Editor’s note:  A scenario in several parts to add  to that pastime of telling scary stories around a campfire, or wherever friends and family gather. 

Which part will you play?  Uncle Charlie? Bonita, or one of her cousins?  How about one of the Mysterious voices?  Are you brave enough to take the role of Joe?  Enjoy.

(The facebook edition is the  same as the original, except that it is divided into smaller parts more suitable for posting on social media.  Click here to read the undivided original version  Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head.)

 

The characters:

Joe

Charlie

Mysterious Voice #1

Mysterious Voice #2

Uncle Charlie

Bonita

Joan

Huntz

Lou

The scene:  A campsite at night.  A fire is blazing in a fire pit.  Tents and equipment in the background.  Five campers are seated around the fire.

Huntz:  Sure is a dark night.

Joan:  Look at all those stars.

Uncle Charlie:  You kids get everything cleaned up and put away from dinner?

Bonita, Joan , Huntz, Lou:  Yes.

Bonita:  Everybody ready for some music?  I brought my guitar.

Huntz:  Not yet. I want to hear a ghost story first, then music after, so I can get to sleep.

Lou:  Could we just skip the ghost story please?

Joan:  What’s the matter Lou, afraid of a little campfire creepers?

Lou:  The creepers I get are not the little kind.  I can play percussion on the spoons.

Huntz:  No, let’s hear a story first.  Who knows a good ghost story?

Uncle Charlie:  I don’t know a ghost story, but I do know a pretty scary story, and it happens to be true.

Bonita:  Go on Uncle Charlie, tell us.

Uncle Charlie:  Well, it started out on a night just like this night, at a campsite, just like this one, out in the middle of nowhere, miles from anywhere and anyone.  At least that’s what Joe and Charlie thought when they settled down in front of the fire,  after dinner, just like we are now…

Joe:  Sure is a dark night.

Charlie: Yeah, look at all those stars.

Joe: I wonder if there are any other people out here.

Charlie:  I doubt it.  I haven’t seen a living soul for miles.

Joe: You think I should chop more wood for the fire?

Charlie:  I’ll check.  Looks like plenty.  I cut some up earlier.  That axe of yours really does the job.

Joe:  Yeah, I just had it sharpened.  I knew we’d put it to good use out here.

Charlie: That thing cut through the kindling like nothing, and even went through the bigger stuff with ease.  I bet  it would go right through bone.

Joe:  Bone?  Who wants to cut through bone?

Charlie:  Nobody, I just meant that when I was chopping wood and felt how sharp that axe was, I thought of what would happen if my hand slipped. I wouldn’t want to lose a toe, or even a whole foot.

Joe: No, you wouldn’t want to chop your foot off.  Especially not out here, miles from anywhere.  That’s why you’ve got to be careful when you chop something with an axe.

Charlie: Real careful. You get enough to eat?

Joe;  Yeah, Nothing like dinner under the stars.  I bet I’ll really rest tonight.

Charlie:  Yeah.  Me too, but don’t forget about lunch tomorrow.

Joe:  That’s gonna be something special.  You’re in for a real treat.

Charlie:  We’ll see who gets the treat.  Remember I’ve got my own recipe. Everything’s right there in the cooler, ready to go. You’ll find out how a master does it.

Joe:  Charlie my boy, you might as well give up now.  Tomorrow afternoon, your taste buds are going to declare me the winner.

Charlie:  Wait and see Joe, just wait–hey, did you hear that?

Joe;  What?  I didn’t hear anything

Charlie:  Something strange.  A kind of wailing, out there, in the night.  Sounded like a child , you know, like a kid who’s lost and crying for his mamma, but too scared to be really loud, just kind of wailing, low and mournful.

Joe:  Cut it out Charlie, you must be hearing things.  No kids out here anyway.  If you heard anything it was probably just an animal.

Charlie:  There it goes again.

Joe:  I hear it now too.  And rustling in the bushes.   Something is moving out there in the dark.  I can’t tell for sure,  but it seems to be  getting closer.

Charlie: What kind of animal makes a sound like that?  It’s giving me the creeps.

Joe:  Probably raccoons, or maybe coyotes.  They can make some pretty weird noises.

Charlie:  I don’t know.  I don’t think that’s any animal.  A sound like that could only be made by a human.

Joe:  Charlie, there aren’t any people around here besides you and I.  There can’t be.  We didn’t pass any other campsites.  I can’t even remember  when we last saw a car, and the only building for miles is that deserted looking farmers stand back by the main road.

Charlie:  Just the same, there it is again.  I’m going to  find out.

Joe:  Wait, Charlie.  Don’t go out there.

Charlie:  What?  Why not?

Joe: I don’t think it’s safe out there.  I just remembered something.

Charlie:  What?  What did you remember Joe?

Joe:  I read some stories online about a group, a cult or something, that supposedly does bizarre rituals out in these woods.

Charlie:  This is a fine time to remember.  Why didn’t you think of that before we came out here?  There it is again.  I think they’re getting closer.

Joe:  I didn’t take it seriously.  I thought it was just  an online legend or hoax.

Charlie:  Those are definitely human sounds Joe,  and they’re starting to surround the campsite.  Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!

Joe:  Wait.  It’s too late!

Charlie:  What the–?  Where did that come from?

Joe:  Someone threw it in from out of the darkness just beyond the light of our fire.

Charlie:  Did you hear the sound it made when it landed. It must be heavy.

Joe:  Yeah, I heard it, a real thud.  It rolled pretty close to you after it landed.  Can you tell what it is?

Charlie:  Something in a brown paper bag.  Something about the size of a bowling ball.

Joe:  What is it Charlie?  What’s in the bag?

Charlie:  I don’t know.  I’m reaching in.  I can’t tell, but it feels like, like…

Joe: Like what?  What is it?

Charlie:  It’s a  head.

Joe:  A head?

Charlie:  Yes,  a head, or rather, half a head.  Whoever did this must have used an incredibly sharp instrument.  It’s cut clean through the middle, not even the slightest fraying.

Joe:  Cut clean through the middle!  I  think I’m going to be sick.  Do you suppose there’s any chance of, of identifying  the, the– maybe in the daylight?

Charlie: I don’t know.   If I could just get my fingers around it.  Yes it definitely feels like– I don’t know if I can–  it’s a little bit slippery, but if I can just hold on without dropping it and get it out and get a good look.

Joe:  Don’t, I can’t watch.

 

Continued in Campfire Creepers:  Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head (social media edition part 2)

 

copyright 2016 r.k.morris

 

Editor’s note:  A scenario in several parts to add  to that pastime of telling scary stories around a campfire, or wherever friends and family gather.

Which part will you play?  Uncle Charlie? Bonita, or one of her cousins?  How about one of the Mysterious voices?  Are you brave enough to take the role of Joe?  Enjoy.

(The facebook edition is the  same as the original, except that it is divided into smaller parts more suitable for posting on social media.  Click here to read the undivided original version  Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head.)

 

The characters:

Joe

Charlie

Mysterious Voice #1

Mysterious Voice #2

Uncle Charlie

Bonita

Joan

Huntz

Lou

The scene:  A campsite at night.  A fire is blazing in a fire pit.  Tents and equipment in the background.  Five campers are seated around the fire.

Huntz:  Sure is a dark night.

Joan:  Look at all those stars.

Uncle Charlie:  You kids get everything cleaned up and put away from dinner?

Bonita, Joan , Huntz, Lou:  Yes.

Bonita:  Everybody ready for some music?  I brought my guitar.

Huntz:  Not yet. I want to hear a ghost story first, then music after, so I can get to sleep.

Lou:  Could we just skip the ghost story please?

Joan:  What’s the matter Lou, afraid of a little campfire creepers?

Lou:  The creepers I get are not the little kind.  I can play percussion on the spoons.

Huntz:  No, let’s hear a story first.  Who knows a good ghost story?

Uncle Charlie:  I don’t know a ghost story, but I do know a pretty scary story, and it happens to be true.

Bonita:  Go on Uncle Charlie, tell us.

Uncle Charlie:  Well, it started out on a night just like this night, at a campsite, just like this one, out in the middle of nowhere, miles from anywhere and anyone.  At least that’s what Joe and Charlie thought when they settled down in front of the fire,  after dinner, just like we are now…

Joe:  Sure is a dark night.

Charlie: Yeah, look at all those stars.

Joe: I wonder if there are any other people out here.

Charlie:  I doubt it.  I haven’t seen a living soul for miles.

Joe: You think I should chop more wood for the fire?

Charlie:  I’ll check.  Looks like plenty.  I cut some up earlier.  That axe of yours really does the job.

Joe:  Yeah, I just had it sharpened.  I knew we’d put it to good use out here.

Charlie: That thing cut through the kindling like nothing, and even went through the bigger stuff with ease.  I bet  it would go right through bone.

Joe:  Bone?  Who wants to cut through bone?

Charlie:  Nobody, I just meant that when I was chopping wood and felt how sharp that axe was, I thought of what would happen if my hand slipped. I wouldn’t want to lose a toe, or even a whole foot.

Joe: No, you wouldn’t want to chop your foot off.  Especially not out here, miles from anywhere.  That’s why you’ve got to be careful when you chop something with an axe.

Charlie: Real careful. You get enough to eat?

Joe;  Yeah, Nothing like dinner under the stars.  I bet I’ll really rest tonight.

Charlie:  Yeah.  Me too, but don’t forget about lunch tomorrow.

Joe:  That’s gonna be something special.  You’re in for a real treat.

Charlie:  We’ll see who gets the treat.  Remember I’ve got my own recipe. Everything’s right there in the cooler, ready to go. You’ll find out how a master does it.

Joe:  Charlie my boy, you might as well give up now.  Tomorrow afternoon, your taste buds are going to declare me the winner.

Charlie:  Wait and see Joe, just wait–hey, did you hear that?

Joe;  What?  I didn’t hear anything

Charlie:  Something strange.  A kind of wailing, out there, in the night.  Sounded like a child , you know, like a kid who’s lost and crying for his mamma, but too scared to be really loud, just kind of wailing, low and mournful.

Joe:  Cut it out Charlie, you must be hearing things.  No kids out here anyway.  If you heard anything it was probably just an animal.

Charlie:  There it goes again.

Joe:  I hear it now too.  And rustling in the bushes.   Something is moving out there in the dark.  I can’t tell for sure,  but it seems to be  getting closer.

Charlie: What kind of animal makes a sound like that?  It’s giving me the creeps.

Joe:  Probably raccoons, or maybe coyotes.  They can make some pretty weird noises.

Charlie:  I don’t know.  I don’t think that’s any animal.  A sound like that could only be made by a human.

Joe:  Charlie, there aren’t any people around here besides you and I.  There can’t be.  We didn’t pass any other campsites.  I can’t even remember  when we last saw a car, and the only building for miles is that deserted looking farmers stand back by the main road.

Charlie:  Just the same, there it is again.  I’m going to  find out.

Joe:  Wait, Charlie.  Don’t go out there.

Charlie:  What?  Why not?

Joe: I don’t think it’s safe out there.  I just remembered something.

Charlie:  What?  What did you remember Joe?

Joe:  I read some stories online about a group, a cult or something, that supposedly does bizarre rituals out in these woods.

Charlie:  This is a fine time to remember.  Why didn’t you think of that before we came out here?  There it is again.  I think they’re getting closer.

Joe:  I didn’t take it seriously.  I thought it was just  an online legend or hoax.

Charlie:  Those are definitely human sounds Joe,  and they’re starting to surround the campsite.  Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!

Joe:  Wait.  It’s too late!

Charlie:  What the–?  Where did that come from?

Joe:  Someone threw it in from out of the darkness just beyond the light of our fire.

Charlie:  Did you hear the sound it made when it landed. It must be heavy.

Joe:  Yeah, I heard it, a real thud.  It rolled pretty close to you after it landed.  Can you tell what it is?

Charlie:  Something in a brown paper bag.  Something about the size of a bowling ball.

Joe:  What is it Charlie?  What’s in the bag?

Charlie:  I don’t know.  I’m reaching in.  I can’t tell, but it feels like, like…

Joe: Like what?  What is it?

Charlie:  It’s a  head.

Joe:  A head?

Charlie:  Yes,  a head, or rather, half a head.  Whoever did this must have used an incredibly sharp instrument.  It’s cut clean through the middle, not even the slightest fraying.

Joe:  Cut clean through the middle.  I  think I’m going to be sick.  Do you suppose there’s any chance of, of identifying  the, the– maybe in the daylight?

Charlie: I don’t know.   If I could just get my fingers around it.  Yes it definitely feels like– I don’t know if I can–  it’s a little bit slippery, but if I can just hold on without dropping it and get it out and get a good look.

Joe:  Don’t, I can’t watch.

 

Continued in Campfire Creepers:  Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head (social media edition part 2)

 

copyright 2016 r.k.morris

Continued from Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head (social media edition part 2).

Click here to read the full version Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head.

Charlie:  I might have known.    Well, I might as well know this too; how are you going to prepare it?

Mysterious Voice #1:  Oh, I don’t know, a little seasoning, perhaps some olives, and tomato, and balsamic vinegar.

Charlie:  Balsamic vinegar?  Joe would appreciate that.  He favored balsamic vinegar.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Would you care to join us?

Charlie:  I don’t think I could.  Not after what I’ve done.  Look at him, lying there.  Poor Joe.  I’m sorry old friend.  I suppose I should do something with the rest of Joe’s…  You might as well have it.

Mysterious Voice #1  Are you sure?  We only gave you half a head.

Charlie”  Yes.  Yes, I’m sure Joe would have wanted it this way.  You might as well have the other half too, as long as you eat it while it’s fresh.

Mysterious Voice #1:  This is most generous of you.

Charlie:  That’s all right.  Besides, Joe has another one at home, even bigger than this.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Even bigger?

Charlie:  Yes, he’s been growing it for some time.  He tried to keep it a secret, but I found out, I’ve  been watching it for weeks now.  Joe’s other head is huge, practically monstrous.

Mysterious Voice #1:  It would have to be, to be bigger than this.

Charlie:  But completely organic.  No chemicals, no sir, not in Joe’s garden.  He always has been the better gardener, and I’ve known it all along.  Every year we find a new place to get away and have our own private home grown salad competition.  I always find a way to keep it close, sometimes I even win, but this year I knew I didn’t stand a chance, not with lettuce like that.

Lou:  WAIT A MINUTE!  WAIT A MINUTE!

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Lou, what is it?

Lou:  You mean the whole time all those Creeper Keeper people wanted was for this Charlie guy to give them a head of lettuce?

Uncle Charlie:  That’s right Lou.

Lou:  And this Charlie guy, which was really you,  took the axe to cut it in half and his friend Joe was so upset when he knew what Charlie, that is you, were going to do with the axe that he passed out?

Uncle Charlie.  You’ve followed the tale completely Lou, why do you ask?

Lou:  Why do I ask?  I’ll tell you why do I ask.  Because I’ve been hiding under my sleeping bag for twenty minutes all because a couple of guys are gonna trade a half a head of cabbage for a half a head of lettuce, that’s why do I ask.  You call that a scary story?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Lou.  It did scare you, didn’t it?

Lou: You bet it did.

Bonita:  Then why are you so upset Lou?

Lou:  Because I’m  ashamed of myself.  I’m just a big scaredy-cat.

Uncle Charlie:  That’s nothing to be ashamed of Lou.  The story was supposed to scare you.  Look at brave Huntz, wedged between his two cousins.  You think he wasn’t scared?

Lou:  What about Bonita and Joan?  They don’t look scared at all.

Uncle Charlie:  What about it girls?

Joan:  Well, I might have been a little scared at first, before I figured it out.

Bonita:  I have to confess I was just a teensy bit frightened when I thought you really–oh but of course it was all such a funny story.  You really had Lou and Huntz going.

Huntz:  That’s all right girls, you can let go of my arms now, I’m starting to loose circulation, and please take your fingernails with you.

Uncle Charlie:  See Lou, everyone was scared.  There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Lou: And nothing bad really happened.  You just told the story to make us think bad things were happening, but it was just the way you told it, just to make it seem scary, right.

Uncle Charlie:  That’s right Lou.

Lou: And those Creeper Keeper guys.  They weren’t really bad?

Uncle Charlie:  Not at all.  The nicest fellows actually.  You remember that deserted looking farm stand Joe and I saw by the road?  That was theirs.  We’re friends on Facebook now, and they even have Amazon Prime.  I helped them go organic, and their deserted farm stand is now a thriving organic produce and health care market.  They even sell all natural skin moisturizers.

Lou:  And Joe, he was just passed out, but he woke up and you guys are still friends?

Uncle Charlie:  No.  I’m afraid Joe’s  is the one part of the story that did not turn out happy.  Seems he never did recover from the shock of seeing what I did to his head of lettuce with that axe.  Oh, we went back home as friends all right, but I could tell right away that something was different.  Joe was never the same gardener as he had been before that night.  His other head of lettuce, the one that was even bigger than the one I traded, it soon turned brown and died.  No matter how he tried, Joe just couldn’t get a good yield after that.  He had lost his green thumb for good.

Bonita:  That’s sad.  I feel sorry for Joe.

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, and that isn’t the worst of it.  Joe blamed me for causing him to loose his gardening skill.  I guess he is right in a way, but he swore revenge on me.  Started following me around with a sharp axe, garden tools, and the like, and said he would make me pay for what I had done.

Bonita: Make you pay?  Did he say how?

Uncle Charlie:  He didn’t need to.  I could read the look in his eyes.  Then there was time with the reaping sickle.  I barely managed to dodge that one.

Joan:  A reaping sickle?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, that would have made my little story tonight seem like a fairy tale in comparison.  But, we don’t have to worry about Joe anymore.  It’s not likely that he will escape.

Lou:  Escape?

Uncle Charlie: Yes, from the mental institution.

Joan: The mental institution?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes.  For the criminally insane.  Oh don’t look so worried.  No one has escaped from that institution in years.

Huntz:  That’s sure a relief.

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, it was many years ago.  I would have been about your age, in fact, and I was quite concerned when my Uncle Fred, your Grandpa Fred, told me about it because, well the place is just a mile or so from here, which is why this area is so deserted, and we were camping not far from here.  Not far at all;  in fact I think it might have been this very spot.  I do believe I recognize that tree with the huge gash in the trunk.  That’s where Uncle Fred went to find out what was making those strange noises in the dark.  Of course the stains on the bark have faded over the years, but I think that is the tree–

Lou:  Uncle Charlie?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Lou.

Lou:  Please tell me you still raise a garden.

Uncle Charlie:  Of course I do Lou.

Lou: And Uncle Charlie.

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Lou?

Lou:  Please tell me you brought cabbages with you tonight, and that that is not your friend Crazy Joe hurling them out of the woods.

Uncle Charlie:  What?  One, two, three four cabbages, all chopped clean in half.! Kids?

Bonita, Joan, Huntz, Lou:  Yes?

Uncle Charlie:  RUN!!

All:  WAAAAAAA!!

 

Epilogue and Editor’s note.  Every person in this scenario made it safely home at the scheduled end of the camping trip.  Joe really didn’t go crazy and swear revenge on Uncle Charlie, but he was hiding out in the bushes, hurling cabbages as he and Charlie had pre-arranged.  The camping trip became an annual tradition for Charlie and his nieces and nephews, and Charlie devoted much time and energy  to come up with new Campfire Creepers for his beloved family.

This scenario draws inspiration from several sources, notably the comedy-mystery movies of the 1940’s, also many of the mystery radio shows of the Golden Age of Radio,  from which I learned the device of having the characters describe their own actions in such deliberate detail.  The Sirius/XM channel Radio Classics, hosted by Greg Bell (gregbellmedia.com),  has been a great boon in providing listening opportunities for this important but sadly mostly forgotten form of story telling and entertainment. 

  I have also drawn some inspiration from a recent decade:  the Nickelodeon animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender,  created by Michael Dante DiMartino  and  Brian Konietzko,  and the  Puppetmaster episode  in which the main characters are encamped one night.  Sokka has been trying without success to frighten the others with ghost stories, when  Katara   says she remembers a true story that she tells with chilling effect.

Bonita is for Bonita Granville, whose many screen credits include playing Nancy Drew in several Nancy Drew  mystery motion pictures in the 1930’s

Joan is for Joan Davis, comic actress who appeared in many motion pictures, including the  1941 Abbott and Costello comedy-mystery  Hold that Ghost.

Huntz is for Huntz Hall of the Dead End Kids/ Bowery Boys team, whose films include several comedy-mysteries.

Lou if for Lou Costello, of the comedy team Abbott and Costello, whose film credits included several comedy-mysteries, including the aforementioned Hold that Ghost.

Thanks for reading.  I hope this scenario provides chills and laughs and a shared experience for you, your family, and friends.

Continued from  Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head (social media edition part1)

 

Charlie:  That’s okay.  I’ve removed it from the bag.  Just as I thought, this head is a very fine cabbage.

Joe:  Cabbage?  Did you say cabbage?

Charlie:  Yes,  cabbage.

Joe:  You had me terrified all this time about a head of cabbage?  Why didn’t you specify “A HEAD OF CABBAGE,”  instead of just saying “A head”?

Charlie:  I wanted to be sure.  I thought there was just the slightest chance it was lettuce, but I knew from the sound it made when it landed that it was probably too heavy to be lettuce.  Still, I had to make sure.  I know how you don’t like cabbage.

Joe: Never mind how I don’t like cabbage.  You had me believing there was a human head in that bag.

Charlie: A human head ?  You  thought there was a human head in this  bag?

Joe:  Yes, a human head.  Or actually half a human head,  which is even worse.

Charlie:  Come on Joe,  that’s crazy.  I mean, seriously,  what kind of person would do something like that?

Joe:  Someone pretty bad?

Charlie:  Hold on  a minute.  What are we talking about Joe?  Nobody cut off anybody’s head.  That was just a cabbage in that bag, remember?

Joe: Yeah, that’s right.  It was just a cabbage.

Charlie:  We’re getting all creeped out over a head of cabbage.

Joe: Yeah, a head of cabbage.  That’s pretty funny.  Imagine that.

Charlie:  Boy, do I feel relieved.

Joe:  Charlie, there’s just one thing I want to know.

Charlie:  Yeah Joe, what’s that?

Joe:  Who threw that cabbage?

Charlie:  You’re right, somebody threw it.

Joe:  Somebody out there.

Charlie: In  the dark.

Joe: Surrounding us.

Charlie:  Somebody with an incredibly sharp instrument.

Joe: What do you suppose they want?

Charlie: Probably just some pranksters, trying to frighten us for laughs.

Joe:  Yeah, and it worked.

Charlie:  YOU OUT THERE!

Joe: Did you hear that, they’re laughing at us.

Charlie:   YOU’VE HAD YOUR LAUGH.   NOW,  WHO ARE YOU?

Mysterious  voice #1:  We are The Keepers of the Dark Wood.

Charlie:  The Keepers of the Dark Wood?

Mysterious Voice #2: Yes, you’ve heard of us?

Charlie: No.

Mysterious Voice #2: We’re on Facebook.

Charlie: No

Mysterious Voice#2: Twitter?

Joe: Afraid not.

Mysterious Voice#2 Instagram? Snapchat?

Charlie:  Sorry, nothing.

Mysterious Voice #1: Enough!  Stop this useless babbling.  We are here to trade with you.

Charlie:  Trade, what kind of a trade?

Mysterious Voice #1:  A fair trade.   A one for one trade.

Joe:   We don’t appreciate your little prank. Suppose we don’t want to trade with you?

Mysterious Voice #1:  You are trespassers in the Dark Wood.  There are penalties for that, if we choose to be unpleasant.  And besides, we could just take what we want.  If you are wise, you will accept the offer to trade.

Charlie:  Tell us first what you want to trade.

Mysterious Voice #1:  You have our trade item in your hand.

Charlie:  This?  The cabbage?

Mysterious Voice #1:  That is correct.  The head of cabbage.

Joe: And in return you want?

Mysterious Voice #1: In return for our head–

Joe: Actually it’s half a head.

Mysterious Voice #1: Very well, in return for our half a head, we want half a head of yours.

Charlie:  You want half of one of our heads?

Mysterious Voice #1:  Come,  come, you have two.  All we ask is half of one.

Charlie:  What you’re suggesting is, is…?

Mysterious Voice #1:  What we are suggesting is that one of you gentleman bring us half of one head between the two that you have.

Charlie: And which of us do you suppose is going to do that?

Mysterious Voice #1:  Naturally I assume that is something you two will settle between yourselves.  I should imagine the one who acts first will manage to decide the matter quickly.  I notice that camp axe near your fire.

Charlie:  What you’re suggesting is–

Mysterious Voice #1 :  I am merely suggesting that one of you execute the trade we have proposed.  The alternative would be unpleasant for both of you.     This way at least one of you can avoid a loss.

Joe:  Charlie, what are you doing?  Come back here.

Charlie:  I’m sorry Joe, but it has to be this way.

Joe:  Charlie, put down that axe!  Charlie, please, in the name of our friendship no!

Charlie:  There’s no other way Joe.  It’s either one or both of us, you heard him.  Joe?  Joe?  I guess the shock was to much for you, old friend, you’ve passed out.  Perhaps it’s just as well, I wouldn’t want to see the look in your eyes when I–well at least this axe is good and sharp.  One quick, solid blow ought to do it.  There!  It’s done.  I’m sorry old friend, but it was yours or mine. YOU OUT THERE, HERE IT IS.

Huntz:  Wait a minute Uncle Charlie, wait a minute!

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Huntz, what is it?

Huntz:  You said this was a true story, right?

Uncle Charle:  That’s right Huntz.

Huntz:  And so far there are only four people in the story.  Two of them are those weird keepers and one of them is this Joe guy and from the sound of it he’s not going to be doing much talking, so how come you know so much about it?

Uncle Charlie:  Why Huntz, I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out by now.

Huntz:  Figured what out, Uncle Charlie?

Joan:  That our Uncle Charlie is the Charlie in the story, Huntz.

Huntz:  What?  Uncle Charlie?  You mean with the axe and the head and Joe laying there on the ground?   Joan, I’m surprised at you.  That’s our Uncle Charlie you’re talking about.

Uncle Charlie:  I’m afraid your cousin is right Huntz.  I am the Charlie in the story.

Huntz:  Meep.

Uncle Charlie:  What was that?

Huntz:  Nothing.  Has anyone seen Lou?

Bonita:  I haven’t seen Lou for a while, but I do see his sleeping bag shivering.

Joan:  Lou?  Lou, are you under there?

Lou:  Leave me alone.   Unless your next words are “We’re getting out of here” just leave me alone.

Huntz:  I agree with Lou.  Uncle Charlie, how could you?

Uncle Charlie:  If you kids will just calm down and let me finish the story,  you will see just how, and what, I really did.

Huntz:  Well, all right.  But you stay on your own side of the fire.  I’m staying here between Joan and Bonita.

Uncle Charlie:    Now,  getting back to the story.   So, there I was, holding my friends head in my hands, and  the voice said.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Bring it to me.

Charlie:  I can’t see very well beyond the campfire.  I’m walking to the sound of your voice.

Mysterious Voice #1:  I’m right here, in the shadows.  Bring it.

Charlie:  Well,  here it is.  I can’t see you, but I can feel your hands;  they’re rough, and cracked, like old leather.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Life is harsh here in the Dark Woods.

Charlie:  Have you tried moisturizer?

Mysterious Voice #1:  We don’t get to the store very often.

Mysterious Voice #2:  I told you about Amazon Prime.  We could get anything we want delivered right here.

Charlie:  He’s right you know.  They even have drones.  No driver, just a little automated flying thingy, delivers the package right here.

Mysterious Voice #2:  Ooh, a drone.    I would love to see a drone.

Mysterious Voice #1: Silence.  I am not interested in drones or moisturizer.  You will hand over your trade item please.

Charlie:  There it is, take it.

Mysterious Voice #1:  Yes, very fine.

Charlie:  Do you mind telling me  what are you going to do with it?

Mysterious Voice #1:  We are going to eat it.

Continued in Campfire Creepers: Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head (social media edition part 2)

 

 

copyright 2016 r.k.morris

 

Editor’s note:  A scenario in several parts to add  to that pastime of telling scary stories around a campfire, or wherever friends and family gather, in a format that allows group participation. Enjoy.

(The facebook edition is the  same as the original, except that it is divided into smaller parts more suitable for posting on social media.  Click here to read the undivided original version  Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head.)

 

The characters:

Joe

Charlie

Mysterious Voice #1

Mysterious Voice #2

Uncle Charlie

Bonita

Joan

Huntz

Lou

The scene:  A campsite at night.  A fire is blazing in a fire pit.  Tents and equipment in the background.  Five campers are seated around the fire.

Huntz:  Sure is a dark night.

Joan:  Look at all those stars.

Uncle Charlie:  You kids get everything cleaned up and put away from dinner?

Bonita, Joan , Huntz, Lou:  Yes.

Bonita:  Everybody ready for some music?  I brought my guitar.

Huntz:  Not yet. I want to hear a ghost story first, then music after, so I can get to sleep.

Lou:  Could we just skip the ghost story please?

Joan:  What’s the matter Lou, afraid of a little campfire creepers?

Lou:  The creepers I get are not the little kind.  I can play percussion on the spoons.

Huntz:  No, let’s hear a story first.  Who knows a good ghost story?

Uncle Charlie:  I don’t know a ghost story, but I do know a pretty scary story, and it happens to be true.

Bonita:  Go on Uncle Charlie, tell us.

Uncle Charlie:  Well, it started out on a night just like this night, at a campsite, just like this one, out in the middle of nowhere, miles from anywhere and anyone.  At least that’s what Joe and Charlie thought when they settled down in front of the fire,  after dinner, just like we are now…

Joe:  Sure is a dark night.

Charlie: Yeah, look at all those stars.

Joe: I wonder if there are any other people out here.

Charlie:  I doubt it.  I haven’t seen a living soul for miles.

Joe: You think I should chop more wood for the fire?

Charlie:  I’ll check.  Looks like plenty.  I cut some up earlier.  That axe of yours really does the job.

Joe:  Yeah, I just had it sharpened.  I knew we’d put it to good use out here.

Charlie: That thing cut through the kindling like nothing, and even went through the bigger stuff with ease.  I bet  it would go right through bone.

Joe:  Bone?  Who wants to cut through bone?

Charlie:  Nobody, I just meant that when I was chopping wood and felt how sharp that axe was, I thought of what would happen if my hand slipped. I wouldn’t want to lose a toe, or even a whole foot.

Joe: No, you wouldn’t want to chop your foot off.  Especially not out here, miles from anywhere.  That’s why you’ve got to be careful when you chop something with an axe.

Charlie: Real careful. You get enough to eat?

Joe;  Yeah, Nothing like dinner under the stars.  I bet I’ll really rest tonight.

Charlie:  Yeah.  Me too, but don’t forget about lunch tomorrow.

Joe:  That’s gonna be something special.  You’re in for a real treat.

Charlie:  We’ll see who gets the treat.  Remember I’ve got my own recipe. Everything’s right there in the cooler, ready to go. You’ll find out how a master does it.

Joe:  Charlie my boy, you might as well give up now.  Tomorrow afternoon, your taste buds are going to declare me the winner.

Charlie:  Wait and see Joe, just wait–hey, did you hear that?

Joe;  What?  I didn’t hear anything

Charlie:  Something strange.  A kind of wailing, out there, in the night.  Sounded like a child , you know, like a kid who’s lost and crying for his mamma, but too scared to be really loud, just kind of wailing, low and mournful.

Joe:  Cut it out Charlie, you must be hearing things.  No kids out here anyway.  If you heard anything it was probably just an animal.

Charlie:  There it goes again.

Joe:  I hear it now too.  And rustling in the bushes.   Something is moving out there in the dark.  I can’t tell for sure,  but it seems to be  getting closer.

Charlie: What kind of animal makes a sound like that?  It’s giving me the creeps.

Joe:  Probably raccoons, or maybe coyotes.  They can make some pretty weird noises.

Charlie:  I don’t know.  I don’t think that’s any animal.  A sound like that could only be made by a human.

Joe:  Charlie, there aren’t any people around here besides you and I.  There can’t be.  We didn’t pass any other campsites.  I can’t even remember  when we last saw a car, and the only building for miles is that deserted looking farmers stand back by the main road.

Charlie:  Just the same, there it is again.  I’m going to  find out.

Joe:  Wait, Charlie.  Don’t go out there.

Charlie:  What?  Why not?

Joe: I don’t think it’s safe out there.  I just remembered something.

Charlie:  What?  What did you remember Joe?

Joe:  I read some stories online about a group, a cult or something, that supposedly does bizarre rituals out in these woods.

Charlie:  This is a fine time to remember.  Why didn’t you think of that before we came out here?  There it is again.  I think they’re getting closer.

Joe:  I didn’t take it seriously.  I thought it was just  an online legend or hoax.

Charlie:  Those are definitely human sounds Joe,  and they’re starting to surround the campsite.  Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!

Joe:  Wait.  It’s too late!

Charlie:  What the–?  Where did that come from?

Joe:  Someone threw it in from out of the darkness just beyond the light of our fire.

Charlie:  Did you hear the sound it made when it landed. It must be heavy.

Joe:  Yeah, I heard it, a real thud.  It rolled pretty close to you after it landed.  Can you tell what it is?

Charlie:  Something in a brown paper bag.  Something about the size of a bowling ball.

Joe:  What is it Charlie?  What’s in the bag?

Charlie:  I don’t know.  I’m reaching in.  I can’t tell, but it feels like, like…

Joe: Like what?  What is it?

Charlie:  It’s a  head.

Joe:  A head?

Charlie:  Yes,  a head, or rather, half a head.  Whoever did this must have used an incredibly sharp instrument.  It’s cut clean through the middle, not even the slightest fraying.

Joe:  Cut clean through the middle.  I  think I’m going to be sick.  Do you suppose there’s any chance of, of identifying  the, the– maybe in the daylight?

Charlie: I don’t know.   If I could just get my fingers around it.  Yes it definitely feels like– I don’t know if I can–  it’s a little bit slippery, but if I can just hold on without dropping it and get it out and get a good look.

Joe:  Don’t, I can’t watch.

 

Continued in Campfire Creepers:  Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head (social media edition part 2)

 

copyright 2016 r.k.morris

Just in time for Father’s Day.  Inspired by those old salty sea airs.  I can’t write music, but the tune is in my head.  Make up your own tune and sing this one to your Pappy and see if it doesn’t bring a smile to his face!

Belly’s Ahoy, lads

Belly’s Ahoy!

We’ll all come shaking

Belly’s Ahoy.

Some dress in glad rags,

some jump for joy

All come shouting

Belly’s Ahoy!

We’re not making mischief

nor is this a ploy

we’re merely observing

Belly’s Ahoy!

Now each lad and lass, boy

each girl and boy

take wind of the weather,

Belly’s Ahoy!

With temperatures rising

bare midriffs deploy

loosen your topsail

Belly’s Ahoy!

Come now my hearties

we won’t destroy

your slim silhouette

with our Belly’s Ahoy.

There[‘s no need to boast

or be modestly coy

join all the host

singing Belly’s Ahoy!

 

To start at the beginning click here:Ski bums and sagbutts: A madcap frolic in the snow. (Part 1fb)

 

We left Mr. Gordon wondering what to do if Miss Darling returned before Frankie had brought  Mr. Gordon his other pair of pants, to which Frankie responded: “Just hold on to that blanket, Mr. Gordon, and she’ll never know. ”

We resume the tale as Frankie assures Mr. Gordon:

” I’ll be back in a flash with some dry duds.  Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“I’ll try not to, Mr.  Elliott.  My room is though that door behind you.”

Frankie disappeared through the doorway and returned in a few moments holding up a pair of trousers.  “I found them for you, Mr. Gordon.  Now just stick your out feet and we’ll have you all dressed up in no time.”

It was at that moment that Polly returned from the kitchen.  Frankie, seeing her coming from the corner of his eye, quickly stuffed Mr. Gordon’s pants into his coat.

“Mr.  Elliott,  before I forget to tell you,  Father would like you to get back to the hotel as soon as possible so that the band has some extra time to rehearse with you before the after dinner crowd starts to arrive.”

“Right away?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, Polly, any bandleader worth his salt would want a few extra run-throughs with a last- minute, fill-in musician.  I’ll start back right  away.”

“Mr. Elliot!  Mr.  Elliott!  You can’t leave now.”

“You heard what Polly said, Mr. Gordon.”

“Yes, but not right this instant.  Aren’t you forgetting something?  Polly dear, don’t you think you should go check on Mr. Wellbright?  You know how helpless men can be in the kitchen.”

“Phil’s fine, Mr. Gordon.  I left him stirring the cocoa.  You just sit back and relax and let us take care of everything.  You will tell father I sent you back as soon as I found you, won’t you Frankie?  I do so want him to trust me with responsibility.”

“I’ll be sure to arrive out of breath so as to give your old man the impression you instructed me to make the utmost haste.”

“The utmost haste?  That sounds very responsible. Thank you Frankie, that would be wonderful of you.”

“Mr. Elliot, not that much haste.  Please, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Gordon, I’ve got to run.  Polly’s good standing with her father is at stake.  Tell Phil I’ll see him after our set.  Good-bye for now.”

“There goes Frankie.”

“There go my pants.”

“Your what, Mr. Gordon?”

“My–my chance.  There goes my chance to get some instruction on the sagbutt from Mr. Elliott.”

“Don’t look so down-hearted.  I’m sure you’ll get another chance.  Just be patient.”

“I’m not sure how long I can wait.”

“I didn’t realize getting instruction on the sagbutt was that important to you.  If you’re feeling well enough now, we can try to catch up with him.”

“No! No, that’s fine, I’ll stay here and wait for another pair, I mean another chance.  There’s no point in us chasing after Mr. Elliott in the snow.”

At this moment Phil came in from the kitchen, carrying a serving tray with four cups on it.  “The cocoa’s all ready.  Wait till you have some of this, Mr. Gordon.  This will cheer you right up.  Say, where’s Frankie?”

“He had to hurry back to the hotel.  That was the message my father wanted me to deliver.  Frankie said he’d catch up with you after their set.”

“Okay, that leaves more cocoa for the three of us.  I’ll just set the tray on this table, and, let me see, this chair right here–”

“No, not that chair Mr. Wellbright.”

“What’s wrong with this chair, Mr. Gordon.”

“It’s just that, that I spilled a whole pitcher of water on the seat cushion earlier, and Mr.  Elliott was kind enough to push it up facing the fire like that to help dry it.  I’m sure it’s still too wet to sit on.  There are chairs at the kitchen table,  two of those will fit nicely for now.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

“Mr. Gordon, would you like to sit up to drink your cocoa?”

“What’s that?  Sit up?  Why I should say not.  I’ll just lie still like this, nice and cozy, and covered.”

“But Mr. Gordon, how will you drink the hot cocoa lying in that position?”

“With a straw.”

“A straw?”

“Yes, I always like to drink hot cocoa with a straw.  I like to blow bubbles and watch them burst in the cup.”

“Whatever you say Mr. Gordon.  Here’s Phil with the chairs.  Phil, Mr. Gordon says he likes to drink his hot cocoa with a straw.”

“A straw?  Mr. Gordon, I looked through every cabinet in there while I was finding all the stuff to make this cocoa, and I didn’t see any straws.  Now here, let me prop you up on some pillows so you can drink this.”

“No, no. I don’t want to be propped up.”

“At least let me tuck that blanket in for you.  I want to show you that I can do you some good.  There, nice and snug, almost like in a sleeping bag.”

“Yes, yes, that is rather snug, as you say, almost like a sleeping bag.  Thank you Mr. Wellbright.”

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Gordon.”

“You know, I believe now that I would like to sit up a bit to drink that cocoa.  Now that you’ve tucked that blanket around my legs I feel more at ease somehow.”

“That’s the spirit, Mr. Gordon.”

“Now if you’ll just set those two kitchen chairs with their backs to the fire, I can sit like this and you can sit there and we can all drink our cocoa and have a nice chat.”

“That’s fine Mr. Gordon.  I sure hope you like it.  Polly put in all the ingredients, but I stirred.”

“It is delicious.  Thank you Polly, thank you Mr. Wellbright.”

“I sure wish you would call me Phil.  After all, we are neighbors, and I like to think you think of me as your friend.”

“Oh, do you live in the same town as Mr. Gordon?”

“Yes Polly, as a matter of fact Frankie and I both live in the same town as Mr. Gordon, and I just want to say to you Mr. Gordon how sorry I am for all the trouble we’ve–what’s that?”

“What Phil?”

“I smell something.”

“Smell something?  Like what?”

“Like something burning.”

“Of course, the fireplace is right behind you.”

“Not the fireplace,  unless you threw some old ropes in there.”

Polly stood up.  “Phil, the chair, it’s on fire!”

Phil stood up. “On fire?!”

“Fire!”   Mr Gordon stood up, clinging to his blanket.

“It sure is!   Polly, Mr. Gordon, you two better wait outside.  I think I can smother the fire with this blanket.”  With that decisive statement, and without hesitating another moment, Phil tore the blanket from Mr. Gordon’s grasp and proceeded to beat at the flames.

It is perhaps fortunate that so engrossed in the spectacle of the fire was Polly that she did not even notice the bare legs of Mr, Gordon as they hurried outside and turned to watch Phil’s struggle against the small conflagration from the safety of the snowy outdoors.

For his part, Mr. Gordon was speechless and dumbfounded, doubly stunned by the fearsome potential of his rented abode going up in flames, and the equally fearsome reality that the only pair of pants he owned within donning distance were at that moment succumbing to the same horrible fate.  How long Mr. Gordon would have remained in this spellbound state is uncertain if it had not been for the sound of approaching sleigh bells gently impressing themselves on his consciousness, followed by the more distinct sound of his wife’s voice calling his name.  Mr. Gordon responded to his beloved’s call like a delirious fever victim experiencing a miraculous recovery upon hearing the voice of a long -lost loved one.

“Martha?  Martha, is that you?”

“Oswald, what are you doing?”

“Martha, it is you.  Then I’m not dreaming.”

“No, you are not dreaming, but I believe you have some explaining to do.”

“Martha?”

“Get a hold of yourself, Oswald.  Look, Sam Rawlings is here, and so are Mrs. Springington, and Alice and Olivia. ”

“They’re with you too.  Yes, I see them.  What a pleasant surprise.  I’d invite you in only. . .”

“Oswald!  Look at yourself!”

“Martha?”

“Your pants!”

“My pants?”

As if on cue Phil came out of the house carrying the charred remains of Mr, Gordon’s pants at the end of a fireplace poker.  “Would you look at this, somebody’s pants were on fire.”

“My pants!  Good heavens.  Girls!  Ladies!”  With awareness suddenly returning to its throne, Mr. Gordon rushed to the cover of the nearest evergreen trees.

“Oswald, I believe you owe us an explanation.”

To which the trees seemed to answer.  “Yes dear.  If I could just trouble Mr. Wellbright to bring me, to bring me what’s left of those.”

“Sure Mr. Gordon, here you go.  I think I saved most of the seat for you.  The legs are pretty much gone though.”

“Thank you Mr. Wellbright.”  The tree seemed to swallow up the still smoking pants.  There was a rustling of needle covered branches, punctuated by an occasional “Ouch.”  In a moment Mr. Gordon appeared, looking from the waist down like one of those illustrations of a shipwrecked mariner whose frayed trousers cover just to the knees.

“Hello Martha.  Hello everyone.  So nice to see you all.  I suppose it’s safe to go inside now.”

“Just one moment Oswald.  You were about to give us an explanation.”

“An explanation?  Yes, well certainly.  An explanation. . . Did you happen to see Mr. Elliott running past you in the opposite direction?”

Mrs. Gordon stepped forward and put her arms around her husband.  “Oh Oswald, my poor dear.  You needn’t say another word.”

 

To be continued. . .

 

Copyright 2017 r.k.morris

If you want to start at the beginning, click here to read Ski Bums and Sagbutts- A Madcap Frolic in the Snow (Parts 1 to 4)

 

Part Six:  Don’t Look Darling, or The Ongoing Discomfiture of Mr. Gordon.

With Mr. Gordon still asleep on the sofa,  we left Phil and Frankie in conversation as there is a knock on the door of the cabin.  Phil opens the door and says “Oh, Hello, uh,  Miss?“

“Yes.    My father sent me to find Mr. Elliott.  Is he here?”

“Sure, he’s right here.  Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you. Oh dear, what happened to Mr. Gordon?”

“Frankie happened to Mr. Gordon.”

“Frankie?”

“I mean, we had a little mishap with the snow coming down off the roof.  Mr.  Gordon found himself at the center of a minor avalanche. ”

“Was he hurt?”

“No, just shaken up a little. He’ll be allright.  He fell asleep almost as soon as we brought him inside and laid him down on that sofa.”

“Poor Mr. Gordon.  After he told me about all those terrible things that kept happening to him, and how he came up here to get some peace and quiet, and now this.”

“Mr. Gordon told you about terrible things that kept happening to him?”

“Yes.  It seems there are these two men in the town where Mr. Gordon lives.  He can’t decide whether they’re just a couple of well-meaning imbeciles, or if they’re really out to get him, but the most horrible things happen to Mr. Gordon whenever they’re around.  Would you believe one of them actually knocked Mr. Gordon unconscious with a snow shovel?”

Phil looked at Frankie,  “And now this.”

“Pardon me?”

“I’m sorry Miss  ah…?”

“Darling.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Miss Darling.  Miss Polly Darling.”

“Oh, your name is Darling?”

“That’s right, at least that’s what grandfather changed it to when he and grandmother came to America.  Don’t ask me to pronounce the original for you; it was so many consonants and syllables: our name looked like on of those places on the map in the Dutch East Indies.”

“Your family is Dutch then?”

“Sure, lots of Van families around here.  We had a Van in our name too, but Grandfather dropped it to sound more American.”

“So your grandfather shortened the family name from something like Van Djarlinkerhooten?”

“That’s the general idea.  except there wasn’t even anything remotely close to Darling in our original name.  The family legend passed down by my Grandmother is that whenever she and Grandfather would go for a walk in the park in New York, where they first settled before they moved out here, they would pass the young couples sitting on the benches and that’s where he first heard the word darling.  According to Grandmother, Grandfather thought that was what  all Americans  called each other, so that was the name he adopted.”

“It’s a good thing your grandparents never walked by my cousin Willie when he was out with a dame, or your family name would by Masher.”

“Frankie! . . .  Miss Darling, this questionable character is Mr. Elliott.”

“Pleased to meet you Mr.  Elliott.  Just call me Polly.”

“Same goes for me Polly,  just call me Frankie.  So your Mr. Darling’s daughter.  For your information Curly, Mr. Darling is the owner of the resort.  Polly, my well -mannered friend here,  with whom you have been conversing is –”

“Mr. Philip  Wellbright.  I’m Polly Darling.  but of course you already know that.  Please  just call me Polly.  How do you do Mr. Wellbright.  I’ve so been looking forward to meeting you.  May I call you Phil?”

“Sure, Polly.  You’ve been looking forward to meeting me?”

At this moment Mr. Gordon stirred from his slumbers “Polly?  Polly is that you?”

“Yes Mr. Gordon.  I’m right here.”

“Did those fools get you too, I mean, are you all right?”

“Yes, Mr. Gordon, I’m fine.  Father sent me on an errand to find Mr.  Elliott.  I hope our talking didn’t disturb you.”

“Not in the least my child.  Yours was like the voice of a healing angel amid the tumult of battle.”

“We’re awful sorry about that Mr. Gordon, and well, we’re sorry about everything.”

“Yeah Mr. Gordon, we’re sorry.  At least this time I kept Curly away from the snow shovel.”

“Yes, that was very thoughtful of you Mr.  Elliott.  I’m sure at some distant time in the future I will realize just how fortunate I was that you were here to prevent Mr. Wellbright from seizing a snow shovel and bludgeoning me, but I must confess that for the moment that aspect of the affair provides me  little comfort.”

“Can I get you anything Mr. Gordon?  How about a nice  cup of hot cocoa?”

“Thank you,  Polly, that would be delightful.  You’ll find everything you need in the kitchen.”

“Would you like to come with me, Phil?”

“Sure, Polly, anything to help.”

“You two want a hand?”

“Actually Mr.  Elliott, I wonder if you could stay here for a moment.”

“Sure Mr. Gordon, anything you say. ”

Phil and Polly went into the kitchen.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Gordon?”

“I’m afraid sitting in that pile of snow has caused me to become soaked to the skin.  The fact is, Mr.  Elliott, that my pants are extremely uncomfortable at this moment.  I don’t want to cause any stir with Miss Darling here, you know, to avoid embarrassment for either one of us, so I would like you to keep those two occupied in the kitchen while I  go discretely into the bedroom and put on my other pair of trousers.”

“I’ll do better than that, Mr. Gordon.  I’ll bring the dry clothes to you.  You just leave everything to Frankie.  First let’s get you out of those wet pants.  We don’t want you catching a chill.”

“No–Mr.  Elliott, what are you doing?  Let go!”

“Just a little tug.  Hold onto the blanket.  No one will ever notice.  These wet clothes are a little harder to pull off than I expected.”

“No, please, stop!”

“One-more-pull.  There.  Boy, you weren’t kidding, these pants sure are soaked.  Hey are those red-flannels you’re wearing a union suit, or are the drawers separate?”

“I’m afraid the drawers are separate.”

“Better let me have those too.  We don’t want a rash on top of a chill.”

” Mr. Elliott,  I am not a  toddler who needs his diaper changed.”

” I know, I know, but this reminds me of the times I spent with my nephew  Johnny when he was a baby.  I used to change him too.”

“I’m perfectly capable of changing myself,  that is, I just want some dry pants.  My drawers are fine, so don’t bother.”

“It’s no bother, Mr. Gordon, honest. One, two, three.  Got ’em.  These feel kind of damp too.  You got anything else under there?”

“I have, and they’re completely dry and comfortable.  Now will you please go and get my other pair of pants? ”

“Right away, Mr. Gordon.  I’d better hang these wet things of yours in front of the fire to dry. . . there, with the chair turned like that, I don’t think anyone will notice.”

“Please hurry Mr. Elliott. I feel horribly silly like this.  What if they, that is, what if Miss Darling comes in from the kitchen?”

“Just hold on to that blanket, Mr. Gordon, and she’ll never know. ”

 

To be continued. . .

 

Copyright 2017 r.k.morris