In article <q78ra5p1pr8caf7fqfr4sm6ot00eshbvlh@4ax.com>, NP-f31 wrote:
> Hey Chad,
>
> Glad you liked the story, here is what happened next!
>
> Love,
>
> Doc
> NP-f31
Great story but...
Hello! There are other people here too. LOL
I hope you posted it for everybody not just for one person.
Your camp stories inspired me to write one a friend told me. I hope you
like it and the rest of the fort likes it too.
Take care
> How Summer Camp Ruined Me - Part 2
>
> The second week of Summer Day Camp didn't go as well as the first, and
> I'll tell you, it nearly ruined me. On Monday, Tim and I found
> ourselves in the trampoline room. We were having a good enough time,
> but we were being spotted by the serious minded Head Camp Counselor
> and his obnoxious teenaged son. The son's name was Dave and he didn't
> like us, I don't think. It was something about the way he called us
> 'jackasses' that was the big tip off. I have to admit that we were
> pretty cheeky, but I was under the impression that being cheeky was
> expected behavior for boys at summer camp. Its okay that he didn't
> like us, we weren't standing in line to join his fan club either.
>
> In the middle of our bouncing, an aide came in and called away the
> Head Counselor. He ordered us down off the trampoline and forbade us
> from any more jumping until he returned. And so he left us alone in
> the trampoline room with his oversized son. Now Tim and I were pretty
> good sized boys for our age, but this guy Dave was a walrus. He was 14
> and going to High School the next month. Overall he left us with the
> impression that if all teenagers were like him, we'd just as soon skip
> our teens and go straight to adulthood.
>
> Now I've already admitted to be cheeky, but Tim, for some reason,
> decided to take it the next level. I guess he figured if he was going
> to be called a jackass, he might as well be one. So he started trash
> talking and taunting Dave. I didn't understand his sudden interest in
> suicide, but he was my best friend and I had his back, but I was
> beginning to suspect that he wasn't as smart as I'd given him credit
> for after all. As you might expect, Dave was not about to take
> anything from a couple of jackasses and was soon informing us that he
> was going to take us apart.
>
> Tim looked at me with a sort of insane grin that I should have
> recognized for what it was. "He's big, but we can take him," Tim
> whispered, "Come on, there's two of us." It wasn't until much later
> that we found out that he went on to become the Tri-State wrestling
> champion in his weight division.
>
> Within seconds he had us both helpless on the ground. He had me tucked
> under one arm and Tim tucked under the other. What made it truly
> horrible was that our faces were stuck in his armpits. That was my
> rude introduction into the misfortunes of teenage body odor and armpit
> hairs. The smell was truly wretched, clearly he had not been told
> about the importance of deodorant, or the joys of good personal
> hygiene. The overwhelming stench brought tears to my eyes. I heard Tim
> gagging and spitting as he had apparently gotten a mouthful of armpit
> hair. I was spared that horror thankfully. We were both ready to
> surrender, but Dave didn't seem to be interested in demanding terms of
> capitulation from us. All we got was, "How do you jackasses like
> that?"
>
> Neither jackass was of a mind to open his mouth to reply. I briefly
> entertained the thought of checking to see if he was ticklish. I
> thought better of it as he said, "Don't even think about trying to
> tickle me!" Man, he was good, he could read minds too! Finally, after
> perhaps considering how he was going to explain having two expired
> children under his arms, he gave us a way out. "Admit you're
> jackasses, and I'll let you go!" We quickly admitted to being
> jackasses and he freed us as promised. We got up and ran, full tilt,
> to the boys' restroom where we washed our faces repeatedly, taking
> turns sniffing each other to make sure all traces of BO were gone. We
> tended to avoid Dave for the rest of the week. But in our twisted
> little minds we were planning our revenge.
>
> There was an overnight camp out planned for the next to last day of
> Camp, which was downright odd considering it was a Day Camp. We'd have
> sleeping bags, a campfire, marshmallows, the whole works. Tim showed
> me a pack of firecrackers that he was planning to set off at an
> opportune moment. Tim had a real naughty streak, that's why I liked
> him.
>
> The night of the camp out came and we were all gathered around the
> campfire. Dave's Dad was all over us. He was in a bad mood, probably
> because he'd forgotten to bring the marshmallows. And if he wasn't
> watching us like a hawk, his odiferous son was eyeing us jackasses
> balefully. Finally I was able to distract them both by looking up at
> the sky and asking if that particular constellation was the Hydra.
> Both father and son looked in the direction I was pointing at the same
> time. Tim casually tossed a couple of firecrackers into the fire. And
> we each took a subtle step back. Dave's Dad dismissed my question by
> saying, "No that's the constellation Orion." I already knew that, I
> picked it out because it was way up high in the sky. Tim and I waited
> for the imminent explosion, but it didn't come. Apparently the
> firecrackers had landed on the ground in a section not surrounded by
> fire. We waited and waited, figuring they were duds. When they
> exploded, the timing couldn't have been any better. Dave had just
> tossed something into the fire, I don't know what it was, but seconds
> later "POW"! the first firecracker exploded.
>
> It even scared Tim and me because we'd stopped expecting it. Dave's
> Dad wheeled around and yelled accusingly, "Who put fireworks in the
> campfire?" he was furious.
>
> Tim, who could have won an acting award for his performance, pointed
> at Dave and said, "I just saw him throw something in the fire."
>
> Dave angrily turned on Tim. "I did not!" he growled.
>
> "Yes, you did," I said with complete honesty, "I saw you too." Several
> other kids confirmed our story.
>
> Dave's Dad questioned him severely. And gave him the whole, 'I'm
> disappointed in you' speech. Dave defended his honor rather meekly
> when confronted by his Dad. "It was just a twig, Dad. I swear!" and he
> turned his pockets out to show his Dad. "I don't have any fireworks,
> see?"
>
> It seemed to work, because Dave's Dad started speculating about cement
> expanding until it exploded, or pine tar igniting. For some reason the
> second firecracker hadn't exploded. So things died down after a bit.
> We did notice however, that Dave kept glaring at Tim and me. Was he
> planning a double murder?
>
> We settled down into our sleeping bags a bit later and the campfire
> burned low to embers. The grown ups went inside to play cards while
> the kids whispered quietly to one another. Suddenly, the peacefulness
> of the night was shattered by the explosion of the second firecracker.
> A long line of kids in sleeping bags began to giggle.
>
> The next day after breakfast we had a big softball game. I was serious
> about softball. I loved it almost as much as I loved baseball. Tim and
> I were on the same team and I batted second. I singled to right field
> and was safe at first. Tim was up next. On the third pitch from Dave's
> Dad, who was pitching for both teams, Tim hit a hard grounder down the
> third base line. The boy at third made a nice grab and threw to
> second. Now, as I'd said I took my softball seriously, so in an
> attempt to break up a possible double play I slid hard, head first
> into second. Not a good idea, for two reasons. First, we were playing
> on the soccer field and so I was sliding into grassy clumps, not on
> sand or dirt. Second, Elaine, the girl who was playing second base
> stuck her foot directly out in front of me. I slid into her leg,
> smashing my arm between her shin and my head. Ouch!
>
> I got up and said, "Man, I think I broke my arm."
>
> Elaine laughed and said, "I think you broke my leg."
>
> I looked at my arm and said, "No, I really broke my arm, look!" My
> left arm looked sort of like a candy cane. It was bent back at an
> unnatural angle from the rest of my arm. "Yep, it's broke," I said.
>
> Elaine and the kids closest to me went 'Eeeeewwwww' and got a bit
> hysterical. Tim came running over and said, "You should have slid feet
> first." When he got a look at my arm he said "Hey, that looks really
> cool. Can you move you fingers?"
>
> I was fine until tried to wiggle my fingers, then my arm started to
> throb and I got a bit woozy. I politely asked, 'Is it okay if I go to
> the hospital?' They had to finish the softball game without me. I
> missed football season too, all because of a broken arm.
>
> I tell you, Summer Day Camp nearly ruined me.
--
Grant
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