This One Time, At Church Camp...

When I was fourteen I spent a week at church camp at a place called Cedar Ridge, a tick-infested, sweltering hell-hole just outside of Louisville; and also the place where I forged friendships I have to this day. It was church camp in name only thanks to the liberal theology of my religious denomination. Through the years some unchurchy shit went down at church camp.

That year, the director of the senior high camp was a nice but humorless man named Reverend Schnelle. I never knew his first name. At camp all of the other ministers went by Bill or Greg or Dave, but Reverend Tight Ass insisted on being addressed by his formal title.

Reverend Schnelle didn't want us up all night fondling each other - or in my case raiding the dining hall's refrigerator and getting even fatter - so early in the week he struck a deal with us: "Go to bed on time all week and Friday you can stay up all night." We eagerly accepted and behaved reasonably well.

Friday night, after the annual senior high dance and pizza party, we all, boys and girls alike, gathered in one cabin to tell dirty jokes and amusing anecdotes. Yeah, that's how wild we were. Our teenage rebellion could hardly be contained. Everyone was having a good time basically listening to me tell blasphemous stories when suddenly we hear Reverend Schnelle's voice: "Ladies and gentlemen, time to get some sleep."

Not only did this liar interrupt the tale of my neighbor with the big tits getting caught in a surprise rain storm, he automatically brought us all down.
"You said we could stay up all night," we whined in unison.
His verbatim reply: "Well, I didn't think you'd actually want to."
What kind of twisted logic was that? I didn't think you'd want what I promised you. What a dickhead.

Needless to say, we were all pissed. But none of us were as pissed as my best friend, John Schwartz, whom I described in detail in my

Kentucky Derby post.

John, you see, wasn't listening to my classic jokes such as "Why doesn't Jesus eat M & M's? They fall through the holes in his hands." He was in a corner of the cabin, making out with a girl. John was the only non-dork among us. Actually he was kind of a dork, but as they say, in the land of the blind the one-eyed man is king. That girl was gonna get felt up by someone at church camp, by god, and she chose John to do the felting.

The following morning I woke up early to wash off the betrayal of yet another authority figure. I had the horrid, putrid shower cabin all to myself if you don't count the insects. As I had just finished dressing and started brushing my teeth, John walked in. We nodded at each other, best friends too tired and angry to converse. John walked into one of the shower stalls and I was on my way out when Reverend Schnelle enters. I didn't want to acknowledge the asshole but he was blocking my exit. I was looking him right in the eyes when John Schwartz, showering obliviously, yelled as loudly as he could, "HEY, TODD...REVEREND SCHNELLE REALLY FUCKED US UP THE ASS LAST NIGHT!"

I wish I could give a detailed description of the look on Reverend Schnelle's face, but I was too busy shoving the man out of my way and running down a dirt path, simultaneously screaming like a teenage girl and laughing hysterically.

John never went back to camp.