"...They'll be back soon..." the old guy sighed and tossed another chunk of pre-cut timber onto
the campfire. The fairy-sparks rose into the air in front of the girl and she hoped her gazing at the
dancing flecks in the night sky would imply she wasn't wary of being alone with this man.
Dan Albright smiled to himself as he settled himself into the camping chair and focused on the
flames, he knew she'd be nervous. It would be another twenty minutes before the two men would
get back from the store and the seated chap in the Park Ranger uniform also knew that this time
would trickle slower than sap from a Lodgepole pine in winter for the young lady across from him.
Darla, her name was Darla.
The radio in his truck sputtered some incoherent message that was lost on both of them, but Dan
guessed it was just Margie signing off for the night. The large white Dodge Pickup with 'Ranger'
stencilled above the gold badge seemed to offer some officialdom to the strange scene and Dan
hoped this would take the edge off the quiet and awkward situation.
"Yer' still at college, heh?" Dan asked easily and offered a sympathetic smile over the glowing
blaze and Darla responded with a slight nod and a mumble that he was correct. What courses
she was taking and how she was handling her education would need more cajoling from the man
in the dark Smokey Bear hat.
It was another twenty seconds before Darla actualy formulated her first full sentence.
"I'm wanting to be a Journalist..." she said and grunted to clear her throat. "...It's something
I've always wanted to be"
The slim, auburn-haired woman in the large parka coat peered back at Officer Albright and
waited for his opinion on her chosen vocation. She wasn't too bothered if he responded or not,
for someone who works out here in the wilderness could hardly understand the nuances and
skills needed to write an informative piece of non-biased literature.
"I wanted to be a writer..." Dan said with a hint of forlorness in his voice. "...Yeah, there was
a time when 'ah thought I would write a book and be famous" he added and feigned interest
on stirring the embers at the side of the fire with his boot.
Darla raised her eyebrows and altered her mouth to indicate a 'Oh well, never mind' expression,
but it was lost in the flickering glow as Officer Dan didn't look up from his stoking. The crackling
of the burning fire took up a few more seconds of the gap between them.
Just as a faint hoot of an owl wafted into the clearing that Miles, Jerry and Darla had agreed
would make a good place to camp for the night, the Park Ranger who had come across them
ten minutes later, asked a question that caught the young woman quite unawares.
"Can 'Ah read you one of my stories?" Dan asked and stared hopefully across at his only host.
The question hung in the air for around two seconds before Darla answered it.
"Well, I'm no expert on creative writing, Mister..." she began and the gently-smiling Officer with the
wide-rimmed hat interrupted Darla's admission with "Call me Dan, okay?" and once more, she
was caught off-guard.
"Okay..." she said softly and with a hefty dollop of nervousness "...Dan, I'll listen" and simpered
a smile.
Without another word said, the man who had told the camping trio that no fires were allowed
in the park and then excused them with a 'we're all guys together' piece of banter, strode away
to his truck and left Darla contemplating her next move.
In the movie, she would flee and the crazy Park Ranger with the blood-soaked chainsaw would
chase her through the forest until the panic-music ended. Ideally, she'd just be in a bikini and
not very intelligent. And blonde... yes, they were always blonde.
The clouds would hide the moon and there would always be the hot panting from the maniac
heard above the music, she would run blindly through some leafy branches and maybe Miles
and Jerry's severed heads would be on a makeshift gibbet and...
"It's not much, but 'Ah think 'Ah'm gonna enter it into one of these online competitions" Dan said
suddenly and dragged Darla from her B-movie wool-gathering. She didn't scream, but she was
sure some pee came out a little.
The slightly-overweight man in the water-proof jacket -that he must have also obtained whilst
visiting the car, stood beside her holding a couple of sheaves of papers. " 'Ah wrote two, but
this 'Ah think is my best one" Dan said proudly.
Controllling her gulps for air and her look of surprised horror, Darla watched Officer Dan return
to his seat and settle again. The chair creaked in it's annoyance.
"Yer' sure yer' don't mind?" he asked politely and his only audience -excluding the owl, nodded
that it was fine.
Throwing another log on the fire and a smile of gratitude towards Darla, he began.
...........................
As Billy Marrs placed the box of soap-powder into his trolley and quickly pondered the red-head
in the far-too short skirt checking out the ingredients of 'Captain Clean's Glass Cleaner' he also
wondered about his plan to remove the sad vacuum that was impersonating his sex life.
Okay, he's a little overweight and yeah, it's true his unshaven face didn't remind people of Brad Pitt,
but he had other attributes going for him. The fact that his job was well-paid for one thing and that
he owned his own home (now Ma was gone) -was another.
The container that proclaimed your 'Whites-Will-Be-Whiter-Than-White' slumped sideways between
a large box of Twinkies and a gallon of undiluted juice-stuff as Billy turned the trolley back towards
the DIY aisle and left the potential Stepford-wife reading how to clear birdshit off her windows.
He needed more duct-tape.
Back in the nineties, a woman -not too dissimilar from the woman with copper tresses behind him,
had almost been Mrs. Marrs. Billy had been leaner then and with the company expanding, he saw
his future laid out ahead of him like a golden road.
With sawn-off denim-shorts-wearing chicks looking to hitch a ride.
Billy passed the large rolls of chains and plastic rope without a second glance. That stuff was far
from escape-proof he assured himself and steered the trolley away from some young punk with
acne gazing at the plastic-wrapped bundles of cordage.
The smell of protective oil and wax paper were prominent here and it seemed to Billy that whenever
you entered this area that he deemed 'a man's place'... there was always the requisite to push one's
chest out. To look manly.
Yeah, Billy's future was rosy. Redder than the bimbo with the glass cleaner and brighter than any
soap powder could boast of. Except for Ma of course... Ma didn't like girls around the house and
it didn't matter how many times they'd watched Hitchcock's 'Psycho' together, the old battle-axe
never saw the irony.
It would be another ten years before the girl of his dreams pulled her little blue pinto onto the dusty
yard claiming she had took a wrong turn. Of course, Ma wasn't really the owner by then and in no
real condition to chase anyone off the property.
The youngster with the task of choosing whether to buy the rope that was made from something called
'polypropylene' or just stuffing the bundle into his jacket and sneaking away, felt as if the air had suddenly
cooled around him.
With the latest falling-out with his girl and the fact that her father wanted his wreck-of-a-car removed
from the driveway of their home, the twenty-something year-old deemed this drop in temperature
as an omen that he was being watched and stayed his hand at being a shoplifter.
'Shit to it...' he thought and letting the Foofighters play their overhead song, he made off towards
the exit. Suzie's Pa can have the clunker.
The duct-tape was pricey and if there was a security camera pointing his way, they'd have recorded
Billy's frowning face as he perused the sticky bindings. Now as he cupped his fingers and slid the
roll onto his hand like a bracelet, he thought about his oncoming marriage and what the ceremony
would entail.
"Witnesses" he whispered without realising he'd actually given it utterance and decided that the
respective rolls of grey and black tape would suffice. And it was true, the tradition demands that
witnesses should be there to observe the joining of the pair.
Billy was confident Ma would make a fine Preacher and with the mail-man standing in as Darla's
father...
"What did you say...?" the girl snapped from across the fire and began to stand up from her metal
-framed chair. "Darla...you said Darla?" Darla reiterated and stood to her full height.
The Park Ranger made his mouth into a 'O' shape and looked shocked for a moment. Then leaning
foward to the firelight, he scanned the papers he was reading from. "Oh my" was all Dan murmured.
At that moment, the sound of a car-horn blared out and told the two people that Miles and Jerry were
only moments away. "Oh my indeed" Officer Albright mumbled to himself and moved his vacant features
to form a smile of revelation.
Darla watched warily as the man who had wrote the weird story also rose from his seat and began to
turn towards his pickup. "I'll have to fix this quick" he said without looking at the woman peering out
towards the dark road.
With the knowledge that her two friends were coming soon, Darla felt encouraged to say something
pithy bound in a tone of insult towards the retreating red-neck official in the brown hat.
"Where are you going... for your pencil?!" she sneered and changed her stance to show her confidence.
Officer Dan Albright looked up from his scrutiny of his story and seemed bewildered for a moment before
answering. "Er, no..." he said absently "... for my duct-tape"
The End.
the campfire. The fairy-sparks rose into the air in front of the girl and she hoped her gazing at the
dancing flecks in the night sky would imply she wasn't wary of being alone with this man.
Dan Albright smiled to himself as he settled himself into the camping chair and focused on the
flames, he knew she'd be nervous. It would be another twenty minutes before the two men would
get back from the store and the seated chap in the Park Ranger uniform also knew that this time
would trickle slower than sap from a Lodgepole pine in winter for the young lady across from him.
Darla, her name was Darla.
The radio in his truck sputtered some incoherent message that was lost on both of them, but Dan
guessed it was just Margie signing off for the night. The large white Dodge Pickup with 'Ranger'
stencilled above the gold badge seemed to offer some officialdom to the strange scene and Dan
hoped this would take the edge off the quiet and awkward situation.
"Yer' still at college, heh?" Dan asked easily and offered a sympathetic smile over the glowing
blaze and Darla responded with a slight nod and a mumble that he was correct. What courses
she was taking and how she was handling her education would need more cajoling from the man
in the dark Smokey Bear hat.
It was another twenty seconds before Darla actualy formulated her first full sentence.
"I'm wanting to be a Journalist..." she said and grunted to clear her throat. "...It's something
I've always wanted to be"
The slim, auburn-haired woman in the large parka coat peered back at Officer Albright and
waited for his opinion on her chosen vocation. She wasn't too bothered if he responded or not,
for someone who works out here in the wilderness could hardly understand the nuances and
skills needed to write an informative piece of non-biased literature.
"I wanted to be a writer..." Dan said with a hint of forlorness in his voice. "...Yeah, there was
a time when 'ah thought I would write a book and be famous" he added and feigned interest
on stirring the embers at the side of the fire with his boot.
Darla raised her eyebrows and altered her mouth to indicate a 'Oh well, never mind' expression,
but it was lost in the flickering glow as Officer Dan didn't look up from his stoking. The crackling
of the burning fire took up a few more seconds of the gap between them.
Just as a faint hoot of an owl wafted into the clearing that Miles, Jerry and Darla had agreed
would make a good place to camp for the night, the Park Ranger who had come across them
ten minutes later, asked a question that caught the young woman quite unawares.
"Can 'Ah read you one of my stories?" Dan asked and stared hopefully across at his only host.
The question hung in the air for around two seconds before Darla answered it.
"Well, I'm no expert on creative writing, Mister..." she began and the gently-smiling Officer with the
wide-rimmed hat interrupted Darla's admission with "Call me Dan, okay?" and once more, she
was caught off-guard.
"Okay..." she said softly and with a hefty dollop of nervousness "...Dan, I'll listen" and simpered
a smile.
Without another word said, the man who had told the camping trio that no fires were allowed
in the park and then excused them with a 'we're all guys together' piece of banter, strode away
to his truck and left Darla contemplating her next move.
In the movie, she would flee and the crazy Park Ranger with the blood-soaked chainsaw would
chase her through the forest until the panic-music ended. Ideally, she'd just be in a bikini and
not very intelligent. And blonde... yes, they were always blonde.
The clouds would hide the moon and there would always be the hot panting from the maniac
heard above the music, she would run blindly through some leafy branches and maybe Miles
and Jerry's severed heads would be on a makeshift gibbet and...
"It's not much, but 'Ah think 'Ah'm gonna enter it into one of these online competitions" Dan said
suddenly and dragged Darla from her B-movie wool-gathering. She didn't scream, but she was
sure some pee came out a little.
The slightly-overweight man in the water-proof jacket -that he must have also obtained whilst
visiting the car, stood beside her holding a couple of sheaves of papers. " 'Ah wrote two, but
this 'Ah think is my best one" Dan said proudly.
Controllling her gulps for air and her look of surprised horror, Darla watched Officer Dan return
to his seat and settle again. The chair creaked in it's annoyance.
"Yer' sure yer' don't mind?" he asked politely and his only audience -excluding the owl, nodded
that it was fine.
Throwing another log on the fire and a smile of gratitude towards Darla, he began.
...........................
As Billy Marrs placed the box of soap-powder into his trolley and quickly pondered the red-head
in the far-too short skirt checking out the ingredients of 'Captain Clean's Glass Cleaner' he also
wondered about his plan to remove the sad vacuum that was impersonating his sex life.
Okay, he's a little overweight and yeah, it's true his unshaven face didn't remind people of Brad Pitt,
but he had other attributes going for him. The fact that his job was well-paid for one thing and that
he owned his own home (now Ma was gone) -was another.
The container that proclaimed your 'Whites-Will-Be-Whiter-Than-White' slumped sideways between
a large box of Twinkies and a gallon of undiluted juice-stuff as Billy turned the trolley back towards
the DIY aisle and left the potential Stepford-wife reading how to clear birdshit off her windows.
He needed more duct-tape.
Back in the nineties, a woman -not too dissimilar from the woman with copper tresses behind him,
had almost been Mrs. Marrs. Billy had been leaner then and with the company expanding, he saw
his future laid out ahead of him like a golden road.
With sawn-off denim-shorts-wearing chicks looking to hitch a ride.
Billy passed the large rolls of chains and plastic rope without a second glance. That stuff was far
from escape-proof he assured himself and steered the trolley away from some young punk with
acne gazing at the plastic-wrapped bundles of cordage.
The smell of protective oil and wax paper were prominent here and it seemed to Billy that whenever
you entered this area that he deemed 'a man's place'... there was always the requisite to push one's
chest out. To look manly.
Yeah, Billy's future was rosy. Redder than the bimbo with the glass cleaner and brighter than any
soap powder could boast of. Except for Ma of course... Ma didn't like girls around the house and
it didn't matter how many times they'd watched Hitchcock's 'Psycho' together, the old battle-axe
never saw the irony.
It would be another ten years before the girl of his dreams pulled her little blue pinto onto the dusty
yard claiming she had took a wrong turn. Of course, Ma wasn't really the owner by then and in no
real condition to chase anyone off the property.
The youngster with the task of choosing whether to buy the rope that was made from something called
'polypropylene' or just stuffing the bundle into his jacket and sneaking away, felt as if the air had suddenly
cooled around him.
With the latest falling-out with his girl and the fact that her father wanted his wreck-of-a-car removed
from the driveway of their home, the twenty-something year-old deemed this drop in temperature
as an omen that he was being watched and stayed his hand at being a shoplifter.
'Shit to it...' he thought and letting the Foofighters play their overhead song, he made off towards
the exit. Suzie's Pa can have the clunker.
The duct-tape was pricey and if there was a security camera pointing his way, they'd have recorded
Billy's frowning face as he perused the sticky bindings. Now as he cupped his fingers and slid the
roll onto his hand like a bracelet, he thought about his oncoming marriage and what the ceremony
would entail.
"Witnesses" he whispered without realising he'd actually given it utterance and decided that the
respective rolls of grey and black tape would suffice. And it was true, the tradition demands that
witnesses should be there to observe the joining of the pair.
Billy was confident Ma would make a fine Preacher and with the mail-man standing in as Darla's
father...
"What did you say...?" the girl snapped from across the fire and began to stand up from her metal
-framed chair. "Darla...you said Darla?" Darla reiterated and stood to her full height.
The Park Ranger made his mouth into a 'O' shape and looked shocked for a moment. Then leaning
foward to the firelight, he scanned the papers he was reading from. "Oh my" was all Dan murmured.
At that moment, the sound of a car-horn blared out and told the two people that Miles and Jerry were
only moments away. "Oh my indeed" Officer Albright mumbled to himself and moved his vacant features
to form a smile of revelation.
Darla watched warily as the man who had wrote the weird story also rose from his seat and began to
turn towards his pickup. "I'll have to fix this quick" he said without looking at the woman peering out
towards the dark road.
With the knowledge that her two friends were coming soon, Darla felt encouraged to say something
pithy bound in a tone of insult towards the retreating red-neck official in the brown hat.
"Where are you going... for your pencil?!" she sneered and changed her stance to show her confidence.
Officer Dan Albright looked up from his scrutiny of his story and seemed bewildered for a moment before
answering. "Er, no..." he said absently "... for my duct-tape"
The End.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.
