Free Memoirs of a Neurotic Zombie by Jeff Norton Page B

station at Camp Nowannakidda. Three leaky faucets dripping over one long, stainless-steel * basin and one cracked bar of soap that had dirt permanently lodged into its crevices. Half of a mirror hung dangerously above the metal sink and I caught a glimpse of myself looking sweaty and decomposed.
    I turned the tap on and reached for the filthy soap.The lather was brown, so I rubbed the sliver of soap, expunging the remnant dirt and getting down to the untouched, white core underneath. Once I was satisfied I’d rid my hand of the mosquito’s ill-gotten dinner, I air-dried my hands (who says there’s no use for jazz hands outside the theatre?) and emerged from the stinkroom into the open air of the field.
    Beyond the treeline, I could see the orange glow of the campfire and the plume of smoke whisping into the evening sky. And then I heard it – the Camp Nowannakidda Chant.
    But the singing voices were quickly upstaged by two camp counsellors chatting as they walked past the outhouse. I slipped back inside the stink house because I just didn’t feel like being social.
    ‘Whaddya think of this batch?’ asked a girls’ voice, maybe Petal.
    ‘Too scrawny,’ replied an older guy, whom I think was Duke. ‘I thought there was supposed to be an obesity crisis.’
    I waited for them to pass and peered out of the wooden door. Duke and Petal sauntered towards the mess hall and instinct told me to follow them, keeping my distance.
    The two camp counsellors disappeared inside and I found an open window and peeked in. The camp crew were chatting, listening to music and cleaning up.
    ‘Think we’ll make quota this summer?’ asked Lana.
    ‘You know what happens if we don’t,’ said Crow. ‘Don’t worry – two weeks of poutine and sundaes and they’ll be ready!’
    ‘Not the vegan,’ said Petal. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do about her. Granny won’t be pleased.’
    ‘I’m more worried about that kid in make-up,’ said Duke. ‘He looks sickly.’
    ‘At least their little friend is eating for the three of them.’ Lana laughed.
    ‘Don’t worry, guys,’ said Petal. ‘Growl’s a master at this. We’ll make quota. I’m sure of it!’
    I shifted my weight – my quads were killing me – and fell over.
    ‘What was that?’
    ‘Go check!’
    I heard the rapid rush of footsteps on the floorboards and then quickly descending the wooden steps. I looked out to the field but knew I couldn’t make the treeline in time.
    The only hiding place was under the cabin. Iimagined the space between the ground and cabin’s floor was the domain of filthy foxes or rabid field mice. But if I didn’t want to get caught snooping around, I really didn’t have a choice. I crouched down and prepared to burrow like a badger.
    I swung my body under the cabin, quickly entangling myself in a myriad of cobwebs, then felt something squish under my shoulder that I’m pretty sure was fresh animal poo, and continued my roll until I was covered in nature and well and truly hidden from the LITs rushing around the cabin, searching for the source of the alarming noise.
    ‘There’s nobody here!’ one of them called.
    ‘Probably just an animal,’ said another.
    ‘Too bad we can’t add ’em to the batch,’ joked Lana.
    ‘Humans only, and kids at that,’ said Petal. ‘You know Mrs Lebkuchen’s rules. The Can Nibble Donut Corporation is very particular on its ingredients.’
    Can Nibble .
    As in …
    Cannibal .
    Oh no, they were going to turn us into doughnuts.
    * Don’t be fooled by the branding. It had plenty of stains.

17
In Which I Plot Our Escape
    Once our camp counsellor captors had retreated back inside, I scrambled out from under the mess hall, covered in cobwebs and stains that shall forever, well, stain my memory. I ran as fast as two decrepit legs could carry me. It was dark now and I only had the glow of the lakeside campfire to guide me.
    I’d eaten a Can Nibble doughnut, and so I’d unknowingly eaten people.