In the dark of night, on a lonely road . . .

Seems like several bloggers are under the weather. While I won’t go into all my woes, suffice it to say, keeping up with posting has been quite a chore. Though I love to have you folks visit and read, being creative takes sound mind; and that’s certainly NOT how I’ve been.

For the past week, I’ve had a hard time getting excited about much of anything, but then I got this coded phone call. I look at my cell phone and don’t recognize the number, but I know the area code is the Baton Rouge area. Who could that be?

ME: Hello?

HIM: Captain Duber?

ME: Yes?

HIM: This is Dupont. I hope you don’t mind, I called Captain Negdu and got your number.

ME: Oh, that’s fine.

HIM: Well, I’m down here at Poole D’eau’s camp. I brought that item you requested a couple months ago. Do you have the item to make the trade?

ME: (with great excitement) Oh yes, I have it!

HIM: Are you sure you can come? I know you’ve been having that bad headache.

ME THINKING: How does he know I have a headache from hell?

ME: Well, could I meet you some time tomorrow? Maybe after you get back from fishing?

HIM: Well, no, because I wanted you to see it tonight. It’s not going to look like this tomorrow, and I really want you to see it now.

ME THINKING: I’m the only one home, so it’s a perfect time to leave my sick bed and race up the bayou for this little tryst.

ME: Okay, just let me throw on some clothes. Let’s meet at the gate of the Retreat.

HIM: If you’re sure, then I’ll see you there.

ME: Oh yea, I’m sure! I’ve been waiting for this for months!

I run a brush through my bed-flattened hair, and don’t even bother to look at my pale face with the dark circles under my eyes. Throw on some jeans, a shirt, and slip into my favorite clogs, taking a quick glance in the boudoir mirror as I race past. I pick up the item for the trade and load it into the bed of my truck. I hope this meets his expectations.

Five minutes later, I see his truck waiting for me at the gate with the parking lights on, door open. I whip into a driveway and turn on my cargo light so we can see what we’re doing in the dark of night.

As I open the door to get out, he’s already approaching my truck, package in hand. I smile widely and offer my hand, since we’ve never met before. Good, he doesn’t look like a serial killer. And he’s short. I could take him if I had to, I’m thinking.

“Hi, Dupont, nice to meet you.” Good, strong handshake.

“Nice to meet you, too, Captain Duber” smiling as widely as I.

We walk to the back of my truck together, thick as thieves that have known each other forever.

He removes the brown paper from the treasure he brought. “I’m glad you decided to see this tonight instead of tomorrow, because this is already the second day.”

A long soft “ahhhhhhhh” escapes my throat and slowly crosses my lips. “Bring it closer to the light so I can see it better. Oh my gosh, I believe it’s the most beautiful one I have ever seen.”

He explains, “You should leave it inside for a couple of days to get used to the new location.” I take the beauty and put it inside on the seat of my truck, smiling like a little girl who just received her favorite baby doll. He crumples up the brown wrapping paper.

He is already inspecting the swap item I brought. He picks it up and says, “Oh, yes. I can split this up and get about six out of it. This will be great. Thank you so much.”

With great satisfaction, I’m thinking how glad I am that I researched his website that led to this whole trade.

We exchanged one final handshake before parting ways–him back to the fish fry at Poole D’eau’s camp and me back down the bayou to display my new prize.

To be continued, but here’s a hint . . .

Now, back to my sickbed while you wonder, and fret, and stew about what was swapped last night on a dark bayou road. And I have to wonder how many of you wil be Googling those words above!!!

BW