Not Good

While I may be good at telling a real scream from a pretend scream, I'm not good at identifying the source of the scream. The woods out the back of the cabin were thick were trees and shrubbery. It was possible to see through them to some degree so I wasn't losing track of my fellow searchers but there were too many hiding spots. With the screaming now ceased, I had no good way to tell where I should be headed. I was trying to hurry but I didn't know to where I was hurrying.

Suddenly I heard Dave loudly call upon a deity. I located him, saw the look of shock and surprise on his face, and rapidly headed in his directions. I was the first to join him. I immediately regretted it.

Tim lay limply against a tree, the side of his face caved in and slashed. He looked very dead. Blood dripped, bone and gristle exposed to the air. It was a gruesome sight. In an unexpected manner, I had failed as chaperone.

His lady friend, Janet the cute girl that had apologized to me for him, was backed up against another tree facing him, wide eyed and trembling, clearly in shock. When Tina arrived on the scene, I did my best to steer her away from the body and towards the young lady, directly that she be taken inside. Tina's curiosity was strong enough that she fought for a glimpse of the body. The verbiage that spilled from her mouth wasn't pretty but neither was the sight before her.

Dave's shock had faded. Carefully, sadly, he checked for a pulse. The young man looked very dead to me but Dave knew him. Perhaps he felt that this could be a trick or maybe just needed to convince himself of the reality of the situation. Once Dave stepped away from him, I touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Is there a tarp or blanket we could use to cover him up?”

Dave nodded slowly. “We should take him inside. I don't want to let the critters get to him.”

I hesitated. “We shouldn't disturb him yet. This might be a crime scene. Let's get some more information before we do that.”

“Crime scene?” Dave echoed. “That's the work of an animal.”

“It might just look like an animal,” I informed. “We have someone who likely saw it happen. If she says it was an animal, I'll help you move him. Okay?” Dave thought about it but eventually nodded. I steered him away from the sight, moving him back towards the cabin.

Relationships is a Funny Word

“Sounds like a real winner,” Tina declared.

“He wasn't always like that,” I defended. “Most of the time he was a lot of fun. Very clever.”

“How bad was he when he was bad?” she questioned.

I looked at her blankly. “I just told you what he did to my car. That wasn't enough?”

She gave me a frustrated look. “Right but was he always like that when he was bad or was that something special?”

I hummed and hawwed a bit. “He would do some weird things but, at the same time, this was special.”

“Okay.” She relaxed a bit. “Cause it was starting to sound abusive. If he'd been your girlfriend, I'd say you should dump her.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend like that?” I asked.

Tina shook her head no. “I've had... friends that had bad relationships and its hard, hard to see them when they're in them and hard to get them to end them.”

“Because you're not in the relationship you don't understand,” I added.

“Yes! Exactly!” she agreed. “And they are exactly right, we don't know the situation. Like your story, your mom giving you the advice but she didn't understand right? That one moment wasn't going to break up your friendship. It could have, maybe it should have, but it didn't.”

“You still see him?” Dave asked. I nodded. “Good times? Just sitting around reminiscing about old times, huh?”

I thought back on my last conversation with Eric and the circumstances surrounding it. “Talk about old times, yes. Fondly? No, not really. He's... insane.”

“So you're not friends anymore?” Tina checked. I confirmed this was the case. “Good! At least he's not dragging you down.”

“He tries, he just doesn't succeed.”

Our conversation stopped suddenly with the sound of a scream. I've been around trouble enough to recognize a serious scream when I hear it. For that first moment we froze, as if we were trying to believe what we were hearing. When we saw the look on each other's faces, we knew we weren't imagining it.

I was the first one out the door.

Tarred and Feathered

Humor is a difficult thing to explain. What makes me roll on the floor overwhelmed with laughter may do nothing for the next person. They may understand the joke, they may even grasp why the joke should be funny, but it may not amuse them. Some jokes are subtle. Some jokes are so old that they may cause us to groan due to familiarity. Some jokes try to be funny but may only amuse the teller.

This story is about one of those jokes, funny only to the teller.

I don't gamble, not seriously anyway. If we like rival sports teams that are playing each other and we put paying for pizza on the line based on the outcome of the game, that's a friendly sort of thing rather than gambling. A dollar or two on a raffle for charity isn't gambling, not to me anyway. It can be a thin line between a gentlemanly wager and betting so if you disagree with my definition and consider this gambling as well, I can understand.

Eric, my friend at the time, was caught by the poker trend. The math that was involved captured the imagination of his intellect and he soon began organizing games. I went to a couple, found that Eric was taking it Very Seriously, and wanted to play for ever increasing stakes. I soon bowed out of playing. It wasn't fun for me. After I showed up to one such party stating my disinterest in playing, just wanting to hang out with the guys. I was dismissed. Taking the hint, I stopped showing up.

Rather than accept this, Eric became irritated at my lack of desire to join with them. He was of the opinion that my disinterest in playing was due to my lack of skill. I had lost money during the games I'd played in and, in his mind, I was too chicken to try to win it back. He believed my lack of enjoyment had come from losing, not from the Very Serious Way that they'd played. There may have been some truth in his opinion but it wasn't my primary motivation in stepping aside.

Had this remained a polite disagreement it would have been no big deal. Eric would not let it go. He continued to verbally harass me about my not playing, both in private and in public. Every time I saw him there would be a moment of abuse that he would attempt to play off as being humorous.

I began avoiding him. It was just easier. I'd seen his obsessions burn brightly before they burned out in the past so it was safe to believe that in a week or two he'd become bored with the whole thing and return to 'normal'. It was just a matter of waiting this out. When he no longer saw me, he'd send message through mutual friends.

Rather quickly, that was no longer enough. While I could avoid Eric with some ease, my car was left in public for long periods of time. I left work one evening to find my car coated with molasses and feathers. Did I mention that my car had been while before this? It had been.

I had no choice but to quickly drive it home, they had been 'kind' enough to not cover the windows, and began the process of cleaning the goo off. My Dad lent me a hand and we took care of the bulk of it. The car was then oddly stained, giving it a vaguely cow-like pattern. While we cleaned, my Mom gave me a speech about what friends do and do not do.

She wasn't telling me anything I wasn't already thinking. I didn't 'break up' with him then. His poke obsession faded, as I expected, and I tried to let it go but soon came the Heather freak-out and he became my enemy. His words.

Strange man.

Could Be Worse

When I saw Dave again, he was apologetic. “He told me to ask you, I thought he was kidding. I wouldn't ask you to get into trouble for me.”

This made me smile. Tim's simple-minded grumpiness was still under my skin. Dave's response reminded me, finally, why I had agreed to do this: I like Dave. He's a nice guy and a good worker. When he asked me to help him, putting the responsibility of making this happen on me, I wanted to help him out because he's nice. “Dave, its okay. I've had friends like him before. And worse for that matter.” I considered this for a moment. “Has he ever tarred and feathered your car?”

Dave laughed, probably instinctively.”No.” I tapped myself on the chest. “No, really.” I nodded. “By your friend? That's a pretty wild prank.”

“I thought so too. It was a pain to clean off.”

Tina was poured over a chair near the kitchen table. “That actually sounds like a pretty [unpleasant] thing to do. He thought that was funny?”

“He didn't think I would find it funny,” I tried to explain. “He thought other people would find it funny.”

“How?” she paused. “How would that be funny?”

I tried to explain.

Making Friends

“So where's the booze, man?”

My response to this long haired young man was quizzical and he was intelligent enough to recognize this meant confusion on my part. He repeated his question but it did not improve my comprehension. This time around, Dave heard him ask and he coughed quietly. “I, uh, didn't ask him, Tim.”

This news was not enough to stir Tim from sprawling over a chair near the kitchen table. “Dude, weak. I thought you said he was cool man.”

“He is cool,” Dave insisted. “He's not that cool.” He took a moment to look at me.”Sorry.” Returning to Tim, he noted “If he was that kind of cool, my Dad would never have agreed to give him the keys.”

“He can't pretend?” Tim questioned.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe I didn't want to pretend.”

“Dude, whatever.” Tim dismissed my input. “Not talking to you, Mr. Disappointment.” He nodded his head towards Dave. “I'm talking to this disappointment here.”

I was quickly confused. “But you're talking about me.” Tim dismissed me with a wave. For a moment, the anger took me but I released it as I exhaled. “Whatever.” There was no point in arguing with him. I had nothing to gain and everything to lose. “Whatever.” Having declared that, I went outside.

It was warm outside. Okay, warm was a poor choice of words. It was muggy and hot, politely uncomfortable even this close to the lake. I didn't like thinking of this as hot because it could, and would, get hotter this summer. It was only in the eighties. If I thought of this as unbearable, how uncomfortable would I be when it reached the nineties?

Why did I agree to this again? To sleeping on a couch, to being grouched at by teenagers, to driving to the middle of nowhere? In this place I can barely get a signal on my mobcomm. The television reception can't be very good. They must have a satellite to get anything. I was stuck babysitting a bunch of ungrateful teenagers. What a way to spend a weekend. Am I ever a chump.

“Hi.”

As distracted as I was by my thoughts, the sudden voice caught me off guard and I jumped, no doubt looking like an idiot. It was one of the young ladies from the group, standing in the doorway, looking especially bashful now that she's surprised me. She quickly apologized for that and identified herself as Janet, Tim's girlfriend. “He didn't really mean anything by what he said to you; it's just his way. He can come across a little difficult to people who don't know him,” she explained.

“Difficult is one way to describe him,” I grumbled.

“He's really not a bad guy,” she insisted. “Once you get used to him, he's very nice.”

“You know him better than me,” I reasoned. “I'm not particularly offended or anything if that's what you're looking for.”

She smiled in a way that read 'sorta' to me but the effect was ruined by Tim's appearance. As he walked through, he grabbed her by the hand, dragging her with him. “C'mon. I need some fresh air now that I've been disappointed.” He timed it so that he was looking in my face when he said 'disappointed'. How subtle. And I'd just been thinking how clever he'd been in sending out his sweet, innocent looking girlfriend to talk nice to me about him.

I'm starting to think it wasn't his idea for her to talk to me. She must love him. Or she's stuck with him for some reason.

Arrived

“Where have you been?”

It had been a long drive and I wasn't in the mood for bitchiness, even from someone I just met and was trying to stay nice to until I knew if she was always like this or not. “I wasn't that far behind.” Not being familiar with the driveway, I'd slowed down during the curves. This brief delay was too much for her to bear. “Well hurry up!” she demanded. Rather than argue with her by pointing out that she was impeding my path and how the door might already be open if she had just let me be, I remained quiet. She continued to gripe about how slow I was and how old I was and how I shouldn't be along and assorted other things as I walked to the door. She did all this from a pace behind me. This was a wonderful experience. When I'd finally unlocked the door, I held it open for her. She gave me a Look and dashed inside, her arms folded in defiance as she stomped away.

Dave's buddy Chris, her boyfriend, approached as I fought to not return her Look with a Look. “She, ah, had to go to the bathroom. She's not always like that.”

My face softened. This was understandable. “For your sake, I hope not.” I gave him a grin and we set about getting ourselves and out stuff inside.

The word 'cabin' seems to mean different things to different people. I hear 'cabin' and I think 'log cabin' I guess. I picture something the pioneers might have lived in on the frontier: something small but functional, nothing particularly fancy or stylish. Other people evidently use the word 'cabin' to differentiate between the house they live in on a day-to-day basis and the house they have up north. It was no mansion but it was no shack either. When I'd seen the size of the group when we met up, I was concerned that there wouldn't be room for all of us. Seeing the building removed those concerns.

That said, I had no expectations that there would be a bed for me. I hoped for a couch that wasn't too battered and broken. Having collected my bag, I went inside and found Dave leaning over an aisle in the kitchen, laughing. I waited until the humorous wave faded and I had his attention. Gesturing to my bag, I asked “Where can I stow this?”

“Well, ah, we have room but we don't have rooms,” he stated apologetically.

I cut him off with a wave before he could get too deep into this. “That I understand. No worries. Do I have a spot that's going to be mine or are we just crashing where we fall?”

“I was, uh, thinking this might be okay.” Dave directed me into the next room, a den of sorts with a couple of chairs, a few books and things on shelves, a television, and a couch. It was a room that didn't look like it had been used much and the items in it looked rather new. “I wanted to have you in a room cause that just seemed right but it was just easier to split us up this way.”

I sat on the couch. It was sturdy and firm. “This'll be fine Dave. I've slept on plenty worse than this. Am I in here by myself or is someone grabbing a chair or...?”

“Should be by yourself,” was his response.

I grinned. “Just wanted to know what to expect. Cool. This should be fine Dave.”

He relaxed a bit. “Okay, cool. I was just worried, cause, well, I didn't want you to feel like I was disrespecting you or anything.”

“I'm still your boss but I'm not your boss at the moment.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Yeah. I'll try to mostly stay out of way this weekend,” I reassured. “Not that I'm not fun but I'm sure you don't want me around constantly.”

He laughed nervously. “You know you're welcome to be around us. My dad wants you to be around us some but, uh, yeah, that would be nice too.” Quickly he added “Not that you're not cool or anything like that.”

“Clearly,” I noted.

Very Serious Time

I am at a weird age, being older than my interns where they can pretend to respect me yet younger than their parents so that I don't seem like one of them. I often forget that I am older than the interns because, mentally, I'm not. At least I don't think I am. Well, I don't feel that I am. I'm almost responsible in an accidental sort of way.

Dave's dad was giving me a look over that worked to read all this information from me. He was a serious looking man that appeared to have a background in the military based on his haircut and decorations. “You don't look old enough to be running a department at a school,” he grumbled in his deep voice.

“I'm nearly thirty sir.”

“That's what I'm saying,” he thundered. “Got no experience, just some piece of paper that says you know what you're doing. You're just cheap labor to them, taking the place of a skilled, tested man.”

I wasn't sure if this was meant to be a personal attack or just a general grumbling against youth. His uninformed attack irked me but I fought the urge to snap back. “Did you know Mr. Kirby?” I asked excitedly. He grunted in confusion. “You know, the gentleman that ran the IT department before me.” This did little to resolve his confusion. “I'm sorry. I thought you might have known Mr. Kirby too. I like swapping stories about him. He taught me much of what I know, groomed me to take over for him.”

“You mean they cut him loose as soon as you were trained,” he incorrectly translated.

“No, no I don't believe so,” I responded. “He was at retirement age. I heard the Dean ask him to stay but he turned it down. It was right when they passed all that anti-smoking legislation and Mr. Kirby said if he couldn't have a cigar at his desk then it was time to leave his desk.”

“That!” he exploded. “Don't get me started on that!”

Now he was really making me nervous. Why was I doing this again? “Then I won't.”

Thankfully no rant was forthcoming. He just paced a little bit before he gave me another Look. “Little old to be hanging out with these kids arentcha? Suppose you got an eye for one of these little girls huh?”

“I have a girlfriend,” I informed. Why does no one think I might have a girlfriend?

“Oh! So you're looking for a trip. You'll be too busy working the bedsprings to supervise the kids!”

Patiently I noted “She's out of town that weekend. It's the only reason I agreed to go.”

“Whatsamatter? My kid's not good enough to you?” he demanded.

I was done. “Sir, if you don't want to trust me with the keys to your cabin, that's fine. I don't mind. Just let me know so we're not wasting our time pretending it's a possibility.”

For a long moment he stared at me. “Those kids bug you all day, don't they?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Dunno about bug. They keep me busy and I try to keep them busy so they don't keep me too busy.”

He nodded. “I had to test you. Dave's not a bad kid but he'd young so, despite what he thinks about himself, he's still an idiot. In a few years he'll realized that.”

“I realize that about myself,” I agreed.

“Good. I just don't want him to regret too much when he gets to that age, ya unnerstand?” I nodded. “Good.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “Despite what he thinks, I do want him to enjoy himself. Just not too much because then he might not enjoy himself.”

I grinned. “I unnerstand.”

“And if he enjoys himself too much on my property then he definitely won't enjoy himself.” With a Serious Stare, he handed me the keys.