Zigzag's TV Guide
Each camper is given a crate for keeping personal items in: toothbrush, toothpaste, towels, etc. Whatever you put in there, everybody will know what you have. The crates are open. There are no lids, let alone locks. But no one will touch your stuff. It's an unwritten law, like no throwing dirt in someone else's hole.
Each guy (sorry, Fuse) usually has something else in his crate, too, what I call a lifeline. It's something that connects him to life back home. I kept a photograph of my parents. Armpit had a catcher's mitt. Fuse had her 9th grade yearbook and Catcher in the Rye. Squid kept a rubber octopus. Don't ask me why. You don't ask too many questions, and you don't ever cut someone's lifeline.
Zigzag's lifeline was a TV Guide dated March 22, 1998. The torn cover showed the crew of the Star Trek shows. Maybe Zigzag was a Trekkie. A lot of people, including his own girlfriend (Fuse), thought Zigzag was from outer space.
I'd often see Zigzag lying on his cot, usually with Fuse in the circle of his arm, carefully studying the pages. They could both probably tell you when any show was on that particular week and what was going to happen in it. Of course, what ever was going to happen already had happened. For most of us, the week of March 22, 1998, was history. For Zigzag, the week ran on a continuous loop.
There was a television inside the Wreck Room, and I guess it's still there. It doesn't come close to working. Even if it did, I doubt there would be any reception. The Warden has a satellite dish outside her cabin, but she lives in a different reality.
Still, everyday after digging and showering, Zigzag plopped himself on the Wreck Room floor beside Fuse and stared at the TV. While Zigzag was watching TV, Fuse was reading Catcher in the Rye. Whatever Zigzag was watching was playing only inside his head, something from the week of March 22, 1998.
It was an old-fashioned TV with one of those big circular knobs used for changing channels. It must've been made before cable, because as far as I could tell, there were only thirteen possible channels.
Sometimes X-Ray would ask, "Hey, Zig. Whatcha watchin'?" And Zigzag would reply, "I Dream of Jeannie," or "The Simpsons," or whatever. Sometimes Fuse would answer for him and say, "Friends," or "That 70's Show," or something in that area. No one laughed. No one ever pointed out there was nothing on the screen. Let sleeping dogs lie. Don't cut someone's lifeline, especially someone as crazy as Zigzag.
Then one day a guy from E tent came over and sat down on the other side of Zigzag. His name was Easy. His real name was Eric Zornlitch. He was called Easy because of his initials. He was anything but easygoing. He had been sent to Camp Green Lake in the first place because a dog pooped in front of him when he was riding his skateboard. He beat up the dog's owner, and then the dog.
Easy sat down next to Zigzag and stared at the TV. When Zigzag didn't seem to notice him, Easy laughed loudly, as if he was watching something really funny. He slapped Zigzag on the back.
"Don't touch him," Fuse warned, not even looking up from her book. Zigzag looked a little annoyed but otherwise continued to ignore him.
Easy elbowed Zigzag in the side and said, "That was pretty funny, huh?"
"You really shouldn't touch him," said Fuse, still not looking up. Zigzag never laughed or showed any reaction to any show he was watching. He just stared.
Finally, Easy reached over and changed the channel. By this time everybody in the Wreck Room was watching them watch TV. I was beginning to get worried.
"Oh, you done it now, boy," Fuse said, marking her page and putting down the book.
Zigzag turned the knob back. "I was here first," he said.
Easy looked over at his friends from E tent and smiled. "But I've seen this show before," he said, and turned the knob again.
"I haven't," said Zigzag. He turned it back.
Some of the other guys in the room began to get into it. "Zigzag's always hogging the set!" someone shouted.
"Let someone else watch something for a change," someone else put in.
"You all best be shutting up if you know what's good for you!" Fuse yelled out.
Other guys came in on Zigzag's side. "Zigzag was there first. Let him finish his show!"
Easy reached for the channel knob.
Zigzag's hand clamped on top of Easy's. In a dangerously quiet voice he said, "Wait until the show's over."
Zigzag did not seem especially threatening. He resembled a tall, skinny bobble head doll. But Easy had been around long enough to know that the crazy guys were the most dangerous.
Easy glanced back at his friends. They urged him on.
"Change the channel."
"Zigzag has watched long enough."
"Why don't you just wait for a commercial?" X-Ray offered. "Then Easy can see what's happening on his channel. That alright with you, Zigzag?"
Zigzag's hand was still wrapped around Easy's, on top of the knob. "Okay," he agreed.
"That good for you, Easy?" X-Ray asked.
Easy looked around. For a second I thought he'd ease off, but then he said, "How the hell am I supposed to know when there's a commercial?"
He tried to turn the knob. Zigzag tightened his grip.
"Ziggy…" Fuse said, worried.
I could see the strain on their muscles and the tension on their faces. Easy's eyes began to water. Suddenly, he yelped like a dog and jerked his hand away.
"You're whacked out!" he exclaimed. "Look what he did to my hand!"
The channel knob was imprinted on Easy's palm. Cuts in his skin were shaped like little numbers.
What happened next was unbelievable. Easy swung at Zigzag. Fuse stepped back in shock. The blow hit Zigzag in the face. Zigzag swung back. Now there was a fight.
"Zigzag, don't start this again!" Fuse screamed. With one final blow to the gut and a kick to the groin, Fuse stopped the fight herself. She was the one who punched and kicked Easy. "No fighting!"
She turned to Zigzag. "Are you okay?"
A purple and yellow shiner was forming on Zigzag's right eye. Fuse gently brushed her thumb against it. Zigzag's lip was swollen, too.
"All this over a TV channel."
Later, when a counselor asked what happened to Zigzag and Easy, they said, "I slammed the tent door on it."
That is what you should say whenever you get hurt in a fight, or even if someone hurts you accidentally. You never tattle.
We were always getting our hands or noses bashed in by those damn tent doors. It doesn't matter that there are no tent doors, just canvas flaps.
Later that night, I saw Zigzag and Fuse on Zigzag's cot, Fuse asleep in the circle of his arm and Zigzag reading his TV Guide.
He sighed. "Man, too bad we don't get cable."