Our incendiary neighbors

I think I mentioned earlier that the Lamb City Campground is not the friendliest place we have ever been.  We have not met many of our neighbors, in part because most are in residence only on weekends.  Our back-door neighbors – the ones in the site behind and slightly above us – are here more often than not, but we have specifically avoided meeting them.  The are known, affectionately, between Jett and me, as “The Bickersons” because they are always fighting.  The loud voices, punctuated with verbal abuse, is an almost-daily occurrence.  Sometimes objects are thrown.  Usually soft, non-life-threatening objects, like bags of potato chips.

We think of them as “incendiary.”

That term became even more appropriate last week when the “gentleman” – who spends about half of his outdoor time splitting wood using a mallet and chisel – decided to start his campfire with the assistance of an accelerant.  I have to guess that it was something more flammable than charcoal starter.  Probably gasoline and, from the result, was probably at least a pint.  Maybe a quart.  The result was an explosion that shook our RV and blew some of the wood out of the fire-ring, setting the grass on fire.  I was grateful that the grass was wet or we would have been in danger of going up in flames.

Idiot.  I think he scared even himself, though, as he has not done it again.