On a Honeymoon, Three is a Crowd

Photo courtesy of Voodooangel

The first morning of our honeymoon contained all the perfect ingredients of a traditional backwoods, hack-and-slash horror movie. It was all courtesy of a guy named Dale. Who is Dale? Or perhaps more importantly, what is a Dale? These are all valid questions I’ll get to in a moment.

The morning, a Monday, began with Christine and I awaking to the sweet and serene sounds of nature. The birds were chirping, the bees were buzzing and far off in the distance some idiot was using a chainsaw or a Bush Hog — I couldn’t tell which, but neither made me incredibly optimistic.

After brewing some coffee I immediately attempted to use my persuasive good looks to get a point across to Christine that I had something on my mind. It was, after all, our honey moon. Christine shot me a look back as if to suggest she had something on her mind, too.

Unfortunately, our two looks did not share that much in common as it turned out, which was why I soon found myself in the outdoor hot tub alone as Christine showered and got ready for a day of sight-seeing.

Despite the grotesque and disturbing picture that’s about ready to pop into your head in (5) a second (4) it’s important (3) to inform you (2) I was (1) naked in the hot tub with cigarette in one hand and a cup of Joe in the other. The reason was simple: we were miles away from the prying eyes of society.

Or so we thought.

Let us pretend there is a checklist for individuals they can use in order to find out whether or not they are about to be murdered by a serial killer. Newlyweds? Check! Remote cabin in the woods. Check! Lovers separated, vulnerable and totally naked? Double check!

The only thing missing from the equation was a strange and mysterious loner rummaging about in the woods nearby.

At first I thought my eyes were deceiving me. This subject, which later turned out being the aforementioned Dale, stopped in his tracks, produced a digital camera and began taking candid snapshots of the surroundings after ducking down in the underbrush.

Do you know that point in a scary movie where you are yelling at the moronic, soon-to-be-butchered victim because he or she is exhibiting incredibly poor judgment? Like answering the door when everybody already knows the chainsaw-wielding maniac is on the other side. Or how a helpless blonde bombshell keeps falling down when the killer is chasing her?

Well, that was me.

I froze in terror. I didn’t want to run butt-naked back inside because I didn’t want anybody to see me disrobed. Then my survival instinct kicked into gear. I realized that if given a choice between a stranger spotting me in the buff and being gutted in a hot tub was no choice at all. It was a compromise to my integrity that I was more than willing to accommodate.

I bolted for the back screen door in my birthday suit and ran into the bathroom. I slipped and came to a skidding halt near the shower. Christine was shocked, but I tried to remain calm.

“I don’t want to alarm you, but we’re both about to die,” I screamed. “There is a guy outside creeping about!”

Christine started screaming.

And then a knock came at the front door.

“You get it,” I whispered.

“You get it,” she whispered back, hitting me. “You took a vow.”

“I didn’t think the whole ‘until death do us part’ thing would come so soon,” I said, throwing on a pair of sweat pants. “Did you?”

I opened the front door slowly and was face-to-face with a man in a plaid suit that was carrying an ink pen and a clipboard.

“Hello, my name is Dale and I am an insurance investigator,” he said. “I could tell I startled you around back and thought I would explain. I’m documenting damage from a recent storm. I hope I didn’t startle the two of you.”

“What can I say, Dale?” I replied. “You scared the pants right off of me.”

Enhanced by Zemanta

Chuck Briese, Oak Ridge Now

[avatar user="cbriese" size="thumbnail" align="left"] Chuck Briese has been a resident of South Montgomery County since 1988. He and his lovely and patient wife, Leslie, have six sons, with only one left to finish high school. Chuck has been a Cub Scout leader, a Little League baseball coach, a church youth leader, and a general troublemaker over the course of the past 25 years. He is obsessed with his lawn, and likes restaurants that serve food that fills up the plate. He has a tendency to tilt at windmills, which may explain why he started Oak Ridge Now.

More Posts - Website