Fun Camp

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Thank you to the editors of these fine journals for publishing parts of this book: The2ndHand, A cappella Zoo, American Short Fiction, Big Lucks, Corium, Dark Sky Magazine, decomP, Dogzplot, Everyday Genius, FriGG, Gargoyle, Heavy Feather Review, Hobart, The Lifted Brow, Monkeybicycle, Nano Fiction, NOÖ Journal, notnostrums, PANK, Pear Noir! Puerto del Sol, Route 9, Saltgrass, Western Humanities Review, and Wigleaf.

Many thanks to Chris Bachelder, Jensen Beach, Sarah Boyer, Jack Christian, Adam Cogbill, Christy Crutchfield, Todd Dills, Sasha Fletcher, Brian Foley, Peter Gizzi, Rachel B. Glaser, Lauren Foss Goodman, James Hoag, Noy Holland, Abigail Holstein, Ben Kopel, Jason Larson, Kelin Loe, Brent Lowry, Brian Mihok, Hilary Plum, Adam Robinson, Matt Suss, J.A. Tyler, Mike Young, and all who loom large in my memories of Teen Camp, King’s Kamp, and Camp Wamava.

Best to think of the “rules” as opportunities. No coffee. No energy drinks. No unprescribed speed. No sharing prescribed speed. No unprescribed cola. No bowls, bongs, spliffs, one-hitters, some-hitters, kooks, ludes, spanks, syringes, or nards. No paraphernalia except in skits. No peanut butter within thirty feet of the following campers: Piper, Caden, Braden, Persephone, Big John, Little Jack, Tall Eddie, and all three Britneys. No flasks. No flask pockets. No trench coats. No unregistered firearms. No colors that have been gang colors. No gangs. No unprovoked limping. No weakness. No allergies. No glasses. No thinking of pulling the Prank of the Century and then not doing it. No heat strokes during afternoon rec hour. No exemptions from afternoon rec hour. No boys in girls’ cabins. Leave room for the Spirit on the slow dance. Dance with everybody, especially the kitchen staff, especially poor, poor Puddy.

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