I began building up my base burn (similar to a base tan, but for pale people) at the beginning of the week, but it hit its stride yesterday morning. The day was fairly uneventful until the afternoon. One of the other counselors and I were responsible for setting up the slip-n-slide (SNS). We made a bold call and moved it to a new site from the location it had held for 4 or 5 years.
You see, we use billboards for the SNS. [NOTE: One of these billboards includes a picture of Mr. and Miss Olympia scantily clad (see biceps above), so it’s always a good time to roll that one out.] This year we had 3 billboards, a one billboard improvement over last year. So we decided to move the SNS from the steeper 2-billboard location to the longer, more eventful 3-billboard location. The new location includes a lovely dip halfway through as opposed to the run of the mill free-fall at the old.
To say the SNS move was met with resistance would be one large understatement. We were trash-talked by campers and counselors alike. Most of this was probably because a vast majority of the camp population was incapable of making it to the bottom. Honestly, the potential enjoyment was higher for the large kids than the small ones, but even then it seems only one person could get air on the aforementioned dip. As a result, we’re moving the SNS back tomorrow.
The second of my three point sermon involves Ultimate Frisbee, yesterday’s free time game of choice. In a surprising turn of events, no one cried. There were some emotions running fairly strong, but everyone came out alright. Lesson learned from Ultimate: When you’re barefoot, it’s not worth trying to tap your toes in bounds. For that reason alone I had to backspace over “no one bled” earlier in this paragraph. [Editor’s Note: On the day after camp ended, I was walking to my laundry room when I blasted my pinkie toe on the door frame. After the queasiness subsided, I realized the last week of my life has been an effort to turn my right foot into instant mashed potatoes.]
Finally, we closed out the night with another camp standard: a variation of what we have so wittily titled Numerical Seek and Find. Basically, the kids have to find all the counselors in a specific order using only yes or no questions. This one we spun off as the Amazing Race. It lasted almost three episodes of the actual show... Five if you have TiVo and skip the commercials. Don’t worry though, the kids never complained about running around outside in 90 degree heat for almost 3 hours. If this were the 90s, that sentence would have been followed by the word “psych.”
That was the clean stuff. While we all know church camp is generally a wholesome environment. However, most of us are also aware that that environment can serve as a conduit for shenanigans. If you’re easily offended or like general hygiene, do us both a favor and stop reading. For the rest of you who have toughed it out, allow me to share a shenanigan.
The following has been edited to fit your screen and for content. Asterisks do not indicate profanity. This story includes some instances of both fiction and non-fiction. I will identify the fiction and non-fiction at the beginning, but it is up to you to make the determination after that.
We went to church camp [non-fiction]. There were pterodactyls flying around everywhere [fiction]. When we arrived at camp, we discovered the middle school boys’ cabin had a small **** in the *****. Nearly a perfect circle, it measured probably 6 inches in diameter. [NOTE: That’s a 3 inch radius and the area would be 9π. Free math lesson for the younger audience.] It only took the high school guys until Tuesday to decide what to do with said ****. Clearly, that decision was to drop a ***** in the ****. I mean that quite literally.
Piecing together the several reports I was given, the middle school guys returned to their cabin after lunch and checked the **** as they had done every time they returned to the cabin. Only this time there was *** in the ****. Further investigations led to the discovery that the **** itself was not the original destination of the aforementioned ***** ********. It was coined “an extraction job.” The contributor used the standard ********, donned the rubber gloves required by Kentucky state law to be in the cabins, and retrieved the jewel. He then placed the trophy in a plastic bag and moved the product to the cabin next door, dropping it to its final resting place.
Editor's Note: As we look into the future, via the past, there was no hint of retribution for the asterisk act above. Back in my day... well, nevermind.
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