After Angel's Landing we went back to the campsite for a little R&R. We took up our usual perch on the campsite picnic table and watched the French couple go about their business. We talked for a while about going back to the river trail we saw the day before and taking it balls out, with or without good equipment. Of course, we didn't follow through. Instead we decided to go swimming in the river right next to the campsite. It was effin cold. It took a little convincing to get Kate into the water (said it would make her hair into an afro or something...but mostly I think she's neurotic). We stumbled around in the water for a while, letting the current pull us under. Aquatic fun in general. At one point I snuck out of the water while Ben and Kate weren't looking. For a moment they thought I had drowned. It was hilarious, but what goes around comes around and a few moments later I stepped on a really sharp thorn. So Kate and Ben got their laughs as well.
Wet, cold, and happy we went back to the campsite. My hair was off the heezy so we decided to take a few pictures of me in the wild, where I clearly belong.
After my super hot photo-shoot we went back to our perch. The French boyfriend had gone but the hot chick was still there. Cleverly using our peripheral vision we slyly watched her change from one outfit into another. She wisely used her car door as a visual obstruction. Ben and I began to wonder if she was actually hot or if she was the only hot girl we had seen through the entire midwest. She was like an oasis in the middle of a terribly ugly desert, or maybe just a mirage. Doesn't matter though, in our minds she was still da bomb.
Eventually her boyfriend came back, but something had changed. Their giggling, and playfulness had completely evaporated. They awkwardly avoided one another. Neither looking the other in the eye. Some evil had fallen upon the campground. The girl sat down and started scribbling quickly in a journal, her head in her hands. Ben, Kate and I looked at one another, shocked by the sudden turn in events. This went on for a while. We went to get some wood then and when we returned the frenchman had her wrapped in his arms, trying to console her. She, however, looked away, ignored him completely. Rough.
We set up our fire, and I went off on my bike to get some beer. A few minutes earlier we had watched the Frenchman walk off in a fury and when I entered into the store looking for boos, I found him picking up a few tall boys...for him and the lady, I suppose. I bought my Zion Virgin Ale six pack. It had a picture of a well proportioned woman on the front, so seemed the obvious choice.
On my way back, my bikes wheels spinning fast, and the air rushing past my head, a vision of the future came to me. In a flash I saw the horrifying events of the evening to come.
We would sit around the fire roasting marshmallows talking softly, and laughing loudly. The nearly full moon would glow brightly in the clear sky, deadening the stars and casting an eerie blue light over the campsite. The Frenchman would return to the campsite with his beer, and try to get his girlfriend to drink, maybe lighten the mood. He'd rub her legs, kiss her on the neck, but the plan would backfire. She would staunchly refuse to take any drinks, and shove him away. He would consume first his half of the beer, then her half. First he would sulk, then he would become frustrated and bitter, and soon angry. Later in their tent, an argument would break out (I couldn't understand it because it was in French). From our perch we would watch the silhouettes cast on the sides of their tent. Drunk and angry the frenchman would loose control. In a flurry of confused motion, he would grab her and twist just a little too hard. She would fall limp. We would see. He would panic and leap from his tent. We would duck behind Ben's car, looking at each other wild-eyed, hearts pounding. In a prone position on the ground we'd watch him from under Ben's car. He would stumble about horrified. He would fall to his knees in shallow, quiet sobs. Then...nothing. All motion stops. There, facing away from us, he kneels in penetrating silence, as if in prayer. A stiff wind would blows through the valley kicking up dirt and debris.
Beneath the car Ben sneezes, followed by a very quiet "fuck."
The frenchman jumps up and swings around toward us. His eyes drift to our location. We're caught. Wait, no. He seems distracted. He dives inside his tent and turns off the light inside. His silhouette disappears. We hear stuff sacks and sleeping bags rubbing together, being zipped and unzipped. A few moments later he pokes his head out of the tent, and looks around. His face, whether by moonlight or not, is pale blue, his expression grim. He disappears for a few moments more then reemerges ass first pulling a heavily loaded sleeping bag. It's her. Kate gasps. Ben quickly covers her mouth. The frenchman pauses for a moment, then continues dragging the cumbersome sleeping bag towards his car. He pops the trunk and with relative ease, picks up the body and tosses it in the trunk. It lands with a solid thud. He quietly closes the trunk, then moves to open the nearest rear door. Inside, he digs around, tossing a Mcdonald's Bag out behind him. Finally he finds what he's looking for and slowly pulls it out from the car. In the dark it's hard to see the strange and apparently important objects he's found. One is made of several aluminum poles where legs might be on some terrible mechanical monster. The other appears to be...a cricket bat. Then, in a flash, the mechanical monster explodes into a fully extended campsite folding chair. Gingerly he places it on the ground facing our campsite. He sits in it and stares absently in our direction, the cricket bat resting across the arms of the chair. We understand his intentions, and nobody moves a muscle, nobody even breathes...
... next- has Harry met his match. A cricket match. Stay tuned
