Happy Campers Page #5

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STRIPPING GIRL ]

How's this empowering, again? ]

PIXEL:

No, no, not one arm at a time, grab

the bottom of the shirt with both

hands, that's it. Feel the heat...

Backs turned, the girls tug their shirts up their spines.

A LOOKOUT GIRL turns from a splattered window.

LOOKOUT GIRL:

Wendy!

Wendy enters the mess hall. She collapses her soaked umbrella

to reveal the vision of Pixel in charade mode with the girls

crumpled together in fake rapture. Wendy frowns suspiciously.

CAMPERS:

A movie...two words...first

word...sounds like...

INT. WENDY AND PIXEL'S CABIN--FUTURE DAY ]

]

Wendy again gives off an uncomprehending stare. This time ]

toward Pixel meticulously painting strangely erotic tattoos ]

on a line of their cabin's girls. ]

SMOOTH NARRATOR (V.O.)

Pixel gleefully answered all the

dirty questions a good counselor

would uncomfortably ignore. It was

dangerous to try and figure Pixel

out. She herself wisely never tried.

Others would.

EXT. CENTER OF CAMP--PRESENT DAY

From a distance, Pixel can be discerned colorfully trotting

through the grand tableau of first day activity. Back turned

to the viewer, Wichita steps in before this image.

SMOOTH NARRATOR (V.O.)

As strange as Pixel may have seemed,

the camp's real wild card was

Wichita.

EXT. CENTER OF CAMP--FUTURE DAY ]

]

Two groups of Campers rip on the same rope in a vicious bout ]

of tug of war. Veins-a-poppin, Adam wails at his team on ]

one side while Wichita calmly traverses next to his group. ]

SMOOTH NARRATOR (V.O.)

Here was a someone who did not care

about workbookleted activities. Here

was someone who had anarchy in his

eyes. Here was someone. Period. He

played it low-key that first week...

WICHITA ]

Now. ]

]

Wichita's team immediately-giddily lets go of the rope, ]

sending Adam's "winning" team into an ugly crash. ]

EXT. THE BEACH--FUTURE DAY

Zen amidst a lake of activity, Wichita sits on the pier,

writing in a brilliantly scruffy journal.

SMOOTH NARRATOR:

No one could see into Wichita's soul,

but at least it was clear that he

had one. He had an effect on

everyone, even those thought to have

no feelings...

In a canoe, being paddled by campers, Wendy looks up from ]

a her own diary (pink polka dots) to study the enigmatic ]

counselor. ]

EXT. CENTER OF CAMP--PRESENT DAY

A VIEW THROUGH BINOCULARS of the Day One panorama.

SMOOTH NARRATOR (V.O.)

A collection of individuals separated

from regular society eventually

becomes something more than a

collection of individuals separated

from regular society. It becomes

one mammoth living organism.

Different traits of different people

feeding off and flowing into each

other--the naive and the perverse,

the brutal and the sweet, the

overconfident and the overwhelmed--

all coming together to form one

singularly special whole.

EXT. OUTSIDE OF OBERON'S OFFICE--DAY

Binoculars withdraw through venetian blinds in the window

of the office structure.

SMOOTH NARRATOR (V.O.)

An organism made up of 70 screaming

kids counseled by young adults at

the most f***ed-up point in their

lives is a monster well worth a

glance. Welcome to Camp Bleeding

Squaw.

EXT. THE CENTER OF CAMP--DAY

A deafening whistle rattles everyone into a camp-wide flinch.

All turn to get a view of OBERON, the camp's terrifying,

fully Full Metal Jacket Camp Director, marching from his

little fortress, growling into a high-tech headset.

OBERON:

Campers, welcome to Camp Bleeding

Squaw! I'm Big Chief Oberon. Fun.

I like it. You think I don't? I do.

But Fun without structure is chaos

and chaos is not fun--Now everybody

rip off their band-aid!

All shapes and sizes of campers (and counselors) reach to

their bandaged body parts and tear away with the same AAH

sound. Red, Blue, Green, and Purple dots are revealed upon

each character's skin.

OBERON:

Yes! It has begun! I declare war! Color

War!--all the way to our Fortieth Day!

Welcome to the thrill of competition

and the joy of making others cry.

I want Reds here, Greens there, Blue

across from them and the Purple team

against the flagpole!

A perfect four-section-split of Counselors and Campers

swiftly surrounds the volcanic camp director.

OBERON:

This new turn of events brings up

an interesting question: Who's got

more Camp pride?

With absurd reflex enthusiasm, each side screams out their

color. Red! Purple! Donald turns to Wichita.

DONALD:

Something tells me he can't hear us.

OBERON:

I can't he--ar you!

WICHITA:

Not bad, Donald Dark.

Both sides screech out their colors even louder. Wendy, eyes

closed in a religious fervor, leads the Red side. Oberon

turns, getting off on the manic reverberations behind him.

OBERON:

One more time!

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