We'll Never Run out of Cretins

Don't people teach their children to refrain from talking to strangers anymore? Maybe the fact that I'm an older woman causes me to not be perceived as a danger. I guess I'm not...but maybe I should work on my image.

I went camping this weekend. No big deal...just a quiet little getaway at a lake in Northern Mississippi. So, I started unloading my gear, and these two little skin-headed boys on bikes ride up, ditch their bikes and start peering into the trunk of my car.

"Whur's yer trailer? Or maybe you're just here to fish?" (That's pronounced "feee-ush.")

"I am here to camp, and I don't have a trailer. I have a tent."

"Whut's a tee-yunt?" What kind of kid does not know about tents? "Ya wont us to show ya thuh trail (tray-yul) to thuh lake?"

(I'm hearing banjos tuning in the background at this point.)

"No. I'm very busy right now. I think I hear your mother calling."

It worked! They took off for their campsite and stayed there the rest of the evening. Blessed solitude.

However, early the next morning, I was walking around, taking photos of various aspects of the campground, to be used in a report I plan to prepare for the online camping group of which I'm a member.

"Whutchya doin'? Walkin' 'round takin' pichurs?" The kid's a freaking genius!

"Yes, that's exactly what I am doing."

"Whatchur doin' THAT fer?" I ignored the question. He continued to follow me toward the bathroom/shower house.

"Y'ain't gonna get no pichurs in thay-er. N'less yur gonna USE it."

What the hell did he mean by THAT? I guess he figured I could either use it or "take a pichur." And why did he care, anyway?

Of course, they were waiting for me when I emerged from the shower room. I'm amazed they didn't join me!

"Why'd ya go in both of them rooms? Didya use both of 'em?"

I'm in full "Ignore" mode right now. It does no good.

"Y'ont me ta show ya thuh tray-ul to thuh lake?"

Ignore...ignore...ignore....

Finally, sensing that they were to get no further attention or interaction from me, they rode off on their bikes, comparing how badly each of them had hurt their "weenies" on their bikes' support bars. How does one win that contest?

This morning, as I was loading up, I nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice came up from behind....

"Whutchya doin?"

"I'm loading my car."

"Ya goin' home?"

"Yes."

"Whur do ya live?"

"Why do you need to know?" He ignored my question. I felt sure it would cause him to actually THINK, which would keep him busy for a few minutes. Not so.

"Ah live in Pottsboro. It's a long way away."

"That's nice. Do you play the banjo there?"

As I drove away, I watched in the rearview mirror while he scratched his bristly little head, trying to figure out what a banjo is, I'm sure.

Make that "bayun-joe."