Nostalgia
More nostalgia
by , 12-19-2009 at 12:52 AM (1532 Views)
Sometimes bets can go a little far. Throw in someone who demands payment for a bet won, and things can get disastrous. Ross was a vegetarian, and somewhere along the line he bet Brittany and Kelli that they couldn't do a month of vegetarianism. Kelli held out- Brittany didn't. The end of low season was drawing closer, and out of the blue one night after a few beers, Ross shouted that Brittany had two days to pay him back for the lost bet. Brittany stared at him like she wanted to kick him in the balls, but the crowd began excitedly shuffling towards the kitchen. I followed, not knowing what exactly was transpiring until we had all fifteen or sixteen people left packed into the kitchen. Ross began stripping down to his boxers, and Kelli came running in with a gallon jug of Ranch dressing. Ross laid down on the counter, and Kelli upended the jug onto his chest, smearing it around with a spatula.
"If anyone takes a video of this, I'll kill them," Brittany threatened. Still, I saw John hiding his phone behind his back. He gave me a wink, and turned back to the activity.
It didn't take me too long to figure out just what the bet was: if Brittany couldn't do a month of vegetarian, she had to lick Ranch dressing off of Ross's nipples. As it turned out, the Ranch was spoiled.
Nestled amongst the big round bales, the six of us stared up at the clear August sky. John, with his pitcher of gin and tonic, passing a cigarette back and forth with Sarah, Bear sleeping in his awkwardly human poses, Brad silently mulling things over like usual, and Hillary yacking about absolutely nothing, like usual. A meteor streaked across the sky, making Hillary gasp out loud and talk for a minute and a half straight about how awesome it was. I let out a huge yawn and fought back against whatever was making my eyelids weigh so much.
"Skinny, why don't you go to bed?" Sarah asked.
"I dunno. Don't want to, I guess," I replied. The real reason was because I didn't want to miss a minute of the remaining hours I had with them, my summer family. Already, people were packing up to leave and go back to the real world. Wasting time was not an option, knowing I would never see most of them again.
Hillary finally got tired of the lack of interaction and left, leaving the rest of us in a happy silence. We just laid there, all tangled up in a mess of sweatshirts, coats, blankets and limbs. John blew a few smoke rings and we watched them hang in the cold mountain air. Another meteor flashed from the heavens, leaving behind a trail of wonder and awe. The silence was only highlighted by the faint echo of a pack of coyotes howling somewhere out in the big, dark land.
The moon peeked out from behind the big cottonwood, throwing a blue haze over everything. John began singing little diddies that he'd written over the summer, and my eyes finally began drifting closed as he sang a tale of a drunken Irishman who fell asleep in the bushes and woke up with a bow tied on his . . . yeah.
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