"Especially this year. After the storm." The wife said leading the way to getting over feeling embarassed.
"This is that writer I was telling you about dear."
"From?"
"Around."
"It's free, right?!"
"How about a spot to pitch
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Dredging."
"a tent?"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"We can't do that."
"I can stay somewhere else."
"Did you bring it?" A third campground administrator asked.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Tighter budget than last summer, how it ended and all, the season."
"Cha. It's about ye long wait 'til you see it!"
"And it was in the rafter's leg?!"
"Don't worry, they scraped the tissue off."
"Girl, I served Overseas, ain't nothing I haven't seen."
The three bottles of wine were it. The in-charge no matter what lady had chosen the make and model. Had also chosen wine outta respect, for those of us not drinking tonight.
"Poor thing. And stuck with us literary types."
"I quit. And I'm not much of a writer anyway."
Boo's and hisses. Caddy cats unsure of a new person. Before totally immersing themselves in the toxifying soothe of the stuff we automatically formed into a writer's group just left of standard high school English class.
"Whaccha been working on?"
"NOT journalism. More of a movie script or like an outline."
"What kind?"
"Well, it's a love story and it's about people who care in a crummy world."
"I'll call Hallmark dear." And one of them took a flip phone out of a skirt pocket. "Oh, it's no where near done."
Wine sipping and music made me feel sleepy. Though it was interesting to hear how whole towns couldn't or wouldn't spend money to remedy storm damage. "There's just never enough of the stuff," a woman said of money as the last of the sticky red elixir came out of the second bottle. Someone else reached for the third and skinned the cork. "Feels like the first time I've sat down since the storm."
"And tomorrow I'll write!"
Cheers to tomorrow a husband raised his glass.
That didn't jive with my burning desire to get it on paper so I tried to excuse myself. "Are you a pill popper?"
"What?! Me? No."
"That's what they all say."
"I'm not part of any they."
"Is that what y'all are going to do now?"
A husband raised his eyebrows. "Probably. Pop pills and have group sex."
A gasped huh and a porch pillow thrown at me. "Better run little lady," someone warned. "Yeah, we're fixing to do the nasty as a group."
"We are not," another pillow was thrown.
"I want to write some more anyway."
"Love that puppy love feeling while you've got it!"
Back at work the pace of business was picking up with the pace of travel.
"Get these people in and out."
No response.
"We'll squabble about chores later. If you all would just stick to the rhythm sheet we'd all be fine."
"Clearly not updated to account for busloads of customers having a sh
"What updates? Show me reflected in sales."
"And is the debriefing over?"
"Debriefing?"
"Assessment?"
"Situation?"
"Let's talk about it as a group before we write anything down on paper."
"I thought it was the other store that got robbed."
"Big fat welcome to the neighborhood."
"No. This was last night."
"Here?"
Noyesmaybe
Not a robbery
Possibly drug crazed person, or maybe it was trauma or something
Didn't "lock" the person in the "office"
Cops called?
EMS
By the way
Yes?
It wasn't a presentation on the disc that got (dry mouth and swallow) sent along.
It wasn't?
Should I ask?
Just a title page type image.
What. Was. The. Title?
Hand Sex, Sir.
A newspaper whacked on the bathroom sink. A glance at baggy eyes. Pursed lips.
Somebody's pissed about something.
You think?
Or
"You there. With no name tag."
"Me Sir?"
"Yes you. I might have something for you."
"I don't want anything."
"I didn't mean
Another girl took off her name tag slyly and said, "Me, Sir?"
"A girl. Find out if the girls are mad about the childcare issue."
"Can do. They don't call me Super Sleuth for no reason."
"Yeah, I'm not a snoop."
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