Chapter 4

By the end of the week, everyone in the Eppes clan was in unanimous agreement: they couldn't wait to set up camp in Yogi Bear Jellystone Park. The adults were even more excited about it than the kids. At last, the great mysteries of Larry Fleinhart would be revealed. He'd promised them as much, and they weren't about to let him forget it.

Alan's old Cross-Country Lite motorhome rumbled into a deluxe, full-hookup campsite Friday evening. After Don and Charlie unloaded their respective minivans, they helped their father get everything operational while their wives and kids enjoyed a dip in the resort's heated pool.

"You gonna join them at the pool, Larry?" Don asked as he cranked open the canopy.

"I… was considering it… but I'd have to pass by… all of those…" Terrified, Larry pointed at a squirrel crossing their path.

"Huh?" Don did a double-take. "You talking about that squirrel?"

"Shh," Larry warned. "Don't say their name! They're always listening!"

"Right…" Don widened his eyes, walking away without further comment. As he rounded the RV, he found Charlie shaking out the rugs. "Hey, have you noticed your old pal seems to keep getting stranger?"

Charlie winced. "Why are you blaming me for it?"

"I don't know, you've known him the longest. Spent the most time with him. Can't you get him to act halfway normal?"

"If I could, don't you think I would have by now?" his younger brother begged.

"Just… try to think of something. Anything."

Dinner was a mouth-watering array of grilled meats, making for a picturesque spread alongside fruit salad, potato salad, and corn on the cob. Everyone extolled Alan's cooking efforts – everyone except Larry, who crouched over an empty hamburger bun and one scoop of potato salad, from which he meticulously plucked every diced celery piece.

"Oh, how I wish my stomach had more room for this food!" lamented Robin. "I haven't been able to fit a full meal in there since my second trimester."

"Just one more month," Don rubbed her back affectionately.

"Counting down the days," she sighed, smiling wanly. "I have to say, this was a nice idea you had, Larry. Camping before the next babies come."

"It's been… how long since we last camped together?" wondered Don.

"I think since before little Larry was born," Charlie answered.

"Awfully good timing, Larry," Amita added, smiling. "Coming back just in time to arrange this. Good thing Robin's kids are never born early."

"Uh-oh," muttered Alan. "Careful. You might jinx things."

Robin rolled her eyes. "Please. They're always late inductions, Alan."

"Ahh, that's enough! Say no more!" Alan raised his hands. Everyone chuckled and gradually began clearing the picnic table.

And by the time the last paper plate got tossed in the trash, Larry had somehow disappeared.

They split up, searching the pool, bathhouse, and putt-putt mini golf areas. They stopped every campground employee to ask if they'd seen him, but no one had. At Charlie's suggestion, they even searched the under-chassis RV storage compartments. After two hours of tireless looking, they all returned to the campsite, stunned and exhausted.

"What do we do? Report him missing?" Amita asked, lowering herself into a camp chair with a sigh.

"How? He's listed as deceased," Don pointed out. "No one will authorize a search party for a dead man."

"Can't you talk to David? Maybe he could get the records changed?" Robin proposed.

"Even if I could get a hold of him, the records department is closed for the weekend. They don't have on-call staff."

Everyone stared at the glimmering campfire, feeling defeated. They'd tried everything they could tonight, and staying awake wringing their hands wouldn't serve any purpose. Robin was the first to come to such terms, tucking the kids into bed and falling asleep herself soon after. Everyone else followed within the hour, and a fitful night of rest ensued.

A nervous bunch of Eppes campers emerged the next morning, tiptoeing around in the early morning light. As if moving cautiously would somehow make Larry materialize. It was irrational, yet they all must have subconsciously believed it.

Cautious or not, they all needed to eat, so Alan lit the grill for a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. Halfway through stirring the eggs, he noticed something in the corner of his eye. Looking up, he staggered backward with a yelp.

"Don, Charlie! Come look at this!"

The two men shuffled over to the grill, where Alan was pointing at the side of the RV. Over the camper's "Cross-Country Lite" name was spray-painted the word "JUMBO."

"When did that happen?" Don huffed.

"Must've been last night!" said Alan, who ran around to the back. "Look, it's on this side too – it says GUZZLER!"

"Better check the left side," Charlie led the way. Sure enough, "SLUGGISH" was the final word to garishly greet them.

"What the…? Why would anyone do this?" Don sputtered.

"I don't care about why, I only care about who!" Alan cried. "If I find the delinquent who did this, they're paying for a full exterior paint restoration!"

Charlie shook his head. "But how will we ever know who did it?"

Just then, whistling the tune of "Pop-Eye the Sailor Man," Larry Fleinhart sauntered into their midst, a tan duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The three Eppes men stared in mute shock. He looked no worse for wear, it would appear. Not a hair on his head seemed out of place. It looked as though he'd just come straight from the beach.

And judging by the five fish dangling from his hand, that was apparently where he'd just been.

"Larry!" cried Charlie, feeling much like he had a week ago. "You're all right!"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You… you vanished after dinner last night, and we looked everywhere for you!"

Larry paused, tilting his head. "Well, not everywhere, apparently."

"Listen to this guy's attitude!" Charlie said incredulously. "He goes missing, again, and still acts like it's no big deal."

"That's Larry Fleinhart," shrugged Alan. "Gives us another chance to celebrate, I guess!"

Robin and Amita were viscerally relieved to see their husbands escort Larry back into camp, though they all remained frustrated by his lack of explanation. His fish were added to the breakfast fare and soon enough, everyone went back to enjoying their vacation.

At least, they tried to. Larry kept making it oddly difficult.

Shortly after breakfast, Larry grabbed a camp chair, placed it at the base of the nearest tree trunk, and pulled a full-size bear trap from his duffel bag. Cranking it open 90 degrees, he set it squarely in the middle of the seat.

Not surprisingly, the children were all drawn to the odd contraption, especially the boys. Robin and Amita yanked them away before they got too close.

"Good call ladies," Larry commended. "That chair's just not safe."

The two women shared horrified looks, dragging the kids inside the camper to watch some TV.

Robin watched Larry through the camper's venetian blinds. "Is that the same duffel bag he came here with?" she asked her sister-in-law.

"I don't remember him packing a duffel bag at all," Amita said with concern.

"Wait here," Robin told her, heading out to find Don. She found him gathering his fishing gear along with Charlie and Alan.

"Headed to the lake?" she asked the obvious.

"Yeah, we figure if Larry had good luck earlier, it's worth a shot," he replied. Then he noticed the worry in her eyes. "What's the matter?"

"Larry's bag… try to look through it," was all she managed to say before Larry came within earshot. "Amita and I will take the kids to the playground. Have fun!"

Watching her go, Don swallowed uneasily. Look through Larry's bag… he wasn't sure the opportunity would arise, but he'd try his best.

As luck would have it, a haphazard opportunity came along when none of them expected it.

"Everyone ready?" Larry asked, fishing pole in one hand and tackle box in the other.

"Ready," Alan answered for all of them.

"Right, let's… oops, let me just grab this too," Larry fumbled his things, reaching for the duffel bag. But too many objects and not enough fingers led to the inevitable: down fell the bag, whose partially-open zipper snagged the corner of the picnic table at just the right angle. And out fell an assortment of objects one would be hard-pressed to describe.

Don and Alan watched as a hacksaw, shoe horn, bag of jalapeno spicy peanuts, rolling pin, "How to Potty-Train Your Guinea Pig" book, ballet slippers, cherry-flavored lip gloss, VHS copy of "Crossroads," Rock Star energy drink, Miley Cyrus CD, and pair of fuzzy slippers scattered across the ground.

But two objects in particular drew their attention most: a dark gray can of spray paint, and a thermos labeled "This container transports a disease that has no cure."

"Oops, clumsy me," Larry scurried to collect the menagerie.

Alan snatched the spray paint before Larry could reach it. "Excuse me Larry, but do you have something you'd like to confess?"

"Forget about that, dad – see the label on that thermos?" Don pointed at it with his fishing pole, afraid to go near it.

Larry smacked his forehead. "Jeesh, how did my Aunt Gladys' things get mixed in here?"

"Uh-huh, Aunt Gladys, sure…" Alan's temper started to rise. "What do you say we compare this paint color to the words defacing my motorhome?"

Larry offered a nervous laugh. "Haha, come on guys, time's a-wasting! Those fish won't wait around all day!"

Without waiting for their responses, Larry promptly bolted off toward the lake, dropping his spicy peanuts and "Crossroads" VHS on the way. Moments later, they were crushed by a thirty-foot travel trailer driving through.

Many more laughs at Larry's expense are still coming :D