“He or she who does not learn from the camping mistakes of others is destined to repeat them. And be made fun of.”—Scoop Jackson
ADVENTURES IN CAMPING
With Scoop Jackson
(aka Paul McMurray)
Published by Smashwords
Adventures In Camping by Scoop Jackson
(aka Paul McMurray)
Copyright © 2010 by Paul McMurray
Cover photo ‘Silly Stunts!’ by Ken A.
Cover Layout Design by Melissa DeBuck
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission by the publisher or me, except for brief excerpts for the purposes of a review. Some of these tales may be exaggerated for fictional purposes, and names have been disguised or changed to protect the guilty or innocent. Most of these tales and stories have appeared prior to this book on my website and/or in print, and nobody complained except for Toots, who kept getting Googled by her grandkids and laughed at, and I’ve fixed that. Any inference on your part is your own. Actually, let’s just say this entire thing is fictitious so you don’t waste money on a lawyer, OK?
Smashwords Edition, License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
*****
For all you darn goofy campers, notably Jimmy B.—Thanks!
And especially for Big Daddy.
*****
ADVENTURES IN CAMPING
With Scoop Jackson
Table of Contents:
PART 1: DANGERS, HAZARDS, & CRAZINESS
( The Deadly Rake, Staples In The Nose, & For Men Only! )
Badgers On Viagra & Other Animal Hazards
( including the Spider-Eating Tip )
Headless Cow Haunts Seasonal Women
Naked ‘Moon-Monster’ Terrorizes Teenagers
Crazy Stunt Puts Camper In Doghouse
Tales of Jimmy B: ‘The Viper Strikes!’
Tales of Jimmy B: ‘The Stinking Fountain of Love’
Tales of Jimmy B: ‘JB Wanted For Murder!’
Campground Etiquette (How to pick your neighbors)
Oddballs: Bruised Butts, Deadly Beets & more
Scoop’s Economic Recovery Plan
Don’t Drive Drunk—Order Pizza!
PART 2: REAL RECIPES (if you dare!)
PART 3: FLASHBACKS (Scoop reminisces)
Mudwrestling With Angry Nuns—a love story
How We Hid From The Security Guards
Mother’s Day (‘Sluts On Wheels’)
Father’s Day (‘Sorry about that, Dad!’)
Maybe your own camping tales are a bit on the mild side. That’s OK—mild can be good. But perhaps you’d like to take a look at the other side of camping, a sometimes humorous, sometimes puzzling side I’ve seen for over 25 years here at the campground in southern Wisconsin I called home.
I must ask one favor of you…don’t point snickering fingers at the ill-fated people my NewsHounds have caught in the act—it could happen to you! Don’t think so, eh? Never fell asleep with your Nikes roasting in a campfire? Never got Duct-taped to a lawn chair or a tree by your buddies after too many Old Styles? Or how about something as simple as having to call for the Honey-Wagon when everyone else around you is eating breakfast? Ugh!
These are all tales involving real people. I have sort of concealed their identities, mainly so I don’t get sued or forced to share fame (He means royalties—Editor), but their neighbors will recognize them. I’ve been telling these tales for many years in this area, and now it’s time to share these tales with you.
“But why, Scoop?” you ask. Well, thanks for asking, and let me tell you why:
A) Strange camping tales are happening daily, and the world must be warned—these campers are all around you, maybe camping right next to you!
B) By paying a measly amount, less than a roll of toilet paper, you can learn from these tales and avoid being in the next book!
C) I’m hoping to sell enough of these books to pay for a big-screen TV.
BIG-TIME WARNING!!! As I said, Beware! Traumatic events can happen to you anytime you are camping. To be safe, buy this convenient book and read it thoroughly. Bring it with you for reference. After all, you’d pay top-dollar for a guide in Alaska so you wouldn’t get chewed up by a Grizzly, right? So what about a horny Wisconsin badger (the animal!) eating your Viagra? Or a bee in your morning tequila? The dangers are endless, and often humiliating.
Think about it. Let me help.
WARNING TO PARENTS: Everything in this booklet is pretty harmless, but I do use the word ‘Viagra’. Five times, so there. Also, the word ‘sluts’ is used, but in a good way.
DISCLAIMER: My lawyer says to tell you that if you are reading this on your laptop or whatever and beer shoots out your nose, you cannot sue me for electro-nasal damages. Also, do not attempt to duplicate anything you read in this book, especially at home. It should be done at a campground. But really, no!—you should control yourself. However, if you must—against my advice—then tell me about it at scoop@scoopjackson.net!
The Ultimate Honey-Wagon, designed by Marv P.
DANGERS, HAZARDS, & CRAZINESS
Prepare To Camp! (and there will be a quiz!)
If you’re an occasional camper, then it’s fairly basic: a tent or trailer, food, beverages, clothing, and you’re set. But those of you who enjoy a permanent seasonal site know there’s much more to starting your camping enjoyment for the summer. You need to clean your site, check your hook-ups for water and gas leaks, start or repair a deck or shed, and make sure the golf cart is ready to ride. All of these present potential dangers!
THE DEADLY RAKE
First off, we have a Severe Rake-Attack Warning. Leaves are everywhere, and seasonal campers are anxious to get their sites clean, but please be careful during this strenuous activity. I’m not talking about heart-attacks here—I’m talking about new camper Bill G., who was seen recently with a bandaged hand. According to Bill, he was raking leaves when “the rake suddenly shattered and bit me.” Bill was not seriously injured, but in anger he tossed the broken rake into his campfire and left. That was a mistake, Bill. Evidently you have not heard the ‘haunted rake’ story often told around late campfires. Why, just the other day someone noticed that your wounded rake was now out of the campfire and it seemed to be slowly inching its way towards your trailer. Beware, Bill! You shouldn’t have left the scene until the rake was mere ashes! Campers, if you see a man staggering towards you clutching at a rake with its tines sunk in his throat, run away! (I also suffered an injury while raking, when my rake snapped and whapped me upside the head, to use a “hip-hop” term. But I was smart and burned my rake beyond recognition).
STAPLES IN THE NOSE
Just today, Master Carpenter Tom G. stapled himself in the nose while building a deck. According to talkative Tom, who insisted on showing this reporter his injury, which did indeed look painful, he was ripping a deck board down the center when his circular saw spit a staple at him. Most lumberyards staple a SKU (stock #) tag to the end of each board, and Tom should have known this. The staple pierced his left nostril and went all the way through. Tom said he thought about finding someone to help him pull the staple out, but he didn’t want to attract attention, so he did it himself. Tom then immediately drove himself to…the lumberyard, to return some boards, presumably all the ones with staples in them. A bystander who overheard Tom’s story remarked that he also had been pierced by a staple, which makes this a near-rash of staple injuries.
DANGEROUS GOLF CART EXPLOSION NARROWLY AVERTED!
Seasonal camper Mark O. was a victim of his own patriotism this past Memorial Day weekend when he attempted to raise a flag or two for the holiday—on his golf cart.
Anxious for a good showing in the annual campground parade, Mark was determined to fly the American flag on both sides of his decorated golf cart. Brackets were needed to hold the flagpoles to the sides of the cart, so Mark diligently drilled holes into each side, back past the driver’s seat so that his vision wouldn’t be obstructed.
“I thought maybe the drill-bit was worn out when I got to the other side,” explained Mark. “It was tough going, especially since the first side went in like butter.”
Into his gas tank, he meant. The first holes he drilled for the brackets went right through his gas tank, and the holes on the other side went into his battery. He realized his mistakes when, as Mark put it: “There were little puddles, and things didn’t work.”
Mark quickly and covertly patched things up in time for the parade and his golf cart took 2nd Place, for which he won the prize of a six-pack of beer. Total repairs to the golf cart are estimated at $2: “That’s for some putty to patch the gas tank. I needed a new battery anyway, so that doesn’t count.”
Mark was also honored with the campground’s ‘Turkey Flag’, presented whenever somebody really needs to be made fun of. Mark won hands-down, and is required to fly the flag. Fearful neighbors await Mark’s next attempt to fly a flag—odds are 5:1 that urgent repairs will be needed to his trailer.
Update! On a sad note, I must now report that Bill G., the aforementioned tool-damaged man soon to be attacked by his murderous rake, will not be hired by the local big-box store as a shed assembler. Neighbors were aghast as Bill’s ‘Easy-To-Assemble In Only Five Hours’ shed turned into a marathon 3-day project. When last seen, Bill was on the roof of the shed with a roll of Duct-tape, for reasons unknown. Bets were being placed as to a completion date.
And our sympathies again to Bill as he lost out on another job, this time as a replacement for Tim ‘Tool-Man’ Taylor on the new re-make of the ‘Home Improvement’ show now in production. A source close to ABC said: “He certainly qualified in the ‘tool-skill deficiency’ area, but when we advertised for someone with ‘rakish’ good looks, we didn’t mean that way!”
HIGH FLOOD AREA CAUSED BY LOCAL CAMPER
Yes, it’s Bill again, who once more asked for secrecy. “I have a family,” he said. “Think about the harm you will do to them by mentioning my name.”
It was just last week when of neighbor noticed water spilling from the underside of Bill’s RV. “I didn’t think anything at first,” said the neighbor. “You know—it’s just Bill. But then I got worried because the water kept coming out and out. Geez, his trailer had to be like a swimming pool by then.”
The alert neighbor informed her husband, who found Bill sitting idly on his golf cart at the beach (“Checking out points of interest.”—Bill) and together they entered the flooded trailer cautiously.
“Bill was darn lucky,” said the neighbor. “One of his kids (‘Spanky’) hadn’t turned the water off after using the bathroom sink. It just kept going and going and going. But fortunately the bathroom is in the far corner, and Bill hadn’t gotten around to leveling his trailer yet, so it all came out of just that one corner.”
Clean-up efforts are continuing, and Bill seems unfazed by the incident, mainly because his wife took the mop away from him after a few feeble swipes and kicked him out until the work is done. Bill is back at the beach.
The Quiz:
Bill G. is better known as:
A)The ‘Rake’
B)The ‘Mop’
C)‘Waterboy’
D)All of the above
Mark O.’s actual cost to repair his trailer when he tries to attach a flagpole to it will be:
A) Zero; his wife will make him hang the flag on a tree branch
B) Zero; he’ll use leftover putty
C) $5
Tom G.’s injury resulted in an informal survey (9 people). The majority said:
A) Ouch!
B) He should have left the staple in as a stylish ‘piercing’
C) He should have stapled his mouth together, but only for an hour
Answers: D, A, evenly split.
SPECIAL ‘WORK-RELATED’ BONUS FEATURE FOR MEN ONLY!
Camping can be hard work. Yes, you are here to relax, but there are things to be done first. By the time you are reading this, the entire interior of your RV has been cleaned again (including the windows), the water heater lighted so dirty dishes and kids can be washed, sheets and towels are in place, and the refrigerator is stocked. Maybe some steaks are marinating. (Note: Vegans, please substitute the word ‘tofu’). And it’s all because you work hard in order to relax.
But wait! By ‘you’ I mean the wife or woman in your camping life. (Immediate Scoop Safety Tip: If we are talking about two different persons here, don’t bother reading any further. You’re going to die anyway).
Anyway, you, on the other hand—if you are a seasonal camper—are still trying to get the lawn mower started and wondering if it would be safe to crack open a beer. Don’t do it, pal…at least not out in the open. The future of your weekend and possibly your life is at stake.
However, if you are like many wise male campers, you have installed a small refrigerator in your shed, the very same shed that holds the lawnmower and ‘needed’ tools, and you have called ahead to your neighbor, begging him to turn the refrigerator on and stock it with beer. If you are a camping genius, you also have a small TV and a chair in the shed, with the TV satellite dish on and humming, ESPN at the ready. You should probably get the mower started behind the shed and just let it run until the gas runs out, at which point you will have to come out and ‘fiddle’ with it. WARNING: you may wind up sleeping in the shed when your wife catches you, but at times it is worth the price.
NOTE: If you are just camping for the weekend, you have no place to hide. Your only chance for an early beer is to ‘check something’ under the RV. Noted authorities suggest smuggling a six-pack under the RV and then crawling after it to ‘fix a water leak’. If you have drain valves, you are covered! Just open one up and let some water trickle down. This will work for several hours, unless someone uses the toilet or tries to take a shower. DOUBLE WARNING: Lack of water could void your warranty on the water heater and/or your marriage.
Badgers On Viagra & Other Animal Hazards
BADGERS ON VIAGRA
Next we have Tom S., another new camper. Tom’s last name is being withheld for reasons he and I discussed, and I felt justified. And he gave me a beer. Tom’s story doesn’t start at a campground, but I fear it will affect segments of the wildlife population at campgrounds everywhere, and in a disturbing way.
Tom owns a business known as ‘Wild Animal Evictions’. He describes his business as “evicting” wild animals from your house or area and repairing the damage they have done. It’s a full-service deal. He seems very capable and efficient, and I would recommend him, except he goes camping to get away from work, just like you. So leave him alone on the weekends.
Anyway, at first, not aware that an Investigative Reporter such as myself was nearby, he happened to mention that the Yellow Pages in a nearby state made an error in his ad a while back, a mistake that may haunt him up here in the wilds of Wisconsin:
Instead of ‘Wild Animal Evictions’, the ad was printed as ‘Wild Animal Erections’. According to Tom, “I got a lot of strange phone calls. Sometimes older women. Once there was a chirping voice that oddly sounded like a parrot.”
To Tom, that was in the past, in another state. Here, however, it may be a different story. Unseemly as it may seem, I know that many tent-camping women from out-of-state carry old phone books as a source of toilet paper when they need to wander into the woods for a call of nature. They think these ‘yellow pages’ will just disintegrate. How wrong, Ladies! What actually happens is that in the Fall the leaves disappear and right there is Tom’s Yellow Pages ad. All is quiet now, and the animals of the woods venture out. Most of them merely sniff at Tom’s ad, but there is one, Guido the Badger, the Leader, who has learned to read, although not real well, and only big print. Guido squints at the ad. His eyes open wide. He is an old badger, and there is no badger Viagra, but yet here is help! Not having a cellular phone, he waits for Tom patiently. He knows this man will soon be here to help him (Note: This is how badgers think, just like your dog waits at the door for you to come home. Really). After all, it’s in the Yellow Pages, right there! And one day, just as Tom is trying to have some peace and quiet at his campsite…
Ok, so I exaggerate. But let’s extrapolate a bit here. Scientists are busy cloning animals all over the place. DNA is experimented on, perhaps altered. As OJ Simpson will tell you, DNA samples are often ‘planted’ in the wrong places. So what happens if scientists accidentally create a highly-intelligent but older animal that can read that escapes near a campground and has a certain, ah, ‘dysfunction’?
So remember, Ladies…have a great summer, but let’s be careful out there! And not just in the woods, I mean. Some of those guys you date are real animals.
SPIDER-EATING TIP
Many years ago I wrote about my friend Bob K., who while camping with a Scout Troop showed me how he deals with spiders. Mrs. Scoop and I were checking out his tent when a giant Daddy-Longlegs came perilously close to Mrs. Scoop’s hair. Bob nimbly grabbed the spider off the canvas and plopped it in his mouth. One long leg was the last we saw of it as Bob swallowed the astonished arachnid. Mrs. Scoop and I were astonished also, as Bob is not the sort of guy you associate with spider-eating. After all, he is a very successful businessman who resides with his wife Sue in an upper-class suburb in Illinois, and spider-eating probably is not tolerated. But that’s why he goes camping…
I talked recently with Bob and thus heard of his latest spider-eating escapade, one that occurred in a far-away land. I knew Bob had sort of semi-retired, but as a man of action, could not sit still. After selling his construction business, he still helped out his friends in the trade. Also, he snores. This played an important factor in the following decision he made, as I’m sure all of you manly men will understand:
Scene: At night, Bob and Sue’s bedroom. It is dark. Camera zooms in on Bob.
Bob: “ZZZZZ…GGRRR…SOOOOOHHHH…GGRR…etc.
Scene: Wife Susan’s fingers reach over and pinch Bob’s nose. Only the fingers are first seen, creating an aura of suspense. Bob sort of awakens in a semi-comatose state, rubs his nose, and turns over. He begins to snore again, even more loudly. (Note to Special Effects: insert soundtrack mix of grizzly bears snarling and other humorous noises to simulate Bob’s snoring!).
Wife Susan gives Bob an elbow in the back. He does not respond, so Susan, really ticked off, uses her Kung Fu training to plant a knee in the small of his back in an attempt to roll him off the bed completely. Bob responds by bolting upright in bed. “What?” he says.
Wife Susan: “Robert, you were snoring again! How many times have I warned you? If you keep this up, you’re going to be sleeping in a tent in the back yard. I’m not telling you again!”
Bob: “A tent? Fine! I’ll pitch a tent!” Bob then smacks his lips greedily. A shifty look comes to his eyes. “But not the back yard!” he exclaims. “I’ll go where there are spiders galore! The Dominican Republic—it has the biggest spiders known to man. I can eat like a King!”
…..
OK, so I lied. What actually happened is that Bob, a real-true good guy, traveled to the Dominican Republic to build housing for people who had nothing to live in. The idea was sponsored by a single individual who prefers to remain anonymous. The only way in to the camp was a hiking trail. Supplies and construction materials to the building site were brought in by horses. Different groups came in to help at intervals. Some were Boy Scouts, some were religious organizations. It was when the Jehovah’s Witnesses group came in that Bob got in trouble.
NOTE: My lawyer says to tell everyone that I am merely repeating what Bob said, and in no way do I disrespect any religious group, and if in any way this column offends anyone, sue Bob. Full name available upon request…NOT!
So, anyway, the Witnesses came to town. According to Bob, they meant well, but seemed not too attuned to ‘outside living’. “At camp there’s one thatched hut, and hammocks, and tents, and the people worked as hard as they knew, but it wasn’t their world. We had to hike for an hour to get from camp to the building area, and then back. We’d get back about two in the afternoon, and they’d read the Bible from then until dark at 9PM. They didn’t dance, they didn’t sing, they didn’t joke around. They were bored to death. So, for the hell of it, I decided to entertain them one night. The spiders in the Dominican Republic are really gigantic. And they are everywhere. So we were setting around a campfire and I saw a cluster, a spider snack-pack, so to speak. I got their (Witnesses’s) attention, and started cramming giant spiders into my mouth. At one point I probably had three spiders as big as a US quarter inside, legs squirming and struggling out of my mouth. But I ate them all, down to the last leg joint. The kids were in awe.”
THE ACTUAL SPIDER-EATING TIP: “You really can’t get more than three spiders at a time in your mouth and swallow them,” says Bob. “There’re too many legs, and spiders have those barbs on their legs. They grip your lip and try to crawl out of your mouth. Then they try to crawl up in your nose. So you can’t chew—there’s not enough time—you have to just swallow quickly.” Bob also wants you to know that spiders are the ‘cleanest insects’, virus-free, and he would never eat any other type of insect. “Especially flies,” he stated. “They are poop-eaters!”
Discussion: Did Bob do a good thing by entertaining the kids by eating spiders? Answer: No! According to the Top Jehovah Guy, Bob eating spiders was bad. He wasn’t told why, just asked not to do it again. He was chastised for eating spiders at night while by day he built houses for homeless people! Go figure. Bob also tried to organize a volleyball game by stretching a clothesline between two trees and using a coconut as a ball, but on his first volley the Witness teen stood there helplessly as the coconut hit him right in the forehead. The game ended 1-0.
I want to also mention that Bob got in BIG TROUBLE with the Baptists, another fun group. One day he took his shirt off after a day of laboring in the high heat and humidity. That’s a no-no. And then—God forbid!!!--he drank a (one) can of beer! In a cruel ironic twist, the Baptists then made Bob take his shirt off again so they could give him 20 lashes with a palm frond covered with poop-eating flies.
OK, I lied again. But just about the palm frond. We simply can’t have this sort of stuff happening as ambassadors of America! If you are aghast at this sort of frivolous activity, call or email somebody. But not me. And not Bob—he’s not going back. “I can do good deeds right here in the good ol’ USA,” he said, “where the spiders roam and a man can take his shirt off in the hot sun and have a nice cold beer. And snore to his heart’s content. In his tent.”
THE LITTLE YELLOW DOG
All Paul S. tried to do was a good deed. Now it looks like some headaches are in store. It was a short time ago that Paul was preparing to head home from his seasonal site on a Tuesday night. When he went outside, he spotted a stray dog. “It was a pretty yellow lab, just a little guy, and it looked lost,” said Paul. “Some neighbors came up and said they had seen it wandering throughout the campground all day. So I changed my plans, figuring I’d stay over and take it to the Humane Society the next morning. I notified the campground office that I had found this little lost dog, and would keep it overnight, in case the owner called. I gave it food and water (Paul’s girlfriend has a dog, so he had some doggie vittles, and the campground store donated more), and then I decided to take my new pal for a golf cart ride.”
Yes, of course, we know this is where the semi-tragedy begins. Paul stopped to visit some friends who were grilling out. Joe A., a noted Italian chef in some circles, such as the circular area where he camps, but also at tailgate parties, inquired as to Paul’s dinner plans. Since Paul had no food left, per his original intention to leave that night, Joe graciously invited him to dinner with everyone else, and only charged poor starving Paul $19.95 for all he could eat, plus another $5 for a ‘doggie bag’.
Wait—that’s not true. I can’t start out the summer like this. I hereby take a vow of un-embellishment. So anyway, Joe gave Paul a 10% discount.
OK, we really know Joe invited Paul to dine for free. Meanwhile, Paul made a temporary leash out of a 15’ piece of rope tied to the golf cart and let the little yellow doggie roam. It frolicked about and then settled down on the floorboard of the golf cart, resting.
It was at this point that Leroy W., aka ‘the Chief’, moseyed up in his brand new van. (Yes, very brand new!). Leroy parked about ten feet behind Paul’s golf cart and commenced to join the grill-party.
Paul admits he left the cart in ‘Reverse’. “I backed up and then forgot. I was on Joe’s deck, eating. All I can figure is my new pal rolled over during his nap and rested against the gas pedal and also disengaged the brake. The cart just took off like a rocket, headed for you-know-where.”
It was not a direct hit, but damage was indeed inflicted on Leroy’s new van, mainly to the driver’s-side front plastic valance, that thing up front that you always scrape on those pesky cement things at the gas station and other stores, the slabs designed to stop you from actually crashing through the store window. No wonder car parts are so expensive—they are in cahoots with the cement industry!
Leroy and Paul are satisfied that things will be worked out. That’s not a problem. “I contacted my insurance agent,” said Paul, “because I want to do the right thing, and I’ll pay for the damage no matter what. But when I call the claims department and tell them a runaway dog was driving, what will they say? Are they going to laugh at me? And why didn’t I have this videotaped and get some money from a TV show for all of this? I could have been a contender!”
On a final note, there was no apparent damage to Paul’s golf cart. “Made in the USA,” said Paul. And ‘Crash’ the lost dog was ultimately delivered to the Humane Society, after Paul generously paid to have it kenneled for two nights at a Janesville vet clinic. However, as of this writing, no one yet has claimed Crash, and that’s a shame. “He’d make a great pet,” says Paul.
But he won’t be driving anytime soon, that’s for sure. His license has been impounded. (Feeble dog joke—Scoop).
THE HUMAN FIRE HYDRANT
It was only last week that Rosie K. was out walking her pet Boxer, Reno. Reno is a big dog, and very friendly, and Bob B. is a favorite pal of Reno. Rosie’s site is a fair distance from Bob’s, but Reno needs his exercise, and he always wants to visit his pal. But something strange happened that day, something only a dog can understand. So I guess we’ll never know…
Rosie explains: “I took Reno on all the familiar routes, but he never peed. Not once, and I waited while Reno sniffed his spots. Not a thing, and then we were all the way up the hill to Bob and Karin’s site.”
Bob was in the yard, unaware of his fate. “Reno was tugging at the leash,” said Rosie, “and I knew he wanted to greet Bob, so I let loose. What happened next was totally unexpected.”
In an amazing act of agility, Reno stood upright on his hind legs and waited for Bob to pet him. When Bob was within distance, Reno couldn’t hold his enthusiasm any longer.
Karin describes it this way: “Reno stood like that and his pee just arced all over Bob’s chest. I mean, it started that high and Reno kept going all the way down. Bob was squishing in his tennis shoes, too startled to do anything. The neighbors were falling over with laughter all the while.”
Target Bob was later heard to remark, “Dogs can certainly hold a lot of urine, that’s a fact.”
Karin testified that she made Bob strip down immediately and take a shower. “I think his shoes are ruined,” she added. Friend Dan R. wants to add that Reno has high intelligence. “From what I heard, Reno was trying to spell Bob’s name on his chest, just like we males do in the snow. It’s unbelievable how animals can show their affection.”
“There’s other ways,” said a peed-off Bob.
ATTACK OF THE KILLER BIRDS!
Diane B. is fond of birds. She has cute birdhouses all about her deck. Each weekend at her site she would peek in to see if she had any new little friends. Alas, she found no new bird friends. She was sad.
That all changed this past weekend when Diane was viscously bombarded by killer birds that relentlessly attacked her hairdo!
“I was carrying in groceries and yes, beer, and I was fumbling for my keys when something swooped down and started pecking under my hair,” a startled Diane said later. “I thought for a moment it was Tim giving me a ‘love tap’ (Relax…Tim is her husband—Scoop), but I instantly realized he would have just grabbed the beer from my hands first. Instead, I saw a bird fly away. It had an evil little look in its beady eyes, and its beak seemed to carry a smirking grin.”
Diane quickly composed herself, fluffed up her hair, and started to open the trailer door. Suddenly she was attacked from the other side, this time the evil little aviator flying under her hair even deeper, as if seeking nesting material. Diane managed to bat it away, and thinking quickly on her feet, ran to the site of her neighbor, Lisa, who had recently taken to wearing a construction hard-hat after falling off a pickup truck loaded with lumber. “I needed protection!” said Diane.
Unfortunately, Lisa was not there, nor did she ever really own a hard-hat. In desperation, Diane wrapped her entire head in tinfoil.
OK, I made that last part up. But just the part about the tinfoil. Diane made it safely inside, but she was quite shaken by the incident. Asked how she felt, Diane said: “Bird-brained!”
Husband Tim had this to add: “That’s the last time she’s gonna’ feed those #!@# birds! Every time we go to bed, there’s twigs and feathers all over the pillows!”
LOCAL GOPHER FLEES URINE ATTACK
Small furry rodents are in an uproar after a recent urination incident. Lori D. was at her campsite recently when she felt the ‘call of nature’, as she put it. This was late at night, and alcohol was a factor. She felt her way off the deck and to the ground. There, she squatted. “I thought this would be a safe place to ‘go’,” she said later.
Unfortunately, she peed straight down a gopher hole. “It was a direct hit,” she explained. “I think I woke the gopher up unexpectedly—it came jumping out!” Lori tried to escape, but the underpants around her ankles stopped her short. “I had the horrid thought that it might crawl up my leg! But instead it shook its furry little head and darted away.”
Husband Bill led the startled Lori away from the scene, shaking his head. “We have a toilet in the trailer,” said Bill. “We’re not animals—Lori needs to keep her wits about her, especially after too many White Russians.”
However, Lori’s mood turned to excitement when she realized that the gopher never came back. “This is highly unusual for a ground-nesting animal,” she said. “They always seem to come back. So, apparently my new technique inadvertently worked wonders, and I think there’s money to be made here—nobody wants gopher-holes in their yard.”
Lori is still working out the details, but is confident her “Shock & Awe” plan will be a goldmine.
RACCOON RAMPAGE
According to authorities, there has been an increased level of raccoon damage to permanent (‘seasonal’) RV dwellings this spring. “Although the winter was relatively mild in respect to past seasons,” said local expert Dr. Rachel Rhakhoun, “they still sought shelter to raise their young or to escape what they feared would be a harsh winter. Forgive me if I sound a tad frivolous, but after all, these animals are not avid watchers of The Weather Channel. In fact, I doubt they even get cable in some of these campground areas.”
When questioned for advice, Dr. Rhakhoun suggested skirting your RV with decorative vinyl or lattice, searching the perimeter of the skirting for signs of recent tunneling, and filling in any ground cavities. “I would also recommend that you always wear shoes, or at least have one at the ready,” she added.
This advice came in handy recently for ‘Bob’ and ‘Kim’*, whose Park Model suffered winter damage, even though it was skirted. The raccoon got in by pushing through a gap where the LP gas line came through the vinyl skirting. It is not known if a single or multiple raccoons caused the damage, and further inspection is needed, but the A/C ductwork was chewed up and one or more animals got up in to the actual metal ductwork of the Park Model. This is where the shoe came in handy.
Says wife Kim: “I was in the kitchen making coffee. All of a sudden I heard rattling noises near my feet. An animal was shaking the heat vent right next to my feet. I yelled for Bob. He came running in, said ‘(expletive deleted)’, and immediately took off his shoe and pounded it on the floor vent to scare the raccoon out. That was quick thinking, but then he (Bob) left me there!”
Explained Bob: “I could see its beady little eyes and sharp fangs gnawing at the metal of the floor vent (‘not true’ says Kim), and I realized that no mere morning-type slipper or shoe would save my wife. I only had thoughts of her safety. That’s why I searched desperately for a combat boot or other heavy-type shoe. Sorry I took a while.”
The rattling noise had subsided, but Kim was still nervous. “I kept looking over my shoulder while I tried to pour coffee,” she said. “Half of it spilled on the floor. I was lucky to get any in the cups at all.”
On further reflection, Kim voiced another concern. “A lot of the spilled coffee went down the vent. What if those beasts lapped it up and got caffeinated? Are they going to be up all night now? My God, what will they do next—chew in to our cable hoping to get The Late Show or Larry King Live?”
When this reporter interviewed Bob and Kim, they were seated comfortably in their room addition. Miniature ‘burglar bars’ had been installed over all the floor vents in view. Bob answered the door wearing LL Bean Alpine Mountain-Scaling boots with heavy metal cleats. “Let ‘em try again,” he said. “I’m ready for war, pal!”
“I’d offer you some coffee,” said Kim politely, “but we’re not serving at the moment. Not until those dirty rotten caffeine-swilling rodents are gone for good.”
* entire names changed after a martini discussion—Scoop
TURTLE TRAGEDY
With almost a hundred Firefighters’ and Paramedics’ families attending a week-long Camp Outing at a local campground—perhaps the safest contingent of people one could ask for—tragedy still struck.
“To lose a life, be it man or beast, well…it haunts you,” said the Firefighter involved.
The tragedy occurred when the Firefighter’s young son accidentally dropped his pet turtle down the toilet of their RV while he was flushing. “He didn’t mention it until I was at the dump station later and things got clogged up,” said the boy’s father. “I was probably cursing—under my breath, of course—when he asked if ‘Tony the Turtle’ was still alive. Then I understood. I tried to get ‘Tony’ out of the drain-tube alive, but when I fished him out with a coathanger, he wasn’t breathing.”
The Firefighter immediately summoned the Paramedics. “There were several waiting in line for the dump station, and I called them over. I requested mouth-to-mouth on the turtle…my son was frantic.”
His request was rejected. Said one Paramedic: “He knows mouth-to-mouth…let him do it. It was his kid’s pet. And just look at that sludge on its snout, to put it politely.”
‘Tony the Turtle’ was given a proper burial, all things considered.
CRAZED FISH PERFORMS BIZARRE SURGERY ON DANCING BARTENDER!
Rich D. is known as ‘The famous dancing Bartender’ for his fondness for doing a little shuffle and jig when the jukebox music is right. Unfortunately, Rich became a ‘human fishing-jig’ when he went swimming last week.
Wife Kathy was relaxing on the beach when she noticed Rich doing some unusual movements in the lake. “It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen,” said Kathy. “Like he was doing some ‘hip-hop’ thing, which is definitely not his style. Then I saw him flopping a big fish around in his hands in front of his belly, and I yelled, “Richard, what are doing with that fish?!”
Rich explains: “I was just paddling around, minding my own business, and this fish attacked me. I had a mole on the back of my arm, and apparently the fish thought it looked tasty. The next thing I know, the fish had chomped down on the mole and was holding on for dear life. It wouldn’t let go, and when I was able to squirm around and grab it and tear it off, it took the mole with it!”
Because he has a few other moles, Rich feared to let the fish loose anywhere near him. “It had a mean, determined look in its bulging eyes, and I wasn’t taking any chances. Hey, that first mole was removed without any local anesthetics—it hurt!”
Rich was able to throw the fish far away and escape. Also, he is pleased to report that his local HMO is not billing him for ‘out-patient’ surgery.
Deadly Toilets
They are not as innocent as they seem!
THE CASE OF THE SMOKING TOILET
An emergency RV service call was urgently needed by newlyweds Adam and Liz. They had just settled into their new RV and the in-laws were there for their first visit the very same day. Then the mother-in-law visited the bathroom and came out steaming—literally. She had a hot butt, and after a bit of investigative work the RV crew figured out that the hot water line had accidentally been hooked up to the toilet after some other repair work. It got fixed, and all was OK, but as they were leaving the mom-in-law was heard to say: “Thank God—I thought I was having one of those ‘hot flushes’!”
THE EXPLODING TOILET
Campers Jim and Nancy had a terrifying experience recently when trying to clean their ‘stinky’ holding tank. “Yes, I use the right paper and chemicals like I’m supposed to,” said a nervous Nancy, “but once in a while I like to give it that extra-fresh scent. So I decided to add some bleach.”
What Nancy did was pour a bottle of bleach down the toilet. (NOTE: Scoop does not recommend nor suggest such things!). Many people do this, and suffer no ill-effects. However, Nancy had also been on a cleaning binge, and poured the last of a bottle of ammonia down the toilet also. (NOTE: This would make for an interesting science project, if say perhaps you wanted to build a model of an active volcano).
So there I was, moving along, singing a song, my day on the Honey Wagon. The day was full and I was trying to keep up. That’s when Jim came zooming up on his golf cart, screeching to a halt in front of me. “Scoop,” he yelled, “save us! I’ll pay anything!”
Jim’s a good guy, and I detoured on over. And there was Nancy inside, sitting on the toilet lid trying to keep an erupting mushroom cloud from blowing the lid off. Billowing white foam was spilling out the sides and threatening to shoot Nancy to the roof. The foam constantly expanded with a life of its own.
I hooked the Wagon up quickly and sucked out the weird substance. The Honey Wagon seemed to shudder, but then all was well. Nancy was able to ease on off the toilet lid. “I think I’ll let Jim clean the trailer next time,” Nancy said. “He’s bigger; he can sit on the lid.”
DENTURES IN THE TOILET
‘Bud’ is a nice guy, always eager to offer a beer or soda and a joke, so the office didn’t mind when he called and frantically asked for an emergency dump from the Honey Wagon on a Sunday. But it was a bigger emergency than expected. Bud had been doing everything you do in a bathroom in the morning, and while he was shaving he accidentally knocked his dentures off the sink into the toilet. Unaware, perhaps plucking a nose-hair, he flushed the toilet. It was when he saw his teeth swirling down to the holding tank that he panicked. “I’m a very good salesman,” he said later, “and I got calls tomorrow and I can’t afford to gum up the deals.” There was only one way to do it, as the dentures could not be allowed to be sucked up into the vast 350-gallon Wagon. So Bud went in to action with a one-gallon plastic bucket. The gate-valve was opened, a gallon was released, and Bud sifted through the muck with his bare fingers until satisfied no teeth were hidden. Only then did the Honey Wagon hose suck the contents of the bucket up. This went on for ten or eleven buckets until the teeth were discovered, Bud holding them up ecstatically. Bud said later that he washed the dentures thoroughly and even bleached them, but neighbors still do a double-take to this day. As one said, “Every time he tells a joke, he’s got this s***-eating grin on his face.”
TOILET DOUBLE-TAKE
You will meet Jimmy B. later—in an entire section devoted to his antics. Here is one small example:
In what seems to be a common event, Jimmy clogged the toilet in his trailer. He then used a plunger on the toilet. As best as Jimmy can determine, he did NOT adequately plunge, leaving the pipe under tremendous pressure. According to Jimmy, when he flushed the toilet again: “This giant geyser shot up, like a backfire, almost to the ceiling. Everything, including myself, was splattered. Thank goodness it was only water at this point—I think!”
In what we can only conclude as a confused state of mind, Jimmy again flushed the toilet, this time while peering intently into the bowl…
Update: As for Jimmy, he cleaned up well. Always one to capitalize on his misfortune, he spent the rest of the day, in his words, “looking for French women and asking them if they wanted to see my bidet.” Also, his Italian pals have asked him to become their Consigliere, so Jimmy has decided to change his Irish name. He will henceforth be known as “Guido Stiletto”, no relation to Guido the Badger. You will certainly hear more of the ‘Stiletto’ as you read on—it’s inevitable when you’re dealing with camping disasters.
Headless Cow Haunts Seasonal Women
Sisters and neighbors Toots and Shirley the ‘Thong’ were at first too terrified to talk about it. “But now we’ve got to warn the others!” Toots told the campground newspaper.
“We were driving my golf cart along one of the trails in the woods,” said Toots, “and there it was, right in the middle of the road…a cow’s head! It had eyeballs and everything, except some of the fur was peeling off. It shocked me so much that I almost drove over it. Fortunately I swerved at the last moment, but Shirley’s foot accidentally sent it spinning off the trail. When we looked back, the head was gone.”
Badly shaken by the experience, the two women returned to their trailers. But, as Shirley put it: “We couldn’t stop thinking about it…we had to go back.”
It was that curiosity that began the haunting. “The head was back!” Toots explained nervously. “Smack-dab in the middle of the road, in the very same spot!”
“We didn’t go near it this time,” said Shirley. “We were afraid it might jump up and bite us.”
It was later that night that Toots and Shirley gathered the courage to tell a few close friends about the event. “Two of the men went back with flashlights,” said Toots, “but the head was gone.” But one week later, the head re-appeared.
“We were laughing about it on the golf cart,” said Shirley. “You know, telling spooky jokes. Cow jokes, actually. And then…there it was…the head! This time the fur and skin were completely gone, and the head was looking right at us!”
“Well, we couldn’t be sure about that part, because the eyeballs were gone also,” added Toots, “but I did have the distinct feeling of being watched.”
Again, the two men investigated, and again there was no sign of the mysterious ‘head’, and to this date no one else has seen the ‘head’. “Go ahead, laugh at us,” said Toots, “but Shirley and I think it’s still out there, waiting for us.”
“It wants revenge for me kicking it,” said Shirley.
…..
Another warning I must mention here is that Toots, as a gag, bought Shirley a ‘fat-lady thong’ recently. Toots says: “Of course you didn’t hear it from me, but I gave it to her as a 75th Birthday present. Later, I asked her how it felt, since I thought it would feel like a ‘wedgie’. She said, ‘Oh, I thought that part went in front’.”
Naked ‘Moon-Monster’ Terrorizes Teenagers
In a prior column we reported how ‘J.’ (name withheld!) pranced ‘naked as a Jaybird’ in her trailer on Mother’s Day, only to be surprised by her unsuspecting sons, who merely wanted to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day. And now ‘Jaybird J.’ has struck again!
The weather was cold and wet this particular Saturday. Long-suffering husband Tyler was only trying to do the right thing when he asked campground management if he could turn the heat on in the Ladies’ bathroom so his shivering wife could take a shower. Little did he realize that this kind act would trigger another of J.’s compulsive acts of nudity.
Tyler decided to shower also. “We used separate stalls to take our showers,” Tyler later said. “Honest, we did. I’m no savage. I was already done and in my underwear when this terrible thing happened!”
Two unsuspecting teenagers, responding to the call of nature, walked into the bathroom just then. “The Campground looked deserted,” said one of the girls, still in a state of shock. “We didn’t think there was anyone but us here.”
It was at this exact moment that ‘Jaybird J.’ thrust her naked butt out from behind the shower curtain and ‘mooned’ Tyler.
“It was terrifying!” said the other teen. “We walked in, already sort of scared because the place was so empty, and suddenly we hear this high-pitched cry. Then out jumps this naked moon-face with one eye! We turned to get away, and this man in his underwear was sitting there, laughing at us!
“We ran away as fast as we could. There’s something wrong in that bathroom, like that motel in ‘Psycho’. It’s haunted with crazy people.”
The Female Fart Detectives
An evening campfire led to an investigative adventure for three women recently. “It could have been both dangerous and embarrassing,” stated a secret NewsHound, on condition of anonymity. “It was very fortunate they weren’t caught, and yes, alcohol was a factor.”
“We were all joking around the fire,” stated Anonymous NewsHound Dan, “and it got to the subject of the ‘blue flame’. This is an ancient folklore tidbit, that you can light a fart. The Ladies—my wife Sue, and friends Karin and Shelley—had never heard of this. They were very inquisitive, though.”
Because they are Ladies, the trio decided to find this out for themselves elsewhere. “The next time I looked around, they had vanished,” said Dan.
Sue explained: “We secretly discussed this. We were amazed something like this could be true. I mean, guys know stuff like this, but sometimes you can’t believe everything they say. You know that old saying…the check’s in the mail, etc. And while we briefly discussed putting our behinds to the campfire itself, that would have been very un-Ladylike, and maybe dangerous if for once our husbands weren’t lying. One of us even recalled that Bible story with Moses…you know, the Burning Bush. But then we came upon a Master Plan, and snuck away.”
Fortunately for the evidence-seekers, the campground bar was close at hand. “The Lounge was full, and there were probably fifteen people at the bar itself, and half of them were men,” said Sue. “This would be a good sampling, in that they were drinking beer. Two of them were even eating pickled eggs, a perfect time-bomb waiting to happen. By the way, I want to state for the record I did not do any of the actual ‘investigating’.”
The detectives entered the bar nonchalantly, armed with a disposable lighter concealed in Karin’s pocket. With Sue acting as the decoy, Karin and Shelley went to work.
Karin headed straight for the rear end of one of the egg-eaters. Pretending to drop her lighter behind him, she quickly got off a flame as she rose. “Nothing,” she later told this reporter. “It was a dud.”
Meanwhile, decoy Sue was trapped. “This one guy must have been at the bar for a while,” said Sue. “He was very sociable, but I couldn’t get away. Then Karin and Shelley joined me, and they were stuck! But then Karin went for it—she used the old ‘drop-the-lighter’ technique again.”
As our anonymous NewsHound reports: “Karin made an attempt to ignite a fuel source. However, either the lighter did not work or there was no fuel for the fire. There was also concern about the flannel shirt the subject was wearing. The ‘amigas’ were laughing hysterically and decided it was time to go before they were noticed. I don’t think we have seen the last of these three.”
Crazy Stunt Puts Camper In Doghouse
Tim water-skis (photo courtesy Ken A.)
Psuedo stunt man Tim B. ran into hot water recently when he tried to water-ski across a small pond that had formed on the road near his trailer.
The severe storm that struck Southern Wisconsin last month formed a shallow basin that seemed to tempt Tim. It didn’t help that friends were celebrating his birthday, and alcohol was a factor. Also, for the record, I want to state that I did a ‘Spell Check’ on ‘psuedo’, and my only alternative spelling was ‘Speedo’, which I certainly don’t want to mention in the same article as Tim.
Anyway, water-skis were conveniently found, and Tim took up the challenge. Towed by a golf cart driven by Mary A., Tim got halfway across the puddle before he fell. He landed hard, but thankfully his life jacket kept his head from hitting blacktop, although local scientific minds later stated they really didn’t think ‘that would make much difference’ to Tim’s brain.
Tim made a successful ski run on the third try. The crowd cheered wildly, acknowledging Tim’s agility and skill as he sailed right across the deadly treacherous pond. And then came the aftermath…
Tim was sore from his bravado but wouldn’t admit it. He concealed his pain from all but wife Diane. But it was only a short time later that his prior stunt caught up with him.
“Tim was trying to fix something by the side of the bed,” said Diane. “Maybe an outlet. He had to squirm in on his injured side to get there…you know how it is, there’s not a lot of room between the bed and the wall. So it’s lucky I happened to come back in time, because he was trapped!”
Tim’s painful side injury would not allow him to raise himself enough to get out of the confined space. Tim later told this reporter that try as he might, adrenaline flowing, he was definitely wedged. “It was 20 minutes of sheer hell,” said Tim.
“I heard him calling,” said Diane, “and I thought he was just saying Hello. It wasn’t until he sounded more urgent that I investigated.”
Diane had to physically pick the bed up to allow Tim enough room to roll over and squiggle out of his confinement on his good side. “Any more antics like that and he’ll be in the doghouse for sure!” remarked Diane.
And it was mere days later that this literarily happened. Upset over being confined to her kennel for a minor infraction, Tim’s wonder dog Lacie was able to lure Tim into her kennel by rolling Tim’s last can of cold beer into it. As soon as Tim crawled in, Lacie slammed the kennel door and had the run of the trailer until Diane came home.
OK, I’m exaggerating. But how did Tim come to wind up in the kennel? I asked Diane about it, and she just shrugged her shoulders. “What else can I say except ‘Tim and beer?’ I think Lacie was barking or wouldn’t go in the kennel or something…he (Tim) has a strange mind indeed.”
Tim in the doghouse (photo by Ken A.)
Talking With Turtles
Mitch’s turtle (photo taken by somebody)
One of the pleasures of camping is enjoying the wildlife…the birds, the squirrels, and, if you are fortunate to camp near a body of water, the frogs and turtles. You tend to become one with the animals, spending your evenings watching them, sometimes even talking to them. There’s nothing wrong with this, unless you are Mitch and the turtle you talk to every night has been dead for a week.
“We thought he was kidding,” said an anonymous source. “Mitch was on vacation all week, and he would work in his garden during the day, then relax on his deck and look out at the lake. One night he noticed this huge turtle out about fifty feet. He thought it was an exotic species, because it was floating upside-down. Mitch tried to coax it to shore. It came a little closer and then stopped. The next night Mitch coaxed it in a few feet closer. He seemed to really enjoy talking to the big turtle. When it turned upright, Mitch was really excited.”
Mitch’s mission was to get the turtle on shore so he could pet it, he explained to his neighbors. They didn’t want to discourage Mitch’s fun, so no one told Mitch that the turtle was dead. Gentle currents brought the turtle closer each night, energizing Mitch. “Then the turtle got wedged against a sunken log,” said another anonymous neighbor, “and there it stayed. Despite all Mitch’s pleading, the turtle wouldn’t come closer.”
A third neighbor put it more bluntly: “Dr. Doolittle there was lucky…that was the biggest snapper I’ve ever seen. They would’ve been calling him ‘Cap’t. Hook’ by now if that thing was alive.”