Sunday, July 18

So we were camp counselors this past week, me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head. Good times. They put us in charge of eight 13-year old boys.

We mostly sat back and watched them yell at each other all week. I tried to tell them wise things about fighting and how things are in Grownup Land, but they didn't want to hear it. 13-year olds don't want to hear anything. They just want to call each other mean names and punch each other's necks. Punch punch yell yell all week. It's a good thing Mr. Happy Puppet Head snuck in that hipflask, or I don't know what we'd have done. A few swigs of whiskey and the world is a better place, even if some dumb redneck kid is calling you a faggot and trying to take your goggles away.

I don't think they'll invite us back next year, though. The kids were looking pretty rough by the end of the week, all scratched up and dirty. One kid even went missing, and the camp director was real mad that we didn't tell anyone until his parents came to pick him up. They had us sit in this meeting to tell us how bad we were the whole week, and I sat there patiently as they berated us. Mr. Happy Puppet Head, though, he went all crazy and knocked all the folding chairs down and said "how dare you challenge our camp counseling methods! how dare you!" I think I'm done camp counseling anyways.

Being in charge of a bunch of kids was a real learning experience for me. I feel much more grown up, and much more aware of who I am and what I want in life. I was also reminded how horrifying the age of 13 actually is. It's terrible. If you haven't been 13 yet, don't. Hibernate for a year. You'll be glad you did.

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