Rufus the Mad
Shut up and Dance...
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2005
- Posts
- 1,245
“Dammit Joey” I muttered, struggling through the dark with the heavy pack “I thought you said this fucking place was easy to get to!”
“It is easy, now stop yer bitchin and just move yer ass!” he replied, staggering a bit ahead of me in the gloom.
We had taken the day off, each of us sneaking away from the world, as it were, to get a jump on the weekend, and had struck out to a supposedly great fishing spot my friend and fellow stumble bum had found last year. We each carried our own tackle, neither one quite trusting the other with our closely guarded secret weapons in the battle of line and lure, but where he had his hands full with the cooler, I was stuck playing pack mule for everything else. An old Army pack served as a carrier for both of our tents, the cooking gear, the miscellaneous equipment that we were never sure we would need but always brought anyway, and of course the ever present solar powered tape player that I had cobbled together several years back. The old music monster was ugly as sin, but it never needed batteries, and was sturdy as hell. You could tell, because it was as heavy as hell too.
"So where the fuck is it then!?” I snapped, more than a little tired. Like I said, we had taken the day off, and had been tromping through the back woods and bogs for the last six hours. Now, with night surrounding us, I was more than ready to just set up here and say to hell with it!
“Alright, alright, we’re here, ya big baby.” he said with a grin, his teeth being about all I could see of him in the dark “We can set up the tents over here, and we’ll get up at first light to get in a full day of me kickin yer ass at fishin!”
“Like hell!” I said with a good natured laugh, easing the pack down and reaching for the first of the pop-up domes. We knocked the camp out in short order, each of us carrying out our tasks with a practiced ease, not needing light to know where the other one was, or what they were doing. We had been sneaking away like this for over sixteen of our twenty-four years, and had more than worked out each others habits by now.
The last thing we did is crack open the cooler, revealing the precious icy cold brew that had fueled some of the wildest experiences of our lives. Popping the top on a couple, we sat back and listened to the nearby river, neither saying anything, simply enjoying the relaxed atmosphere as we sipped our beers in the dark. That was the way we spent our evening, drinking quietly, watching the stars, and listening to the river until we felt tired enough to try sleeping in those tiny little tents.
The morning was well on its way by the time I crawled out of the nylon hell that Wally World had decided to try passing off as a shelter, and I was ready to tear Joey a new one for letting me sleep while he fished. This wasn’t the first time he had pulled this shit, sneaking in a few hours extra time on the river to snag more fish, but it was for damn sure going to be his last! But first, I had to release a few of those trapped brewers eggs…
I staggered in the direction I remembered hearing the river last night, intent on first relieving a bit of pressure, and then smacking the back of a fuzzy red-haired head. For about ten minutes I staggered… then I stood up and walked, then I ran. Then I stopped and yelled.
Where the fuck was I!?
“It is easy, now stop yer bitchin and just move yer ass!” he replied, staggering a bit ahead of me in the gloom.
We had taken the day off, each of us sneaking away from the world, as it were, to get a jump on the weekend, and had struck out to a supposedly great fishing spot my friend and fellow stumble bum had found last year. We each carried our own tackle, neither one quite trusting the other with our closely guarded secret weapons in the battle of line and lure, but where he had his hands full with the cooler, I was stuck playing pack mule for everything else. An old Army pack served as a carrier for both of our tents, the cooking gear, the miscellaneous equipment that we were never sure we would need but always brought anyway, and of course the ever present solar powered tape player that I had cobbled together several years back. The old music monster was ugly as sin, but it never needed batteries, and was sturdy as hell. You could tell, because it was as heavy as hell too.
"So where the fuck is it then!?” I snapped, more than a little tired. Like I said, we had taken the day off, and had been tromping through the back woods and bogs for the last six hours. Now, with night surrounding us, I was more than ready to just set up here and say to hell with it!
“Alright, alright, we’re here, ya big baby.” he said with a grin, his teeth being about all I could see of him in the dark “We can set up the tents over here, and we’ll get up at first light to get in a full day of me kickin yer ass at fishin!”
“Like hell!” I said with a good natured laugh, easing the pack down and reaching for the first of the pop-up domes. We knocked the camp out in short order, each of us carrying out our tasks with a practiced ease, not needing light to know where the other one was, or what they were doing. We had been sneaking away like this for over sixteen of our twenty-four years, and had more than worked out each others habits by now.
The last thing we did is crack open the cooler, revealing the precious icy cold brew that had fueled some of the wildest experiences of our lives. Popping the top on a couple, we sat back and listened to the nearby river, neither saying anything, simply enjoying the relaxed atmosphere as we sipped our beers in the dark. That was the way we spent our evening, drinking quietly, watching the stars, and listening to the river until we felt tired enough to try sleeping in those tiny little tents.
The morning was well on its way by the time I crawled out of the nylon hell that Wally World had decided to try passing off as a shelter, and I was ready to tear Joey a new one for letting me sleep while he fished. This wasn’t the first time he had pulled this shit, sneaking in a few hours extra time on the river to snag more fish, but it was for damn sure going to be his last! But first, I had to release a few of those trapped brewers eggs…
I staggered in the direction I remembered hearing the river last night, intent on first relieving a bit of pressure, and then smacking the back of a fuzzy red-haired head. For about ten minutes I staggered… then I stood up and walked, then I ran. Then I stopped and yelled.
Where the fuck was I!?
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