Join Date: Jul 2005
Location: Newcastle, UK
<Criticism taken onboard. Let's see how this goes. I'm not changing the quotations, because you can do it either way, I don't think it matters any more (certainly I've never been pulled for it), but I'll space it out more--the main reason I didn't do this was because it was all set at the same location, and at the same time, but fair enough--and yeah, I'm going to add description.>
The trampoline, if it had any feelings, was probably feeling a bit used, at the present time. Coach Oleander had been amazed that not one of the inspectors had pointed out the obvious health and safety risk of a trampoline on the side of a building. It was probably just too obvious for them to actually see.
It was an old, tattered trampoline, which was strange because it had only been in use a few years, but it was probably explained by the fact that the kids using it would make anything look old and tattered within minutes; perhaps even seconds.
Presently, Chloe Barge was trying to get closer to space, via use of the death-trap. Her efforts had been thus far unsuccessful, but you were not an astronaut if you gave up after your first seventy-two goes. Even so, she was beginning to get a little irritated.
This irritation was slightly (read: incredibly) intensified by the fact that Elton Fir was sitting on a deck-chair (no one knew where he got these from. They just seemed to suddenly appear), trying to tell her about the wonders of the sea.
His sailor's hat was hanging down limply from his head, as he spoke in faraway tones. People tended to avoid him when he was in one of these moods, he tended to inform people when they bothered him that they were "scurvy dogs."
'What I wouldn't do now for a fishing rod and...some fish, to fish for...' he said, almost poetically.
What I wouldn't do now for an orbital bombardment, thought Chloe to herself. Or the Death Star, she added, smiling slightly.
'Did I ever sing you that song about the boat that you rowed?' asked Elton, with the certain, unshakable knowledge that she was paying her fullest attention. When there was no reply, he took his as a "yes" and started to sing.
Meanwhile, away from all this horrid racket, in the main lodge, Phoebe Love and Quentin Hedgemouse were playing their usual instruments.
They still hadn't decided on a band name. But they were getting there, they would insist to anyone that was listening. They also had a new member. Nils had decided that he was an excellent guitarist, and while this was stretching the truth to cataclysmic proportions, Phoebe didn't have the heart to say no. Quention certainly did, but had been convinced by Phoebe (via some surprisingly hurtful foot stamping) that he would be a valuable addition to the band. If anything, he would make the other two look better.
He was also really quite enthusiastic about it. Apparently the bands he listened to were the sorts of bands that had "Parental Advisory" written on the front in very, very big letters. Quentin, scowling, had never heard of this band, but he didn't want to point it out, in case he didn't look cool.
He also didn't like the way that the other two would have breaks where they'd go into the kid's room and sit on the sofa. Making out. With tongues everything! And Nils had suggested that his scarf was "gay." It was a nice scarf, and there was nothing wrong with it.
The forest was nice this time of year, Razputin had decided. Admittedly he hadn't seen it at any other time of year, and it might have been better in Autumn, but Raz was not a fussy person.
Since last year, there had been a small play park built in one of the forest's clearing, where brand new utilities of excitement made the kids lives a lot more exciting. It was also rarely overcrowded, considering lazier members of the camp couldn't be bothered to trek all the way out to the forest just to go down a slide.
So it was peaceful. At least it was when a child hadn't fallen off said slide, and had decided to inform the world of this via the medium of crying.
One of the things that Razputin didn't get was that he was always the one that was having to push the swing forward, while Lili was the one that would be sitting on it and telling him to go "faster." This is common is most ways of life. The man is always the one that has to go faster.
Dogan was sitting on base of the slide, while Elka was on the other swing, trying to tell people about all her personal problems, including Nils, who she was reportedly "so totally over" but still insisted on talking about him for the better half of the day. Razputin had considered telling her to shut up once or twice, but he feared her brain would explode.
'I mean, I can see he so totally wants me,' she said flatly, 'he's just going out with Phoebe to get back at me, it's so obvious. Who would be that sad?'
'Didn't you do that last year?' asked Lili, radiating innocence.
It appeared that Elka had not been programmed to hear things like this. 'But as I said, I don't really care about him. In fact, I'm happy for him really, if it's good for him, it's good for me.'
'Thanks the spirit, Elka,' said Razputin, heaving the seated Lili "higher".
'Hey, did anyone like the camp entertainment last night?' asked Dogan. He too wanted to get off the subject, but he was an expert liar (he was far too suspicious to suspect of anything) and he was far too innocent to harbour thoughts of shutting Elka up.
'Listening to Coach sing "War"?' asked Razputin, 'I think he's really going for it with this pacifist thing.'
'I didn't get any sleep last night,' said Elka, 'nope, not one bit. There was an awful draft in the cabin. Wasn't there, Lili?'
'I suppose so,' replied Lili.
'Oh,' said Razputin, as if a metaphorical light bulb had just turned on in his head, 'that was Ni-- like that last year. Yeah.'
'Was it?' asked Elka suspiciously, 'I can't remember.'
Last edited by drunkymonkey; 11-14-2006 at 04:17 PM.