Monster Camp

“Screee! Screeee!” the harsh sounds grated on my nerves, causing me to make mistakes I would then have to scribble out.

“Will you be quiet? I’m trying to write an important letter, and I need to concentrate.” Exasperated, I shut the door between our adjoining rooms and hunkered over the desk again.

When I initially signed up to attend Weeping Willows—the regional monster summer camp—my brilliant principal had assigned a banshee as my roommate. At first, I was thrilled, because not many banshees enroll in camp. Actually, there was only one banshee in the entire camp, and I was stuck with her for the duration. She’s not bad as monsters go, but when she’s bored, she screeches. When she is tired, she screeches. And when she’s reading . . . she screeches!

Unfortunately, I am a green fluffy monster with oversized, extremely sensitive ears. I can hear a bat flapping 500 feet away. Grabbing my pair of fuchsia headphones, I gingerly set them over my ears, in an attempt to block out the racket. Not completely soundproof, they deaden the highest pitches a bit.

Camp had just begun, and already I was going crazy. Something would have to change immediately, or I would have no sanity left. Glancing at my paper, I couldn’t help grinning at my deviousness. In truth, I was not writing a letter home; I was working on a reflector dish. My family had always said I was destined for a job in engineering, so in a manner of speaking, my endeavors did have to do with family.

The metallic reflector dish would be my first metal-shop project here at camp, giving me the opportunity to prove my family correct. If I am successful, it will effectively absorb my roommate’s screeches and reverberate them in any direction I choose. Quivering with anticipation, I renew my focus on the task before me. What an ideal revenge weapon!