It’s been another awesome week of productivity! While it’s been awesome, my back muscles and bruised fingers aren’t so happy about it. Who knew stitching so many books in a row could actually bruise a finger or two?
Of the 44 hopeful books I wanted to craft before tomorrow's Artist Fair, I’ve only crafted 11. I might have crafted 20, but the box cutter slipped... I'll be babying my thumb for the next week or so, but other than the disapointment of not being able to craft, I'm good :) Despite the setback, I'd say it was worth it! Hopefully you feel the same about this new Positivity Camp…worth the wait.
Previously on Positivity Camp:Something has happened to the real Counselor Kimberly, the one who said a forbidden word. A cop car outside the gates is explained away as belonging to Kevin’s father and True Kimberly’s absence was said to be from a family emergency, but Daniel doesn’t buy it. Meanwhile, Imposter Kimberly takes to the stage and helps Counselor Dave perform The Giving Tree.
Some Counselor I didn’t recognize did the lighting of the fire. He had the tiny sticks lit within seconds of using a lighter. While they went up in a quick burst of flame, it took several long and boring minutes for the rest of the meager pile of twigs to flare up. When the rest did catch fire, the result was pitiful. Even the once cheerful pyros in the group took offense at the tiny flames.
As the fire was lit, I used the distraction to look around, but there was still no sign of Wendy or Mr. Petrel. I hated to think what he was saying to her, weakening her resolve as he had weakened mine. As for Kevin, I knew I wouldn’t see him again, not with Teacher having said his father had picked him up in a police car.
The fire spat and Counselor Melinda took to the stage. I thought about booing but thought better of it. She hadn’t done anything to deserve such a cruel response. Although, she did have a knack for putting terribly bad songs stuck on loop inside my head. Well, if she did it again, then I’d boo her.
“Hey, Campers! We finally have our campfire going and now it’s time for some campfire songs. Are you ready?” Counselor Melinda sounded far more cheerful than usual.
For whatever reason, her question was met with enthusiasm from several sections. I tried to remind myself that she wasn’t the enemy here. The camp rules were the enemy. Those and Teacher.
“We’re going to start with one of my favorite songs, There’s a Hole in the Bucket. Once you catch on to the verse, feel free to sing along!”
In horror I listened to her song about a bucket with a hole in it. I listened to dear Henry’s questions and dear Liza’s attempts to help him fix the bucket so he could fetch water. Liza really ought to have given up on the guy long ago, but she kept helping. The worst part was the ending. It had started with dear Henry needing to fetch water but not being able to because of a hole in the bucket and it ended with him needing water to help fix the hole in the bucket. It hurt. The logic hurt. What was this camp doing to us?!
At the end of the song, Counselor Melinda laughed. “That sure was wonderful the way they tried so hard to fix the bucket. What do you think campers? Was that a funny song?”
There were a few laughs, probably from broken souls, but then came the slow grumbles as campers recovered. The second those started, the next song began. This time the song was about campers marching one by one. It was a catchy tune, but I could tell it would get stuck in my head the same way the bus song had, and I hated her for that. For some reason, the tune also reminded me of a different song, but my head hurt too much to care.
I groaned. Everyone groaned. It didn’t matter though. The song began, and we had to endure the torture and the clapping as counselors participated. Worse yet, Counselor Melinda paused the song early on to say we only had one more song to listen to…unless of course participation stayed at the level it was at. Even I began clapping after that announcement. One more song? I could handle that…I hoped.