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From: Chad (NP-b24)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.prettyboy
Subject: Re: More Stories for Boys for Chad
Date: Mon, 14 Sep 2009 18:40:34 -0400
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>Kurt AKA On Sun, 13 Sep 2009 21:58:22 -0400, NP-f31 wrote:
>Hey Chad,
>
>Glad you liked the story, here is what happened next!
>
>Love,
>
>Doc
>NP-f31
>
>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.
Great story, Doc! If there had been stories for boys like this when I
was a kid, I just might have pulled my head out of the next door
neighbor kid's pants long enough to read them! (well, maybe...)
I'm afraid the stories about my days at day camp aren't exactly fit
for mainstream publication... ;-)
Chad (NP-b24)
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