What? What? What?

Funkytown

by Richard

Over the weekend I got the opportunity to pick up Zippy the Monkey Boy and Speed Racer from their two-week sleep over camp up in the mountains of North Carolina. That’s two weeks they spent out of our direct supervision. And if that last sentence doesn’t frighten you, it should. It really, really should.

Now, I wasn’t too worried about Zippy since he’s already 15, into girls and wouldn’t want to go too long without showering. If only because he wants to look good for the campers of the female persuasion.

Speed Racer, on the other hand, is a whole ‘nother kettle of fish of a different color, to mangle a metaphor. This is a kid who will happily wear the same outfit, including underwear, every minute from 7 a.m. Friday to around 8 p.m. Sunday, when we strap him down, use surgical scissors to first open and then peel the clothes off. The hardest part is sewing them back together without poking too many holes in my thumbs.

And all that is with Speed being under close parental supervision. That is, we know what he’s like and can take steps to counter him. Counselors, though. . . They had no idea what they were in for.

Speed and Zippy were at camp for a total of 13 days. They were supposed to bring, for instance, 14 pairs of underwear, just in case. Every pair of Zippy’s underwear had been used and needed to be cleaned. Speed. What can I say about Speed? (This hurts to admit.) When I washed Speed’s underwear, all I found were three dirty pair, not including the pair he was wearing. So that means over two weeks, he wore a grand total of four different pair of underwear.

I don’t know about you, but I’m already itching, just thinking about it.

Even worse was the actual trip home. See, the campers all take their own towels. They’re supposed to attempt to dry the towels and any of their clothing or swimsuits that get wet. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to have happened. When I picked them both up and helped them put their duffels in the back of the car, my eyes started watering from the sharp, pungent stench of pre-mildewed, very dirty, very well used clothing.

Thank goodness my nose’s smell receptors burned out, just gave up the ghost, about 37 seconds into the ride home. This is a stench that clings. I’ve Febreezed my minivan several times, done the same to both duffels, and have aired out all of them for several days. It’s getting slightly better..

Someone remind me again why we send these little dudes off to camp.

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