Well, Bubba thought he’d made our shelter on level ground, I’d used the same spot because of a lack of time, but he hadn’t. About an hour after he’d fallen asleep I noticed small rivers of water running between my legs as I proofread one of my latest western novels. Quickly glancing around, I saw the water from the hillside behind us was cutting into the loose sandy soil and the overflow was running right under our shelter. The hail had stopped, but the rain was still coming down in buckets. I could have got up and dug a shallow trench around the shelter to keep the water out, but I didn’t. Instead I went back to my reading, after all the water was warm.
“Help me! I’m drownin’!” I heard a scream and then a cough from beside me a few minutes later and when I looked over Bubba’s head had fallen from the log and his face was in the water.
I reached down, grabbed the back of his dirty shirt and lifted his face from the water, “Bubba, you ain’t in no danger of drownin’.”
“I could have. I read someplace it only takes a teaspoon of water to drown a feller.” He stated as he sat up, and I wondered where he’d ever read anything.
“And, I read someplace you can tread water for days out in the ocean . . . so what?” I put a bookmark in my book and closed it, placing it in my backpack.
“How come you didn’t dig no trench around the shelter? That’s what I would have done?”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Heck fire, I was a sleepin’.”
“I was readin’.”
Many long minutes passed in complete silence, which in itself is very unusual when Bubba is around. The rain continued to beat a steady tattoo on the taunt canvas overhead. I watched the water strike the mud puddles in front of our shelter and as the norm; I love to see the strength of a good summer storm.
I was feeling very serene and relaxed when I heard Bubba say, “Look, this has turned out to be a bad time to camp. What ya say we swing by the store, get a six pack of cola’s, some pork rinds and head over to my house to watch some wrestlin’ on the television?”
I gave it thought for a few minutes and then replied, “Ok, Bubba, if you want to do that. But, when are we goin’ on our summer campin’ trip?”
He removed his Lortz Feedlot and Bridle Gifts cap, scratched his bald head and said, “How ‘bout next weekend? But, this time you bring the tent.”
I gave an inner chuckle, smiled and replied, “Sure Bubba, sure. As soon as this rain lets up we’ll leave.”
Late the next afternoon we were home.
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