The Secret Garden

Needless to say we traveled some hundred or more miles North and West still imagining that 'Stealth Cops were trailing behind until well into the morning before ending up at the very same campstore at BigMeadows.

Still very much in a whacked-out altered state and a deperated need for beer, we barged in like crazed savages made tracks for the suds, opening and guzzling bottles inside this establishment, thus breaking several State and no doubt Federal ABC laws.

Perhaps another Story..

The Great Bear and I breathed sweet sighs of relief in not seeing that same frightened short,curly permed, pointy glasses wearing clerk who was tending store some 9 years earlier. Instead we traded with a younger Woman with a weird far-away look in her eyes. Flip attempted to direct abit of friendly small-talk her way while paying for a bag of cone-shaped corn snacks. She offered only a few vague one word replies and then finished the trade with the standard "Thankyou, Bye, Come again" The BirdMan ogled her mid-section for a few pitiful desperate seconds, then turned about away from the counter.

Tossing bags of ice into the truck bed, we headed back to camp. But upon nearing it was decided we check out the whole campground loop. From my count it appeared BigMeadows Campground was less than half full. I had begun to wonder why those 3 oldsters picked a spot right next to us..

We were here until next Saturday and really didn't need or couldn't afford any problems at all. Which meant -

No howling. No dancing in leaps and bounds around the fire. No loud Rock Music blaring. No drunken squabbles.

The Great Bear would have to call a council and hopefully afterwards all should go abit more smoothly keeping in mind we now had neighbors to contend with. With any luck at all they were only one-nighters, splitting tomorrow.

We rounded the loop and pulled into camp noticing that our Neighbors had not only returned, but were visiting as well. "Oh Fuck" I thought wondering what had went down already, but my fears became somewhat quelled after seeing 'The Old Ones' laughing and carrying on in a friendly manner the others.

Following cheerful introductions we learned their names - 'Claudia', 'Mildred' and 'Guy' The later 2 being a married couple and the other being a step sister. Claudia appeared to be in her early 60s yet still quite comely and well turned for a Woman her age with long gray streaked brown hair swept up in a School Mom-like fashion. A pair of Tortise shell-rimmed glasses framed her hazel eyes. Mildred was near the same age only short and squat with a bad case of lazy eye. Appearing older than the others yet very spry, Guy was moving about in swift manner making small talk with different members of our band. Clad in a Tshirt, khaki shorts, black polyester blend knee socks and sneakers, sporting a pair of horned rimmed specs, he seemed friendly enough for this intitial greeting as they all did..

They had brought us a small loaf of banana nut bread and in the tradition of gift-giving we offered what was left of the camp taters and beans along with cooling beverage. They accepted. It was kinda obvious by now these were no 'Good Sam Club' campers watching Guy suck down a bottle of ale with great gusto. Taking notice of the wide hide covered drum and long wooden flute hanging by a leather cord from a Tree branch he asked - "Hey cool, are you guys Musicians ?"

"No not really" I answered "We are of different trades and vocations, but enjoy making abit of noise during such outings"

Claudia took a long draught from her red plastic cup and informed us - "You are Musicians then" It sounded almost like she was doling out an assignment.

True, all of us did goof around with such instruments as the drum, flute, gourdrattle and carved antler rasp along with abit of chanting and Charlie's harmonica we had created a Bluesy Primitive sound. Denny called it - 'The Stoned-Age Blues'

Perhaps latter when dusk arrived and after the Pipe we could throw down with some funky Cro-Magnon sound, build up the Fire, revel in the wonders of Nature, ever constant and all around us like a trackless Great Mystery..

Finishing their beverages, saying goodbyes for now, accepting invitations to return later, our Neighbors departed taking a fair amount of camp beans and taters with them, pots and all.

Thinking these Folk were Jibe-Alright and not the overly complaining type I entered our storage tent for a another 6pack of double whack to top off my Ale Cooler. It was then I made a discovery - Within this scorching hot dark blue dome tent the Buds had dried enough to bag-up. Calling Flip inside we set about this task in the sweltering heat where a good sharp pair of camp scissors came into play

Once contained in scent free Ziplock sandwich bags we were looking at about an ounce and a half of top-grade grass apiece, yet far more than enough to keep everybody very much 'up there' during this visit to BigMeadows.

Bailing out of the 'Sweat Lodge' the appraoching evening air felt alot cooler to us. Flip made the mistake of tossing all un-wanted stems into our fire producing a large cloud of smoke which smelled like a giant exhaled bong-hit until I threw in a large sticky Pine knot. Hopefully it masked the weed scent..

"You need to let that fire burn down some, you're stewing me in my own body fat" The Bear had every right to complain as we had a big blaze going althrough this Late Summer's Day turning us almost into jerky. Now that the tops were somewhat cured and sealed in for freshness, we could let our fire burn down until Night's Cool.

Just as Dusk was bidding Day Farewell, 5 of us entered the largest of our sleeping tents and after closing all flaps and gear put forth we seated ourselves in a circle. Being The Pipe Carrier I removed our long stem Stone Pipe from it's beaded narrow Deerskin bag. Not wishing to bring about bad feelings during this ceremony I loaded the bowl from my own stash rather than having all of us experience Flip grimace and hiss at the aspect of burning his own weed.

Pipe loaded, I lfted it with both hands up and Westward in offering to the setting Sun, then Eastward to the approaching Night.

Lit by butane flame I drew in a large amount of the pungent smoke, then passed it in a Westward direction to Denny beside me. Going around several times proved enough as we were all quite ripped. The Pipe finished and everything put away we exited through tent door flaps just as the shadows were growing wider in Night's uncoming darkness.

It had grown abit cooler and gray fog began to drift in wrapping whispy tentacles around the Trees and brush..

We could smell grilling chicken drifting in upon a slight breeze from our neighbor's camp. The Bear lifted his shaggy head and roared out - "I do love me some grilled bird!!" which left us wondering if he ever had enough to scarf on. In one swift motion he snatched up Flip's cone-like cornsnacks and poured them down his gullet. Perhaps he had teeth all the way down to the first of his three stomachs.

"Hey man !" Flip yelped "You owe me a bag of Bugles" It was then Bear reminded Flip of the Ale he had consumed, but not chipped in for yesterday at Waynesboro. "In fact I paid for all those ribeyes, you stingy little Buzzard" The Great Bear added.

Always counting on the BirdMan to be himself, we were never disappointed. But all in all, his ways in measure made up our overall Medicine.

Charlie on the other hand was wanting to go back in our smoking tent for abit more until I handed him a shot of Vodka thus shutting him up for now.

We attempted a go at the cards, but could not manage the game and decided to devote our time in getting wrecked. Somewhat Young, and still full of party vigor all of us could throw down on a bender. This was Vacation and the rules that governed us at the usual daily round did not apply here at this particular time..

I rather enjoy an upland fog.

The way it's billions of tiny floating droplets reflect lantern and campfire light. casting a strange glow from afar. Gazing about with glazed eyes I could make out a few other fires, lights filtering through both brush and mist.

The Fog always made Bear abit edgyand even now he was tapping upon the Staghorn handle of his large curved hunting knife. Fishing through a cooler and finding an odd bottle of German beer, I popped it open then motioned for The Bear to allow me his drinking horn for the filling.

Seated in a standard folding outdoor chair, with injured leg propt up upon his cooler. He quaffed deeply stormy grey eyes looking out beyond the firelight, perhaps expecting an ancient horror to burst into our encampment. His reddish-gold beard sparkled with streams of what drink that escaped both horn and gullet. The shaggy mass of brass hued hair falling about broad shoulders only added to his wild appearance. A Spangenhelm and coat of scale mail would of suited him better than his faded blue denim shirt and jeans. Layed back when unprovoked, yet ready to 'jump time' with beserker fury if overly fucked-with or extremely pissed as the 2 kinda went together like bait and tackle..

All present had known eachother since early childhood, growing up together within a half mile's walk. Some of us had moved away from Hampton. R.W. and I moved to the Williamsburg area, where others stayed in their hometown. I settled down to married life and too much work, while R.W., living in a flat near Jamestown continued to chase younger Women, mostly William and Mary gals who he impressed with his own unique brand of bar-room bullshit. For awhile he was devoted to a young college lady of the Williamsburg gentry. She payed his bills, bought his clothes, wined and dined him in lofty fashion





for awhile with marrige on her mind until,



he gave her the clap he had picked up from a one night stand from Newport News.



The Great Bear had hooked up with the ex-wife of an Air Force Officer. A somewhat older Micmac Women from Labrador who provided my huge Teuton friend with a ready-made family consiting of three fine half-Native stepchildren and 2 Cats. He remains with her still.



Denny after 2 failed marriges lived with his parents as did cousin Charlie who had neither the sense or skills needed to live out on one's own. A block away from each other they often hung out together.


Some years back Flip had leaped smack dab into family life after knocking up a co-worker's sister on their first date. Now with 2 daughters he provided for his family, but had an occassional taste for nose candy, which in time would progress to the point of disaster. I tried the toot a few times, but did not care for a buzz which rendered me a jittery, teeth grinding paranoid bounding from a chair every 3 minutes to look out the window..

Factory Workers, A Restaurant Manager, A Roofer, and a City Employee who with the exception of Charlie at his Golf Course job, worked long hard days or nights often under rushed and stressful conditions.

It was only last week our Forklift Driver snapped and held the plant manager, a supervisor and 2 quality control personal pinned down in a cinderblock wall corner, threatening to skewer them with the long steel forks unless they heard him out. This lasted until local cops arrived and defused the situation. 12 hour shifts which often turned into 16 brings in alot of overtime pay, yet takes a heavy toll of one's body and soul. 3 of these 4 day upland weekends a year provided much needed rest, recreation and relief thus giving me something to look forward to while toiling at the daily round.

Once or twice a year, those of us with women or children, or both would take them along. These trips were fun-filled happy times with much socializing usually taken in early Summer.

Once or twice a year it would be just us, the Bucks. Getting slammed and acting-the-fool without anyone small to frighten or anyone to embarrass but ourselves..

I just have to say this story is absolutely epic..carry on

The secret garden kind of reminds me of a story that happened to me some 30 years back. I too knew of a secret garden and made the most of it as well.

Great story, LongHunter.

he he....reminds me of my own secret garden.........no humans found it but these green worms took there fair share....lol....

This time though we took a whole week and then some.

The fog that night was not as bad as some along the Blue Ridge, yet enough for us to feel moisture as it settled in. Damp enough to inspire a Toad's song. Our sodden conversations rose, crested and fell upon our addled conditions carrying away abit more sand as they retreated and returned.

Denny inquired about Charlie's huge mutant yellow tabby, which he had claimed fought with his household's gray tabby Geya who defeated McDick The Cat squarely earlier in the week.
Geya had defended her turf and sallied the brute forth. In pounds McDick was huge perhaps over 20 pounds of feline steel springs, much too mean to allow any one whisking him off for a de-nutting at the Vet. And what nuts they were almost dragging at times over lawns, down sidewalks and across neighborhood streets. He had sired half the cats in our old stomping grounds. With one ear almost missing and the other one just hanging he wasn't up for a photo shoot at Cat Fancy Magazine. He had once ruled the streets, alleys and flower garden
'drop and scratch' zones, often defeating dogs in savage backyard engagements. But now time and old wounds were catching up with him as to be shamed by a 9 year old fixed female.


"He just sits under the boxwoods now " Charlie answered and went on describing the crazy antics of his whacked out Siamese 'Wing'. I had once witnessed this cross eyed wonder charge and crash against the television screen during an episode of Huckleberry Hound.

Charlie told me it was the background music that excited him into such an act..

Though often thinking ourselves as being Wolves, we were for the most part Cat People. Like the feline, borders, property lines, fences and walls proved to be no barrier to us when aloof, but like McDick we knew time would wear us down to a nub or worse.

The Dibbles along with Charlie and myself discussed how we should hit The Shenandoah tomorrow, before going into Luray for provisions as some of us came with rod and tackle, in hopes of perhaps snagging a Smallmouth or 2. Flip and The Bear would remain at camp, which suited them fine. "Just don't take all fucking day getting back with our goods" The Bear who had never been much of an angler went on to remind me of the last time we left him at camp all day and half the evening while on a past grocery run, then blurted out "Screw it I'm coming too ! Flip you stay here and guard the camp" at which the BirdMan returned in a gargled drunken whine - "Don't forget my bag of Bugles"


Music !

The boombox and cloth bag of cassette tapes were well within my reach and soon I was shifting around the mass of plastic cases looking to get a groove on.

Oh yeah, they're gonna love this,,


Some JB

Hardest working man in show business.

The GodFather of Soul and founder of Funk,,

James Brown


Oh how the Great Bear loathed it. Denny cared less for it. Yet some of us could get on down..

It was a home made tape and as I remember correctly before it went into the low burning campfire the first song was 'Good Foot' As that funky beat blared out through two large round compact speakers most of the company leaped forth into strange jittery circa 1970s
Afro-American dance motions. Charlie was doing the 'Robot' as R.W.'s shit resembled something out of the old Television Series 'What's Happening' The Bear being a Southern Rock fan was not at all amused. Denny on the other hand listened to alot of weird stuff like as I remember correctly Zero X or 0X and Craftwork (?) any way he didn't care for this outburst of Jive-Turkeyness either.

There I was swaying my head, rolling my eyes, clapping my hands and dancing to the music of The James Brown Band,,, Get on da GoodFoot, Get on the GoodFoot. While in the grip of this funky beat I either failed to notice or wasn't really concerned as The Great Bear limp/lumbered over to our Boombox, hit eject, plucked the tape out and tossed it upon burning coals where James Brown melted into a goo.

" Soul Train is off the air motherfuckers" he said while popping in some Allman Brothers, 'Eat a Peach'.

"That's cool Bear, but if you put that suckass bootleg live version of fucking Skynyrd Free Bird again I'll melt it's wings into black splatters"

Flip enjoyed that 'lonely guy' stadium-rock ballad stuff and requested to play some Journey next, and then R.W. informed the BirdMan he would throw that crap into the flames as well.

We could stay up all night tossing cassettes to the fire if need be..

"What in the world is that smell ?" It was Claudia's voice rushing into our camp 3 steps ahead of her advance. " Goodness, I thought a tent was on fire" She appeared totally different no longer sporting such a 'SchoolMorm' look, but now clad in a Levi's Jacket, low cut tank top, along with a colorful sarrong wrapped about her hips. Hair no longer confined in a bun fell down freely almost to her still shapely bottom. The Dibble boys sprung forward as if by instinct in overly friendly greetings one could not mistake that 'Not bad for an older broad' look which was no doubt in all our eyes.

She smiled, shook hands, recieved bows and hat tipping, then sniffed about and said - "It smells like plastic burning" in which the Bear replied " Yeah it was James Brown, he's real hot" I went on to lie in explaination attempting to hide such a previous act of sudden rageful disgust - "It was A cassette tape that by the misfortune of accident fell into the fire", and apologized for it's burning plastic stench. Couldn't help but shoot a glare at the Bear still chuckling about his 'real hot' remark. Just wait I'll take a pair of camp scissors to his 'Molly Hatchett' tape before the dawn.

Minutes later Guy and Mildred ambled in. Guy, giving us the once over, laughed and commented "Feeling no pain" raising our cups offering him what cheer we could manage..

Claudia assured Mildred "Everything's OK, something only fell in the fire" The couple turned back to their pop-up but in short time re-entered our encampment toting folding camp chairs similar to the one Bear sat in. Accepting a offered space between the Dibbles at the table, Claudia seated herself in poised manner. Sitting straight and tall, hands upon table, fingers interlocked, her aquiline features were beyond comely, bordering on striking. Beautiful eyes which changed hues in our lantern and low burning fire light. Even in her free-flowing evening fashion she appeared regal-like and not the type of older lady who frequented Bingo halls or discount department stores.

Still somewhat puzzledover our neighbor's choice of camping location I fished abit - "So Guy, how's that campsite overthere ?" while offering our guests libations.

Guy obiviously hip to the 'open container' rules, poured the Ale I handed him into a plastic cup, and explained to us that they had been visiting the BigMeadows area on a yearly basis, then went on to add "We've always like this part of the campground and always managed to get a spot here" he went on - "This time we brought Claudia" who was Mildred's recently Widowed half-sister. At the mention of 'Widowed' Claudia displayed a mysterious slight smile, which I found quite odd.

"Do you have anything stronger than Ale ?" Claudia inquired. "If not I can grab some wine. "

I ran down the list -

Vodka, Dark Rum, Canadian Whisky and a bottle of Mescal.


"Well then make mine a Vodka on the rocks, since I suppose vermouth and a olive is out of the question"..

"You supposed correctly I'm sorry to say" I proceeded to fix her up, but in this case a tacky red plastic disposable tumbler would not do. Grabbing a finely crafted Colonial Williamsburg ceramic mug I used it to scoop up a fair measure of storebought ice cubes, then filled it almost to the rim with the clear liquid warmth, pulled out from our 'kit bag'.

"Poured out of the bottle and over the pebbles" I handed her the drink.

"So what kind of work you young men do ?" Guy asked perhaps an attempt to get a somewhat sane conversation started.

I remember somebody saying - "Work ? Oh surely not here."

With the exception of Charlie and R.W. we gave them only brief descriptions of our jobs, careful not to mention company names or locations. Of course R.W. had to tell them if ever in the 'Burg' "Come visit my Restaurant" He managed some cheesy Safari-themed eatery and lounge located in the basement of a BestWestern Inn. It was the site of last Winter's BloodyMary drinking contest-Winner Drinks Free.

When politely asked Our Guests declined information about their vocations other than "We're retired State College Employees" and left it at that by changing the subject to weather conditions..

Claudia seemed to be aglow between the now snockered and feverishly flirting Dibbles, who were steadily fueling that luminescense, or so they thought by their extended affections. But as cups were drained and refilled at a good pace Denny and R.W.'s jaunty jargon rapidly declined into slurring braggadocio nonsense. Even Charlie was keeping his shit together more so than the drunken Dibble dandies. Handsome, witty and charming, neither brother could handle his hard drink for very long before becoming a total emotional mess, often falling upon each other. Each of equal fighting prowess would get the shit beat out of him, or else have some one do the job for them after overly crossing the lines of proper Celebration conduct.

That was alright though, judging from the amount of spirits going down, our guests were 'putting on one' as well.


Ahhhh - hmmmm, the amount of liquid refreshment I had consumed thus far was weighing heavy and sloshing in my bladder. I excused myself walked a good 10 yards beyond the rear of camp, stepped behind a Tree for relief's sake.

The sounds of Merriment were drowned out by distance and the splashing of falling pee.

I whistled a tune..

Finished and zipped up I stood for awhile watching the glow of our camp through both fog and foliage thinking to myself 'this is great, I feel very goooood'

Abruptly the spell was broken by the sound of a slow labored tread over the leaf litter, snapping twigs and crunching dead limbs. Turning about with hand near hilt I saw it was only Bear plodding along with his stick entering the brush no doubt to urinate also.

"So did you miss my sweet company, and decide to come calling, Love ?"

Stepping behind a large Tree he answered "Gotta drain me lizard" then continued in mid-stream " There's gonna be trouble with the Dibbles"

"How do you mean ?"

"After you left and while I was leaving, it was starting up"

Knowing exactly what he meant while starting back to camp led to some quick pondering. Coming in and keeping my eyes upon both Dibble and Claudia inbetween I saw the situation had moved beyond a simple, fair, good natured cheery contest for favor, progressing into a duel of cock-block thrust and parry. It would no doubt get more uglier in about a half an hour if measures were not taken swiftly..

After seating myself and throwing down a dram of straight Vodka, while keeping at least one eye on the brothers I heard Mildred ask Guy to walk her and Claudia to the restrooms.

They politely excused themselves while starting out for the loop.

"Don't rush off " The Bear told them as he limped into camp. "Just off to the powder room" Claudia returned, softly stroking Bear's shoulder before re-joining her relief party.

Both Dibbles were up too, clearly ready to accompany the object of their booze addled affections down a dark and misty road. Even worse, Flip had risen from his perch as well appearing at ready to tag along.

"Shit, all of you don't need to be in this parade of Lavatory Guards" The Bear softly rumbled. "Besides I need your help with something,, piss in the brush like a Bear" then paused to laugh at his own pun.


"I gotta doo something else and ain't gonna be dooing it in the woods like a Bear, you oaf"

"Gonna pinch a loaf Flip ?" Charlie asked with a serious yet comical face "I know bowel movements in a strange place can be difficult for some people" True, Flip did have that problem. Some folk tend to behave rather strangely when unable to go and full of shit, but finally after abit of straining/tugging that logjam breaks up, floats downstream and it's nothing but Sunshine following the flush. Once at Elkhorn Lake it took him three days..

"Then by all means, Flip you lead the party, show em the way, if they don't already know" The Bear ordered. With that the 4 of them strolled out of camp into the misty Night.

"What the fuck is going on Bear ?" R.W. seethed brows knotted above bloodshot eyes, followed by his brother demanding to know - "What the hell do you need our help for ?" They both were sotted up to the precarious point of being overly bold, like Salmon nipping at a Grizzly Bear's feet. Confronting the large one in such a manner could prove disasterous. Hearing the low growl Charlie and I pulled our eyes from this unfolding scene, exchanged quick wide-eyed stares, then swiftly returned attention to the pre-mauling suspense and drama before us expecting to hear the gruesome sound of bones snapping any second.

In an uncharacteristic move the huge Teuton calmly motioned for, then requested the Brothers have a seat which they complied with some hissing and grunting.

R.W. lit up a Salem, looked up at the Bear - "What ?"


"What ?" Bear laughed and asked - "WHAT if we don't have any of your dumbshit hissy-fit antics this fine night ?" Moving behind the both of them seated he put forth another simple question - WHAT if I knock the 2 of you into next Saturday if you guys start up your dumbshit ? " then added " You fellows don't want to miss most of your stay at BigMeadows, do you ?"


THEEWAACCK !

Swift as a stricking Timber Rattler The Great Bear's Hickory stick crashed upon the table between the 2 Dibbles making Charlie and I flinch as well.

"Then we're all good friends then, having a great time ?" Oh how they assured The Bear this was indeed so..

Charlie looked glum, so I asked if he was dissapointed by the peaceful outcome,, He shook his head and said - "Damn, I wanted to see him use one of them as a club to beat the snot out of the other one" Smiling I reminded him - "Remember last time that happen eh ?"

Without any disruptive person being sent to the corner or crumpled upon some rocks, The Great Bear's lesson had concluded with better than average results just as we once again heard the sound of tires turning gravel. This time something told me to turn our music down abit.

"More neighbors ?"

"I don't think so" Bear answered, his grey eyes straining through the mist.

The Cruiser came to a halt. Some yards away infront of our encampment a Shenandoah National Park Ranger was checking us out. For a tense several seconds we waved and nodded, but he did not move on. A parley would be in order. Being the acting Hetmen of this camp we ventured forth, slowly approaching his driver's side, hands in plain view.
We waited a half minute berfore he rolled down the glass. "Good Evening Gentlemen"
Even seated in his car we could tell this Kat was big and could no doubt handle most of us if need be. Clad in a neatly pressed Ranger uniform and close cropped in military fashion he engaged us in abit of small talk concerning the weather, going on to remind Bear and I of the 10 pm quiet time.

"Before I go, just wanta ask you fellows have seen anyone strange or out of place in the area ?"

Strange ?

Taking a good look at each other then casting a glance back at our companions we replied
"No Sir". He bid us goodnight, got a little wheel while peeling away from the encampment.

"Telling us to contact him if we see anyone strange " We both roared with laughter. Walking back to the table - "You're damn lucky we didn't turn you over to the Federal Rangers, you goofs"

"Anyone Strange" I gave abit of thought to the Ranger's description . Stange enough to to throw James Brown into a firery pit ? Taking a good look at Charlie's scorched Potato Head creation and thinking -'Stange enough to turn a popular children's toy and harmless camp spud into such a monstrosity ?' and finally - Strange enough to be growing weed in a National Park ? Of course the Ranger could of been fucking with us..

At least for the most part we were good campers who after vigorous hike or drowning worms in a stream enjoy getting lit up by the campfire. We mostly chose State or Federal Park Campgrounds for the away from the main road feeling and breathtaking scenery. Going off season to avoid on season crowds

An unexpected visit from any Law Enforcement Official can be a sobering experience so I cracked open a fresh fifth of fine Vodka and poured me a good one.

The Dibbles wanted to know - "What he want ?"

I informed them he was on the lookout for 2 cock-bite bastards and a Potato Head molesting, frog-eyed fucker on the loose and last seen in this general location. Upon hearing that Charlie pulled out a large folding knife and proceeded to cut a odd shaped orifice into his wretched creation, finishing the hole, with a sudden downward jab he pinned
it to our table rambling "My Little Flippy"

I had to down the whole cup after looking upon this 'thing', having one of it's misplaced melted plastic eyes trying to look into my soul.

What the hell, why tell him to put it away before our guests return ?

I must admit is was a conversation piece..

It seemed like our Flip and our Guests were overdue, but after a couple of more drinks and crude jokes they finally found their way back. We noticed Flip's stride was more light and springy, like a off the leash mongrel after laying a well coiled poo swirl on somebody's award winning showpiece lawn. His skin no longer had that yellowish-gray tint.

Charlie spoke up - " Have a good one Flippy ?"

The BirdMan's narrow face split into a wide twisted smile, "Hell Yeah, haven't had me one since Thursday Night" Apparently it was an event that warranted announcement and raised cup cheer.

I filled his cup and bestowed a congratulation - "Since Thursday,, now that's an improvement to be proud of. Ahhh, I see you took my advice on getting more fiber and eating less cheese. Here Here !! "

Mildred and Guy accepted refreshment and plopped down into their folding chairs, with the Bear they formed a half circle extending from beside the fire to our table. Claudia, this time seated herself next to Charlie, across from me and near The Bear's kicked back position. No sooner than sitting down with an arched brow she inquired about Charlie's Table Centerpiece with it's misplaced melted plastic Potato Head parts, scorched sections of burnt-black peeling skin. Fine once ivory hued flesh hellishly heated to crispy brown.

"What do we have hear " she asked lightly tapping the handle of Charlie's table stuck Buck Knive. Raising his large protruding eyes upwards he whispered "Little Flippy"..