Dean's Damned Westy

“Where is the fucking chainsaw?” Tex says, slamming a large wooden box marked 'T'.

“'T' for tool, right? Isn't the chainsaw a tool?” Tex opens another box, then quickly slams it closed.

“Listen,” Says Derek, a smirk on his face. “what ya hear?”

Off in the distance, but plain as day, we could hear the destructive drone of a chainsaw.

“Fuck off, I didn't hear it at first, I was afraid that we weren't packed one.” Tex trudges off, head down, mumbling. That whole punchline of a joke thing, sucks.

“Don't worry about him, he really shouldn't be allowed to play with a chainsaw, he'd probably lose a limb.” Says Derek, still smirking. Tex, hearing this, flips Derek the bird.

“OK boys, wanna help me put up a dry shack?” Asks Derek.

“Sure.” Says Ed; “You bet.” says I.

Derek, Ed and I quickly lay out a square white (well, it used to be white, now more of a gray-brown) tent.

“What do we use as posts?” I ask, looking around.

“We are in the woods, we have billions of posts. All we need for this tent are 4 corner posts which are about 7 feet tall and a center post that is about 10 feet tall. Curt has been knocking down trees all morning, he should have a good pile of stuff junked up by now.” Derek points to a pile of slash not far from where the bus was parked. I head that way.

Halfway across camp I meet Leeann and Sylvie, they are rather smitten, it would seem, with Dean's Westfalia. Please say it's his Westy they like, not Dean. I mean look at him, he has douchebag written all over him. Ugh, that shit-eating grin. I wave at Leeann, I stay cool. Try not to let the girls sense your awkwardness, your fear, your silly jealousy.

“Isn't this an awesome bus? I have one back home. I wanted to bring it, but my dad freaked out, saying that the woods roads would wreck all the work we had done to it. I miss my bus, man, sleeping in it would be way more comfortable than on the ground in a tent.” Leeann says, arm and arm with Sylvie.

They are the picture of hippy perfection. I want to have them both then and there. Composure Joe, they can sense weakness. Head down, focus. A witty remark, then back to work. Don't blow it, especially not here, not in the presence of the ladies and Dean. Fuck Dean, fuck his ratty old Westy.

“I bet your bus thanks you" I say, blushing, God please don't stutter, "I don't imagine she'd have much liked that ride in. I gotta get some posts for the dry shack. Talk to you all later.”

Dean knows I have lost this round, I can see it in his eyes, he is getting cocky. The dude with the coolest car always gets the girl, even if the car is a '74 Westfalia, with a cooked transmission and a suspension system that is about to fall off. Fuck Dean. Head down, go get the wood. She is only a girl, there will be lots of girls.