Letters from camp

Day 2

Dear mom and dad,

I want to go home.

PLEASE!!!

I am not having fun at all. If I put a thumbs up in a picture it means I'm having fun if not I hate it.

OKAY?

Please pick me up!

 

Day 4

Dear uncle Ken,

Thank you for the bunk note. I do not like it here at all.

Help!!

I would do anything to leave here. Please write back.

 

You forgot to tell them about you being molested.

 

Dear Mom and Dad.

I no longer fear Hell because I've been to Kamp Krusty. Our nature hikes have become grim death marches. Our arts and crafts centre is, in actuality, a Dickensian work house.

Bart makes it through the days relying on his unwavering belief that Krusty the Klown will come through. But I am far more pessimistic.

I am not sure if this letter will reach you as our lines of communication have been cut.

Now the effort of writing has made me light-headed, so I close by saying:

*Save us! Save us NOW!*

 

Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh.

Here I am at Camp Granada. Camp is very entertaining. And they say we'll have some fun if it stops raining.

Love, your son

 

Dear parents:

The camp has dubbed me 'Sir Schmuck'. I don't know how to respond to this.

Viva Los Angeles!

 

Dear Mum,

Our Scoutmaster told us to write to our parents in case you saw the flood on TV and got worried. We are okay. Only one of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Adam when it happened.

Oh yes, please call Adam's mother and tell her he is okay. He can't write because of the cast. I got to ride in one of the search and rescue Jeeps. It was great. We never would have found Adam in the dark if it hadn't been for the lightning.

Scoutmaster Ted got mad at Adam for going on a hike alone without telling anyone. Adam said he did tell him, but it was during the fire so he probably didn't hear him. Did you know that if you put gas on a fire, the gas will blow up?

The wet wood didn't burn, but one of the tents did and also some of our clothes.

Matthew is going to look weird until his hair grows back.

We will be home on Saturday if Scoutmaster Ted gets the bus fixed. It wasn't his fault about the crash. The brakes worked okay when we left. Scoutmaster Ted said that with a bus that old, you have to expect something to break down; that's probably why he can't get insurance.

We think it's a super bus. He doesn't care if we get it dirty, and if it's hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the bumpers. It gets pretty hot with 45 people in a bus made for 24. He let us take turns riding in the trailer until the policeman stopped and talked to us.

Scoutmaster Ted is a neat guy. Don't worry, he is a good driver. In fact, he is teaching Horace how to drive on the mountain roads where there aren't any cops. All we ever see up there are huge logging trucks.

This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out to the rapids. Scoutmaster Ted wouldn't let me because I can't swim, and Adam was afraid he would sink because of his cast (it's concrete because we didn't have any plaster), so he let us take the canoe out. It was great. You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood.

Scoutmaster Ted isn't crabby like some scoutmasters. He didn't even get mad about the life jackets. He has to spend a lot of time working on the bus so we are trying not to cause him any trouble.

Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When Andrew dived into the lake and cut his arm, we all got to see how a tourniquet works.

Steve and I threw up, but Scoutmaster Ted said it was probably just food poisoning from the left-over chicken. He said they got sick that way with food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he got out and became our scoutmaster. He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time. By the way, what is a pedal-file?

I have to go now. We are going to town to post our letters and buy some more beer and ammo. Don't worry about anything. We are fine and tonight it's my turn to sleep in the Scoutmaster's tent.

 

Dear Mom and Dad,

It hatched today! We all voted to call it Daisy, but when we saw the fangs and scales nobody wanted to pet it. Except Rodney who doesn't have fingers anymore.

Here is a secret: I am starting to be afraid of this place.

Here is another secret: I think maybe this isn't a real Jesus camp after all.

 

Dear Grandma,

Someone once said, "War is hell." They've never been to fat camp. I knew the food would be bad, but even worse today he killed the Blob. As for the go-karts, well... may they rest in pieces. I'm writing you because nobody else seemed to care. Tony Perkis tries to lead by example, but we're afraid to follow. Once a day, the kids from Camp MVP drive by and make fun of us. At night they vandalize our camp. At least Josh got out, where there's food. We have to resort...to more desperate measures. Tony's arranged a dance with the girls' camp so he can humiliate us into losing weight. Pray for me, Grandma.


Love, Gerry.

 

Marge, is Lisa at Camp Granada?

 

I stuck a flute up my *****.

 

Dear Mom and Dad,

I've seen horrors, horrors that you've seen. But you have no right to call me a murderer. You have a right to kill me. You have a right to do that, but you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror... horror has a face, and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies! I remember when I was with Special Forces. Seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate some children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn't see. We went back there, and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile. A pile of little arms. And I remember I cried, I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out; I didn't know what I wanted to do! And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it, I never want to forget. And then I realized, like I was shot, like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought, my God, the genius of that! The genius! The will to do that! Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we, because they could stand that these were not monsters, these were men, trained cadres. These men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love, but they had the strength... the strength to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men, our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling, without passion, without judgment. Without judgment! Because it's judgment that defeats us.

The horror,

Son

 

I wanted to do that...well here it is anyway...


Dear Mom and Dad,

I am not at camp, I'm still at home, but I felt like sending you a letter even though we're in the same house.

Love,
Son