Luckily we’d each brought a tent. We both knew that we’d have to sneak to make love while camping with a few dozen co workers after a late night end of the year party, so individual accommodations were necessary, at least for show. But as it turned out an argument changed the course of the evening anyway; one silent for the most part, but vicious.
It was near dawn when the scratching woke me, still too
dark to decipher shadow. Scritch, scritch. The outside of the tent moved
inward with each stroke. She wanted to have sex after all. Much too
late in my mind. She’d tossed off an insult that would take more than a
few hours to make its way through my self esteem’s digestive tract.
“Hey, I’m not in the mood” I whispered. “Please not now!”
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
She never did listen to me, and now it was becoming annoying.
“Hey I said! Go away! I don’t want what you’re selling!”
I was still being careful with my volume, though my voice was breaking through the hiss.
Scritch scritch scritch.
The last straw.
“Dammit I’m not having sex with you tonight so get the hell back to your own tent and stop bothering me!” I shouted.
raccoon jumped at the sound of my voice, his claws embedded into the
fabric of my shelter, tearing open the right side of my house as if it
were a set of curtains. After a few minutes of entanglement and a dozen
claw swipes at my face, only a few of which connected, the fat little
impostor took off for the woods.
“Who aren’t you having sex with
tonight exactly” asked my boss who was now dressed and standing next to
the shambles I called home. The giggling was deafening. The entire camp
was awake and scrambling to write down the quote for Monday morning
water cooler recall.