A Night To Remember

Of Girls and Running

Carla and her cronies drive behind us in her hot pink truck. I swear there has never been a brighter car on planet earth. You can probably see it from one of the many satellites orbiting earth, without zooming. Let me just tell you all, never again do I ever want to be stuck in a car with Rory and Carson for an extended amount of time. Not because I’m worried for my safety (even though Carson is a pretty careless driver) but because I’m worried for theirs. I quickly lose my patience in that truck. First, Carson smokes, not just smokes, like chain smokes. If I get lung cancer he’s paying for all of my medical bills, and the funeral…if he’s still alive. Second, Rory is singing to Drink in My hand one of Carson’s country songs. Let’s just say Rory is no American Idol contestant. He belts out the lines with no reserve. I wouldn’t have a problem with this say, if he had a better voice. Besides that…what the fuck! Is there some unspoken law that states all people who live in rural areas must like country music or something? I hate it! I would rather listen to Beethoven hear this. Third, I’m sitting between them. So on one side I have slow agonizing death by lung cancer. On the other I have slow agonizing death by bursting of the ear drums. In front of me I have the temptation to turn the damn C.D off. I inhale and exhale slowly. Good things come to those who wait Wyatt.

Finally we pull over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere? I look around. All I see is trees. We stopped in the middle of the forest? I look at Carson. He opens his door and steps out.”Come on boys. Let’s go set up.”

I kind of hate how he calls us his boys. Do we look like his lackeys? No. If I had my way I would not even be here right now. Apparently I’m the only one that feels this way since Rory eagerly jumps out like an excited puppy. I stare ahead for a good thirty seconds. God help me now. Finally, I decide to lend a hand at unloading the truck. When I hop out of the truck I see three girls over by Rory, and Carson. One is Carla who is not so discreetly checking out Carson’s muscles. The other is Debby Childs, Carla’s not so smart follower. She has natural blonde hair and it’s super curly. She’s kinds cute in a ditzy way. I don’t mind her too much. She ogles Rory as he lifts loads of shit from the truck, a pink blush coloring her cheeks. The other girl is one I don’t recognize but from the way she is looking at me she is worse that Carla. What am I a piece of meat? I ignore her and begin to help out Rory with his unloading. Slowly I tune in to a conversation that the three girls have started. “There was blood everywhere. I was like ew, apparently the farms haven’t been attacked since like, before we were born.” I try to ignore Carla’s overuse of the world “like” and turn to pay more attention.

“Wait what?” I ask.”Your farm was attacked?” It’s a well known fact that Carla’s dad owns one of the farms in town. It’s slightly bigger than everyone else’s but no one really cares since they have less livestock.

Carla looks at me like I just spit on her Prada bag. “No your farm was attacked Wyatt. Didn’t you know? Your dad was down their when we left. Apparently some sort of animal got in and like, slaughtered your sheep. My dad said it looked like a wolf’s doing but, no way is there a wolf that big. That’s like, the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

“How big were the bites?”I question mostly because I didn’t think we had anymore wolves around here. Most of them were hunted to extinction in these parts by Jonas McCarthy. That son of a bitch enjoys slaughtering animals like no other.

“Oh they were huge like, three and a half or four feet in length, maybe two and a half feet wide. Wolf my cute ass. More like a bear or something, a big bear.”I turn back to what I was doing. Dad didn’t mention anything like that when he left this morning. Although I remember him getting a call from Earl.