About a week ago, or so, an assembly was called. All available staffers of Camp Ireland 2002-2004 were asked to attend a ceremonial retrieval of a time capsule buried at some point. I didn't know everyone there, having only worked 2 of the three years present. It was organized by the only person paid above the federal minimum wage, a former program director, who has (by my measure) failed to make significant progress from the point, the same standards being set far lower for those of whom were high school students at the time. He wanted group pictures, group luncheons, group activities in the same desperate way the departing seek with their posterity.
Did that seem overly wordy? I read a myspace bulletin my sister sent out about her intimate relationship with the fictional Mr. Potter and the syntax was incredibly pedantic. I wondered how she scored a 4 on the AP exam and professed a desire to be less like her in the future.
Continuing: I had a nice time seeing all these people I had forgotten. I can scarcely remember many of their actual names. There is one I can only recall as "Sharkbait". One of them, a year younger than myself (I presume), is married and has a child. I was baffled by this, though not by the revelation that a coworker, who was absent, has since come out of the closet, as it were. Even more strange was his gratitude that his latex had failed him; he considered it a blessing! For without this gift he would not have gotten a good job so that he could provide for the family he never planned to have, with the woman he freely confessed (apparently even to her, though he rebuffed this statement with one that they had since worked it out, or something) he would not have selected on his own. My mind reeled. What prevented him from seeking a fortunate profession before one was demanded of him? Surely, a position was not formed at his daughter's conception, and paternal obligations are in no way a requirement for employment, though the inverse may hold true. We did not envy his circumstances, even the eldest of us, who is a menace. He boasted of his many dates to various school dances, crowing of an "entire wall" of women he had conquered, in his way. We were quick to remind him that this life was over. One of us dared to ask, "where do you think you'd be if this hadn't happened?" His reply: on a mission.
The day was, however, ruined. The malicious act I had contrived was thwarted by that same simpleton failing to roll down a window just low enough that I could loose a legion of lady beetles into that van. I was deeply disappointed by this. Fortunately, it happened that I had the foresight to purchase a selection of liquid wasp bait for application in yellow jacket traps, which could be easily administered to any number of objects, in the same trip as the beetles. I let the beetles free in the backyard with my brother and it was fun.
You can see how a man like this might be easily fooled.
