Devil In A White Dress

Sixty Three

Timothy didn't have the damn nightmare. Thank God, he sighed after jerking from the mattress and scrambling towards the RV floor. The storm ended and it was now approximately 7:03 in the morning. He remembered Carl being missing.

Mrs. Summers woke up perpendicular form, her face in between her husband's legs and her legs wrapped round his head in the sixty-nine position. Kitty and Sam woke up propped around each other on the Loveseat sofa. The boozing and drugging of last night's jumbo seemed to have cleared out all of their illicit thoughts. Oscar and Margery were nowhere to be found in the living room.

"Fuck," Sam cursed aloud, "Why the hell were you sleeping next to me without your damn clothes, Kitty? You think that's funny!"

"We were drunk last night, dumbass!", Kitty roared coldly, not surprised by his early uprising rant of cleanliness, "God, just when I thought you moaning and pleading with me not to stop sucking you off was the best part of you I'd seen in years."

"What did you just say?", Sam snapped relentlessly, in a manner that showed he would have slapped her at once.

"Just shut up and wear your clothes, dumbass," Kitty shot back, "You look like shit and you're starting to piss me the fuck off."

"Hm. So much for a peaceful family reunion," Sam mumbled in rage.

"Oh, "peaceful family reunion" my ass", Kitty grunted nastily, "I'm getting tired of you and my ignorant brother's buffoonery. Fuck. The kids were right after all. This vacation sucks...and I don't want to be around you or...."

"What's a matter? God finally made you shut up?", Sam replied, but something hit him.

Mr. Summers, fully intoxicated, fell off the bed and rolled on the wooden floor like an empty glass bottle. That moment, he felt he was missing something.

"Where the fuck is my phone?", Kitty snarled, "And my pack of cigarettes?"

"Where the fuck is my GPS?", Sam sang along, "And where the fuck is my phone?"

The song they sang was so beautiful and abrupt. If only they could work together as the couple, they were to solve the mystery at once. If only they had the proportionate IQ level to figure out that inviting strangers whom you've met for one day for a perverted, orgy party and boozing about with alcohol the whole night was the stupidest idea.

"Where's my cell phone?", Mrs. Summers called out, as she dressed up in her red shirt, "Larry, did you see my cell phone anywhere."

He ignored, then descended the stairs.

"Larry?", Mrs. Summers called again.

"My fucking GPS," Sam reported, "My GPS. I knew it. I shouldn't have left the thing out there openly. I'm such an idiot."

"Yeah," Mr. Summers replied, "Oscar and Margery. Guess we weren't sober enough to make those assholes up last night."

"Oscar and Margery? Who's Oscar and Margery?", Mrs. Summers, confused as usual, joined in, "And what do you mean last night? What happened?"

The three ignored her again.

"Fuck. This is fucking wonderful," Kitty bellowed, "Our phones are stolen, this means we can't call the fucking cops. And no one's going to know where the hell we are."

"The sound system. The RV," Sam remembered, while feeling a bit woozy, "We just switch it on and the police department will track us...."

"Hey, moron," Kitty shrieked, "Not without the GPS. That's what only activates the fucking thing."

Sam clasped his hand against his forehead, which ticked Mrs. Summers off.

"Guys, what's going on? Who are we talking about?", she asked again.