"She's both!!"

    I'd gone with Rorie and her mom to get to my parents at a different campground.  My mom was still suffering from a mysterious illness but a lot of people were helping her at least (i)feel better(i).

     Maybe two miles from where we were we were halted.  "A checkpoint?" 

     "I've heard about those." 

     "This one's got rubber bullets," the strikingly hansome but slimed with cammo makeup man palmed the firearm.  Even pretended to fire it at a "runner" and blew away the smoke.  Then he looked at us very seriously and said, "So much for the smoking gun." 

     "You know, you look a little looney acting that way," Rorie's mom said.  "Maybe so, but," he leaned in close, "I need the work.  Now hand over your passports." 

     "Yeah, we're not doing that," Rorie said. 

     "Are we supposed to?" I asked.  The man swung the gun around on his finger.  "Stop that," Rorie's mom said.  "I dunno.  Let me check the clipboard." He holstered the gun and turned his whole belt around to produce the clipboard.  "Covering my butt," he said. 

     Rorie's mom fished out a neat leather pouch of cigarettes and lighter.  We all lit up.  "Says here," the man stalled to gather his game show character-voice and said again, "Says here, 

     "Yes Andy?" 

     "Do I sound like I'm from Mayberry?" 

     "A little." She blew the cigarette smoke at the back of the clipboard.  Like cloud hitting mountain it only feigned a linger and curled away.  "What's your crystal ball tell you?" Rorie asked. 

     "You're both." Rorie's eyebrows went up and down disguising her reaction which her mom was watching in the rearview mirror.  The man said, "Print and Visual.  We're calling that bi-medial."  He winked a flirt.  "And you're Lara, aren't you?" He'd reached his hand in through the window and made the butthole talk and point.  "Why do you have a butthole on your hand?" He withdrew it.  Put his face inside instead.  "Because I can be a reeeaaallll butthole." 

     He stood up tall and called out, "They're IN." 

     "Did you sign us up for this?" Rorie shoved her mom's shoulder.  "Figured it wouldn't hurt." 

     Rorie and I looked at each other as both our doors were opened from the outside.  "Have fun," Rorie's mom said. 

     The checkpoint-keeper asked, "Would you like to be tortured or experience being in a foxhole first?" 

     "You can't really train for that."  

     "Tell them that!" 

     In a little field a group of people in a sundry of sports equipment were making a racket with pots and pans.  "We gave all the cups to the guys and girl practicing to be gunners." A girl in sweat pants and a tank top reported.  "It looks pretty silly from over here, but with a helmet and vest on, it sounds similar to being shot at!!"