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Message-ID: <55276asstr$1170569405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "cmsix" <cmsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} D I V O R C E - Chapter 3 - MF Mf Mult harem ScFi TimeTr - In Progress
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Date: Sun, 04 Feb 2007 01:10:05 -0500
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Laid off at the steelmill. How about a little camping trip? 

Codes: MF Mf Mult harem ScFi TimeTr 

Also available at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/cmsix/www 

Copyright cmsix

<1st attachment, "divorce003.txt" begin>

Chapter 3

   So I gave them the sad story of Lone Star Steel and the workless
steelworkers but I left out most of the nasty parts about me and the wives
of some of my union brothers.  They ooed and awed in most of the right
places, and then laughed about me winning the big TV and trading it to the
fat gal for the 22.  They said they'd spent an hour or so poking around at
the same sale.

   "We didn't hang around for the drawing though, we bought a couple of
tickets but we wanted to get on down here," George said.

   "Just as well you didn't wait.  There wasn't a ticket number called out
that didn't have someone to claim the prize," I said.

   "That's my usual luck, I guess it ain't changed lately," George said.

   After chewing the fat with George and Jane a few minutes more, I walked
to the entrance and on inside Wal-Mart to do some shopping.  I didn't
really need anything but I thought I'd be polite since they had free
parking.

   Damned if I didn't spy a real deal right off the bat.  They had Ranch
Style Beans on sale for two bits a can, with a limit of ten cases per
customer.  Right next to my favorite beans, they had Wolf Brand Chili
'without beans' for seventy-five cents a can - the limit was five cases per
customer on the chili.  This flashing blue light special was my favorite
recipe, two cans of beans to one can of chili.

   No way in hell did I need ten cases of beans and five cases of chili,
but they were so cheap I just couldn't stand it.  I filled up my buggy and
had to get another one, then I filled it up half way.  I parked the full
one near the front of the store, where the door greeter told me to, and set
off to finish filling the other one.

   When I passed the cornmeal, I saw they had the old fashioned twenty-five
pound cloth bags and it started me thinking about my new cornbread molds,
so I grabbed a sack, along with two large cans of baking soda and four
boxes of salt.  Later I picked up a couple of gallons of milk and five
pounds of bacon.  I had to get out of there.

   On a trip down by the sporting goods isle and then back, I saw something
I'd never seen in a Wal-Mart before.  This one was selling Zodiac
inflatable boats.  After a few minutes I figured out that it was because of
the lakes, rivers, and creeks in the area, but no Zodiac for me, thank you.

   After a trip through the checkout line, the door greeter said she'd be
glad to watch my stuff while I pulled up to load it.  Even I wasn't dumb
enough to try pushing two carts all the way to the far side of that
humongous parking lot to my truck and camper.

   I walked out, got my truck and trailer, and then came up and parked in
the no parking zone just like I was supposed to.  After loading my stuff I
went back and got my same parking spot beside George and Jane.  I now had
beans and chili stacked everywhere in my tiny kitchen.

   I barely had room to heat up a mix of two cans of beans and one of chili
but I got it done and had one of my favorite suppers, washing it down with
a Lone Star Long Neck.  I finished my evening by cleaning up my kitchen and
then I hit the hay.

   Right after sunrise the next morning I was up and shaking the dust of
Wal-Mart.  I found a nice little café with room to park my truck and
trailer and went inside to pig out.  They had the best biscuits I'd had in
a long time and while I stuffed them in I was sorry that I hadn't seen any
twenty-five pound bags of self-rising flour in Wal-Mart the night before. I
kept asking myself why I'd jumped onto the 'big quantity' bandwagon lately
but I never answered.

   I finally made it to the Big Thicket's Information Station and roamed it
for about half an hour.  There were all sorts of passes you could buy, for
one day or one week or whatnot.  The year round deal wasn't much higher and
so I went for it.

   I found a camper parking lot place just outside of the main entrance, on
land that wasn't officially part of the preserve, and I settled in there,
unhooking and leveling my trailer and breaking out my grill.  Shit, I
hadn't bought any charcoal.

   A sack in my truck had about three pounds left and it was enough to cook
one steak, I like 'em pretty rare anyway.  Before going to bed that night I
spent about an hour reading all the pamphlets that I'd picked up in the
welcome center.

   The next day, over in Silsbee in the Wal-Mart there, I picked up four
big bags of charcoal and a case of lighter fluid.  Of course I didn't need
that much lighter fluid, but it was handier to have it in the box.  I also
picked up more steaks in the grocery part.  I knew damned well you could
never have too many steaks around.

   After I put all that in my truck, I spent the rest of the day driving
around and looking, and occasionally walking a few of the trails.  I worked
on the Turkey Creek Unit all day, and all the next one too.

   Striking out for the Beech Creek Unit the next day, I liked it even
better once I took a look around.  Maybe because I wasn't at the central
part anymore and there were less people.

   They had a few little cookers up on short poles and I dragged out my
tent, air bed, and sleeping bag and camped out that night instead of
driving back to my trailer.  I'd left my new charcoal supply in the
trailer, but I scratched up enough squaw wood to heat up a can of chili and
some beans, and everything seemed to taste even better cooked that way.

   After taking down my tent and deflating my air bed, I drove out for
breakfast, to a little café I'd seen close by.  It was in the same building
with a gas station and a little store too, and I bought a big bag of
charcoal to keep in the truck and then filled up with gas.

   I spent all day at this unit, but drove back to my trailer that night.
The next morning, I was off to take a look at the Neches River and after an
hour or so I knew I was fucked on the Zodiac deal.  Resistance was futile,
that didn't keep me from trying to resist, but I was a goner on this.

   By noon, me and my truck were headed to the Silsbee Wal-Mart to see if
they had the Zodiac boats too.  I hadn't even looked when I went to that
one the first time.

   Lo and behold they had more.  I didn't buy the smallest two-person model
but took the next size up, the one that could carry three.  Not even trying
to resist an outboard, I picked up a two-horse model that was four cycle so
I wouldn't have to mix oil with the gas.

   After that, and barely finding enough space to cram it all in my camper
shell, I left Wal-Mart in search of a local sporting goods place.  I had to
have a couple of rods and reels, but more importantly, I would need plenty
of lures, hooks, line and the like and I knew I couldn't count on one
swinging dick in Wal-Mart that would be able to help me get the right
stuff.

   I hadn't been fishing in years, but I remembered how, basically.  Still,
I also knew that advice from someone that fished around here would be worth
any extra I might have to pay for the equipment at their place.

   Not two miles from Wal-Mart I found Sam's Bait and Tackle.  For three
hundred and twenty-six buck Sam fixed me right up.  I left with two rods
and reels, miles of line, a huge tackle box, and hundreds of hooks and
lures.  From artificial worms to Tiny Torpedoes, I was ready for fishing.

   Sam even sold me a hundred feet of trotline and a fifty-foot,
two-inch-mesh net.  He assured me the net was not legal in any part of the
United States.  He also pointed out that I would need some real paddles to
use in my Zodiac.

   "You won't be able to paddle a damned place with those cheap shit
aluminum poles with plastic wide parts that they call paddles," he said,
nearly snarling it, "and you'd be worse off than fucked if that's all you
had to whack a gator in the head with when one comes out to see if yer fit
ta eat.  And I sure hope you didn't buy one of their chicken shit battery
powered air pumps expecting it to blow up that rubber boat."

   "Naw, I got an airjammer and tank on my pickup, like the ones on a big
truck.  It's handy as hell to have compressed air when you get a flat
tire," I said, "I've even got a hundred foot of hose for it."

   "Well, mayhaps ya got some sense after all."

   Sam was my kind of guy.

   The next morning I moved my trailer to a little lot near the
intersection of Farm Road 1740 and Farm Road 92, close to the dam's
outflow. After renting a spot and unhooking and leveling, I parked at the
café next door and went in for breakfast.  Of course I ate all I could
hold.

   With breakfast inside me I pulled over to the small launching ramp and
rassled the Zodiac out, using my air hose to inflate it, then I dragged it
down the few feet to float it in the Neches and tied it off.

   Installing the small outboard and the gas tank had my river cruiser
ready to go.  I loaded my rods, reels, and tackle box and after parking the
truck out of the way I untied the boat and got onto the water for real.

   The little outboard surprised me by starting on the first pull and my
river expedition was on.  My Zodiac wasn't the African Queen by any
stretch, but what the hell?  I was in Texas.  I rode down stream for about
ten minutes and killed the motor.  After rigging a top-water bait, I let
fly and the fishing was on.

   I did damned good if I do say so myself.  I pulled in two respectable
bass and several perch, but today I was catching and releasing.  I probably
wouldn't keep any at all unless I got some really nice ones, but that
wasn't the point.

   By two PM the fishing was over for today and I headed back to the ramp.
Instead of deflating the boat, I backed the pickup down to the water and
after emptying the Zodiac and removing the outboard I was able to get it on
top of the camper shell.  It really wasn't that heavy.

   Since I didn't have anything to tie it up there with, I walked over to
the little store by the café, practically across the street.  They sold
nylon sash cord, commonly called hayrope now that wooden windows and sash
weights are a thing of the past; I bought a hundred foot hank.

   The Zodiac was relatively secure shortly, and I congratulated myself
again for putting eyebolts through the sides of my pickups bed so I could
have tie-downs even with the camper-shell in place.

   Of course I had to creep along with it up there like that.  I'm sure it
would have torn itself loose if I'd even reached ten miles per hour.  I
didn't though, and it didn't, and even though it looked strange, I parked
at the café again and went in to do all the damage I could at a table.

   Since I'd already accomplished so much, I filled up with gas and took
the rest of the day off.  I was in my bed, asleep, before seven PM and
slept more soundly than I had in years.

   The next morning after dressing and stepping outside, I intended to make
another raid on the café for breakfast.  It was a good thing I'd slept so
well.  I might not ever get another wink.

   The parking lot was gone.  So were the gas station, the café, and
everything.  They'd been replaced by trees.  In this particular spot they
were yellow pines, giant yellow pines.  I had a feeling that I'd be able to
find other species easily though, since practically all I could see were
trees, everywhere.  I was completely baffled, so I did the only sensible
thing.  I went back into my trailer to cook my own damned breakfast.

   When I walked forward into the tiny kitchen I felt the floor shift
slightly under my weight.  I distinctly remembered putting out the jacks
and leveling up and I wondered how it could shift now.  The answer came to
me seconds later.  Since everything seemed to be gone, the parking lot was
gone too, and my jacks were sitting on much softer ground now, at best. 
Later, food first.

   Since I was cooking my own breakfast this morning, I ate a lot less,
settling for a skillet's worth of bacon and plenty of eggs.  They were
easiest since the bacon provided the grease and it was already hot. 
Besides, I could fry an egg and then eat it while the next one was cooking.
I didn't bother to toast my whole wheat bread; I just smeared on some
margarine and poked it into my pie hole.

   With breakfast done and the dishes cleaned and put away, I looked back
outside, hoping I'd been mistaken during my first look.  No luck, there
were still trees and no café.  I know it was impossible but it's hard to
argue with the facts on the ground.  Another thing occurred to me as I sat
on my small couch.

   The whole feeling of the forest seemed different.  The weather hadn't
changed to notice, but I had seen a doe that moved off when it saw me.  It
was the first one I'd seen during my trip down here, and though it had
moved away, it hadn't run off in a panic.

   A nagging thought brought up the impression that maybe I should strap on
my web belt and Glock before I went back outside, and while I was on that
track, fetching and loading the Marlin would probably be good too.  I
wasn't sure why but it seemed like the right thing to do.

   Feeling a little silly, I put on the belt with my holstered Glock and
stepped outside.  I looked at the jacks as I walked toward my truck and it
was easy to see I'd been right about that.  The base of one was pressed
down into the grass and pine needles.

   I unlocked my truck and reached to the gun rack to remove the Marlin
336c, jacking the lever to put one in the chamber; it just seemed like I
should.  I started to open the glove box for the box of shells I always
kept in it, but decided to leave it there and get some out of the camper
shell.

   After fifteen minutes of digging around under crap I found my hiding
spot for some of the 35 Remington cartridges and pulled out forty, two
boxes, and closed and locked the back glass again.  After stuffing the
cartridges into a couple of the belt pouches I considered myself armed and
dangerous, but didn't know what to do next.

   Think about it.  What would you do if you went to sleep in a parking lot
beside a gas station, café, and convenience store and woke up the next
morning to find it all missing, even the parking lot, and the road leading
to it?  Get the picture?

   My first thought was to find somebody, almost anybody would do.  I
needed to know where I was and then try to figure out what had happened.  I
needed to locate a town, and some people.  Even as I thought about it there
was a sinking feeling that I wouldn't be able to.

   My first step was walking all around my truck and trailer.  I was in a
small clearing among giant yellow pines.  I say giant because they were
bigger than any I'd ever seen, or even heard of.  Yellow pine timber was
ubiquitous in East Texas, but not like these.  I could see dozens from
where I stood that were at least five feet in diameter.

   Actually, the clearing my truck and trailer sat in was odd in itself. 
It was the only one in sight.  There was an area around my rig with no
trees within fifty feet of my stuff and then trees everywhere else, except
for what seemed a type of wide trail leading directly ahead of the truck
for maybe a hundred yards or better.

   It ended ahead of me where the pines seemed to close me in completely.
There was only a grass-covered path, approximately wide enough for me to
drive straight ahead, and then I'd have to stop when I came to the trees
again.  As if I was on a grass-covered road going east, as best as I could
tell.  A very short road as roads usually went.

   It wasn't like a road that had been specifically built though.  Nothing
was regular like it would have been if someone had made a road, or even a
trail.  It looked for all the world like any trees that might have been in
the way just hadn't grown there.  I got on the ankle express and walked
down it.

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