RE: FICTION: Things That Go Pop in the Night

[AustinBoston]

 WARNING: This reads like a cross between Edgar Allen Poe and Alfred Hitchcock, and is not for the consumption of or by small children...except around the campfire just before bed.
 
 Thngs That Go Pop in the Night
 
 They trust me.  This fine little family.  They haul me everywhere, popping me up, even sleeping in me.  But they are fools.  They don t know...nobody knows...that when I rolled out of the factory, the company had created a monster.  They will find out there is a monster, but they will never guess it was me.
 
 My " owners"  are a young couple with two small children, both girls.  One looks like she is about four, the other seven or eight.  They also have a small dog, some jittery mongrel that sheds hair everywhere.  I don t think that thing deserves to be camping.  Come to think of it, I don t believe this whole family deserves to be camping.
 
 At first, I thought about how much these people loved me.  They bought new linens to match my decor, they kept me clean, and they would even wash my roof after parking under a pine tree.  They were careful about routine maintenance, winterizing my water lines and keeping my battery charged.  But as time went on, they spent less and less time with me.  They took me out nearly as often, but when they did, they would spend more time away from me, just leaving me with that miserable mutt.  And they don t take care of me the way they used to.  They haven t repacked my bearings this year, and it s been so long since they washed my roof that I can t remember.  The girls are big enough that they let themselves in and out, and they always let my door slam.  It makes me wince every time.  It became clear to me that they didn t love me, they were just using me.  I resented it.
 
 I knew that eventually, I would end up like some of those pop-ups I d seen on the side of the road.  Abandoned, unloved, canvas torn and rotting, tires flat, frame covered with rust.  I could already see the grass growing up around me at my usual parking spot.  I was determined to get some respect, and to not be treated like that.
 
 I hated that dog.  He would hop up on my beds, yip at everyone that went by, and even sleep in the shower on hot days.  His hair would clog the vents on my power converter and accumulate in the corners on my floor.  Sure, they would sweep it up from time to time, but it s very presence made my canvas crawl.  Once, my shower overflowed because so much of his hair had accumulated in my drain.
 
 It reached a point where I had to do something.  Call it revenge, call it repressed anger, separation anxiety, call it what you will, but I had to do something about that dog.  I hatched a plan.
 
 On the second trip out that season, on the second day, they left on one of their day trips.  I don t know where they went, but before leaving, they made sandwiches.  I knew what that meant.  It meant that they would be gone all day.  It meant that they would leave me alone with that dog.  They would abandon me with that yipping, yapping, shedding mutt.  And I would make them - and that dog - pay.
 
 As they all piled into the van, that dog was up on my front bed, slobbery nose pressed against the screen, whining and yipping like the pathetic little abandoned mongrel that he was.  As soon as they were gone, he bounded off the front bunk and onto the rear.  He looked out where he had previously seen a Dalmatian, and he just had to make sure the coast was clear.  Then he hopped off the bed and slinked into my shower where it was cool.  He curled up to take a nap.
 
 I let him sleep for a bit.  I had to get him onto the potty.  He had done that a few times before, trying to see out of a window, but my curtains were in the way.  I decided I would have to make a noise.
 
 Here, Fido.  Here, doggy, doggy.  It was just a whisper, something I d never done before.  Here, doggy.  He picked up his head and looked around, then set it back down.  Here, Fido.  Come on, Fido.  He hopped up and put his front paws on the edge of the potty.  That was all I needed.  I was so fast there wasn t even a yelp.  After checking myself out, it was clear that there was no evidence of what happened.  They would come back to the campsite and Fido would be missing.  And they would never find him.
 
 They did come back, and they were concerned that Fido was gone.  They asked if anyone had seen him.  The two girls were crying.  Later, after the girls were in bed, I could hear Mom and Pop at the campfire.  They were accusing each other of not making sure Fido was inside me before they left.  They argued, and then talked about what they would need to do for the girls.
 
 It worked.  The only evidence was the fact that the line clogged slightly when they went to drain the cassette potty, and that was something I could prevent next time.  I had begun to extract my revenge.
 
 I was put away, my floors were not mopped, and I wasn t plugged in.  I sat there for three weeks before they took me out again.  The grass was getting taller around my parking space, and my wheels were digging ruts into the ground.  My brakes needed adjusting, and I knew they weren t going to do it.
 
 When they did take me out again, I knew I would make them pay.  This time, they would get what they deserved for letting me sit there.  Now, there was no turning back.
 
 The first night, they set up as usual.  There were some sad moments as they remembered their last trip, the one where Fido got " lost" .  They sat around the campfire, making s mores, and remembering Fido.  Nobody was even thinking about me.  I thought they loved me, but that was just a lie.  They were using me.  And one by one, they would pay.
 
 I just had to wait for the right opportunity.
 
 The father got up from the fire.  Yes, the father.  The one who used to adjust my brakes, grease my hitch, and lube my stabilizers.  But not any more.  It s like he s forgotten about me, like I didn t even exist.  He said he d be right back, he had to use the can.  He stepped inside and let the door slowly close and latch.  then he pulled back the curtain on the shower/potty.
 
 
 
 
 Austin

[Turn Key]

 AustinBoston
I d say you should send this to Reader s Digest but I don t think they would understand.  First rate![]

[Starcraft Dad]

 AustinBoston
Good story Austin.  I will be taking good care of my PU......just in case.
 
 Expand it a little and it could make movie of the week on the Sci-Fi channel.   Hmmmm.....
 " Attack of the Killer Camper." []

[Miller Tyme]

 AustinBoston
Sounds like someone s been reading too much Stephen King....[]

[birol]

 AustinBoston
I am not buying a PU, period !

[AustinBoston]

 birol

ORIGINAL:  birol
 I am not buying a PU, period !
 

 This could just as easily been written about a tent.[]
 
 Austin (ducking)

[tlhdoc]

 AustinBoston
Now I am worried, I didn t mop the floor in the PU when we were done camping last weekend.  I did buy new rugs for it though.
 
 Why did it have to get the dog[], the poor little dog.

[birol]

 AustinBoston

 

ORIGINAL:  AustinBoston
 
 

ORIGINAL:  birol
 I am not buying a PU, period !
 

 This could just as easily been written about a tent.[]
 
 Austin (ducking)
 

 AB, the tent is on its way to you fedex overnight ! I am keeping the grills, I can use them at home too !
 
 
 [8D]

[MommaMia]

 AustinBoston
We have 2 girls and a dog.  If I ever read them this by the campfire, they d never use the potty again!!  It would be lots of trips in the middle of the nights to the bath house for me!!!  Now THAT S scary!!!