Hopcott reckoned that it was the sort of holiday camp site that guaranteed only one thing … That you were really glad to get home.
By day two, he was dreaming of the moment he would walk through the door, dump his suitcase in the hall, slump on the couch, wrap his arms lovingly around the dog, and, with tears in his eyes, proclaim to Madame Hopcott that it was ‘Good to be back’.
Madame Hopcott might even make a big cup of tea with a homely slice of fruit cake, that, unlike anything that could be bought at the camp site, was actually edible.
In English countryside of outstanding natural beauty, the camp site was perched precariously on vertiginous cliffs. Ferocious herring gulls welcomed the suicidal, who dared make a dash for the beach past their nests, with well targeted streams of excrement.
The wooden sleeping cabins were old and smelly and when it rained, which was almost every day, Unhappy Hopcott’s bedding soaked it up like a sponge.
It got so bad that the camp canteen agreed to serve free soup Sunday lunchtime. It was the least they could do. By then, the camp site resembled a war zone.
But there were more leaks in the canteen roof than in the soup. So it was almost a relief when the table collapsed dumping the strange smelling concoction onto Hopcott’s lap.
At least the soup wasn’t hot.
Secretly, with Madame Hopcott safely at home, Hopcott the Free had been looking forward to doing some bird-watching. But the only birds to be watched were the mutant seagulls who thought nothing of swooping down to intercept anything traveling between the camper’s plates and their expectant mouths.
Even the feral dogs that littered everywhere with little doggie treasures vanished whimpering under the nearest bog bound car at any sight of incoming kamikaze gulls.
Making friends with other campers was just about impossible since they all departed as soon as they arrived.
“Hello, I see you arrived this morning!” said Happy Hopcott, all smiles, to one young family!
“Yeh, and were leaving this afternoon, this place is a dump.”
“Oh well, goodbye then.”
And so it went on, day after soggy day.
When a young vicar and his wife set up their tent next door, Happy welcomed them.
“Hi Reverend! Fancy putting in a prayer for better weather?”
The beaming vicar and his sweet wife with her sexy ankle length wool socks never had a chance. While they were handing in their camp site money, a gust of wind took their tent and all their belongings over the cliff and into the crashing waves below.
Hopcott reckoned he had the choice of trying to get his two week’s paid in advance money’s worth or possibly never seeing Madame Hopcott again.
It was a tough call – but eventually decided when Happy Hopcott hatched a devious and libidinous plan.
He’d give a beautiful young lady hitchhiker a lift away from Hell. She’d see him as a Knight in Shining White Armour and, on the long drive back to civilization, would willingly succumb to his charms.
Unfortunately, the beautiful young ladies usually had handsome young men hidden behind the bushes who leaped out once a lift had been secured.
But Hopcott had a clever plan.
Surreptitiously, through his bird-watching binoculars, he observed a steady stream of boyfriends emerge to accept lifts intended for their girlfriends from disappointed male drivers.
At last, one solitary hitchhiker was waiting and she had beautiful blond hair flowing down her back and, joy oh joy, there was no boyfriend in sight.
Leaping inside his Hopcottmobile, Happy Hopcott headed for the gates and burned rubber up to the blond hitchhiker.
Whatever she wanted, Hopcott was game.
“Fancy a trip from Hell to Paradise?” Hopcott enquired, staring ahead nonchalantly.
He’d been working on that conversation ice breaker all day.
“Sure darling, all the way!”
The hitch hiker that slid into the the Hopcottmobile and tossed the blonde wig onto the back seat, had short hair, heavy stubble and a handgun.
“And I’ll take your wallet too, just for safe keeping,” he said gruffly.
“Ta mate! Now drive!”
The End
Bye for now
Rob Hopcott, Online Humor Author
Holiday camp site from Hell is a humorous flash fiction stand up comedy short story copyright Rob Hopcott, all rights reserved. All characters and places in this humor short story are fictitious and no reference is intended to any person or organization, living or otherwise.