Mark Tufo - A Plague Upon Your Family

“Found some coconut roasted marshmallows!” Tommy said as he stuffed another handful into his mouth.

“Did you hear him open a bag?” BT asked.

“I’m really trying to stop wondering what the kid does BT, it gives me a headache.”

“Yeah I hear that.”

Within twenty minutes, everyone was in the store in the far left corner. We had a bunch of lanterns lit. We even had a couple of tents pitched. Tommy thought that was the coolest thing since the marshmallows. We propped (well BT did) a half-ton of weights by the front door so it couldn’t open. But the Vona sheriff’s office was still fresh in everyone’s mind. I parked one van by the front door and the second by the emergency exit in the rear. Worst case scenario we would have to cram into one van for a while. If there was a just God in the universe we would get to leave the Terrible Teal machine behind.

Thankfully we were in Missouri and not some neo-fascist state like New York. We had more guns and ammo to choose from than we would ever be able to carry. If not for the huge plate glass windows in front I would have put my two cents in on why we should hunker down here until the spring.

Food, while not of the high cuisine type, was plentiful. There was an unbelievable assortment of dried meats, including ostrich. Which as funny as it sounds did not taste like chicken, it was frikken horrible. There were dried food packets of every conceivable concoction including Thanksgiving Dinner readily available. We busted a bunch of those open and had a small feast so to speak. It wasn’t quite the Indians and the Pilgrims but we were thankful to be alive and with each other. Unfortunately there were no dried beer packets or an NFL game on to accompany our meal. The boys grabbed some bows and arrows and some of the clothing dummies and had a blast shooting at something that didn’t necessarily want to eat you. Even Justin perked up more than I had seen out of him in a few days. It was a welcome respite.

It was getting late and we were all tired. Tracy watched with curiosity as I prepared another tent a few yards away from the rest. I then made an exaggerated stretch and let everyone know I was heading off to bed. I had other things on my mind but it didn’t stop me from almost immediately falling asleep. Colors flooded my senses, I felt like I was in Candy Land, I’m not making this stuff up, there was a river of chocolate lazily flowing through a rolling landscape of what looked like whipped cream. There were cliché candy cane trees, and what appeared to be giant broccoli sprouts which seemed wholly out of place, but stranger still were the variety of pop-tart fruit, still in their leafy foil packets that hung bountifully down from their boughs. Tommy was paddling from the distant shore towards me on the world’s largest Snicker’s bar which he would occasionally pause from his paddling duties and take a generous bite from.

“Hey Mr.T!” Tommy shouted. Smatterings of chocolate nearly covered him from head to toe.

Henry came bounding up, a huge white chocolate bone in his mouth. “You know that chocolate’s not really good for dogs Tommy.”

“It’s not real chocolate!” He yelled in his best stage whisper. “It’s cacao, dogs can eat that!” Tommy had stepped off his makeshift boat and approached me, all smiles and happiness. “Didn’t think I could do it Mr. T, but I did.” He said proudly.

“Do what Tommy?” I asked, I figured he was referring to getting his chocolate bar across the river. “And what’s with the broccoli?”

“Get you here.” He answered. “And mom always said I should eat more greens.”

“Get me here? This is a dream Tommy. What’s going on?”

“Just testing a little, you’d better go, Mrs. T is coming.”

“Wait what?”

I snapped awake as Tracy came through the front flap of the tent.

“Nice place you got here.”

“Hi hon.” I said groggily, and somewhat disoriented. Something incredible had just happened but it would be days later before I could put it to page. Tracy proceeded to get into the sleeping bag I had set up. Within seconds, my earlier ‘dream’ forgotten I pounced on her with all the grace of a jungle cat on valium.

“What the hell are you doing?” She asked with a trace of bewilderment.

“You know.” I said softly.

“No I don’t.” She answered.

“Come on you know.” I said trying to lead her on.

“No I do not…wait are you trying to fool around?” She asked incredulously. “Are you effen crazy!” She barked. Her voice was rising exponentially. “You’ve got a better chance of shitting out gold coins!”

I didn’t think that was feasible, so apparently getting laid was out of the question. My humiliation was compounded by the riotous laughing of BT. I’m a guy, no matter how dire the situation, if we’re not quite dead yet, we’re thinking about sex. My face flamed as I fell asleep. No wonder I dreamt about a tanning bed.

Why do they put nipples on modeling dummies? I pondered the next morning as I arose out of the tent, shifting around what the good God gave me. Fucken BT, always Johnny on the spot, was there to witness my indignation.

“Got any change for a $20 Gold Eagle? I see you didn’t get that taken care of last night?” He laughed.

I was about to verbally whiplash him, when the next word out of his mouth saved the day.

“Coffee?” I started walking over to him. “Don’t get too close, we hardly know one another.” He laughed again.

“Fucken funny.” I said as I grabbed a mug of the steaming goodness. Dunkies it wasn’t, but it was still incredible in its own right. I sat down next to him just to fuck with him. I attempted to put my arm around him.

BT shot up like a bottle rocket. “Dude?!” BT said disbelievingly.

I feigned innocence.

BT moved his small camping chair to the far side of our impromptu campfire. Sometime during the night someone had found and placed a Styrofoam prop fire resplendent with rocks and logs into the middle of our clearing.

As BT settled his not insignificant weight into the chair I had to ask. “How the hell is that thing supporting your weight.”

“Play nice boys.” Jen said as she came from the direction of the restrooms. She handed BT a canteen heavy with water. BT drank greedily, easily consuming half of the contents.

“Want some?” BT asked as he held the canteen out towards me.

“No, I’m good. I’ll go get my own.” I answered.

“Mike, just take this one man.” He said thrusting the canteen a little closer to my face.

“Don’t sweat it man. I’ll go get my own.”

“There’s some right here. Don’t be difficult.” BT said, his dander starting to get a little riled.

“BT I don’t want it. I’ll get my own.” I said a little more sternly.

“It’s because I’m black isn’t it!” He yelled.

Jen had stopped what she was doing to see how this potentially volatile situation panned out. Oh I knew how it would end up, my teeth in BT’s knuckles seemed the most likely scenario.

“BT, come on you know me better than that.”

“I don’t know shit.” He hissed. His bulk seemingly swelled in proportion to his anger. He was a second and a half from coming out of his chair.

All of the boys were now a few feet away, Brendon was coming to the forefront, trying his best to throw a wedge between me and BT. I didn’t think he would even qualify as a speed bump if BT got going.

Tracy had taken this, the most blessed of opportunities to emerge from our tent.

“BT.” She said with no small amount of force.

“My beef’s not with you Tracy.” BT said never taking his eyes off of me. “Is this how you want it Mike? You’re woman doing your battles for you.”