Linny and I have been talking on our drive to town about all the work we have and we need help. We can only talk for a minute or two at a time because Jax has the farts and he's killing us. It's unbelievable the smell that comes out of that dog's butt sometimes. I can barely hold my breath long enough to survive with the windows down and the air going full blast. He looks at both of us each time like he doesn't know who did it.
I tell Linny we need somebody that can fix stuff creatively until we can get to town to buy parts and I know a place where those kinds of people live. Linny says "What kind of people?" I say "Gypsies, Hippies, Nomads, Wanderers, and when they aren't there the ghosts are everywhere." Linny says "Oh great. Just what I need. Can't we find some normal people?" I say "Normal compared to what? Probably just be the ghosts." Linny keeps staring at me. We pull in.
Linny says "Tom, where are we? I've seen this movie. The people never get out alive. I'm serious. People that go into places like this die and they're never seen or heard from again." I say "Linny, I know these people. They're different but they are good people. We'll be ok."
"Linny says "Where are they? There's nobody here." I say "Almost every time I visit there's nobody here. The most people I've ever seen at one time is three. They come and go, they wander in and out, no way to know. Why would you want to know?"
As we're pulling out Linny says "I can't believe we're still alive." When we drive by the entrance three plus hours later on the way back from town our tire tracks are still the only ones going in or coming out. A day later it's the same.
2 comments:
I'm surprised the woman didn't mind you taking her picture and photos of the encampment. Did someone come by to work?
That's Linny. She's grown up now.
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