Vomiting Again Pt. 2

I was once a camp counselor- to my regret I was, perhaps not surprisingly, occasionally laid back about the whole affair. One might even say a little too leisurely- though perhaps uneven is a better word. I counseled at what could be nominally called a bible camp, but I think this might be putting too generic a tag on one of the best and most unique places I've been.

One night, when I was a lowly counselor-in-training, I was tasked with delivering the evening devotional. I began with the usual talk-about-our-day, prayer-requests, does-anyone-have-any-questions, and then I asked if someone wanted me to read from the bible. One kid said yeah, he'd like me to read Revelations. Relieved that the whole spiel was finally out of my hands, I gladly turned to Revelations and began to read aloud. I read without thinking at first, then when I realized what passage I'd serendipitously turned to, I read with horror. Gnashing of teeth! The unsaved being tortured! Many fires burning eternally! And all in the pitch black of a cabin in the woods, a setting that to any mind, especially an 8-year olds, anything said is immediately imagined, and immediately imagined right outside the door. The King James bible is where the gravity of doom was perfected in our language -phrasing, tone, rhetoric, graphic violence- I defy anyone to disbelieve anything the King James version tells them in a setting like that. I stopped at one point, sure that there were six wet beds in the room. Does anyone mind if I stop? One little kid, I can't even remember his name, said in a quavering voice that he'd like to become a Christian. I was silent- there was sobbing- where was the counselor? He was absent. I cursed under my breath. Surely this was the epitome of scare tactics. And all inadvertently done. Again I cursed. Yes of course, I said. And that is the only time, for better or worse, I've ever guided anyone spiritually. I felt bad about if for weeks- my one conversion, under such morbid conditions.

That was just a super long non sequitur. We had weekly talent shows, where people sang songs, performed skits, played piano etc. A couple of my chums- there were probably 7 or 8 of us- decided that we were going to pee our pants for the talent show. I guess this was supposed to be funny- but the irony was lost on us that this probably shows a dearth of all talent, imagination, and general self-awareness more than anything else. Anyway, we all got together and began drinking water in huge quantities. We drank and drank water until it hurt. You can become intoxicated if you drink enough water in a short enough time. That could account for why the notion that it was a good idea managed to be sustained. At my fourth or fifth 2-litre jug, I began to throw up. I probably threw up ten litres of water. A staggering fire hydrant. The kids cheered. Only one of us managed to pee his pants. It happened before the talent show had even begun. He couldn't make it to the bathroom. Lesson: these sorts of things are impossible to time.