Legend of the Underwear
So last week at camp, all of the CITs (Counselors-in-Training) decided to have a sleepout together. Just us, under the stars on the little field. It's a long story how we managed to achieve that, but suffice it to say we made it. Most of us.
We all settled in, cozy in our sleeping bags, admiring the nice cloud cover... and at 11:30 on the dot my dad comes down with his Camp Director Voice (it's a thing) to make sure we're all in bed and going to sleep. Curfew's a curfew after all.
But it's a campout! What're we supposed to do? Of course, my soulmate Hannah and I curled up next to each other and waited for a topic to suggest itself. The clouds parted majestically, and I commented on the stars. Boom! We were off.
Two hours later, we were neck-deep in a soulful discussion about God and philosophy and life and death and beliefs. I mean, a really, really deep conversation, the kind where we bared our souls to each other.
It's 1:15, and it's her turn to talk about something. It's still way deep. I'm listening happily, but wriggle about in my sleeping bag trying to get comfortable.
I'm wriggling around, and I feel something with my toe. I casually feel it, and think, "Well that doesn't feel like it's attached to the sleeping bag." I tug on it, and it moves. "I don't remember storing any of my clothes in here."
So, very, very casually, as she continues baring her soul next to me, ranting eloquently to the stars, I pull this foreign object up to inspect.
AND THEN PROMPTLY UTTER A HALF-MUFFLED SHRIEK AND TOSS IT ACROSS THE CIRCLE.
The object, of course, lands on the sleeping face of our friend, Anthea, bless her soul. RIP.
By this point, Hannah has noticed my antics. (I think the shriek gave it away.) So she sits up and peers confusedly at me and at the foreign object covering Andrea's snores. She asks what it is, and all I can say from my fetal position within my sleeping bag, is that it is definitely a... well, a pair of young man's underwear.
In my sleeping bag.
For who knows how long.
From who knows who.
At this point there's general half-muffled laughter and confused squeals and much flailing, during which I manage to retrieve the offending clothing from Andrea's face.
This is when it gets good.
I will have you know first that I am the problem child when it comes to irrational decisions. In chemistry, the week after it's drilled into us that we never, EVER, smell anything without knowing what it is, I smelled ammonia. Right next to my nose, when I've already ruled out it being the vinegar I need, I just deeply inhale the stuff.
So I don't have a very good track record.
This might help explain what I did next, when I retrieved the undergarment...
AND THEN SMELLED IT.
IT WAS ONE FIFTEEN IN THE MORNNG AFTER A WEEK OF CAMP AND A MONTH AT INTERNSHIPS. I CLAIM NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR MY BRAIN FUNCTION.
Aaaaalllllllll that to say, it smelled horrible. Like. AWFUL.
It was a terrible decision and I needed to rinse out my nose.
So we threw it back across the circle, where it thankfully didn't land on anyone's face, and curled up to go to sleep and hopefully stop laughing.
Best part is though, we got up really early in the morning to go shower. But we.. we left the underwear there?
So as each person around the circle woke up, they were each greeted with the undisclosed presence of a random pair of undergarments in the middle of the circle.
/Better yet/ when our friend Jimmy woke up, the first thing out of his bleary mouth was, "Is that mine?"
AND TO THIS DAY
NO ONE KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED TO THE UNDERWEAR
BECAUSE WE ALL JUST LEFT IT THERE
SO FOR ALL WE KNOW IT COULD STILL BE THERE.
...
THE END