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            As Bart loaded his bag, in the car, he couldn’t help but complain again.  He didn’t want to be up so early, didn’t want to go camping and certainly didn’t want to go there alone with his father for a whole day and night.  He couldn’t blame Homer however. It wasn’t his idea after all, it was his mom’s.

            “Please Bart, do it for me,” she had said with her pleading eyes, the ones which no son could resist but agree to.

            Homer had complained as well and Marge had dealt with him as well.  It was ironic that the camping idea was meant for father and son to bond, when the one thing they did agree to was that they weren’t interesting in camping alone together.

            But having agreed to it and with no way to back out of it, they had left home fairly early on Saturday, both men grumpy and complaining to each other.  Homer didn’t trust the boy and knew that he would have to watch his back with his son around.  There was no anticipating what devilish plot Bart might come up with to torture him.  It was Bart’s favourite pastime it seemed and Homer his favourite victim.  But for the moment at least, the boy was sleeping on the passenger seat.  Getting up early on a weekend is never easy for a ten year old after all.

            It took little over an hour before the Simpson men arrived at their designated camp site.  Marge had chosen a peaceful forest spot for them rather then public camping grounds.  She said that being completely alone together without opportunities to meet and socialise with other people would help the bonding.  Also, she secretly wanted to avoid giving Bart any opportunity to humiliate his father in public. 

            As Homer stopped the car, Bart woke up and yawned loudly.  He looked around and was surprised to find the area to his liking.  The camping spot was a clearing surrounded by tall trees and as the boy opened the door, he heard a small river not too far in the distance.  A circle of stones was set on the ground, the remains of another camping family no doubt.  As he stretched, his father opened the trunk to bring out the tent and other camping gear.  The food would remain in the car, to avoid attracting any wild animals.

            Homer laid out the schematics for the tent and studied them for a moment.  “Alright, so if I put this here…” he said as he planted a stake in the ground to set the tent, “and I put this one here… and I attach this here…”  One could almost believe that he knew exactly what he was doing; ‘almost’ being the key word.  Bart knew his father well enough to know that he was basically guessing and not really thinking through his methods. As he planted the last stake, Homer took a step back to look at his work.  Three full seconds later, a small gust of wind brought it swiftly to the ground, to Bart’s laughter… Read the rest of this entry »