Summer camp

CAN YOU IMAGINE, CHUCK ? A place as beautiful as Yellowstone, honestly. And all with its own steamy extremity. But instead a pall of danger has dropped.

When I was deemed marksman at camp it was because I could hit paper targets and tin cans better than any kid. Guns as weapons had long been hung on a hook in our part of our world since the settlers had settled and original resistance had dwindled. Now it was a little luxury to learn how to shoot, and to shoot well meant badges and trophies just like excellence at swimming, crafts, or other innocuous activities.


pssst. . .sign the guestbook!