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The Campaign Trip


 

Bob wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Jack had asked for his help and he wasn’t going to let him down, feverishly consulting his list while packing the car and scavenging for supplies. He admired Jack. Looked up to his older brother. He would move heaven and earth to make sure he arrived with everything they would need.

Flashlights: Check. Two of them to be safe. He took the one from the kitchen and the one from Ethel’s bedside table. Surly she wouldn’t need emergency lighting for just a couple of days. Jack hadn’t said, but the weather looked good for the weekend, so Bob assumed that’s how long they’d be gone.

Matches: Check. Oh wait, what if it rains? Bob rifled through the pantry until he found the zip log bags. Best to keep those matches dry. The paper too. He’d already packed last week’s Supersaver fliers, so he grabbed a plastic bag, dug the papers out of the box in the trunk of the car, put them in the plastic bag, back into the box and back into the trunk.

Sleeping bags, tent, pillows: Check. Paper plates and utensils: Check. Wieners, hamburger patties and coleslaw in the cooler: Check.

He consulted his list and it told him he should stop at the convenience store on the way to Jack’s for ice and marshmallows. S’mores may not be very manly, but Bob knew that Jack had a sweet tooth. The chocolate and graham crackers were already in a bag with the buns and the beans.

Oh wait, what will we cook the beans in?

Bob tried to slide unseen past the door to the den where Ethel sat watching CNN and shouting at the TV. She caught him just as he pulled her best small pot from the cupboard.

“Just where do you think you’re going with all this stuff?”

“Uh,” Bob stood up, sheepishly, trying to move his hand and her best pot behind him and out of sight. “Jack has asked me to help him go camping.”

“Camping?” Ethel sneered. “Have you ever known Jack to go camping?”

“Well no,” Bob said smugly. “I assume that’s why he asked me for my help.”

“I would have assumed he’d be too busy this weekend,” Ethel muttered as she strode past him.

Too busy? Bob wondered what his wife was on about, but more concerned with angling his body and box of supplies such she wouldn’t see him slip her best small pot into it, nor her silver carving fork sticking out of it. That fancy fork was just what they’d need to roast their wieners over the fire.

Satisfied that he’d managed to avoid Ethel’s ire, if not her annoyance, while amassing all they would need Bob hefted the last box into the trunk. His rifling for the papers, required some juggling and shifting, but, satisfied at last that he was well packed and prepared, he set off. There was more shifting and juggling in the convenience store parking lot when he realized he’d buried the cooler, but he eventually got the ice and the marshmallow storage issues sorted.

By the time he pulled into Jack’s driveway, Bob was beaming with pride and anticipation of a manly weekend. He was surprised, then, to see a stack of printer’s boxes by the garage door, festooned with Jack’s smiling face. His slogan, which Bob found irritating and vaguely illiterate, was splashed above. “A vote for Jack’s a vote against tax!”

The man himself, stood impatiently beside those boxes, wearing a snappy dress shirt, khakis, and a frown.

“Bobby! What is all this shit?” He demanded, pointing to the back seat brimming with blankets, storage tubs, air mattresses and a gigantic first aid kit. “And why are you wearing that ridiculous hat? I can’t be seen with you looking like that!”

“C – c – c – camping,” Bob sputtered. “You asked for my help to go camping…”

“Camping?” Jack asked with obvious incredulity. “Have you ever known me to go camping?"

When Bob said nothing, Jack started barking orders, as he always did.

“Bobby, yer a moron! I’ve got doors to knock, hands to shake and babies to kiss. I need you to drive. Now let’s get all this crap in the garage so I can go campaign!”

 

 

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