Time of the Season for Sars
by Owen Hillis
“Son, today I'm going to help you become a man! Now get into the backseat of the car!”
Sars felt his father's hand groping his shoulder. He glanced up at his dad, who beamed down at him.
“Why, I remember my first job!” his father continued, as Sars inched away from his grip. “I ran a sponge bath business on my front lawn,” he said, pulling Sars back, “and got all my neighborhood friends to help! Of course back then, kids were a lot safer! Nowadays I'd imagine there are lots of weirdos out there!” He chuckled. “Although they don't make sponges like they used to.”
“We should probably get going,” Sars suggested, eyeing the car.
“Oh, right! I'm just so proud of you,” Sars' dad grinned.
“Well uh, Thanks. It's not like it was really my choice.” Sars replied, climbing into the backseat.
“Oh don't be so negative!” His father said, closing the front door and starting the engine. “Boy you kids grow up so fast! It seems like just yesterday you were vomiting on my shoulder, and now look at you! You're already being sent away for the summer to do manual labor!”
Sars stared blankly at the rear view mirror.
“But what was I saying?” his father asked. “Oh yes, I was talking about your first job. Yes sir, nothing like a good job to turn a boy into a man! I know it feels like it's difficult to get a job in this day and age, but you come out a completely different person after someone's given you a job! It's a symbol of your adulthood! There's nothing more satisfying than a-”
“Dad, stop!” Sars pleaded.
“Boy you must be excited to work at a summer camp. You know your mother and I met at a summer camp: 'St. Herbert's child getaway,' summer of '76!”
“Dad, St. Herbert's is an all-boys camp.”
“Oh.” Said Sars' father. “Oh.... Oh my god...”
They didn't speak for the rest of the ride.
After six more hours of driving they finally arrived. Sars looked at the entrance arch. It read "Camp Let's Go Fishing and Shit." The place looked more like a western ghost town than a summer camp. The mess hall had two broken windows for each one that was intact, and the roof shingles were falling off and starting to surround the building. A pinecone fell into the swimming hole which emitted a large cloud of dust. There was a skeleton holding an empty bucket from a well close by and a tumbleweed was making its way across the ground. A little further into the camp Sars could see two cowboys fighting over a girl, and they didn't look like they took kindly to new folks 'round these parts.
Fortunately, Sars wasn't going to that camp, and instead turned and walked to the camp he'd be working at which was conviniently close but significantly less interesting.
On his way to the registrations office, Sars looked around at what would be his home for the next two months. Since they had left fairly early that morning it was still afternoon when they arrived. There were still children swimming in the lake; some on inflatable crocodile rafts or inflatable zebra rafts for the children with more liberal parents. They were approaching a small bridge that allowed guests to enter and exit the camp. An employee who looked to be a little older than Sars was jogging back to camp across the bridge as a troll poked his head out.
"Who's that clip-clopping over my bridge?"
"Shut da fuck up!"
The troll quickly retreated back into his lair.
Sars checked into his room and bid his father a silent farewell. Actually his father had just sort of wandered back to the car and drove off. He walked to the volunteer cabin and pushed open the door, which fell over. A goat, two racoons, and a hobo ran out and off into the woods. Sars walked inside and placed the door back against the frame.
The room couldn't have looked more like a volunteer cabin. The walls were ribboned with graffiti. In the corner of the room there was a mountain of trash that reached the ceiling. There were seven beds in the room, leaving just enough walking room to stumble over and fall asleep on other people when you'd return drunk at night. Sars looked at the mattresses then at the pile of trash. There were seven wrappers for giant human-sized cleaning sponges. Sars picked a sponge in the corner. He set his bag down on the floor and climbed in through one of the holes.
Before he could start to set up inside he heard someone enter the cabin. Sars poked his head out of one of the holes.
"Forgot my hat," said the hobo.
Following him was a boy who looked to be about Sars' age with wavy brown hair and a volleyball player's build.
"Oh hey," said the guy, "You just got here?"
"Yeah," Sars replied.
"Sweet. Well, looks like you've already started making yourself at home. That's a good idea cuz I should probably get one of the better sponges before anyone else does."
The boy pulled a very large hermit crab out of a sponge in the middle and threw it into the pile of trash, which burped.
"The name's Hudley, by the way," the guy said.
"Sars," Sars said, giving a hearty guy-to-guy greeting.
Hudley nodded, too. "Sars? Like that disease?"
"...Yeah. I was named before the epidemic."
"Wasn't that the one where it was like a super virus created by the government to control population?"
"Uh, kind of. It was traced to wild animals."
"Hm. Well, this is going to be our living cave for the next two weeks. You can ask me if you have volunteer questions cuz I've worked here before. There's not much to explain, I guess. Over there's the sink, it never really stops running. We put Dillon's pillow under it during the day to keep it from dripping. We use it when we need to brush our teeth or pee or something, cuz there's no bathroom in here."
Sars didn't say anything.
"There's gonna be the orientation/meeting/shindig in about an hour over in the dining hall. I'm gonna go get laid in the meantime, see you then."
Sars fell out of his sponge.
About half an hour later, two guys loudly entered, pushing eachother and saying various swear words.
"You see, King Kong is actually a reference to beastiality. Oh shit! Hey, man, what's up? You new here?"
"Yeah."
"Sweet, what's your name?" asked the second guy.
"Sars."
"Sars? Like that hamburger thing?"
"That was the mad cow disease."
"Oh. Yeah. I'm Andy, this is Kyle. He's gay."
"Shut up, bitch! I'm not gay!"
"No, dude, it's totally cool."
"Shut up. You're gay."
"Your dad's gay!"
"Your dad's gay!"
"Your whole family's gay!"
"Your dad's gay with your mom!"
"Your- wait what?"
"I.. Uh..."
"Uhhh... Shit."
"Fuck. Let's get out of here."
Andy and Kyle ran out of the cabin.
"Welcome, new volunteers. As I'm sure you already know, you're the 10th and last group to volunteer this summer. Which means this will be the tenth time I'll be giving this speech, so bear with me if it's a little lacking. Hold your questions till the end because hopefully you'll forget them. Look around. Dining Hall. Great, okay. During the meal times you'll take food from the kitchen to the camper tables when they run out of something."
"Excuse me?" Piped up a whiny voice.
"I hate you."
"Are there vegetarian options?"
"God damn it. No, but if it makes you feel any better, I don't think most of this stuff can legally be considered meat. Any more questions?"
Several volunteers raised their hands.
"Okay, great, moving on. Over theres the fire extinguisher. In the event of a fire it's a really good idea to ignore it and scream really loud and run around while being as unorganized as possible because it really helps, you dip shits."
"Excuse me?"
"WHAT?!"
"I heard that fire extinguishers create carconogens that cause cancer."
"Then if you catch on fire, calmly walk outside and go jump in the fucking lake."
Sars raised his hand. The speaker bit off his head and Sars died. The end.