Chapter 2

“Fuck CUNTS-VILLE, and FUCK MADISON CUNTY, WOO-EEEH!” Misty shouted as we got on the highway 65 leading out of Huntsville. The girls were so brazen, so rude, and so cute. I was smitten and shocked at the same time.

Her older sister agreed and shouted, “CUNTS-VILLE CAN KISS MY ENTIRE ASS!” she stood up in her seat, and pulled her jeans down with her panties revealing her ass-crack for a split second to me. It reminded me of the cleavage of twin bosoms pressed together. She was in motion, and I only had a chance to get a quick look.

She stuck her ass out of the window and left it there while hooting and hollering for a good while.

“Unless you are dropping a deuce, will you pull your fat ass out of the window before you get us pulled over by some cop?” her mother chided her.

Jen was already pulling her ass back in the window and complied with her mother’s request. She suggested that maybe the cop was a cute hunk. My eldest cousin intimidated me with her blonde hair, pretty face, and blue eyes. She looked like a spoiled princess, but she could be flirty at times, which was a tremendous turn-on. A girl like her would never go for a guy like me.

Even though my cousin was only a little over a year older than me, she was built like an adult woman and had curves. She was cute in the face and tall. She was also technically my cousin, which I knew meant I did not have a chance anyway.

I had chosen to awkwardly lean up against one of the cabinets so that I would be in the main cabin. I could have laid down on the big bed in the back, but then I would have been separated from the others. I could have heard them talking. It just seemed like the right thing to do to remain standing since there were no seats. (It was not easy on bumpy roads/moving fast) so you have to hang on to something. It’s kind of exhausting riding that way.

I was hungry. In the morning, my mom usually prepared me breakfast, even before school. Patty had not even offered me any cereal. I assumed that she would stop for breakfast somewhere along the way, but after we drove crossed the bridge over the Tennessee River just outside of Whitesburg, I realized that we probably wouldn’t.

None of the girls had eaten breakfast. That puzzled me. I typically take a shower first thing in the morning, but no one had taken a shower, and so I hadn’t asked if I could take one.

“Can I take a shower?” I finally asked because I felt gross and needed to get back to something of my normal routine. I was feeling uncomfortable without one. It might be refreshing and offer me a little normative stability. I was in a whole new environment with people that I barely knew (even though they were family), completely out of my element. A shower would help center me from all the chaos of being in a different place.

The girls and their mother laughed like I was joking.

“You can’t take a shower while the Winnie is in motion, dipwad,” Hope sneered at me – even though she was a non-verbal cat. She broke character to be “catty” with me.

“You can, but you better bring bottled water because what comes out of that line looks like poop and smells like it, too,” Misty added.

I had no idea. I assumed the Winnie was a home on wheels. I think I said words to that effect, and the girls laughed.

“Truth is, we just got this fucker running. None of us have ever been in it while it was on the road,” Patty admitted. “I had to trade a LOT of ass to finally find one mechanic who wasn’t so full of shit that he needed a diaper change. One guy told me it was a fucking flywheel. How dumb did he think I was?”

I assumed that if I knew something about how engines worked, that question would make sense to me. The problem could obviously not have been a flywheel since it was a head gasket. I was tempted to play along like I knew the difference and would have been able to figure that out. I wisely decided to admit that I had no idea how engines worked.

“Well, you and the other two mechanics have that in common,” Patty smiled and replied to me while looking in the rearview mirror. I was happy that I had chosen the right answer. Pretending to know about cars would have backfired the moment she asked me something about them, and I had no clue.

“It sure would be nice if you knew something about engines because when this tank craps out, we are going to be hitchhiking,” Misty told me.

I was panicked. “Hitchhiking is REALLY dangerous!” I warned her. I had always been told that stalkers would kill hitchhikers.

“I do not think you’ve got to worry about that, sport,” Jen spun around to face me. She splayed her legs apart and let them hang wide. She was wearing jeans, but she had sexy long legs, and that position was sexy to me. “You don’t have anything to trade, so I doubt they’d pick you up.”

“Not true,” Misty held an imaginary penis in her hand. She pretended to suck on it and filled her cheeks with air like a chipmunk. “There could be some gay old men out there that would love a pretty twink like Hunty-Bunny.”Misty gobbled the imaginary cock and choked on it for the amusement of her mom and sister.

I have to admit – “Hunty Bunny” was obviously an insult. I’d never heard that one as a play on my name. It was not entirely unflattering coming from Misty. I secretly enjoyed watching her pretend to gobble a dick even if she was implying that was how I’d have to do it.

“You might come in handy after all, Hunter,” Patty teased and said that if she ran out of Newports that she might trade me for a carton.

The conversation was turning raunchy very quickly. I wasn’t used to hearing anyone talk like this – much less pretty girls and their mothers. I wasn’t sure whether to play along or not, and being naturally shy, I clammed up.

“He’s no fun,” Hope declared after about ten minutes of awkward silence.

“Animal Clinic or Baptist Church?” Aunt Patty asked me.

“Pardon?” I wasn’t sure what she meant. She did not seem like she was jerking.

“I am coming up on Morgan City. There is an animal clinic on the right and a Baptist church on the left. Which one do you want me to drop you off at? You are boring us.”

I was so naïve that I thought that my Aunt was not kidding. “The animal clinic?”

The girls laughed raucously over my unintentional deadpan delivery. “Me too; I want to get some claws grafted in,” Hope bent her fingers like they were claws and held them up as if she were considering installing razor-sharp knives into the tips of her fingers.

I really wanted to know the deal with why Hope was so quirky about animal behaviors, but I was way too shy to ask. Her sister and mom seemed to accept her that way, and so I assumed it was just normal for them. I felt it would be rude to ask.

The sign after the clinic and church read “Mountain Breeze RV Park.”

“What do you say, girls? We’ve been driving for about thirty minutes. What say we say fuck South Dakota and move into Mountain Breeze? I can teach school and we can start our new lives here.”

“How about you sniff my queefy breeze?” Jen lifted a leg and made a farty sound with her lips. As raunchy as that sounds, it was kind of fantastic to watch women be so brazenly disgusting.

Misty bent over, shot a moon to her mother without pulling her pants down, and said that she would rather “Cut the cheese.”

When Hope didn’t say anything, I felt like it was my turn to make a rhyme to say why I didn’t want to go to the first RV park we passed and start a new life. “Heck no, I’d rather have knobby knees!”

It was like you could hear a pin drop. Nobody laughed or said anything. They looked at me like I had just intruded on their inside joke. I felt awkward and ashamed that I had interrupted. I apologized. I think they expected me to say something more vulgar than heck, and I came across like a cornball that was too afraid to cuss – which I kind of was.

“You aren’t going to South Dakota, Sport. I do not think you’d like it anyway,” Jen told me.

I assumed that was because South Dakota had a reputation as a rugged, outdoorsy country area. “I am not a city boy. I live in Mount Pleasant,” I explained. It was more like a suburb of Memphis.

“That’s not why you wouldn’t like it,” Jen replied confidently. She asked, “How many stories is the mansion you live in?”

“It’s not a mansion and just two stories,” I said. I wasn’t trying to brag. We had a five-bedroom house, but that was so that my parents had offices and a craft room. I didn’t make a very good impression with my cousins with my admission, though. I could tell they thought I was a spoiled rich boy. They clearly lived in a rougher neighborhood in a run-down house and might have been a little jealous.

I wasn’t sure how to handle this situation. I’d never been around so much ‘estrogen’ – for lack of a better word. The RV was cramped, and the girls clearly had inside jokes and a way of doing things that made me feel like a total outsider. I felt like an annoying NUISANCE. What made things worse, was that I kept making things worse by sticking my foot in my mouth.

I offered a few qualifiers to try to seem relatable to them. “I go to public school, and I do not get an allowance. I have to do chores just like you,” I explained.

“Probably not JUST like us, Little Lord Butt-Hunter,” Misty regarded me sourly with yet a new insulting nickname to add to the growing list.

“I do not want to get into a comparison contest of who has it worse,” I was getting defensive.

“Good, because you will lose that contest. It’s the one thing we deserve to win,” Hope responded for her sister, but the others agreed. Hope meowed lightly for no apparent reason.

“You have it pretty fucking good,” Patty reminded them that they were no longer in Huntsville or living with “Bob.”

“Hey, I liked Bob. He’s a perverted asshole, but he is predictable,” Jen said.

“You didn’t LIKE Bob,” Misty insisted that her sister was wrong. “You LOATHED him like a turd that gets stuck between your butt cheeks, and the more and more you wiggle, the more it doesn’t come out,” Misty graphically demonstrated by lifting her ass off the seat and wiggling her big butt.It wasn’t that Misty was “Fat” but she was kind of “Healthy” from my perspective – a little chubby.

“Who says I do not like wiggling out a tough to shit out turd?” Jen argued and made a funny face while lifting herself and wiggling the same way as her sister had – although she had a much tighter ass.

I was starting to understand what my Aunt had told me the night before about their relationship. They were fiercely defensive and protective of one another to outsiders. It felt like they were always ganging up on me and in complete solidarity when they teased me. However, they could be brutal when it came to teasing one another and arbitrary when it came to arguing about nothing at all.

It seemed silly to me to discuss whether they hated or loathed the man now, and I felt they were both being facetious anyway.

“Fuck that redneck lizard,” Hope finally ended her sister’s argument with her comment. There was a quiet that settled on the RV.

“Three hundred and fifty more god-damned miles to fucking Panama City, Woot, Woot,” Patty said as he checked her GPS.

The girls cheered and danced a little in their chairs by raising their hands above their heads and bouncing a little.

“Why are you going to Panama when South Dakota is Northwest?” I asked an innocent question.

It was met with derision. Patty explained that the beach is in Panama City and planned to “tan their asses” with some coconuts and pineapples on the “Redneck Riviera” – which was their term for the Panhandle of Florida.

“I thought we were going to South Dakota to get our asses tanned,” Hope joked. I didn’t get the reference. Her mother said she NEEDED her ass tanned. I assumed that she meant spanking but was obviously kidding by using a play on words for getting a suntan on their bottoms.

“I do not have a bathing suit,” I announced. I hadn’t planned to go swimming. I thought I would be in Huntsville all summer. I wouldn’t have wanted to go swimming even if they had a pool. I didn’t really like taking my shirt off in public because I was bony and pale as a sheet.

“Don’t need one,” Patty said very matter-of-factly. “Nudist beach,” she explained.

The girls looked at my stunned and horrified reaction and laughed hard. “You were looking so hard at Hope’s stinker this morning that I thought you’d break your neck. You’re telling me you wouldn’t strip if you got to go a nude beach and see an ocean of pussy?” Misty asked me quite seriously.

I had never even thought about setting foot in a nudist resort. I assumed those places might exist, but they were for people other than me – swingers, possibly. “It’s probably illegal for minors to visit a nudist beach?” I asked nervously.

“Don’t shit your britches, Hunter,” Patty sighed. “There is no nudist beach in Panama. I checked,” she laughed. “You can’t freak out every time someone pulls your chain, or we’ll pull it until your pecker falls off. We’ll get you some Sun Britches or whatever is in style these days, and you can run around on the beach, enjoy some sand, look at some girls, and have a little fun. Okay?” Patty asked me as if she were trying to calm me down.

“Okay, that sounds fun, thank you,” I didn’t want to seem like a stick in the mud.

“Who wants McDonald’s?” she announced after seeing a sign for one in Arab. I chimed in with her daughters that I’d love it. At that point, I would have eaten anything, but that sounded really good.

“Those cocksuckers better still be serving breakfast, or I am going to stick a McNugget up someone’s ass,” my Aunt’s choice of colorful words was very amusing.

“I could eat a whole buttload of pancakes,” I exclaimed with uncertainty. I’ve cussed before but mostly online with my friends during a video game. I would never have said any vulgarities in front of my own parents – that was unthinkable to me. I waited to see what the others would say to my first attempt to ‘fit in.’

They didn’t comment or even laugh. I was surprised. I thought they’d say something snarky or ask me to quantify if it was a metric butt-load or an imperial butt-load that I wanted to eat since the two quantities of metric would obviously be different. That would have been amusing. Instead, it was as if I had said nothing at all.

Which, in retrospect, was the best thing that they could do. I felt like I had said “Butt load” in mixed company, and nobody corrected me or said I shouldn’t do that. It felt like I was being given permission to let my hair down a little.

My Aunt waited in the drive-thru line when we pulled into the parking lot of McDonalds. I tried to tell her that the RV would not fit. “With enough lube and elbow grease, anything can fit,” she had replied stubbornly.