Bo smoked a cigarette he had bummed from our campsite neighbors. He sat on the dirt near me while I flicked and fiddled with an old lighter trying to get our fire going. A few sparkly embers floated over to Bo's exposed and jean-shorted midget legs, "Yow! Little fuckers."
The two of us roasted the wienies we bought from the one convenience store in a hundred mile radius. I bought two scratch-its, broke even. In the parking lot outside of the store Bo tried to offend some high school girls in a Jeep by flipping them off, but his hands are so small and lumpy that, i'm sure, they thought he was just introducing them to a portion of mashed potatoes. "Ha! Little bitches." he yelled into my ear as we motored away on our leaky little Suzuki.
It was the first time either of us had wanted to sleep outside. I used my bag as a pillow; Bo used his backpack. In the morning Bo was covered in bug bites. "Damn little buggies"
It was the first time either of us had wanted to sleep outside. I used my bag as a pillow; Bo used his backpack. In the morning Bo was covered in bug bites. "Damn little buggies"
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