Age of Summerhood

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Little boxes,

on the hillside

Little boxes made

of ticky tacky

Little boxes, little boxes,

little boxes all the same

There's a green one,

and a pink one

And a blue one

and a yellow one

And they're all made

out of ticky tacky

And they all look

just the same

Camp. It was a time of magic.

A soulful summer

of acoustic rock.

No parents.

No school. No parole.

And there's doctors

and there's lawyers

And business executives

And they're all made

out of ticky tacky

And they all look

just the same

Looking back over my life.

I'd always remembered this summer,

was the best summer I ever had.

Broom!

Although I don't remember

having any fun.

I'm a ninja.

It's interesting how that works.

At the age of 10,

nothing is hindsight.

The limit of what you know, is

tested by every new experience.

You have no past

to compare with the present,

to prepare you for the future.

And if confidence is the

sum of trial and training.

What you're left with, is terror,

panic and insecurity.

And that is why nature makes

children stupid.

This way they can do anything.

Be anything.

Say anything.

If they had any sense at all,

they'd be miserable, like I was.

And that my friends

is the curse,

of premature thoughtfulness.

No, we cleaned

the rec for that one.

The goat pubes?

No, that was the day of mopping.

I remember feeling taller.

What about the

toothpaste in the ears,

what did we get for that?

I don't think so.

I'm pretty sure I was taller.

These were my

best friends in the world.

I hate all of you.

And I hated them all.

First was Grandpa, mildly aware

of his previous lives.

Born only with a memory

of pessimism.

Next was Reckless:

The redheaded socialite,

whose freckled face starred

once in a tang commercial.

And finally Toast.

Likes guns.

Well, we've all made it.

That's a good start.

Let's take some time to think

about what you did.

I think we've worked

this one off, boss.

Consider this a pre-emptive

punishment.

I'm going to punish you

ahead of time.

After the fact has no effect.

So from now on, I'm going to

punish you every day.

Something awful.

Every day.

For something else

you're planning.

You are planning something, right?

Until you behave

like you should behave.

This is how kids behave.

Not my kids.

We're not your kids.

When you're here...

Yohann Sebastian Finkle.

You're my kids.

The Santa Claus of punishment.

Okay?

Yes sir.

We need re-con tonight.

Staying in tonight.

That sounds right.

You guys don't want to go out?

We should wait.

The mission can't wait.

In 8 years we'll be done here.

Do you want to be legends then?

Or do you want to be

a legend now?

I want to play now, Reckless.

We're at camp, but I can't tell.

Turtles!

Let's fight!

They do not paint over

the name of a legend!

This moment's historic.

We gotta do something,

to remember it.

One day we'll be eighty...

with cancer.

And you know what causes cancer?

Regret!

It eats you up

and makes you small.

Right on, man.

At least lunch

and dinner won't be so bad.

Bad?! It's not even

9 o'clock and I'm angry.

I'm out!

I'm out.

I'm reformed!

I feel reformed.

The system works.

I feel like a good kid,

you know?

Yeah?

What's that like?

Sour.

Give me one day of childhood.

They're cleaner

in the dirt than on your body!

Senior kids got better staff

and a grassy patch of Eden.

While we kind of fell through

the cracks.

Our cabin was a halfway house of

sick kids and college criminals.

And we never had a counselor

stay more than a week.

Oddly enough, over the years we

lost more staff than campers.

You see, campers paid the bills,

so it was rare

they'd send one home.

It's an interesting world when

kids support the grown-ups.

Staff got sent home

for one of three reasons:

Substance Abuse.

Child Abuse.

Or finally...

For getting caught...

with the Director's daughters.

Each summer those girls

tore through the ranks.

And they were as pretty

as they were slutty.

The new-day new-Dad

thing got better,

but left us with hours to kill.

I say it again.

You get in the bag

and whatever moves, we kick.

There's an order.

It's New Kid, Reckless, Rabbi,

Fetus, and Toast.

Okay?

You'll go first.

I'll go next.

It'll be fine.

Now get in the bag.

There was an order

for everything. Always.

And where you ranked usually

meant how much fun

you could have in a summer.

Next?

And even though

we played this every day.

That wiped me out.

You guys, Frisbee or something?

Yeah.

Yeah, that's good.

New Kid?

Frisbee?

We never seemed

to get passed New Kid.

You've got to lahhbbit ahhbbit.

Cous-cous was a cartoon.

We rarely understood

what he said.

For awhile,

we thought he was Leprechaun.

Boys.

If you can "tuffit the muffit",

she'll do anything you ask.

Who?

Girls!

What can they do?

Wonderful things.

Like sweep my table?

Make my bed?

Senior kids.

Every night we'd get locked up,

and they'd get released.

The party always seemed

to start at fifteen.

Fifteen.

We couldn't wait to be older.

And someday soon we'd be

on the other side,

but had a couple more years

until parole.

The bridge.

It was gorgeous.

Uncharted and merciless.

A fortress on the water.

Crossing the bridge at night

was the Grail of legends told.

Just a handful of Seniors' soil

could make you king on Earth.

It was amazing.

I have no idea

why this was so important.

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