Never Yours, Wolfboy

Chapter Three: Pepper spray is illegal in Canada

As I mentioned previously me and my Dad weren't so inclined to unpacking our luggage. Not that we really had much at the moment. Most of it was still in the truck which was currently sitting in the local auto shop.

So when we got to our new house that morning all I did was set my suitcase on the ground, placed my bedding on my mattress, and crawled under the covers and fell into an abyss of darkness. I didn't even bothering to remove my shoes.

And when I got up the next morning there was nothing left to do.

My Dad got a job on a campground. he was going to be the maintenance guy throughout the fall and winter months. With this deal came a cabin located on the campgrounds, and a company owned vehicle.

Which meant I got the old rust bucket.

I hadn't taken a close look when we arrived earlier this morning, but the cabin seemed pretty nice compared to some of the places I had stayed at in the past.

Hardwood floors with white walls and ceiling encompassed my room. There was a wardrobe on the wall, and on the opposing wall stood a simple desk and char. The twin bed I was currently laying on took centre place right smack dab in the middle of the room.

I flipped the blanket that was covering my legs off and quietly tiptoed across my bedroom to the wood door separating my room from the rest of the cabin.

The cabin in general had a very simple layout. The main living space was open with the kitchen in the far right corner and a small dining area in the far left. Off of the kitchen area spread into living area which consisted of three couches situated in front of a stone fire place. Off of the living area was a wall that consisted of three doors. My bedroom, my Dad's, and the bathroom/laundry room.

Like I said, simple.

I took a few more quiet steps into my temporary home until I realized my attempts at remaining quiet were futile.

"Bobby! If you rip her head off I'm gonna tell Mommy!"

I walked to a window on the back wall to see a small lake with a beach.

Kids.

Great.

In our rush to move it had completely slipped my mind that it was a long weekend.

Which, apparently, at a camp site, meant kids.

Fml.

***

I'm pretty sure the wall I was staring at used to be white.

I kept my hands firmly intertwined in my lap and contemplated standing up solely so I wouldn't have to worry about what I might contract from the chair I was sitting in.

All I wanted was my laptop, but when it got into Dad's head that the truck could be done within a couple hours there was no swaying him to go back to the camp grounds.

I looked over, Dad looked comfortable enough, slouched in his chair, legs spread out, fingers making a tapping noise on the hand rest of the chair.

If only he could feel my pain.

Just as I was about to get up and scream to the holy heavens, the mechanic made an entrance.

Belly jiggling like a water balloon when it slapped onto pavement, face covered in a five-o-clock shadow, hands smothered in grease that combined with the leering gaze we was sending my way made him the literal epitome of your small town pervy mechanic.

"All done!" his voice was gravely, covered in ash. He was a smoker.

My Dad looked up and smiled, "Great!"