I let out a tiny scream of surprise, and then caught myself, but it was too late! The bear stopped and slowly stood up on his hind legs, staring in our direction, and let out a thunderous growl. I felt my heart stop!
Behind me, I could hear Mom and Mr. C scrambling to get out of the tent to find out what was going on. Both froze on the spot at the sight of the gigantic bear just a few feet from Randy! My mother gasped and clutched my arm, squeezing me tight and pulling me closer to her. Mr. C had this shocked expression on his face, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and then, without warning, he turned around and hightailed it out of there, screaming like a little girl straight into a thicket of trees and disappearing into the woods, leaving me, Mom, and Randy to deal with the angry, growling Maine black bear staring us down!
Well, you should know one thing about our mother. She can be a bear in her own right when it comes down to protecting her cubs! Suddenly Mom took off in a dead run full tilt straight past Randy, heading right for the big, growling bear, all the while waving her arms over her head and screaming, “Get away from those lobster rolls, you mangy beast!”
I guess the poor bear didn’t expect to see such a petite woman with bright red hair sticking up all over her head running and yelling, and causing such a scene. The bear at that point decided, after a tasty meal of lobster rolls, it was probably time to depart, so he dropped down on all fours and lumbered out of the campsite.
As he disappeared into the night, Mom stopped in her tracks, and then dropped to her knees, shaking at the realization that if the bear hadn’t run off, she didn’t have a Plan B!
Randy and I raced over, clapped her on the back with our hands, and told her she was a hero. But she just gathered herself and waved us off, and told us to help her put the empty cooler away in the back of the truck. As we walked back to the half-erect tent to hopefully get a few more hours of sleep before daylight, a sheepish Mr. C emerged from the woods from where he had been obviously hiding, and rambled on about how he went to get help, but couldn’t find any in the vicinity, so he rushed back as quick as he could to dispatch the bear himself.
We could see the veins popping in our mother’s neck, which always happened when she was trying to stay calm and not blow her top! She quietly told us it was time to get some much needed shut-eye, and steered us into the tent. I looked back to see Mr. C trying to follow us, but one death stare from Mom and he knew he wasn’t welcome, so he retreated to Randy’s sleeping bag and burrowed his way inside.
The next morning, I woke up to the intoxicating smell of bacon and eggs that sizzled on the open fire. Luckily, the bear hadn’t busted into the second cooler we brought with our breakfast supplies. I had high hopes that after we ate, we would be heading home. Mom was completely one hundred percent over Mr. C, which was abundantly clear when he complained that his eggs were overdone and she shoved them at him anyway and told him to shut up and eat them. Randy, however, was the first to burst my bubble. He had awakened earlier and heard Mom and Mr. C discussing the events hours earlier. Mr. C apologized profusely for his cowardly behavior, and begged her to give him one more chance. My mom, being a fair-minded woman, reluctantly agreed, so we were officially stuck out here for at least one more day.
After breakfast, Mr. C excitedly unlatched his small fishing boat from the trailer attached to the back of his truck, and with Randy’s help, carried it down to the lake’s edge. My heart sank. I hated fishing! And so did Randy. Well, to be honest, Randy hated most outdoor activities, actually most activities that didn’t involve watching television.
All four of us climbed into the boat with our poles and smelly bait. We packed for lunch, and after snapping on our life jackets, set out to catch some fish for dinner. Mr. C waved off wearing a life vest because, according to him, he was an expert swimmer. It went downhill pretty fast from there! Mr. C spent the next half hour guiding the boat out into the open lake, and bragging about his high school swim team years, and how he nearly qualified for the Olympics his senior year.
After what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably another ten minutes, Mr. C was still going on about his swimming glory days when suddenly I felt a tug on my line.
I turned to Mr. C and said, “I think I’ve caught a fish!”
Well, you would have thought I told him there was a free lobster buffet at the Hollywood Slots! He jumped to his feet, rocking the boat violently, practically throwing his own fishing pole overboard as he tried to step over me to wrest control of my pole!
The heavy end of his own pole whacked Mom in the back of the head, and she let out a painful yelp! Mr. C ignored it as he frantically tried to reel the fish in. Mom was furious. She stood up and demanded an apology, but when he ordered her to sit back down and be quiet, that was the final straw. Nobody puts Mommy in a corner! She screamed that she wasn’t about to be his “little woman” who just did what she was told, and gave him a shove. It was a gentle shove, not too hard, but it was enough to cause Mr. C to lose his balance and topple over the side of the boat straight into the water, but not before grabbing Randy and dragging the poor kid along with him to use as a human life vest.
Mom screamed at Mr. C to swim with Randy back to the boat, which was slowly drifting away, but Mr. C was in a full panic, splashing around, clutching Randy, who bobbed up and down in the water afloat from his life vest to save himself!
“I can’t swim!” he wailed, crying like a baby.
Mom sprang into action and managed to get the motor going, and then guided the small craft over alongside a terrified Mr. C and Randy, who was sputtering and coughing out water. Mom and I reached down and pried poor Randy loose from Mr. C’s grasp, and then we hauled him back into the boat. Mom then tossed Mr. C a rope, which was tied to the inside of the boat, but before he could use it to climb aboard, she gunned the motor and the boat sped back to shore, dragging a bumping and spinning Mr. C in the water behind us.
Once we were safely back on land, we all silently packed up to leave and securely fastened the boat to the trailer. Mom was finally, much to our relief and delight, ready to go home! Mr. C knew he was in the doghouse so he refrained from making conversation most of the way except to ask if we wanted to stop for lunch somewhere.
Mom very quickly and sternly replied, “No.”
When Mr. C pulled up in front of our house, Mom barely allowed the truck to come to a complete stop before she jumped out, and ordered Randy and me to grab our knapsacks and go inside the house. We loitered just a bit by the front door because we were dying to hear what Mom was going to say to Mr. C.
Mr. C, oblivious to Mom’s building rage, casually put his truck in park and shut off the engine. He jumped out, and made a move to come inside the house with us.
“Hey, since we didn’t stop for lunch, how about you whip up some of that Lobster in Spicy Tomato Sauce dish you were telling me about the other night?”
We could see her just staring at him, her face beet red and her eyes blazing with fire. She calmly reached down and opened the cooler she had just pulled out of the back of his truck. Then she grabbed a plastic bag of lobster rolls that we never had a chance to eat on our fishing trip.
“You want lunch? Here is your lunch!” she hollered as she hurled the rolls at Mr. C, a string of curse words escaping her lips, words I had no idea she even knew!
Mr. C threw his hands up to protect his face from the flying lobster meat covered in mayonnaise, and ran to the safety of his truck, wiping dollops of mayo off his face as he sped away. Mom chased after him half a block, still throwing what few lobster rolls were left at the truck like a Hall of Famer baseball pitcher!
Later that evening, Mom ended up following Mr. C’s advice and making that delicious Lobster in Spicy Tomato Sauce for us (Randy of course happily munched on a peanut butter sandwich), and she promised us we would never have to lay eyes on Mr. C ever again. And then she sat back and enjoyed a Whiskey Peach Cocktail to relax herself after our exciting summer camping adventure.
Sheila’s Lobster in Spicy Tomato Sauce
Ingredients
1 pound boxed spaghetti
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
1 large shallot, finely chopped
1 tablespoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 pound grape tomatoes
1 to 1½ pounds cooked lobster meat
(if you prefer shrimp, go for it)
Lemon wedges for serving
Cook your spaghetti according to the directions until al dente.
Heat your oil and butter in a large skillet on medium-high heat and cook the shallots and red pepper flakes for two minutes or until shallots are soft. Add the grape tomatoes, and cook until they are soft and juicy, about 5 to 6 minutes.
Add your lobster meat and mix well.
Now add your drained pasta and half of the reserved pasta water, and simmer to thicken, coating all the pasta. Add more water as needed.
Top the pasta with the lemon zest. Serve with lemon wedges for added lemon flavor if desired.
Despite what my brother Randy might tell you, this dish beats a peanut butter sandwich any day!