Join Date: Jul 2005
Location: Newcastle, UK
<sorry about the double post, but I don't want to mix posts in with stories>
It was the first night of the camp;and procedures had been made to make sure the trees were completely unable to be climbed. It posed a health and safety risk, or so according to the inspectors that had been gathering in details about the site the week before the event started. And just to make doubly sure about it all, Razputin was sitting at the front, on a seat, not a log like the rest of the campers. The things that boy could do with wood were frightening.
'Alright,' said Oleander, 'settle down. Yes, that means you as well, Kitty. What? Your daddy can sue me all he wants. In fact, I can give him the names of a few lawyers he might find useful.
'Welcome,' continued Oleander, as the girl decided it was probably best to shut up, 'to the Psychonauts summer camp at Whispering Rock! Unfortunately, the projector is broken at the minute, due to a badly used telekinesis spell,' and with this he glanced unfavourably at Vernon Tripe, 'so we're just going to have to go without.' There was a slight change in the atmosphere, as if people had suddenly turned very, very pleased.
'The first order of business is the arrival of a new recr-- member to our ranks. If he could just come up on stage, and we'll welcome him with the traditional Psychonauts welcome. And no, Bobby, before you make the joke, it doesn't mean you give him a damn wedgy.'
Three kid, unknown to Raz, stepped up and trooped up to the stairs. He was dressed in a pin-striped suit, matching pants, and shoes shinier than Razputin's were scruffy. The newcomer held his head up high, walking quite proudly, apparently using his mental powers to hold a stuffed toy kitten suspended in mid air. He smiled unpleasantly at the assembled crowd, paying particular attention to Razputin himself.
'His name is Arnold, and he comes from Britain,' said Oleander.
'That's right!' said Arnold, his grin fading into a angry frown, 'and don't you foreign pigs dare treat me like an imbecile! I got level 5 for English in my SATS!'
Oleander grimaced. A sure sign he was wanting to shout, but had decided to hold it in because he was a "new man."
'We run a social camp ground here,' he explained, as nicely as he could, 'there is to be no bullying, or name-calling, or the suspect will be court mars-- told off.'
'Good,' said the child, apparently satisfied with this statement. 'Is this the end of the welcome, I wonder?'
'No,' said Sasha Nein, standing up. 'We will now welcome you, officially.'
'You're that superhero, aren't you?' said Arnold, unimpressed. 'I've read all the comics. Personally, I think you are a fake.'
'I know,' said Sasha, 'clairvoyance is a wonderful thing.'
'What?' Arnold asked, despite himself, 'I didn't feel a thing!'
'I know. I am an expert at this, aren't I?'
There were a few smirks from the kids, watching this spectacle with interest.
On the last row, Franke and Kitty were frantically whispering.
'I love his cat!' said Franke, enthusiastically.
'Oooh, he's British. He'll be a bad boy then,' said Kitty, dreamily, 'I like bad boys. They're exciting.'
'Wouldn't it be funny if it just burst to life and it suddenly went "meow?"'
'I'm sure he's got lots of ideas that I'd just love to hear.'
'I owned a cat once.'
'He's got a wicked smile too. I should introduce myself to him.'
'It was called Percy.'
'I could be the Flannel Femmel!'
'I was so sad when it got flushed down the toilet...'
'What?' asked Kitty, coming out of whatever world she was currently occupying.
'I was just talking about the cat I used to have.'
'Well don't. It's a silly story.'
Elsewhere, J.T and Chops were discussing the prospect of a new villain to contend with.
'There's a few kid on the block,' said J.T, radiating thoughtfulness.
'You reckon we should befriend him?' asked Chops.
'Well, you know. I get picked on because I'm a Canadian, and well, he's British, and I thought we might... strike and alliance, give him a badge, that sort of thing.'
'You are?' asked Chops, 'I always thought you were Dutch!'
'What in tarnation gave you that idea?' asked J.T, offended. He had always found himself to be a credit to America, as a sheriff that wasn't on the edge, and someone who wasn't about to take a bribe. He had heard about bribes; he had even worn one, once.
'It's just your accent,' said Chops. 'I always got the idea that you were Dutch.'
'Well, I ain't,' said J.T defensively. 'I haven't even been to Dutch!'
'Anyway, what's this about you wanting to form a Non-American alliance? That's grounds for...for...mootany.'
'Oh, nothing. It was just a joke.'
Last edited by drunkymonkey; 11-14-2006 at 05:15 PM.