Introductions

Meet the 2012 camp Kikicaw staff, from the slightly sane ones to the completely insane ones. (every staff member is based on a real person)

July 5^th, 2012, camp Kicikaw, Lake George New York.  First day of staff week. New summer, new staff, new cabins, new pool, and new kids. The sun rose over the lake, and from a mile down the road you can hear the load roar of a 21-year-old’s Honda as he made a sharp turn into the parking lot, not slowing down until he pulled into the spot with the “RESERVED- Program Director,” sign sticking out of the ground. Zach Collins had been to the camp once earlier that summer (for a meeting with the camp director) and countless times before that as a counselor, and even once a camper. The second he got out of his car, and adjusted the flat brim superman he was wearing. The memories hit him like a flash flood, and he took a good long hard look around. The ranger’s house sat to the left of the parking lot, and in front of the parking lot was the camp office. The first time he saw the “REGISTRATION” sign hanging from the roof of the building he was a nervous little nine year old, with the same jet black hair, the same smirk of a smile, and even back then, you would never see Zach without a hat. And as an added bonus, the office has air conditioning. Behind the office sat the six camper cabins. Three rows of two, labeled with letters A-F, there are two shower houses, one on the left, one on the right. He continued reminiscing, from the staff cabins, the brand new pool, the old dining hall, the waterfront, swimming dock, and activity halls.  Zach may not be the brightest of the bunch, but there was one thing he knew for a fact, it sure felt good to be back. His thoughts were interrupted when the loud hum of a car engine entered earshot, and a red Subaru pulled into the lot, going just a bit over the ten mile per hour speed limit through camp.  The young man driving put the car in par immediately cutting off the classic rock blaring from the radio. He stepped out, and like Zach, Andy Prescott began to take in his surroundings, but unlike Zach, the 19-year old had never been to Camp Kicikaw before. He walked over to Zach, who was leaning up against the side of the Honda, and held out a hand awaiting a shake. “Andy Prescott, archery director,” he stated as Zach accepted the handshake, “Zach Collins, program director.”

“So you’re my boss?”

“One of ‘em, and the other ones kind of a moron. Nice angry bird,” Zach nodded toward the plush red plush angry bird hanging from the Subaru’s tail pipe.

“Thanks, he names Lola.”

“The bird?”

“No the car. And her name’s Allison,” Andy added, and for the first time, Zach noticed the girl who had just gotten out of the passenger seat. She pulled her perfectly wavy dirty blonde hair out of its ponytail, fixed the strap of her tank top, and smiled Zach’s way. I have a girlfriend he quickly reminded himself as he mumbled something along the lines of his name. The three of them continued talking while leaning up against Lola, they talked about how Allison’s dad hates Andy, how Zach’s grandpa thinks he’s a waste of space, how great System of a Down and Michael Jackson are, and about cars. But mostly cars.

They were rambling on about fart cans, as Allison just rolled her eyes, and a ­­­­run down, rusty white Subaru  pulled into the lot, not going nearly as fast at Zach or Andy, not because Charlie Dale didn’t want  to go fast, but because his car might just exploded if he did.  The other three looked over at the larger man as he got out of the car and flashed a massive smile their way.

“Howdy,” Charlie waved as he walked

“Sup,” was Andy’s response, “And this is Allison,” he gestured towards his girlfriend.

“I can speak for myself.” She told Andy, then turned to Charlie, “ Allison Blake.”

“Zach Collins, Program Director”

“Good Stuff, Charlie Dale, the nature guy.”  They shook hands and that was that.

 

Within the next half hour or so, the rest of the staff showed up, whether it was in their black Jeep Wrangler like Tony Becker, or red sports cars like Lily Fuller. Or, maybe it was in an oversized, much too clean and shiny silver Chevy pick-up truck, like Kent Olson, the camp director.

“Okay guys, welcome to camp Kicikaw Staff.” Kent had the staff in a sort of semi-circle standing around him, like he was all knowing, when in reality he was quite the opposite. “Welcome to beautiful Lake George NY, Welcome.” He continued. “Now let’s get down to business,” a muffled “to defeat the Huns” was sung from somewhere in his audience, but Kent didn’t seem to hear, and nevertheless he continued.

“I am Kent Olson. This year’s camp director. Now I would like all of you to introduce yourselves, your name and staff position, you first.” Kent pointed toward a tall young man, about seventeen, with a short orange curls on top of his head,

“Uh, Neill Hudson,” he said with a nervous stutter, then added, “I’m working skills.” With that, everyone else proceeded to do the same, there was: Gregg Anderson, sixteen year old crafts director, David Grant and Tony Becker, the two young men working aquatics, Ken Dimaro and Clark Anderson, the BB gun range officers, and Andy. Then there were the general counselors, in charge of the campers; The sixteen year old with a wild mop of black curls, Eli Stark, the beautiful Allison Blake, and Rick Downey, who apparently lacked the ability to take his eyes of Allison, Lindsey Williams, with long blonde hair and drama club t-shirt, and last but not least, sixteen year old Alex Reiner, the girl with blue tips in her brown hair and a pro-Obama t-s**t. And not to mention the four high school seniors on kitchen staff, who had been quieting humming a medley of Taylor Swift songs the whole time. There was Nate, the short one, with the guitar case resting by the rest of his bags; Josh, the one with the military bag, West-Point shirt, and who had been chugging a Dr. Pepper the whole time, Gavin, the overly enthusiastic one, who was the first to hum Taylor Swift, and Landon the one who seemed quiet, until you actually get to know him. Kent finished up by introducing Zach, and Hank, the thirty-something camp ranger, and Lauren the twenty-something nurse. Then, just when everyone was relieved that was over with,

“Someone’s missing, the sports guy,” Zach stated, at the exact moment a black sports car blasting J. Giles Band at full volume zoomed into the lot, nearly running into Gregg and Neill who were lingering in the back of the group,

“Sorry, Sorry, Sorry I’m late. Accident on 44, Jay, uh Jason, Evans. Jason Evans, sports guy. What I miss?” The whole staff turned to see an early-twenties, with dirty blonde hair that match his scuffle of a beard. 

Reviews

[C.C. Marx]

Its a good start, im curious to see where this goes