Mike from Camping

"I want to go back to the good ol' days." Mike slobbered the words out of his toothless tobacco chewing mouth. "The days when there were no blacks." He spat. "And no drugs! I don't like drugs. No, no, no. I don't like 'em." Mike sat at the dusty green picnic table of my campsite with his back against the edge and his legs stretched out, right foot over left. Arms crossed. Thick grey hair in a tangle with an attempt at a comb-over. Mike had a lot to learn, but it was me asking all of the questions.