It was about four days after our men left. Some of the girls found ways to come from Tennessee. A woman who'd been all over the Country helping recruit all levels of "soldier" and apprentice came walking down the dirt path to camp. She had the pail of "genitals" AKA gummy worms. "That's my pay," she handed it to one of us. "No one ever said we were ever gonna get rich." She guffawed. Shoulders sloped a bit. "Don't eat all of those at once!" She said. And gently clapped a hand on a jeaned knee. She turned to go.
"Wait," one of us called.
Heads raised from an actual pile of lonesome and full faith and confidence in them, but
"Shouldn't we invite her?"
"To WHAT?" One of us disgustedly threw down the dogleash pulling a branch with a stuck lure hanging on it.
"Looks like a sad tea party I attended once."
"It's sad alright, pathetic," she tossed the dogleash on top of a tent not finished being scrubbed on the picnic table and made like a soccer player kicking a half field goal, but brakef it into a gentle shove of sleeping legs. One of us sat up like a wrapped mummy and closed eyes against the sunlight. Looked at the bombshell, put together, slightly older woman, then shut them again. A big burp. "She the one who busted us?"
"We din't get busted. Go back to sleep."
"You sure?"
"We din't do nothin' yet today. Lay down."
"Just ignore Larry and Mo there," the lure-free'r extended a hand to shake. "Not sure what we're shaking on," the guest said. "Just a hello. Welcome to home."
"Regular isle of misfits," a South of the Border blanket hurled.
"Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?"
"I would," one of us got up stretching and yawning. Jeans, tank, and barefeet. Tall. "Nice to wake up not smelling chicken shit."
"Shut up. If it ain't noon, I'm dead to the world."
"We're not the world idjiot."
"Where's Curly?"
"Gone off singing."
Dead to the world shot up. "She did?"
"Oh yes," the blonde curly air guitared.
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