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Jack grinned widely at the other counselors spread across the hall, and leaned into the mic, a blast of feedback squealing through the room.
" Ok everybody! you all ready?"
The fake cheeriness made even he sick: stupid brats were coming, so they had to to put on this " Role Model" act for 'em. All he REALLY wanted to do was get T alone and get those dorky camp shorts off her round ass, but no one got what they wanted in life. And since T never looked at him, or even knew he existed... Yeeeaahh...
He started singing, and the others joined in, 98% of them sarcastically:
" Ohhhhhhhhhh... i'm a happy camper, I love the summer sun.
I love the trees and forest, I'm always having fun.
Oh, I'm a happy camper, I love the clear blue sky.
And with the grace of God, I'll camp until I die."
On "Die", the microphone popped, sparks flying. Jack leapt back, shocked into laughing. " Jesus...fires of Hell here, huh?" He said to nobody in particular, since nobody paid him any attention anyway.
Nicholas came rushing in with a huge bucket, and doused the whole place, wrecking the stage and the popping mic in a flood of water, soaking Jack from head to toe in the process.
" Thanks, really great, appreciate the fuck of that, Nickio. " He grunted, wiping water off his face, and wringing out his wet shirt.
Nicholas grinned, and slapped him on the back with a meaty palm. " Walk it off, kiddo. Impress the ladies. "
Jack rolled his eyes: He wasn't a fan on any of this, but Mr. Bates demanded they practice the songs each morning for when the bratlings arrived.
He flexed, and T rolled her eyes, even as Sophie giggled and clutched her friends arm as they left the mess hall.
Camp had been going on only three days: preparations for the little kiddies the following week.
Already, alliances, couples, and even spats had formed, been acted upon, and slapped out between the teens hired to spiff up the place, making Camp Snow really shine like a glittering diamond for the wee bratholes.
Jack really regretted being talked into taking the job.
" So I said to him, ' Look, it's not me, it's your three inch wank that's killing us!" T was saying, using her delicate, long fingered hands to demonstrate, causing Sophie to blurt out laughter.
Bun went racing past in nothing but running shorts: fur rippled, sweat gleamed, and the two girls giggled as he waved jovially.
Jack sighed, and stripped off his shirt, wringing it out over the side rail of the porch, the sun glinting off his pale skin.
Pain shot up his back: Bun had slapped him good, giving a thumbs up as he plopped into the seat, Jack's point of view allowing unwanted angles that let him see Bun's "googies".
That Pooka'd do anything to get laid...even risk having his hoohaa's bounce right up his crack by going commando.
" Yo. " Jack waved back lamely, still wringing out the shirt.
" Camp's gonna be rocking tonight: you going? "
The party: all the counselors, one room, beer, drugs, possibly sex...
" Maybe. I've got shit to do. "
" You'll be there. Trust me. mate, I know these things. "
With a wink, Bunny was off.
This was going to be a very, very long summer.
Later that night, one whole cabin was light up against the darkness, loud music blaring.
Jack had indeed showed, and sat in the corner on a couch, lamely staring into the foaming depths of a cup of cheap beer Bun had forcibly given him, the heat of skin beneath the fur showing he was already plastered out of his mind.
T was dancing on a table, rocking to the music, slowly but surely stripping off her button up shirt.
As interesting as that was, Jack wasn't into it: all the others were older, and he didn't want to try to loose his virginity here with a half drunk girl who wouldn't remember it the next day.
Taking a light sip of the beer and gagging, placing it on the table, Jack sat back and listened to the music's lyrics, the singer's voice throaty with vehemence, an obvious and failing attempt at eroticism:
" I know you think I'm nasty, but I am no common girl:
I once slept with the devil, it was really no big deal. "
Un huh: interesting.
He sighed, and took a quick survey of the room: Bun and Nicholas were in the corner, T was still dancing, although she was down to bra and panties and didn't seem to be about to stop, and Sophie...wait..where was...?
Restroom probably, he thought: twenty yards through the dark to the showers/toilet area.
Bun had just kissed Nicholas, and the two were proceeding to make out as T got the hook of her bra open, so Jack felt it was time to go.
He stood up, no one noticing, and left the cabin.
The woods were dark as Hell, not even crickets, the lake gently lapping at the boat dock's bloated, aged wood, the sound like light slapping in the night.
From the cabin, the song changed:
" Are you having fun? The fun has just begun."
No, not fun: boredom, and shock at how plastered the others had gotten so quickly.
He stopped by the lake, the moon coming out from behind a cloud for a second to bounce across the glassy surface of the water, a perfect mirror that made a ghastly and beautiful image as he stood there.
He turned to go, and started screaming, his gaze locked onto the canoe's piled up besides the dock in prep for the brat's water practice later on: what was left of Sophie gazed back with glazed eyes.
He ran, breaking through tree branches and bushes, screaming the whole way, a thorn brush grazing his arm open as he struggled through it, the cheap material on his shirt tearing across the navel.
The cabin was dark now, and the door swung gently in the breeze: something was wrong, really wrong.
Slowly, stepping on the balls of his feet to minimize noise, he snuck to the door and eased it open: he didn't need light to see the blood, or what remained of T, splattered across the walls like a nightmarish paint job.
He didn't see Bun or Nicholas: maybe they'd gotten away.
He stifled the bile that rose to his throat, and ran, fear racing through his veins like ice.
There was only one adult in camp: Mr. Bates.
He'd have a phone, a car...something.
Jack knew where to go: the long, two story house was hard to miss, sitting in a forest clearing at the edge of the camp like a witches house, still blazing with light at this hour.
He spotted a figure in the window: Mr. Bates lived with his elderly mother, and she had a major hatred for teens. The figure turned away from the window, and the room went dark.
He pounded on the door. " Mr. Bates! Mr. Bates, it's me! " He screamed, slapping his palm against the white wood of the door, breathing hard.
The door opened, swinging forward on rusted hinges that squealed like the wails of the damned, and Jack found himself staring into the hall of the house: glazed eyes stared back. Nicholas.
Well...part of him.
The phrase " Don't lose your head" sprang to his mind as he stepped past the horrible thing, the carpet darkly stained beneath it, and started up the stairs, each one creaking as loudly as a gun shot in the silence of the house.
A door stood open at the end of the hall, and he started towards it, but a dank hand plastered over his mouth before he could utter a sound, and everything went black.
He came to hours later, and grimaced, music blared so loudly his ears ached, his mind feeling like someone had taken a chainsaw to it.
It was that pop version of The Timewarp, the bass deep like the knob was broken on whatever machine was playing it.
" Ah..nice to see you, Sleeping Beauty. "
Jack grunted, his mouth gagged with a filthy rag, as Bun stepped out of the shadows, blood splashed across his Camp Forest Green shirt.
" Oh, sorry mate. Let me help you. " He tugged it free, and Jack dragged in a deep breath.
" Where's Mr. Bates?" He gasped out, eyes frantically flicking around the room like he could spot him.
" He's playing in the tub with an electric shaver at the moment, please call back later. " Bun giggled, shyly chewing on a long forefinger.
" You killed him. "
" Kill is such a broad word...main..destroy...all the same.."
Jack suddenly realized Bun was barking mad: Jason Vorhees looked tame next to him.
" Why?"
Bun suddenly held a hunting knife to Jack's neck, shutting him up. " Cause I can. Cause I want fame. I want to be legend. Imagine it...this camp will come and go...but everyone will remember my crimes. It's amazing to think about. "
" you're fucking insane!"
Bun giggled, licking the knife's edge. " My sister told me the same thing when I killed her dog. "
Jack kicked out, and hit Bun's crotch: now suddenly glad for those stupid karate lessons, he kicked again, sending Bun down and the knife flying.
"God damn...you're gonna pay for that, Frostbutt. " Bun said, grabbing the knife backhand.
He sliced up the ropes on the chair, obviously intending to tie Jack to the nearby bed for god knows what, but Jack was too quick, making a bolt for the door, falling down heavily on shards of glass from a shattered picture and slicing his hands.
He barricaded himself in a room nearby as Bun slammed into the door, hearing him screech as the lock caught.
Turning, Jack screamed at what sat in the rocking chair by the window: looked like Bun hadn't been the only loon running around the camp, as what remained of whom he could only assume had been Mr. Bate's mother leered at him.
No time to think on that: Bun was stabbing the door.
A chunk fell away, and Bun grinned, eyes glazed over with a crazy.
" Heeeere's JOHNNY!" He screeched, ripping the door to shreds, hands bleeding from splinters.
Anyone would've done the same, really: Jack took a flying leap out the window, face cut from glass shards.
Thank god he was on the side of the house facing the lake: from that height, he sailed over the short strip of land running up the side of the house and sank like a rock, the water ice cold.
He opened his eyes, seeing the full moon through the dank lake water, and broke surface, Bun hanging out the window and screaming choice swears and threats.
Didn't matter: this side of the lake was a half mile of hiking through the campgrounds for Bun, and Jack knew damn well Pooka's couldn't swim.
Breast-stroking until he cleared the bank, Jack ran in slogging, torn clothes, bleeding from a dozen places, until he hit town.
No one believed him: the camp had been cleaned spotless by the time Sheriff Strode had gotten there.
The legend did live on, as Bun had said: Pooka's lived to be 98, so he was probably still there.
Jack wouldn't have known: he'd moved across country to Ohio, a lovely little place called Springwood.
He rented a little apartment on Elm street, and lived alone for two years.
Everything went ok after that: sure, night terrors, fear of all Pooka's, that black hair goth thing he went through...
But he lived, he was a survivor.
When the note came in the mail, he knew Bun was coming. It wasn't over.
Jack Frost!
You are personally invited to the 2016 Camp Forest Green Reunion party.
Relive all those camp memories with your friends at the camp where
Summer never ends.
Hope to see you soon.
E. Aster Bun, Camp Owner and Operator
THE END...?