Summer Camp Hell.

OK.
When I was 8-11, I went to a little thing called summer camp every year. For the first couple of years, it was a day camp, meaning that I could escape the wrath of the older cabin popular's at the end of the day. I would almost scream at them by the end of the summer, "I'm free bitches! Suck my d _ _ k!" and pelvic thrust that joint to the ground (see pelvic thrusting lady from a couple of posts ago. It's quite fitting here).
Unfortunately, that was not the case. I would see them again, walking around the halls of my school, not outright taunting me but close enough. They would squint their perfectly made up eyes and give me a little smile, as fake as their nose.
You may think that I am over exaggerating, but no. This was Southampton, one of the richest towns in the state, if not the whole country and every girl and her mother had fake everything.
After camp, whenever I would see them around, I would be reminded of what they were like at camp such as Christina Lee-Neknez, the evil leader, who would riffle through my bag and take out the spare pair of underwear my mom had always packed and run around with it, yelling, "*****'s got granny panties, *****'s got granny panties!"
After a stint like that, I would hide on the field until my counselor, Megan, found me. She was wonderful. She actually outright admitted to hating Neknez and her posse, saying, and I quote, (I will never forget this for as long as I live) "Those fake bitches don't have nothing on you." She was my savior. I don't think I could have gotten through camp without her.
One day, my dad had packed me a bagel with lots of butter on it. I was really excited because my parents never bought bagels for some reason and I LOVED them to death. I went to the bathroom before lunch and came back to the cabin to find Kayla Matters (she didn't matter at all to me) eating the butter off of my bagel. Who does that? No wonder she was so fat. She ate butter! This is where it gets interesting people. Prepare yourselves.
I snatched the bagel from her hands and rubbed it all over her face, leaving it greasy, essentially making her grosser then before. (I hadn't imagined that possible. You see, she smelled like a wet dog that had just rolled around in an unidentifiable brown skid-mark on the sidewalk...) before I proceeded to shove the bagel shreds I had ripped up in anger down her flowery dress and into her premature bra. I pushed her down and stormed out of that joint. I think I just walked home. I'm not entirely sure. I may have stopped for a milkshake or something to celebrate...
I didn't go back after that.
Whenever I saw Kayla Matters around school, she actually looked scared. She would divert her eyes to the floor and sometimes, travel a different route just to avoid me. I felt like such a boss, not gunna lie.

When I was eleven, I went to sleepaway camp. This round was much better then the last. It had its not so great moments, such as the time when I hadn't learned to use tampons yet (I developed rather early) and went swimming with a pad... Not the best idea that has crossed through my mind, I must say. It also had its great moments, such as my friend, Shannon. We were like two peas in a funky pod. I did lose touch with her and somehow couldn't get back in touch but I still have the memories.
All in all, camp was kind of suckish. It wasn't really my cup of tea but I did it and still live with the mental scars. Luckily, I never have to see Neknez and Matters ever again. Those bitches.
It Could Be Better