"SUPPOSED to be real cold tonight, Pougles, reckon we oughta go camping?" Murray had always begun conversations in this manner, first with a statement; followed by a question that anyone in their right mind would find somewhat disconnected. Not many people ever realized this fact, though, because Murray always seemed to avoid conversations with people in their right minds, or vice versa, perhaps.

"Sounds great to me," was my response. Not that it really sounded all that great to me, but I couldn't think of anything else to say at the moment. And so began an episode that was just another in a series of episodes involving Murray that would've best been avoided at all costs. Actually, they could have been avoided at a lot less cost. But, maybe life would have been a lot more boring if not for Murray.

Murray and I grew up in the same neighborhood and our parents knew each other before either of us was born. I am Murray’s senior by almost three years and I still remember the day the Mugford's first brought him home from the hospital. "Ya sure they didn't get him mixed up with somebody else's kid?" was about the only thing that Mr. Mugford, or "Pop", as we call him, had to say that day as best I recall. "Not a chance in hell," was the only thing the other kid's mother had to say at the court hearing later. "Granny" Mugford spoke up and said that he looked just like Pop, which resulted in one of the few violent confrontations that I was ever witness to at the Mugford house. She was apparently right, I guess, because by the time it had all ended, Pop and Murray had both stopped crying and were sucking on their favorite refreshments.

Murray had always been a little different

Pop swore that he would have won if it hadn't of been for Officer Dillard and Clyde, the police dog. I think Clyde was probably more to blame since he was the one who kept Pop from getting up after Officer Dillard pulled Granny off of him. The officer said that Clyde was just doing his duty and that he could smell trouble a mile away. I wasn't sure about the distance, but I did detect an odor that I've recognized many times since. Pop called Murray "the runt of the litter," when he was small. Even though the title never made a lot of sense to me since Murray is an only child, no one was ever heard to argue the point with Pop. "Opal wants to use the old pickup tonight, so she can drop us off at the campsite and pick us up in the morning," Murray said as he took a swallow of his favorite canned drink. Opal was Murray's girlfriend, fiancee, or something of that nature. "I’ve got a couple of sleeping bags that will keep us warm if we get a good fire a’roarin’. And I’ve still got those three catfish in the freezer that we caught a while back. They ought to make a good meal for us tonight."

A chill ran down my spine. It had nothing to do with the weather. It was Murray mentioning the catfish. There are memories that can change the body chemistry instantly. "Maybe we should just hang around here and watch some television," I suggested. "Opal could drop you off here, we could build a fire in the fireplace, I’ll fix us something for dinner, and then Opal could pick you up in the morning." "Wouldn’t be the same," retorted Murray. That was exactly what I was afraid of. I recollected that nothing was ever the same after an adventure with Murray. But I knew there wasn’t any use arguing the point with him. His mind was already made up and I couldn’t immediately come up with any good excuses not to go. It was probably too late to fake an illness or death and anything short of a heart doctor’s statement wasn’t going to do the trick. "I guess we could go, but we’ll have to make sure that we take everything we’re going to need if Opal’s going to drop us off, " I said, "because there isn’t anything within five miles of that old camping area." "Well, let’s get everything together then," he smiled, "and why are you looking at the Yellow Pages?" "Oh, no reason," I said, "it is just that I find some of these headings interesting, like ‘Physicians; Cardiac Specialists’."

We loaded our gear, Opal, and ourselves in the truck and headed for the Oddfield Bog. At the time, this was my favorite camping area. Then again, at the time, camping was still one of my favorite pastimes. Oh, how time changes things. Oddfield Bog was where the founder of Medley County, Milford Moats, first settled, which seemed logical to me because other than the middle of the riverbed nearby, it was the lowest spot in the county. The area looked a lot different than the last time I was there. For one thing, there was a lot more snow on the ground than there was last July, and also there wasn’t anyone else there. We weren’t real surprised. "Most people wouldn’t think of camping in 20 below zero weather," Murray said. "They don’t realize what they are missing." I wasn’t real sure what they were missing, but brains probably weren’t at the top of the list. We unloaded the truck and Opal hopped in the pickup and left us standing there.

Murray pulled two rolled up sleeping bags out of the pile. "Got these with those cigarette packs I saved up, a real bargain," he said with a laugh, "and I like them because they’re real light, don’t weigh you down like the ones we used to camp with." I shrugged that comment off and began gathering kindling and looking for anything that might burn for a while. "Snow makes for good insulation," continued Murray, "so it ought to be real comfortable out here tonight." "I forgot to tell you, but I called Ernie and Keb to see if they wanted to come along. Kind of weird, but both of them said they were having chest pains and might have to go to the emergency room. Ernie said that he wasn’t sure he would even live through the day." "You know," I answered, "there are fates worse than death," Ernie and Keb were slicker than I had ever given them credit for being. I believed that God would forgive my jealousy considering the circumstances. There was something a little different about Murray from the beginning!

Night fell without any major incidents. Unless, of course, you count the encounter with Officer Goodall, which Murray said wasn’t any big deal. I was sure hoping that Judge Kilmore would feel the same way. Murray said he was sure he would, especially when he was told about the conservation officer’s language. He said that the judge would probably charge Officer Goodall with contempt of court because the judge mentioned something about that the last time Murray went to visit him. "And besides that," Murray said, "it was totally an accident. How was I supposed to know that the bullet was going to ricochet off of the ice? It didn’t hurt that old cruiser much, anyway. Irks me;" Murray continued, "him keeping my rifle. How is he going to use it as evidence of me fishing without a license?"

Anyway, we piled as many logs on the fire as possible, spread the tarp and the sleeping bags and decided to call it a night. I drifted off to sleep quite quickly. I woke up quite quickly, too, for that matter. The fire had died down to embers, but not until it had melted all the snow within ten feet and created a muddy mess. That was bad enough, but now the muddy mess had turned into an icy mess. We piled more logs on the fire and sat as close to it as possible. My extremities were numb from the cold, but Murray looked like he was in worse condition. Ice had formed on his mustache and his lips appeared to be frozen. I sure was relieved to see morning come. I assumed Murray was, too, though when I mentioned it, the only thing he said was, "Umph." And I was even glad to see Opal when she pulled up. I assumed Murray was, too, though the only thing he said was, "Skut oveer, Oppo, lest git tha hill outa heh."

pougles