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You decide that you'd
like to wait around the bunk for a while and meet the other kids you'll
be sharing your cabin with. May as well get to know them and make some
friends right off the bat, eh?
Before too long a noodle-armed, anemic looking child with thick
black-rimmed glasses and wearing a helmet timidly enters the cabin.
"He-hello?" he squeaks meekly. "Hi!" you loudly call out in response,
nearly giving him a heart attack as he stumbles backward and out the
door. Feeling bad about this awkward mishap, you walk over and help him
up off the ground. "Th-thank you," he stammers nervously. After
introducing yourself, he weakly shakes your hand and says "My name is
Francis. Francis Franklin Finglefinker."
"So basically your name
is Frank Frank Finglefinker, is what you're telling me," you respond
incredulously. "Well, not exactly," he explains, "I prefer to be called
Francis, actually".
You roll your eyes in annoyance. "Whatever, Double Frank. Just park your
ass down on one of the bunks and let's see what other losers show up."
Francis looks up at you with large wounded doe eyes in response to your
comment. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say 'losers'? I meant 'lobsters'."
You sit in silence for a while, every time Francis appears to be opening
his mouth to speak, you glare daggers at him and he returns to staring
quietly at his feet. Soon there's a knock at the door and a jolly voice
calls in "Howdy, bunk neighbors! Let's get ready to have some fun
together!" The door creaks open and a fat chipmunk-cheeked kid waddles
through the door, hand extended in greeting. "Hi, my name's Theodore
Bomblehomper!" he says, grinning stupidly.
You reluctantly shake his hand and in your best no-nonsense voice say
"Oh, great. A nerd and a fat kid. Sit down, shut up, and let's see what
other disappointing stereotypes walk through the door."
You manage to shoot down every attempt at conversation with your fierce
rapier wit while waiting for the final bunkmate to arrive. After a time
the door slams open with a kick and a kid who must be at least
seventeen boldly stomps in the doorway. "Alright you little fuckers!
I'm in charge here!" he calls out. "You listen to me. I get the two top
bunks. You do what I say WHEN I say it and there won't be any problems.
GOT IT?"
Wait a minute! I'm the one who's supposed to be the sarcastic asshole
in charge here, not this...this...bully!, you think angrily. Damn.
Of all the potential stereotypes, you hadn't expected a bully, and now
you're not sure what to do. "I've already claimed this top bunk," you
say indicating with a pointed finger.
"Well, now you're unclaiming it," the bully says as he shoves your stuff
off the side and sends it toppling to the floor. With that he takes out
a knife and begins carving bloody patterns into his arm.
"What's your name?" Theodore asks. "Is it...Snake?" he guesses, pointing
at the snake tattoo on his bicep. "No," he replies. "Call
me...Mongoose," he says grimly, and with that he licks the blood off his
knife and sticks it back into his pants.
Shit. This just isn't
going to do at all, you realize. This asshole is going to completely
ruin your camp experience if you don't do something about it right here
and right now.
You decide to:
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