25 the great summer campout scare of cloverfield park

 

Everything is in place and ready to go. The team is just waiting for my signal. From my tree position high above the campsite, I bend the communications microphone toward my mouth.

Becky rigged the trees yesterday with a boatload of wireless mini-speakers . . .

. . . and Ricky’s off in the bushes with the remote that will launch his prerecorded moans and groans and howls (and no doubt, the occasional atomic fart . . . it’s his trademark!).

Becky is our “inside person” . . . actually down there mixed in with the sixth grade girls sitting around the roaring bonfire, though she’s not linked into our ear bud walkie-talkies.

She just has a small flashlight to signal me when the ghost-storytelling hits the perfect point at which to start the campout scare.

Any minute now.

Any second—

Right on cue, Ricky’s creepy soundtrack of monsters and ghosts and farts fills the dark woods surrounding the crowd of girls. The constant chatter and laughing below me comes to a quick stop as the eerie sounds grow louder, weirder, and fartier.

And then . . .

Nothing.

I bang my microphone and try again. Still nothing.

And then . . .

Suddenly, crashing through the bushes and trees toward the mass of screaming, scrambling girls . . .

. . . an army of giant crazy killer clowns with chainsaws! Keith Schimsky executed an unauthorized “Dr. Shock”!

I have to admit, these freaky clown monsters are amazing! I’ll have to find out how Keith pulled it off! But right now, I have to stop this before it gets any more out of control . . .

With a sharp tug on the harness that he and Jasper had rigged, Jessup blasts me up and over the wild scene.

I hit the ground and start looking for one person . . .

I run up and grab his shoulder, spinning him around to face me.

Keith Schimsky’s laugh cuts through all the noise of crazy chainsaw clowns and screaming sixth grade girls.

“You’re finished, Pucket! Washed up! Done!”

Before I can say anything, whistles and shouts add to the mess of noise. Searchlights sweep through the trees.

“Park rangers!” growls Keith, and dives into the shadows.

I turn to run, and in the chaos I crash right into the last person I want to see right now.

“No, no, wait! You don’t understand! It wasn’t me! I tried—”

Suddenly whistles, flashlights, and footsteps are all around us. The park rangers are closing in! I make a move for the shadows but—