Mushroom Hunt

Mushroom Hunt

What the Hell Were We Thinking?

     The sound of the shotgun blast made cry out like a little girl.  Without thinking, we ran as fast as we could to get back to the truck.  Tyler jumped into the driver side and I wasting no time leaping into the bed, where I banged my knee with such force I was sure that it was broken.  Tyler started the engine and floored spewing gravel and rocks behind us.  After a minute or so Tyler somehow managed to keep the truck under control until we finally hit the black-top of the main highway.  I kept low in the bed of the truck for fear of getting my head blown off. Tyler started to calm down when he realized that we were not being followed. Realizing that the danger had passed, I pick my head up and tried to crawl to the back window where I tapped on the glass to remind Tyler that I was back there.

“Stop the truck!”

Tyler eased off the gas and started to press the brake until eventually the truck came to a stop.  I climbed out of the bed and limped to the passenger side where I opened the door and climbed in as quickly as I could.

“Go!” “Fucking drive!” I said, my voice a couple of octaves higher than a man should have.

Tyler pressed the accelerator to the floor; the truck lurched forward, causing me to jolt back into the seat.  We drove for another few minutes before I finally spoke. “Fucking Christ!” “We almost died.” I said angrily.  “A couple of fucking rednecks tried to kill us.”

“Well”, Tyler said, “this is Georgia, they take trespassing very seriously down here.”

“Really?”  “I can see the headline now.”  Two Yankees were shot and killed at Farmer Rednecks property looking for cow shit”

“Mushrooms Bunkie, we were looking for mushrooms.” “Besides, that is way too long for a headline.” “And they weren’t going to kill us; they only wanted to scare us.”

“Well, it worked, I think I shit my pants.”

“Really?”

“No dumbass, but I came close.” “Fuck!” “I think I shattered my kneecap, I can’t even bend the fucking thing.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No.” “But I do need a fucking drink.”

“There should be a bottle of Captain Morgan behind the seat.”

I reached behind my seat feeling around for the bottle, finding it; I screwed of the cap and took a long drink.”  I put my head back and tried to calm my nerves. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“What?” Tyler said, now chuckling. “It was a good chance for us to make a little money, and party.” “How was I supposed to know about farmer redneck and the shotgun?”

At this moment, I broke out into laughter. “Well except for my knee, this whole is kind of funny.”

“Alright Bunkie, stop hogging the bottle, pass it over.” I handed the bottle to Tyler; who, with shaking hands, grabbed it and took a drink.

“This trip has been a fucking freak-show!” “First was that psycho hitchhiking chick you picked up in Virginia.”

“How was I to know she was crazy?”

Next, was the Special Olympics volley ball team in Savannah, not to mention, your drug addled college friends.” “Jesus Christ, I never thought I would miss New Jersey.”

“Take it easy Bunkie, think of it like this, in twenty-five years you’ll probably write a story about it” Tyler added; “I would leave out the part about you shitting your pants though.”

“I didn’t shit my pants.” I can see it now, as soon as we get back home, Tyler will take great joy in telling everyone that I shit my pants.

“Well Bunk, I thought we would look for another pasture.” “It’s still kind of early, we can’t give up yet.”

“You have got to be kidding me; I am done hunting for cow shit for one night.” “I want to find mushrooms too, but the shit isn’t worth dying over.”

“We’ll head back to the college and see if there’s anything going on there.”

“Let’s try and finding something else to do. Something that won’t get us killed.”

“Fine.” “I will figure something out.”

Tyler and I passed the bottle back and forth without speaking.  Each was trying to get a grip on what had transpired.

After twenty minutes of driving, I asked.

“Jesus Christ Tyler, are you lost?”

“No.” “Why?”

“It feels like we have been driving forever.”

“Hey, look, there’s a place up the road.”  Tyler said, “Looks like it’s a happening place.”

“Really?”  “Come on.” “Look at all the pick-up trucks, it looks like redneck heaven.” The only thing missing is a Clan rally.”

“Don’t worry about it Bunk.”  “They’re probably just a bunch of good ol boys.”

“Yeah, like the ones who shot at us?” “We should take a pass on this place.”

“Look, we’ll have one beer, and then we will leave.”

“With our luck, we will probably get lynched.”

“No.” “They don’t lynch white people down here.”

“Tyler; we are from New Jersey; they will lynch us.”

“Well then; don’t act like a Northerner.”

“Easier said than done; “How am I going to explain my grammar, hygiene and full set of teeth?”

“Your grammar isn’t that good Bunkie.”

“Well, you’re no William James.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

“I am stopping.”

“Fine; This should be interesting…

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About Robert Elbertson

Welcome to my page. I'm a middle aged man, who smokes too much and drinks too much. I like to pretend that I'm a writer. I'm certain, that as you read my posts, that you will find that I am not. No matter. Feel free to read, comment, give feedback, good or bad, serious critiquing will be appreciated. The only way I can get better, is to receive feedback on what I write. I really don't care if you feel the need to be harsh. I deal with assholes on a daily basis. But, if the criticism is intended to help me get better, then I am all for it. I am looking forward to this new venture. Thank you for your time. View all posts by Robert Elbertson

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