firewood, but you better get moving before he closes shop for the night”

Aside from Jeff’s smiling face, the other two glared at us before departing out into the fog..

[Bur]

think I'll need to read some of these while less hitting-the-dirt shitfaced I think.

[Jim]

think I'll need to read some of these while less hitting-the-dirt shitfaced I think.

When it gets to that point it's always best to lean backwards as not to fall on yer face.

[Jim]

Still within earshot R.W. shouted out - “Hey Shadow,, come back later and I’ll buy you a drink !”
“Fucking fruit loops” Susie said with a sneer - “Did you see that chick’s dye-job ?”
I had noticed it myself, although Shadow’s hair was raven black, her brows and lashes looked to be of a much lighter color.
“Witchy-Poo” Charlie laughed - “ I think she digs me, I’ll be getting up with that one later”
Flip cast him a black beady-eyed look and hissed - “What makes you think that’s gonna happen ?”
Extending his cup to me as a signal for a whisky fill-up, Charlie shook away dark hair from his bloodshot eyes and in a junky-like mumbling informed Flip - “Oh yeah man, we made eye contact and she was definitely digging on me”
“Really ?” Bear slurred with a grin - “Do fucking go on, Chuck”
“That’s right man, I could go places with a bird like that, and she knows it”
Symbolically flicking an index finger to the brim of his palm straw plantation hat with a thud, R.W. shot down some rum and said - “She’s not bad looking for a big boned girl, I may have to put the move on her myself,,, Charlie Brown”
“I got yer Charlie Brown coming out my ass, Poodle, I claimed her first !”
This substance addled, yet otherwise mirthful banter between Shadow’s would-be suitors went on a few good minutes until Bear took them down a notch or two - “That woman came here looking for wood, not twigs”
“Looking for trouble” Susie added - “I use to know a girl who moved to Hampton from Virginia Beach, She claimed to be in a coven”
“And ?” I asked, wanting to get the low-down.
“Fucking weirdo” She said before taking a good slug of rum, then continued - “Black candles, spells, hair and fingernail clippings, she put a curse on Miss Vandyke, our 11th grade gym teacher”
Curious, I inquired - “A curse ? What happened ?”
“Miss Vandyke started to grow facial hair”
R.W. chuckled - “Vandyke eh ? I remember her, she caught me smoking once during break. What a Warthog she was, I’m sure she wasn’t displeased at all with the facial hair”
“Susie, what time of year did this happen ?” I asked
“Right before school let out for Summer”
“No fucking facial hair curse there” I laughed - “Miss Vandyke always stopped shaving during summertime because the hot humid weather gave her a bad razor burn rash”
“And how do you know that ?”
“Because one summer morning I saw her at Waffle House and she was sporting a light mustache and chin hairs. Another girl told me she had saw Vandyke with razor burns on her face right when school started up”
R.W. howled with laughter and slurred - “Ahhh, she’s more casual during summer break”
“Aye” I returned - “She had a thicker growth than what you’re sporting now”
“Couldn’t drink that one pretty, boys” Susie added for good measure.
“I’d drink myself into erectile dysfunction first” R.W. returned.
Getting off Miss Vandyke with a winch and a ‘Eeewwwwwwwww” Bear turned his shaggy head towards our neighbors - “Coven, huh ? Well that’s a pretty big one”
“Maybe two or three covens together” Susie said - “There has to be 40 or 50 of them down there”
“Mostly women” R.W. threw in with a smile.
Pouring another ale into his horn, Bear reminded us - “Oh, I saw a good few fighting Bucks amongst them as we drove past” Taking a long quaff, he sat his horn down, issued a roar of laughter and added - “But the women looked meaner”
“All the more reason to stay put” Susie warned, adding - “ I really don’t want to deal them”
R.W. raised up off the bench, tittered a bit and slurred - “Stay put ? Fuck that ! I’ve been camping here for years and will go as I please and if any of those so called fighting Bucks trouble me,,”
“You’ll come running back here and expect us to take care of business” Bear growled - “You go down there and fuck-up, Poodle,,, and you’re on your own”
Charlie threw down a slug of whisky, stood up and proclaimed - “I’m with you R.W., let’s go down there and tag some Pagan poon !”
Flip was already up and getting his walking stick when Bear asked me - “You’re not going down there horn-dogging, too ?”
Part of me felt content in staying here in camp with people I knew well, but another part yanked me off the bench thus joining this newly formed party of drunken diplomats. Catching up my Dogwood walking stick, I ambled over to the edge of camp with my fellow adventurers. Hopefully Flip and I would keep the other two out of trouble. Hopefully I would see that flame haired lass who walked by our camp earlier. Hopefully there would be no trouble at all.

As we exited camp, Susie taunted - “That’s right go fucking around with Sabrina and the Groovy Goolies ! Maybe they’ll turn your dumb asses into Toads or Bats !”

Leaving the fog enhanced glow of our camp behind, we walked as quietly as intoxicated men could. As we approached the Pagan encampment, their sounds grew louder, but I couldn’t see them as all was obscured by fog. Still we pressed on. Judging from their voices, we were about 15 yards away from them when I signaled for a halt figuring this would be a good time to call in - “Halloooow, coming into camp !” With that our party continued forward and soon we could make out shapes in the fog. Advancing closer I now saw there were some twenty or so Pagans gathered around a large fire pit while one of their fellows attempted to get a blaze going with store-bought wood and damp brown paper bags as kindling. As we walked in however, all eyes turned to us. Seeing that Shadow, Jeff and Spike were in their numbers, I held up my hand as a sign of peaceful greeting.
“Cool !” Jeff shouted - “The mountain men are here !” This time the young man extended his hand - “I never got your names”
Half-lying I introduced myself under an old alias - “Howdee, I’m Jim Drowning Otter”
Flip almost broke out in laughter as he stepped forward - “Phillip Flipping Bird”
Shooting R.W. a quick leering glance, Charlie bowed and said - “I’m Charles Brown.
R.W.’s self-introduction was by far the most grand. He swaggered up to a beautiful young woman who may have been of Asian descent who had been giving him the eye. Doffing his hat in a bold and most gracefully sweeping motion, He bowed and said - “R.W. here at your service, Miss”
Stepping in closer she smiled and asked what R.W. stood for, then introduced herself as Raven Moon.
“Why Miss, it stands for Randy, Randy Wood”
‘Randy Wood, Charlie Brown, Raven Moon, Shadow Dancer,, a whole lot of fancy aliases in the fog tonight’ I laughed inwardly - ‘A place where nobody knows your name’

Flip always the efficient camper looked on at the Pagan’s attempt at fire making with great concern. Ever the good neighbor among our lot, he tapped the would-be fire maker on his shoulder saying - “Hold up for a bit, I’ll be right back” Without another word he turned about and melted into the fog.
No doubt displaying rank and feeling more cocky around his fellows, Spike demanded - “Where is he off to ?”
R.W. just as cocky returned - “Relax there Young Buck, Flipping Bird is our fire maker”
“And a fine one at that, Fox” I saw fit to add. Even though outnumbered we were Hawks among Doves, Jays and Catbirds.
“Randy Wood is it ?” Raven Moon asked with a wide smile.
For an instant a sinister grin played upon the fop’s face. Bowing again he replied - “But you can call me Randolph”

Following several more interesting minutes with our Pagan neighbors, Flip reappeared out of the foggy beyond holding his trenching tool, several pieces of dry kindling and plastic squirt bottle of charcoal starter. Handing his trenching tool to Jeff, Flip instructed the lad to scoop out wet ash. This task completed, Flip squatted down and arranged both kindling and firewood so as to ensure a good blaze then gave it a good soaking with charcoal starter. However instead of lighting the fire himself, he turned to the mass of Pagans - “Who wants the honor ?”
As these people looked at one another, two commanding figures pressed through the gathering, moving front and center. Immediately I recognized the flame haired woman that had earlier snubbed us. The other was a woman with what looked to have long white or silver hair, but otherwise just as shapely as her companion. Turning and facing the crowd the flame haired woman, her beautiful face drawn tight, spoke with a strident voice - “Sky will light this fire !” And with that, the pale haired woman reached into a large leather bag hanging from her shoulder and produced what appeared to be some sort of ancient flint and striker device. Kneeling down she uttered a few unfamiliar words and proceeded to strike a light.
Flip shot me a look and said - “Pretty cool huh ? They are traditionalists just like us”

Minutes passed without success. Even Sky’s shredded tinder would not catch.

The Birdman, probably just trying to be helpful, approached Sky flicking his butane lighter - “Real damp out here, this here needs a fast flame”
Much to my surprise Flip motioned for the Pagan woman to stand back, which she did. Giving both wood and kindling another good squirt of charcoal starter, he handed his lighter to Sky while telling her to be careful. Kneeling down again, Sky ignited the fire.
Backing away to a picnic table we allowed the Pagans more room around their pit and by the collective ‘Ahhhs’ along with a spreading illumination, they seemed to be quite content. Charlie, Flip and I were all but forgotten while R.W. joined in with them. There was no words of thanks for Flip’s neighborly act or farewells as the three of us strode off into the foggy gloom.
Soon out of sight and swiftly out of earshot we halted and lit up smokes.
“Last thing I’ll do for them !” Flip venomously hissed.
Laughing it off, I told him - “It would seem our diplomatic effort was unsuccessful”
Not being able to see the lake or much any thing at all, I puffed on a cigarette with one hand while holding Flip’s charcoal starter in the other as the distant sound of Pagan drumming and singing found it’s way through thick fog. Charlie, probably in a dejected yet savage mood lifted his head and howled at the top of his lungs. It sounded like a crazy, love struck Coyote and set me to thinking about that flame haired beauty I walked away from without getting a single word to.
Finished with his lonely night calls, Charlie said - “All those chicks, man, it’s like a fucking Frankie Avalon movie”
Slapping my cousin on his back, I returned - “Yeah but there’s no waves, no surfing, no beach and no bikinis”
“Well thanks to me, they have a fire” Flip hissed - “Maybe now they’ll stay clear of us”
“I doubt that, Flippy, now that Randy Wood is with them”
“Hope they turn him into a Newt” The Birdman spat.
“Well if they do, I’ll use him for bait tomorrow” Charlie laughed.

Stomping out our cigarette butts, the three of us started back to our camp..

[Jim]

Giving the Pagan encampment a wide birth, we were soon back within our camp’s cheering glow. And cheered we were by our two remaining companions followed by requests of what accounts could be given concerning the Pagans along with R.W.’s whereabouts. Flip shaking off the fog’s coolness by our blazing fire, sneered and hissed - “Oh, he’s fallen in love” To which Bear merely grunted while Susie poured me a cup of whisky and laughed - “You mean fell into lust, don’t you ?”
“He does have a love for lusting” Flip returned as he went for our jug of fine homemade brandy
“So what nearsighted trollop down there has extended her favors to our wayward romantic ?”Knowing full well R.W. was a horn-dog, especially when drinking, Susie asked as she poured me another “I thought he was seeing some William and Mary chick”
I couldn’t hold such behavior in contempt as any of us would. Anyone here at the table just may find themselves treading upon dark and winding stretches on such a virtuous path, sometimes forking off into the unknown. We took to the bottle knowing damn well our emotions could very well sparked and fanned into flame with inhibitions drifting away in burning heart’s smoke.

With each slug, thoughts of the flamed haired woman swirled around in my swiftly becoming boozed soaked skull.

“Watch” Bear growled - “I’ll wager he’ll lead a few of them back here like stray puppies”
“Some sick puppies” Susie returned.
Taking no time to swirl and sniff, Flip had himself a sizable slug of brandy then went on to recount our encounter with the Pagans and his unappreciated gesture of kindness. Setting down his horn, Bear scarfed down a paw full of potato chips and with his mouth full sputtered - “Those type, eh ? Well let them come again into my camp with such fucking rudeness”
Seeking not to make harsh calls as of yet, I said - “Well we don’t know for sure if they’re bad people. Hell Flip, they could of just been all caught up with the excitement of having a decent made fire in their pit”
“Yeah, Flip, give em time and they’ll grow on you” Susie rolled her eyes.
“Like mold” Charlie added as he gulped down a good measure of rum. At this rate, another trip to the ABC store would be in order tomorrow, but for now provisions were plentiful. Along with the community booze, some of us had bottles stashed away for any emergencies.
Taking up his horn again, Bear grinned then made mention of other spiritual and occult groups we had encountered in our travels. Be they blathering Pentecostals, chanting Hari Krishnas or devious devil worshippers, as a general rule we didn’t bother with them unless provoked or unless one of our drunken number took it upon himself to invite them into camp. Perhaps these Pagans didn’t know any better and some of us took it as a sign of ill manners. Flip didn’t have to help them, but like the rest of us, he was a longtime camper who embraced a sense of neighborly values. Now with their own fire blazing, perhaps there would be no more interaction between camps.
Their celebration grew louder bringing about concern on our part. I don’t think any of us would be comfortable with a possible Ranger raid that could spill over into our small encampment. If such an event unfolded we would have a hard time denying any association with the Pagans while R.W. romped about down there.
Louder, their merriment became, the foggy air was filled with cheers, songs, flutes, rattles and the sound of many drums.
“What the fuck do you suppose is going on down there ?” Bear inquired as we all attempted to peer through the thick fog. Charlie who was now swaying and bopping to the rhythmic rumpus, mumbled - “Sound’s like they’re throwing down”
“Maybe they’re sacrificing R.W.” Susie laughed.
Joining in the mirth, I said - “Ha! Oh his passing spirit would surely piss off their Pagan gods”
“Pissed off enough to pelt us with softball sized hail, and in this fog,, we would never see it coming” Flip added casting a nervous look up into the misty gloom.
Scoffing at such possibilities, Bear laughed and asked - “And what makes you think they would lay a harming hand on our dear and darling dandy ?”
“Because there’s a strutting Ocelot among them now” Susie replied.
Flip, now settled down a bit, had another slug of brandy and laughed - “He is a cat of many spots” then took it upon himself to make a music selection, rifling through our bag of cassette tapes he popped one into the boom box.

It was the 70s soft rock sounds of Seals and Crofts.

Judging from the savage glint in those fierce grey eyes while a massive paw pulled upon his beard, Bear was not amused. Silently sitting through a couple of songs, Bear waited until Flip went off to piss before going for the boom box. Hitting the eject button while slurring out - “Summer breeze makes me feel fine,,” He plucked out the tape and promptly tossed it into the fire. Reseating himself in his folding outdoor throne, The Great Bear looked at me and growled - “Find some decent music !”

As the smell of burning plastic reached my nose, I looked for music befitting both mood and our current situation..

[Jim]

Gee, with all those spammies gone, I can continue.LOL!

[fizzmaster]

Great stuff, Jim! Looking forward to the continuation.

[Swede]

Hey Jim, will we get to see the rest of your tale?