" Wreitzer Park," I told him, looking uncomfortably at a doughnut that had cherry filling leaking from the side with an ant imbedded in it, like those fossilized bugs in amber.
"Not the safest place to be."
"Really?"
The old man nodded. "Bad elements there."
"What kind of bad elements?"
"Dangerous ones." He coughed. "Deadly ones." He coughed again. "You don't want to be anywhere near Wreitzer Park, trust me on this."
I stared at him, trying to figure out if he possessed great wisdom or great senility.
"What kind of bad, dangerous, and deadly elements?" I asked.
"Just stay away from Wreitzer Park." He returned his attention to the magazine.
"Got it."
"I bet these M &M's are worth something in the collector's market," said Roger, taking them off the rack. He bought the candy, along with a spooky pickle, and we left the store.
"I think we should camp someplace else," I told him.
"Why?"
"Because a creepy old man just told us there are deadly elements there. That, to me, is a good reason to find another place to camp."
"Aw, c'mon, Andrew. He was a nutcase."
"Yes, but nutcases are often the best people to trust."
"Samantha said this park is an abandoned paradise. Nobody ever goes there! We'll probably have the entire place to ourselves!" Roger considered that. "Hmmmm, maybe that's why the dangerous elements decided to go there."
"At the very least we're going to tell Helen and Samantha about it. If we do go to that park and something bad happens, I don't want them finding out later we didn't heed some creepy old man's warning."
Theresa and Kyle were helping Joe run in circles around a tree, so Roger and I approached the women.
"Slight problem," I said. "Apparently Wreitzer Park has a bad element."
"Meaning?" asked Samantha.
"I don't know. It was a vague warning. Something about it being deadly."
"I see."
"I'm not necessarily saying we should find another camping option, I just wanted to point out there's been a warning about our current plan of action, and if there are other options readily available, maybe we should consider them."
"What exactly did you hear?" asked Samantha.
"The old man is right inside. Go in there and tell him where we're going."
The women exchanged a confused look.
"So, you're saying we should go someplace else?" asked Helen.
"Yes."
"Roger?"
"I'm sticking with the 'Looney Old Man Babbling Nonsense' theory, myself."
"I'm not suggesting we cancel the whole trip," I insisted. "I'm just saying that if our choice of parks has been classified as deadly, that maybe we should pick another one that hasn't been classified as deadly, that's all. It's not like there aren't other parks. It's, what, one o'clock? We've got plenty of time to find another place. What do you say?"
"If you're really not comfortable going there, then yeah, we should find another place," said Samantha. "We've got the Georgia guide, I'll look through our options while we head back to the highway. What do you think, Helen?"
"I'm fine with it if everybody else is."
"I think it's kinda stupid," said Roger. "But I got my antique M &M's, so we can do whatever you want."
"Great," I said. "Let's get out of here."
We called the kids back to the camper, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot, heading back the way we came. Yeah, I felt like a total wuss, but total wusses tend to stay alive. I had my children and pregnant wife with me, and I wasn't going to take any chances whatsoever with their safety.
"He probably just wanted the best fishing spot for himself," said Roger.
"Probably."
"I have to wonder if perhaps you're taking this responsibility thing a bit too far. Maybe there's, you know, a middle ground."
"I am on the middle ground," I said. "I could have us all wearing life preservers."
"I guess you're right."
" Wreitzer Park didn't sound all that great anyway. I hear it's overrun with earwigs."
Roger shrugged. "Yeah, but apparently Joe back there is a fearless earwig hunter."
I was silent for a long moment. "We have some dumb-ass conversations, don't we?"
"This was a conversation?"
We'd backtracked about two miles before Theresa and Kyle started to fight over the final chocolate square from one of their candy bars. Theresa claimed she'd been saving it for future consumption, while Kyle's counter-argument was that he, not Theresa, had been the one with the foresight to ration his chocolate, and the final square contained his personal tooth marks on the edge as evidence of his decision.
"One of you is lying, and they'd better fess up," Helen said, using the version of her don't-mess-with-me voice she directed at children, which was substantially less frightening than the version she directed at husbands.
"It's mine!" Kyle insisted.
"Should we pull over for DNA testing?" asked Samantha.
In the rear-view mirror, I saw Helen give Samantha her please-don't-encourage-my-easily-encouragable-children look.
"I think the store had a DNA test by the jar of pickled eggs," said Roger.
Helen gave the same look to Roger.
I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
"Give me the chocolate," Helen ordered, holding out her hand.
"But it's mine!" yelled Kyle.
"I don't care. If you're going to fight over it, nobody gets the chocolate."
"But then she gets her whole candy bar and I don't get all of mine because she's a liar!"
"I am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too, asshole!"
Whoa! Kyle's first curse word. I was glad to be there for a truly memorable parental moment. I stopped the camper and turned around in my seat, not wanting to miss this showdown.
"What did you say?" Helen demanded.
Kyle looked surprised and terrified, as if the word had escaped from his mouth without his consent. "Nothing," he said in a small voice.
"What did you say?" Helen demanded again. It seemed peculiar to want him to repeat a word he was in big trouble for saying in the first place, but I wasn't about to call her on that.
"He said the a-word," Theresa pointed out, helpfully.
"You be quiet," Helen told her.
"But he did!"
"I know what he said."
"Then why did you ask?"
"All right, I've had enough of this! I don't want to hear a single word out of either of you until we get to the campground. If I hear one word, even one, you will both be in more trouble than you can imagine!"
Theresa and Kyle sat back in their seats to glare at each other.
I resumed driving.
Vague threats like "more trouble than you can imagine" really weren't Helen's style. She was usually capable of describing potential punishments in such minute detail they seemed to be the work of weeks of preparation. I wondered if she was genuinely shaken up by this third pregnancy.
"See, Roger, all of this could be yours," I said.
Roger grinned. To be perfectly honest, though my children drove me absolutely bonkers on a regular basis, I really had gotten a good deal, considering what they'd been through. It had only been about two years since Kyle and Theresa were kidnapped and almost killed. It was my fault, the direct result of a horrific mess Roger and I had gotten ourselves into. Theresa recovered fine, but Kyle had spent a year going to a school for emotionally disturbed children.