【 #tulparscaptain; a semi-lit, semi-parody museblog for captain curly from wrong organ's 2024 indie horror, mouthwashing. established october 27th, 2024. by m. affiliated with @worlds-least-responsible. 】

He'd gone on so many excursions over the years - that grabbing what he needed felt like second nature, to him. He'd worked his way down a mental checklist like many times before. From the time he'd gone with his brothers, to the times he'd gone with his friends, to the seldom times he'd gone it alone. Camping wasn't the most complex thing in the world. You had to pick a nice spot, a nice time, and make sure that you wouldn't spend your evening staving off hunger by chewing on sticks. You had to make sure you hadn't settled on the edge of a cliff on a windy day.

Curly knew exactly where he wanted to take Jimmy, from the moment the guy agreed to come. A small feat in of itself; he'd been pleasantly surprised when the other had actually accepted the offer to spend the night in the woods with him. He'd never really thought about it before. Thought about, inviting Jimmy, before. He'd gone camping multiple times with some of the guys, but Jimmy was absent for all of these trips. Looking back, he'd hardly ever noticed, too - the good times being entirely vacant of any Jimmy-shaped figure. What kind of a friend was he? To never pass on an invitation to someone he'd known for so long. He'd make up for lost memories by making new ones. And to his pleasant surprise, working up the nerve to ask had paid off. They were really going to go camping together.

The blond can remember the warm feeling of loading each bag into the car, a kind of feeling that only came with preparing for a time well spent with a good friend. He felt a sense of anticipation, optomistic for the first trip together to mark a future of many trips together. They'd roast sausages over a traditional fire [his dad always talked about how you could never get an authentic camping experience from any of those portable firepit kits - you needed real kindling, smoke from your own hands.] And maybe do a tiny bit of fishing... The spot he liked had running water that could probably give them a catch or two. In Curly's mind, it was perfect. He knew what he was doing and he was certain that no problem could arise under his careful orchestration of a fun outing.

The ride goes fine - he drives, there's minimal traffic, and when they get there no one else had obtained the spot that he'd decided on.

Which in Curly's mind, makes the payoff all the more sweeter. He wouldn't have minded settling down elsewhere, but he really likes this particular stretch of dirt. It gives you enough shade from the trees without giving the ticks any leeway to make you an easy victim. That's not all, of course. It has sentimental value to it. Value that would be a bit embarassing to explain to Jimmy, if someone had already beat them to it. Luckily, there's no one around. It will just be them.

He parks off to the side of the path, a trek away from the actual campsite. This is routine - and only when he steps out of the drivers seat, does he consider the fact that he should have told Jimmy why. But... He isn't flashed any questioning look. The guy just slinks to the back of the car as he does, and Curly shows him how to pop the trunk.

They both grab a bag, and something loose that they can carry. For Curly, it's a bag and then the cooler, and for Jimmy... Well... Curly thinks he sees him slide a folding chair or two into his arm. How helpful!

The blond turns, making his way to the campsite with that same anticipation and enthusiasm he'd felt when first planning the trip. The feeling you get when it all falls into place... He can't stop smiling to himself as he sets his bag down on the sandy dirt beneath their feet, cooler planted firmly alongside it. Then he makes sure to help Jimmy unpack the stuff from his bag first. He lets Jim unfold the two chairs while he sorts everything into place. It's mainly loose things - stuff for the campfire, stuff for the food in the cooler, stuff for their trash because Curly likes to keep the ground as he had found it. Curly makes sure that they'll be ready to have the fire going by nightfall, before he decides to go ahead and grab what little else there was in the car.

This is when a problem arose.

The problem arose, when he made the small trek back to his car, on his own. Ready to grab the remaining bag and close the hood of the trunk for good - Curly realizes.

There is no third bag.

Whatever enthusiasm and anticipation he's been feeling, deflates from his body instantaneously. A cold spike pierces his heart, and he can't help but blink, as if his eyes are deceiving him. Tricking him. Surely?

He always packed three bags when going on a camping trip. His dad had taught him so. It was routine. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind that he had packed the bag, the third bag, and placed it in the car in a trio. There wasn't a doubt that he had made sure, with his mental checklist, that three bags were there. Yet there was no way that either of them had taken an extra bag back to the campsite. They'd only taken one trip, and both had grabbed one bag. So... Where the hell was the third?

Checking once, twice, and then thrice - fails to make the bag magically manifest into the trunk of his car. Try as he might, wish as he may... Cold reality is the only thing to greets him when he opens his eyes.

Curly had forgotten their tents.

Or, more specificially, the bag that contained their tents.

The bag contained more than that; it held everything that went with a tent in the woods. The stakes, the mallet, the tarp, the lanterns... And especially their sleeping bags. Which they would surely need to prevent any unwanted interactions with the various insects that no doubt scuttle about in the grass. He doesn't believe that it will get particularly cold tonight, so that's a relief. Not like they'll freeze to death in the night's chill... Just be inconvenienced by the insects and exposure.

He hopes Jimmy will see it that way, too.

An inconvenience. Nothing more.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Curly slams the lid of the trunk, and makes his way back before it seems like he's been gone for too long.

Oh.

Uh.