Max,
Hey, BRO!!!! How's Florida? There's a buttload of leaves, right? I went there once and I was just like, "Oh, my God, leaves. Max would so completely hate this place." So like, do you so completely hate this place, or...?
So my mom forced me to go to summer camp because she doesn't appreciate my attempts at having fun while you and Michael aren't here. She was all, "Harrassing the elderly is not an acceptable pastime, Phyllis," and I was all, "Um, hello, that guy was totally a murderer," and she was all, "GO TO CAMP." And then she actually made me go to camp, because she is a walking entity of evil.
And every day they have this thing called rest hour where you have to have to go back to your cabin and rest. For an hour. And since allowing electronics here would be humane, the only thing we can really do besides sleep (because everyone is just exhausted at 1:30 P.M.) is write letters to people. I wrote my mom this really passive aggressive one about how excellent it is here, what with the bacteria-infested lake they make us swim in, and the moldy bread they make the sandwiches with, and how some girl almost accidentally got shot with an arrow and all, but that only took like, ten minutes, so now I have to write to you and Michael even though you are in fun places like Florida and Hawaii and I am at stupid camp.
There're a bunch of leaves here, let me tell you. Am I scaring you? Let me know if I am- I'll stop. So anyway, there are leaves here, in abundance, and it would freak you out like whoa. Being at an all-girls camp would probably freak you out too though, so yeah, just like, don't come. Not that you even would, because you're in Florida and your parents are not walking entities of evil. How is that, by the way, it sounds nice.
So I think the counselor in Cabin 3 might be a convicted felon. She's only like, eighteen, but I am still convinced of this. She's a complete pyromaniac- like I was actually kind of scared when we did the campfire on Monday because she got this like, crazed look in her eyes as soon as we lit the thing. And then my counselor was like, "Okay, we should probably put it out now," and she was like, "NO," and it was really unnerving and I wish you and Michael were here because nobody else here believes me and they don't think crime-fighting is an acceptable pastime. So it's not even any better here than at home, really- it's actually probably worse on account of the whole rest hour thing.
Also, the chef is totally trying to poison us. We had this Kool-Aid last night, and it definitely tasted like cyanide. I have no idea what cyanide actually tastes like, but I am still fairly certain there was some in the Kool-Aid. Actually, I don't even know why I'm blaming the chef for this, when it could be anyone ever who as access to the fridge. So basically, we could all be poisoned and have our remains burned and nobody would even know what happened because nobody believes me about this stuff.
And then there was the whole business with the campout on Tuesday. I won’t go into detail about the particulars of said campout, but basically some idiot decided we needed to have mashed potatoes. Instant mashed potatoes. Cooked over an open fire. With no one actually watching the stupid pan so we all actually forgot about the thing until the milk boiled over and it smelled like crap for the rest of the night because that arsonist counselor wouldn’t let us put the fire out until the last possible moment. Plus, this girl almost got charged by a moose.
Write me back soon so we can figure out a plan to get to the bottom of this. How soon do you think you can get here?
Sincerely,
Your bestest friend in the universe ever,
Phyllis
P.S. I also saw like, two and a half bears.
P.P.S. And I haven't seen the counselor from Cabin 5 in over twenty minutes.
P.P.P.S. She's probably dead.
P.P.P.P.S. Aww, man.
P.P.P.P.P.S. I wish I had a pomegranate.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Pomegranates are good.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. SEND ME A POMEGRANATE.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Wait, do they even have pomegranates in Florida?
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Whatever, just get one and bring it to me when you come up here.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Bring gloves.
Phyllis,
Stop.
-Max
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