Camp Anderson

Mitternacht

Queue the sad violin noises in honor of what used to be here but no longer is...
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Jon Anderson's POV

I continue walking along the forest path, my right arm protectively holding Sara about her waist. And to think- I almost might have have lost her! It makes me so sad to think about, but I suppose I'm just happy that I have her back and I don't feel like I am going to lose her.

Stephanie continues dancing on by, this time with an interesting squad of conga dancers with her. I grab Sara's hand, and finally decide to participate in the conga line.

I'm done being scared of dancing...I think to myself.

Time stretches by: seconds turn into minutes, minutes into hours, and hours finally turns into an evening that seems to have been lost.

"I'm so hungry!" Mick Jagger squeals.

"Aw," Gina coos, "My poor Mickey. Well, look at the bright side, you're plenty tired out for getting a good sleep tonight."

Mick weakly attempts a dance move, but apparently quite in vain. "Oh, oh," he cries, "I can't do this! I can't dance right now!"

Judy claps, mustering all of her might into jumping up and squealing with joy, "Aha! No Mick dancing! Now we know, all we need to do is not feed him and make him tired and he can't dance..."

Gina squeaks, "That might hurt him, though!"

"Advice for moderation, then," my dear, Sara, says. "Anyways, we don't have to watch him dance his cringeworthy dance, so it's a good day."

Rod Stewart comes out from behind a tree, "More like the night, actually..."

"Why, hello there, Rod," Lily says plainly. "Hey, everyone, you all know Rod, right?"

"Oh, sure, sure," I say, "Say, where'd you come from, though?"

"I've been here the whole time," Rod responds, "Perhaps you just didn't notice me."

"I think I would have noticed you," I respond, looking over his feathered hair, slight amounts of shiny silver eyeshadow, and loud three piece suit. Yes, I certainly couldn't have missed him...

"Oh, Jonny boy," he says with a laugh (they all call me Jonny boy...), "You need to get your eyes checked, then! I've been here the whole time."

"I didn't see this bugger," Jane says, "where else would he have come from?"

"The Sky lesbians, man," Bob Dylan says, strumming at his guitar, definitely high on weed or something else.

"Who told him about the sky lesbians?" Grace asks, in the midst of the throes of passion with another one of my fellow prog musicians. GAH! Now Bill is just going off making hanky panky!

I didn't know Bill liked that sort of thing... making love in trees, that is. Well, you live and you learn.

What has this camp done to my perfect innocence?

Anyways, Grace kicks Bill off to the curb when the two of them are done with their run in the hay, or, the trees rather, and then Rod pulls out his little latex friend and immediately makes a run for the trees, or, Grace, rather.

Why do I understand what's going on? This doesn't seem right...

We continue along the path, now Grace and Rod following along with us all, when Ian shouts out, "I am here to declare, at this here midnight time, that we are, in fact, hopelessly lost on this trail."

"Oh, screw you, Ian!" Judy shouts, flipping Ian off, "I was hoping to go to bed in my nice comfortable bed that Bob so lovingly bought for our cabin, but no! I have to be out here, hopelessly lost!" She hops up and down, obviously extremely upset.