No such luck. He made it clear that he knew I was there. He cleared his throat, and hocked a thick sounding loogie onto the floor. I heard it hit with...a loud 'splat' before he said, "When was the last time this place saw a mop and a bucket?"Was he talking to me? Should I reply? Shit, I wasn't sure at all. Meekly I said, "Uh, s'at you, Joe?" Immediately I felt so stupid. Of course it wasn't. How dumb can I get? But the voice came back and said, "Yeah, you waitin' on me, faggot?"I laughed. Tea made, he started slicing the meat up thinly, to dry it. He shifted coals under the rack and used some of the long thick leaves of the cane and some of the green oak branches he had collected, to create smoke.He’d managed to hook his second tarp onto a ledge, so that it draped over the top of the rack to keep the smoke and heat in longer. He put some of the thicker slices in a pan for himself with some wild onions and mushrooms that he has found. He looked after his cooking as he kept. More

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