My old buddy, Bubba, and I had arrived at our fishing site very late the night before. I remembered the trip to the campsite well, because I had to ride with my feet on the dash of his truck. See, the most of the floorboard is rusted out in Bubba's vee-hicle. Once the tents were up, we went straight to bed.
Since both Bubba and I are military vets, I never had to worry when camping with him. We had both spent years in the service and camping out was not a big deal. We didn't really need much to get by on, and we had a lot more gear with us than Uncle Sam ever issued us for use in the woods. The way I figured it, a big tough vet should be able to take care of himself in the woods.
Morning dawned chilly, windy, and with a threat of rain. Dark black clouds were moving overhead as I started the fire. Our morning coffee was brewing in a matter of minutes of my waking up. I always started the fire in the mornings, because Bubba was a complete idiot when it came to fire craft. His idea of starting a fire was a gallon of charcoal lighter fluid and a box of blazing matches. So, once his eyebrows and hair grew back, I just took over the task.
“Hey, Bubba! Ya gonna sleep all day in there?” I yelled at the man as I filled my coffee cup.
“I jess might, why?” Came a groaning response.
“I thought ya wanted to fish! Come on, Bubba, let's go fishing!”
“Ok, let me dress.” Came a weak response from the tent once more.
Bubba exited his tent five minutes later, but as he started to walk toward the campfire he suddenly stopped. I then noticed him slowly backing up, with his left hand behind his back. Now, I am not the brightest color in the box, but I knew right off he was hiding something from me. And, that fact made me determined to find out what it was.
“Hey, Bubba, what ya hidin' behind yer back?” I asked with a crooked smile.
“Nothin', nothin' at all.” While he spoke clearly enough, he didn't make eye contact.
Quickly jumping up, I chased Bubba around and around his tent until he finally dropped what he had been hiding. Now, this is hard to believe, but it was a bright pink teddy bear! As soon as I saw the bear, I started chasing him once more and we soon knocked his weak standing tent over.
“Bubba, I don't believe this!” I said between gasps for breath as I laughed.
“Shut up, Gary !” Bubba had assumed a very threatening stance and looked very angry.
“Yer sleeping with a teddy bear? Bubba, I never knew ya had a bed mate. Does Maude know ya got a girlfriend?” I said all of this in the same voice kids do at school when they tease another child. Y'all ‘member those days and how varying the voice tone is.
“Ya keep Maude outta this! Ya know my wife hain't got nothin' to do with none of this. Ya quit a-teasin' me too, a-fore a get mad at ya!” As Bubba screamed I was fascinated that a small piece of chicken from last nights dinner was still stuck between his two front upper teeth.
“Ok, Bubba, I'll quit. But, Pinky there is not going on our fishin' trip this mornin'. I ain't got but two life vests. Though I suspect she would float a bit!” I just could not let this issue go, it was too good.
At that exact moment a bright flash of lightning filled the air, quickly followed by the sharp crack of thunder. Raindrops began to fall, slowly at first then picking the tempo. Bubba and I both ran to the nearest standing tent, which was mine. Once we were both inside, I zipped the door closed as well as the windows. It appeared we would be there for a while.
I looked over at Bubba and noticed him looking at me like a nervous virgin bride on her wedding night. He was all cowed up in the far corner of the tent. It was then I noticed he was wearing his long underwear, boots, and ball cap. I had not really noticed it before because of the excitement of the chase. It took all I had to suppress a laugh because he had his “Pinky” in his right hand on his lap. I just shook my head and leaned back on my sleeping bag.
“How long is it a-gonna rain?” Bubba asked me, just like a six year old boy on his first experience with rain and camping.
“Well, from what I saw, I would suspect until it quits, Bubba.” I replied in my most serious voice.
“That's stoo-pit, Gary. I know that.”
“Then, why did ya ask Bubba?”
“Oh, neveh mind. I was just a-makin' a conversation.” Bubba quickly spurted out and then turned to quietly pouting.
The next hour went by quickly with the tent rocking from the wind and spattering of raindrops. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed across the sky. I realized then, we were in for one long wait for this storm to pass. I looked over at Bubba and he had fallen asleep. Yep, the man as asleep, and he was cuddling his pink teddy bear close to his heart. This, my friends, was just to good of a chance to pass on.
I reached down to my backpack and removed my camera. I took my time making sure Bubba was centered and the flash would work. I snapped three photos of him, and “Pinky”, before he moved a little. At that point I quickly put the camera back and took a nap myself.
The rain continued all that day and night. Finally, at about noon the next day we packed up and went home. Bubba, I am sure, went back to bed, I went to a one-hour photo processing store. I had 20 photos made, each 8 X 10, of Bubba and his bear. See, I had some serious plans for these pictures.
The next afternoon I was sitting in my uncle Andy's café when Bubba entered. He was madder than a wet hen sitting on an electric fence. He marched right up to my table and loudly asked, “Why in Sam's Hill did ya do this to me? I'm supposed to be yer cousin and yer best buddy. How could ya do this? “
Well, I had to play ignorant or it just wouldn't be any fun at all. I looked up at Bubba, took a nice slow sip of my hot coffee, lowered the cup and asked, “Bubba, ya been in the beer already? What are ya a-talkin' ‘bout?”
Bubba looked totally corn-fused and lost. I knew he was confused because he took his ball cap off and started scratchin' his head. I realized watching him scratch, he had lost more hair since the last time of confusion.
After about five wordless minutes he said, “Ya mean ya didn't have nothin' to do with all them pic-shures ‘showing up round town of me sleepin' in yer tent, a-holdin' my teddy?”
“Bubba, I had nothin' to do with it. Nothin'. I don't know how it happened.” I continued to lead him on.
“Ya did so! Yer the onliest one that could have taken a pic-shure of me like that! Why, it's down right ‘timidatin' it is!” As he spoke the last part of his reply he leaned way over my table until his nose almost touched mine.
Looking as serious as I could, which believe me was not easy, I said, “Bubba, do ya mean these pictures?” As soon as I had asked the question I held up a stack of 8 X 10 photos I had picked up.
“Yea, them pic-shures right there! They be posted all over town!”
I quickly placed the pictures on the chair next to mind, gave Bubba a big toothy grin and said, “I hain't go no i-dee what yer a-talkin' ‘bout. What pictures?”
Well, that was pretty much the end of the “Pinky” goes camping episode. I laughed so hard I cried as Bubba turned walked walk out of the café talkin' about all of our ancestors.
It's been over five years since all of that happened. And now, at times, when Bubba gets a little too big fer his britches, I know how to take the boy down a notch or three. I simply send him an email, with a photo attached.
This article is from Gary's Book, "Bubba's Dawg Might be a Redneck." See see more of his humor visit his site.
