We spent a lot of time ignoring those triple-SI signs. Somewhere in the backs of our minds we knew what they meant, or their significance, rather, but felt, as self-righteous teenagers who wanted a quiet place to sit together and drink, that the restrictions didn’t apply to us.
This self-judged exemption gave us many amazing nights out there as we unwittingly disturbed the habitats of rare creatures and plants through trampling and littering.
There was one night in particular, though strangely not our last, that stands out.
We were drinking and smoking around a small pool in a slight divot some 200 metres from the layby. Often we’d camp here for the evening, believing that any light or sound we generated would be shielded by this natural feature. Later we would find out this wasn't always the case when our children were caught there and we realised how lucky we had been. Or, perhaps, how foolhardy. After that night there was always a little more security on the perimeters. We probably caused our own children’s capture.
Anyway.
At around the point when we were drunk enough to think it wasn’t real but not so drunk that we didn’t realise it was happening, someone finished a can of lager, crushed the empty in his hand and threw it into the pool. It floated for a few seconds and then it suddenly disappeared below the surface leaving only a few bubbles.
A moment or two later a five foot green body jumped out of the pool and landed in an angry stance pointing at us shocked drunkards. “What is this?” he hissed, shaking the can in his other hand.
“A beer can, num nuts,” said Barry in his dur voice.
“Well I don’t want it,” the creature screeched and threw at his head. “I’m supposed to be protected by your government, I shouldn’t be woken by loud cretins throwing tins at my bed chamber!”
As he said all this, Barry’s face had turned from one of gormless happiness to pure anger. Barry was always the loose cannon of the group, the idiot who could easily ruin everything. But he was our idiot and we loved him.
We hadn’t known until then that he had a gun, though. He removed it from his coat pocket and shot the creature clean through the head. “Fucking idiot won’t tell me what to do.”
“No, Barry. None of us will. Ever.” I said and we all remained quiet while Barry walked forward and returned the creature to where it had come from. Once it was gone from sight we carried on partying as if nothing had ever happened.
And we kept going back there and drinking at the same spot despite the rumours of the army removing an alien body. I’m pretty sure we all thought that it hadn’t been real. Certainly Barry never pulled a gun ever again. And none of us ever asked him about it, either.
This self-judged exemption gave us many amazing nights out there as we unwittingly disturbed the habitats of rare creatures and plants through trampling and littering.
There was one night in particular, though strangely not our last, that stands out.
We were drinking and smoking around a small pool in a slight divot some 200 metres from the layby. Often we’d camp here for the evening, believing that any light or sound we generated would be shielded by this natural feature. Later we would find out this wasn't always the case when our children were caught there and we realised how lucky we had been. Or, perhaps, how foolhardy. After that night there was always a little more security on the perimeters. We probably caused our own children’s capture.
Anyway.
At around the point when we were drunk enough to think it wasn’t real but not so drunk that we didn’t realise it was happening, someone finished a can of lager, crushed the empty in his hand and threw it into the pool. It floated for a few seconds and then it suddenly disappeared below the surface leaving only a few bubbles.
A moment or two later a five foot green body jumped out of the pool and landed in an angry stance pointing at us shocked drunkards. “What is this?” he hissed, shaking the can in his other hand.
“A beer can, num nuts,” said Barry in his dur voice.
“Well I don’t want it,” the creature screeched and threw at his head. “I’m supposed to be protected by your government, I shouldn’t be woken by loud cretins throwing tins at my bed chamber!”
As he said all this, Barry’s face had turned from one of gormless happiness to pure anger. Barry was always the loose cannon of the group, the idiot who could easily ruin everything. But he was our idiot and we loved him.
We hadn’t known until then that he had a gun, though. He removed it from his coat pocket and shot the creature clean through the head. “Fucking idiot won’t tell me what to do.”
“No, Barry. None of us will. Ever.” I said and we all remained quiet while Barry walked forward and returned the creature to where it had come from. Once it was gone from sight we carried on partying as if nothing had ever happened.
And we kept going back there and drinking at the same spot despite the rumours of the army removing an alien body. I’m pretty sure we all thought that it hadn’t been real. Certainly Barry never pulled a gun ever again. And none of us ever asked him about it, either.
Written for the Light and Shade Challenge from the following picture prompt:
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