3WW #32

Welcome to Three Word Wednesday.

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn’t have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I’ll also attempt to write something using the same three words.

Leave a comment if you participate.

This week’s words are:
Pitch
Exit
Low

Keith stopped his late 70’s model lime green Ford truck beside the campground office and looked over at me.

“You got any money?” he asked.

“How much?” I said, reaching for my wallet.

“Well, it’s ten dollars per night.”

“Here’s my half.” I held out a five.

“Uh. Do you have anymore? I’m kinda low on cash.”

I rolled my eyes and handed him a twenty. Short on cash. That was so Keith. I was just thankful we were at a place with few opportunities to spend money. He went in to pay.

He was donning a white safari hat and had been talking up this camping trip all week. The bed of the truck was loaded to the top with every imaginable supply, snack food, and piece of camping equipment. Or so I thought. Even though we were only staying one night.

“Lot seventeen,” he said smiling as he climbed back into the truck. We found our lot about three-quarters of a mile around the loop. The last rays of sunlight were filtering down thru the trees as we got out of the truck.

“Alright. Let’s pitch the tent.” I said, clapping my hands then rubbing them together.

“There’s not a tent,” Keith replied, matter-of-factly, never looking up as he began getting the sleeping bags out of the truck.

“Excuse me?” I was stunned.

“Naw, we don’t need a tent. We’ll just use sleeping bags and build a nice campfire.”

“You said you bought a tent.”

“I did. I got it a yard sale and it wound up not having the poles,” he confessed, much too late as usual.

“Well that’s just great!” I was agitated.

“Come on, it’s no big deal. We’ll rough it. Don’t be a wimp.”

“What if it rains?”

“It’s not gonna rain.”

“But what if it does?” I persisted.

“Well… we’ll sleep in the truck.” Keith always had a solution for every problem, although rarely were any of them very good.

“I’m not sleeping in the truck!” I tried to sound adamant.

“Well it’s not gonna rain.” Keith walked towards me and began spraying me down with Off!

“What are you doing!?” I asked, holding my arms up and backing away.

“Keeps the mosquitoes off. My Mom makes me bring it.”

“Oh, yeah. We’re roughing it alright.”

I guess it was about forty-five minutes before the rain began. Just enough time for us to have our sleeping bags out, a Coleman lantern lit, and get a nice little fire going. The rain became heavy almost immediately.

“That’s it!” I stood up, grabbed my sleeping bag and headed straight for the truck. “I saw a Sleep Inn back at the exit. Let’s go!”

Keith scrambled to collect his things. We put what we could in the cab of the truck, then secured the tarp over the rest. It was a soaking rain. We were both soundly drenched. I withstood his pleas to wait out the storm. A few loud rumbles of thunder hurt his case and we started back towards the interstate.

The hotel was about a twenty minute drive. It was raining there, too. We walked into the lobby. Reaching for my wallet, I turned to Keith.

“Uh, you can probably take off the safari hat now, Captain Camper.”

“The weather’s gonna be fine. Today’s the day I’m going camping. I’m gonna pitch me a tent. Won’t have to pay any rent…”