Harold lived way back there in a little camper in the woods, behind a double-wide. It was real private. Nobody lived in the double-wide because mold had got in when the last storm blew some of the roof away. They’d let the yard get grown up and never took the trash off after the storm. He always parked his truck behind the camper so it would look like no one was there. Only thing you could hear was crickets and dogs. He liked his privacy.
He also liked to go sit in the bar across town and listen to gossip sometimes. It was a good way to keep informed. Harold only drank straight bourbon, with a little water behind it. He usually left before it got busy, as the loud noise bothered him. Mondays were the best, with cheap liquor at happy hour and not many people. Sometimes his brother, Jake, would join him for a few shots. Jake lived across town in a trailer park with his latest girlfriend. They were direct opposites. Jake was wild and boisterous, while Harold was quiet and shy.
One night, Harold was reading and having a little soup, when Jake drove up with his girlfriend, Shirley. “Come on Harold. We’re going to a party and thought you might like a little life in your life,” Jake grinned.
“If you’d put on something besides that raggedy shirt and grease stained jeans you might even look nice,” Shirley added.
“I just got started on this here book,” Harold protested.
Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Get dressed. You’re coming with us!” he insisted.
A few hours later, they were standing around a campfire by the river and drinking beer with a bunch of folks from town. Country music blared from a nearby truck and moonlight bathed the river in a silver sheen. Some were huddled up by the fire and some stood down close to the water, wading in sandy shallows. Harold enjoyed the scene and the company, but he was getting sleepy. He wanted to finish another chapter and go to bed.
Then the trouble started. Shirley was standing a little too close to a big rough looking fellow and was getting a little too friendly with him. Jake fumed and swore under his breath. Harold felt the tension rise. Finally Jake had enough. He stomped over to Shirley and told her it was time to leave. She gave him a malicious smile and stepped over closer to the big man.
Harold quickly and quietly moved up beside his brother. “I’m having a good time. Why should I leave?” Shirley spat. Jake grabbed her arm. The big man got in between them. Just when it seemed the inevitable fight would break out, Harold got in the truck and cranked it. Jake whirled around, then shot over to stop him from driving off.
Harold wouldn’t budge. “Get in or get left,” he threatened. So Jake got in and they started to leave, when they heard Shirley yelling for them to stop. They did, and Shirley got in, all smiles and sweetness. The big man swore at them and waved a pistol as they rounded the bend.
Back at Harold’s camper in the woods, a breeze was blowing. It was fragrant with honeysuckle and magnolia. He got out with a sigh of relief and turned to wish Jake and Shirley a good night. “Now wasn’t that more fun than sitting out here in the woods and reading an old book?” Jake asked. Harold shook his head and walked away.
“What is the matter with him?" Shirley questioned.
“I guess he just doesn’t like to have fun!” Jake laughed.
