Phil and the Ghost of Camp Ch-Yo-Ca by John Luke Robertson Read Free Book Online

need to tell your grandson he’s got a good head on his shoulders and a good heart inside.
    “You know,” you begin, “when I was your age, all I thought about was football and girls. After hunting, of course.”
    You’re maybe ten minutes from camp when you see a figure standing on the side of the road. He’s dressed in all camo, which isn’t unusual, though it’s not any particular hunting season right now. His stocking cap covers long, dark hair, and he’s got a beard that makes him resemble one of your family members. Over his shoulder is a backpack.
    The man raises a clenched fist, sticking his thumb out to ask for a ride.
    It’s been a while since you’ve seen anybody hitchhiking. Back in the old days, it was just a part of life. If you wanted to get somewhere, you could start walking and know someone would eventually pick you up and take you the rest of the way. But these days   —in these strange times full of dangerous people   —you have to be careful.
    John Luke slows down. “Do you know him?”
    “Nope. Can’t say that I do.”
    As you slowly pass by, both of you get a closer look at the man. His serious eyes are shrouded by his hair and beard.
    “Should we pick him up?” John Luke asks.
    It’s getting late, and you have a place to be. But it’s not like anybody’s waiting on you to get there. And you always try toreach out and help people since that’s what the Bible tells you to do.
    But we gotta be careful.
    And it’s not only you in the car. You have John Luke to think about. Your grandson is no baby, but still.
    It never hurts to be too careful in this world.

    Do you tell John Luke to pick up the hitchhiker? Go here .
    Do you tell John Luke to keep driving? Go here .

WROMBLESKERED

    THIS SPIDER IS THE BIGGEST ONE you’ve ever seen, about the size of a plate with its crab-like legs sprawled out. John Luke is trying hard to get it off his face, but he can’t do it alone. It’s stuck and he’s in a tricky position, lying on his back.
    You take hold of its head and tug as hard as possible. But even that doesn’t work at first. You have to jerk it several times before you pry it off.
    Once John Luke is free, you toss the spider away, then follow it to make sure it’s dead. You spend a few seconds really making sure it’s dead.
    John Luke sits in a daze. You notice a black mark on the side of his cheek.
    “You okay?”
    “I . . . feel . . . wrombleskered.”
    His eyes are looking a little wrombleskered themselves, whatever that might mean.
    He’s getting delirious.
    “Come on.” You help him to his feet.
    “Mine your manners right mow.”
    It’s like he’s been poisoned with goofy juice. “Give me your keys.”
    “Foss the great gum,” he replies.
    You grab the keys from his hand and help get him into the Jeep. John Luke draws a circle in the air with his finger and mutters, “Marshies mean mean marshies.”
    “What kind of spider was that?” you ask, more to yourself than marshie boy.
    You drive straight toward the hospital.
    “Poo-poo pill,” he rambles. “Did ’em jack the jake in my make?”
    “Yes sir, you just lean back over there.”
    You want to laugh but are afraid to. Whatever’s making John Luke talk crazy might also make him do something worse.
    You don’t worry about parking when you get to Glenwood Regional Medical Center but just leave the Jeep by the door. Someone quickly grabs a wheelchair and pushes John Luke into the hospital.
    “He got bit by a spider. A big spider. Biggest one I’ve ever seen.”
    The aide quickly gets John Luke to an exam room, where a doctor starts to look him over.
    “We’s over the gooey chuckstop,” John Luke informs you once you’re seated inside the room.
    “You’re right. It was a gooey chuckstop.”
    Turns out it’s a very good thing you got John Luke to the hospital. The doctor who’s checking him tells you why.
    “Every spider is different, but this one did contain a neurotoxic venom, which means