Dani had started the absurdities, being the lightweight drinker of the four of us. The smoke from the fire seemed to follow her no matter where she sat and, in a fit of pique, she decided to try incantations and cantrips. “Dead bunnies bed bunnies dead bunnies!” she shouted at the smoke. Nonsense, of course, until the smoke attached itself to Tim, her fiance. He’d poo-pooed the idea the loudest, but was quick to copy her. She smirked when the smoke ignored his chants until it finally listened and found me.
I didn’t move. The mosquitoes vanished when it chose me as the next victim and I didn’t mind watery eyes.
Anna just smirked. The smoke wouldn’t dare find her. This, she knew. “Y’all, we’re tapped,” she informed us, showing the empty case of what had previously held beer. “I’m going to crash.” She started for the tent and Dani stagger-swayed towards her own.
“Let’s see if we can piss the fire out,” whispered Tim once they’d crawled in. I had to admit I was curious if it could be done. “It’ll stink,” I warned. “eh,” he said and started anyway. I joined in, figuring what the hell. For science, of course.
We had unexpected help.
Within minutes our minds shifted from beer and makeshift rituals to ward off magnetic smoke to trying to piss out the fire in the fire-pit — the next was a glorious midsummer downpour that crashed all camping plans. Without warning we were swallowed whole by a soaking downpour.
There’d be no sleep that night — no one had trenched, or put up a tarp to keep the heaviest rains off. We were drenched and there was nothing to do but revel in it. So we did what any drunk guy in a situation like that would do. We stripped and ran naked, howling like wolves in the rain.
We were two men gone batshit crazy as far as the women were concerned, as they crawled out to try to save the sleeping bags from the downpour, but to no avail — it took only moments for everything to get pregnant with the rainwater and, as quick as they moved, they didn’t make it to the cars in time to save anything. We were too busy howling like animals in the rain to help, probably pissing off the other campers who hid in their tents, still soaked from the unexpected downpour. No one had prepared for a rain event. No one.
And here were two idiots, howling while their partners rolled eyes and gave up trying to restrain themselves from laughter and finally howled with us.
Sometimes, there is no point in shaking your fist at adversity.
Mostly true. Some names changed, not all.I think I was 23 at the time.