550. DO NOT DELETE - Human Bones at Camp Nutbush- Who is Nic? Who is buried in the Campground? Who is the coleslaw lady?

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547. Javelin tossing - hitting an unexpected bone...

The Story of Nic - Part One

Randomly tossing javelins around at Nutbush Campground has recently become a thing - groups of men are showing up, and once they are settled into their campsites, are tippytoeing off to what ever meadow or field they can find to start pitching sticks at all kinds of things, in the absence of actual dick-swinging competitions.  They've landed in some pretty unlikely places, the most unlikely being a freshly excavated poop pit that has yet to have an outhouse erected on top of it. On approaching the pit, it was discovered that a javelin had actually pierced what appears to be a bone fragment.  Nearly empty of the water that had accumulated in the pit from last week's rain, the shifting dirt in the still muddy hole has revealed other pieces of bone jutting up from the settling soil.  While some of the men stuck their poles deeper into the hole to satisfy their curiosity, more level heads prevailed and they agreed to report their find. 

Bang Bengtsson, Loveless Motel's chief maintenance man,  out and about doing some infrastructure checks just happened by as the men were  discussing what needed to be done. He was able to hold their attention as he vividly described the process of notifying management, and the importance of following procedure right down to the last possible inch, while making sure no important details were left untouched, ensuring that the most important aspects of the situation were sufficiently uncovered while making it hard to dismiss anything obvious, keeping  the whole thing easy to swallow when the time came, holding back to the last possible moment. The group took the hint, followed his advice, and made sure everything was taken care of, exhausting every angle before contacting management.

Nic, the senior manager, impressed by the meticulous details the men had provided in the description of their activities thanks to Bang, has asked Harry Biggerstaff, the hotel dick, to look into the matter.  In their phone conversations about how to go about discerning what's going on, Nic, interrupting Harry's morning routine in a call before office hours, suggested the Dick ask some questions of the man who first reported the incident. "How big is the hole?  Would it be a tight fit to get into?  Does it need to be cleaned out before re-entering it?  Would one man working at the hole be able to bring about a desired result, or should a gang of men be sent to work on the hole?"  "I think I have the picture," Harry says to Nic, while trying not to roll his eyes at Nic's condescending advice. "I'll get right on the hole" Harry tells Nic, as he slides into his Tuesday morning intern guest.

To be continued....

544. Snap Wadmacher's Obsession

Anyone who's met Snap at Shutter Bug Camera Shop, located off the lobby at Loveless Motel, will admit to being bafflingly befuddled, blissfully beguiled and besottedly bewitched by this man who can be just as easily annoying as hell.  To say he is immersed in his profession would be akin to announcing that one has just discovered the pairing of ketchup and French fries, that the ocean from outer space is blue, or that water is wet.  Fanaticism and Snap are old friends.  Conversationally, he's apt to speak in virtual grunts on some days, while on others, he might hold forth as if he were a gushing salutatorian who has just been ogled and cruised by Oscar Wilde himself who's seated in the front row at an Eton graduation. Some say the difference might be attributed to the chemicals he uses in the development of film; not that generally those would affect the casual hobbyist, but the extent to which Snap uses them is just short of using hydroquinone as your coffee creamer or phenidone on your breakfast cereal. He often complains of headaches, and talks to himself.

If you receive an invitation to visit him at home, you'll enter a world of seeming chaos, but like all mad men, there is an order, invisible to you, which sets in motion every device by which he can function, without your permission or assistance. Just, for God's sake, don't open any boxes or look in the kitchen. He is, in fact, a whiz at organization, but by methods which may seem strange to mere mortals. Ask him for a photograph he took five years ago of you with your leg propped up on a sheet covered box, holding a piece of rope; you could blindfold him and, plunging his hand into a certain pile of photos in this room or that, he would produce it in an instant. But then, he has a pile of pictures of men in just that pose, and the trick is he knows exactly how far down in the pile your picture is.

He can please any taste and discuss any sexual proclivity with expertise - he builds into his pricing the cost of developing an extra set of photos he finds particularly hot, for his own prurient interests, and finds pleasure in sharing them with visiting guests.  He says all photographers are voyeurs, and so are all collectors of smutty photographs, especially those of the male form. In his private digs over at Aluminum City, he's known to be the host of some pretty spectacular evenings of men interested in circle jerks, and regulars on the Loveless Motel party line recognize his seductive voice, whether uttering a chemically induced grunt, or describing in vivid, orgasm-inducing detail a photography session he once had with a triple-testicled circus contortionist.

He's an outdoor enthusiast as well, and the influx of men seen at Nutbush Campground has provided him with new professional opportunities as well as some messy interludes with staff and guests found wandering the acres of trails and backroads of that fun new fuck forest.

540. Rain - Monday - blah blah blah

What a way to start the week.  Knee deep in the big muddy, we're looking for a rainbow at Loveless Motel.  What ever happened to Kodachrome? Watch this space. Is this campy enough for you?  Meanwhile, there's a report in the office that the coleslaw lady has gone on a binge and is hand delivering Tupperware containers full of her cabbage concoction in the rain after someone from Nutbush Campground mentioned they just couldn't get enough of the stuff.  Needless to say, this is causing quite the stir among campers who thought they were living through a scene in "Some of My Best  Friends Are", as in "who told my mother where I was this week?" Loveless Motel denies we have a woman working in the kitchen at Birdwhistle's Tearoom. Carry on camping.

535. Cruising Bathtub Rock

"Do we own that?"  Snap Wadmacher has been out traversing Nutbush Campground, drumming up business for Shutter Bug Camera Shop, located off the lobby at Loveless Motel, snapping pictures of campers, and got as far out as Bathtub Rock - his new name for the unusual rock outcroppings before entering a glacial plain, deciding to leave further exploration for another day.  Now back in the shop's dark room developing the day's work, Nic's question was answered by Snap's. "If you don't know, who does?"  Another question for the board, undoubtedly.  Whatever the answer, the land holdings of Lovewhistle, Inc. are vast and the answer is that the corporation owns land all the way to the large outcropping just beyond the green mound.   Campers are wasting no time discovering various activities closer to the amenities and wooded areas of the campground, however. They'll be able to collect their photos in 24 hours for a reasonable fee.

Snap, snapping. Who's snapping Snap?

Tree climbing

Using a divining rod to look for ground water

Posing at the picnic pavilion for Snap, who has a big weakness for thick uncut cocks and nearly-shaved men and very low hangers

Birdwatching

Ass riding

Hiking

Slowly counting to ten, and then struggling to remember the names of the rest of the numbers

Forage Stew for breakfast

527. Monday Morning Breakfast Roundup

Monday morning is the first day of some of our guests' stay at Loveless Motel, and restaurants from Birdwhistle's Tearoom to the Loveless Truckstop Cafe' are always busy breakfast crossroads of those checking in and checking out.  Some like it over easy and some over hard; for others, somewhere in the middle is just fine.  

 

Over at the campground, some of the backpackers in lean-tos like this happy camper travel light and trap their breakfasts, or rely on local small game.  In the rush of some of our outdoor enthusiasts to get home, the campground cleared out pretty quickly, especially some of those Volkswagen campers, leaving a slaughterhouse of roadkill in their dust (fair game for breakfast), including 3 squirrels, a possum, a duck and a cat.  We're not asking this guy what the catch was.

This domestic pair from the Bahamas, booked into a deluxe kitchen suite at Loveless Motel will undoubtedly whip up something delicious, but one thing is certain - sausage and black pudding is on the menu. We hear that's a British Colonial thing. "Full English", please! We could easily survive for the week on this diet, without a thing in the fridge. These guys are here to inquire about the Certified Hustler program, and are looking for a few new friends to provide references. They're also looking for a friendly "port of entry" border agent who might provide a work visa in consideration for services rendered. Speaking of men in the middle, is "Spit-roasted Immigration Official" a breakfast item?

525. Sheriff Buck N. McBuff is no fool

These wholesome looking brother-fuckers are up to no good.  New to Loveless Motel, they'd seen flyers for Nutbush Campground and after calling to book ("Welcome to Loveless Motel - what are you wearing?")  they arrived on opening day with backpacks and are still exploring  and roughing it.  They'd heard that Loveless even has a detention center called The Hoosegow which actually houses rule-breakers and miscreants who get on the wrong side of the rules or otherwise annoy the on-site "sheriff". Tired of the great outdoors, out of money and not ready to go home, they're looking for a way to stay on management's dime. Further inquiries have led them to a fellow camper who produced a set of pictures he happened to be carrying with him, and shared reminiscences of his brief incarceration which happened as a result of  turning down a blowjob from an incognito Sheriff Buck N. McBuff, proprietor of said Hoosegow, because nobody, but nobody, says no to the Buckster. It rapidly got him a ticket to the clink, free food, drink and lodging!

 Needless to say the set of pictures have given the men ideas and with the aid of the ironmonger over at the Stables, they have constructed a set of iron bars, and are headed in the direction of the Hoosegow, carrying the 350 pound creation. gathering a following and receiving encouragement as they move back in the direction of civilization.  Their plan is to confront Sheriff Buck, and loudly proclaim outside the window for all to hear, that they wouldn't let Buck give them blow jobs if he were the last man on earth, and then dare him to incarcerate them. Surely that'll get them 5 berths in a cell!

What they don't know is that McBuff is no fool. The Hoosegow is full up and he doesn't have the space to keep these sunbaked yokels. He'll take that challenge, right in front of the Bunkhouse and the crazy campers will get their own set of photos of Buck reveling in an impromptu jizz-guzzling party, servicing each of them in turn, spurred on by a large and growing audience, and be sent back to Podunk with a free set of pictures, their 'nads drained and with smiles on their faces. Snap Wadmacher, ace photographer from Shutterbug Camera Shop, located off the lobby at Loveless Motel, can be on the scene in about two minutes. Don't let it ever be said that Sheriff Buck N. McBuff didn't get his men, one way or the other.