I'd never heard of this particular summer camp, but it was cheap and we were broke. The camp sends us their personal cabbie. I toss my suitcase in the trunk and we take off before my mother even gets a chance to wave goodbye.

Like the beginning of all shitty horror stories, it's pouring outside. There's something wrong with the cab driver, some kind of glandular problem.

The camp sends us their personal cabbie. I toss my suitcase in the trunk and we take off before my mother even gets a chance to wave goodbye.Like the beginning of all shitty horror stories, it's pouring outside. There's something wrong with the cab driver, some kind of glandular problem. She tells me the director, Tom Nook, has taken a special interest in setting up my cabin for me. I didn't know it at the time, but that name would be burned into my memory forever. There's a hint of recital in her voice, as though she's made this speech before.

What the FUCK is going on? No toilet, no sink, not even a goddamn chair. I get a cardboard box, a candle with no matches and a boom box that only plays one song. And it fucking skips. I make for the admissions office. Before I even get out the door, Tom Nook's all over me like a cross between a used car salesman, a lawyer and a german shephard, despite being dressed like a raccoon in a goddamn maid's apron.