An unsettling encounter at the campground

Had an unsettling encounter yesterday evening at the campground (which is very pretty, by the way).  I was just sitting in front of my campfire, minding my own business, stroking a blanket I had won on eBay, listening to Cold Dish on my iPod, when this woman stopped to chat. I thought I was alone, but apparently not.  She was somewhat attractive, about my age, and maybe a little heavier than I am.  I noticed immediately that she was a bit on the twitchy side and had a tic, similar to the one Inspector Clouseau’s  boss (in the Pink Panther) has after he’s been exposed to to Clouseau for too long.  She was smoking a joint. 

“Hey.  Didn’t know anyone else was up here.”  Her voice was gravelly, probably a result of too much pot.

“Wanna toke?” she asked as she held it out to me.  “Purely medicinal.  Helps keep the tics under control.  And the ticks.”  She giggled at her own joke, though it wasn’t particularly funny.

 

“No, but thanks for asking.  By the way, I don’t think it’s controlling your tics very well.”

“Damn.  Really?  Damn.  Am I twitching too?”

“Yep.”  What else could I say?  I’m fairly blunt.

“Damn.  I need to get that under control before I meet Dwight Hendricks.”

“Who’s that?”  The only Dwight Hendricks I know is the character played by Jason Lee on Memphis Beat.

“He’s the guy on Memphis Beat.  He used to be Earl on My Name is Earl, but he needed a job, so he changed his name and became a detective on Memphis Beat. And damn can he sing the blues.  He's surprisingly versatile.  Damn.” 

Unfortunately, my can of mace was in the truck. 

She continued.  “Got anything to eat?  Yeah, no, seriously, I have autographed pictures of him and everything, and I just recently won a pair of his underwear on eBay.  Whew.  It was close.  Some turd almost outbid me, but I got them.  See?  Wanna touch them?  I’ll let ya.  I understand he wore them and they’ve never been washed.”

She reached under her shirt and pulled out a pair of boxers with an odd handcuff print on them and handed them to me with absolute reverence.  She was a trusting soul.  First the pot, now her beloved underwear.

“Thanks, but do you really want someone else touching them?  It seems somewhat sacrilegious, don’t you think?”

She considered my words for a moment and nodded.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Hadn’t thought of that.”

She returned the boxers to their home under her shirt.  I suspected there was something a wee bit off about this woman, but I had yet to put my finger on it.  I needed to investigate a little more. 

“So, you know that you’re actually talking about Jason Lee, right?  That both Dwight Hendricks and Earl are characters on T.V. shows?  They aren’t real.”

“Damn, you’re just like the rest of them.”  She almost hissed.  Then she crouched and looked around as if "them" were hiding behind trees, waiting to attack.  Or take her away.  She backed away, watching me with a great deal of suspicion, and disappeared in the darkness beyond my fire.  I heard her repeating "damn" until she was out of earshot.  Glad I didn't touch the underwear.

I returned to my book and stroked the blanket.  I had it on good authority that Walt had used this very blanket but he remodeled his little cabin.  He's a good and generous man, for he sent it to Goodwill. I swear I can smell his aftershave on it.  Old Spice, I think.  Or maybe Aqua Velva.  

Some people are just friggn’ crazy.