This was going to be an interesting day. Today we were to learn about computers and the cyber world.

I looked down at my food, tuna salad that looked like cat puke with pickles in it. I wasn't eating that.

"Oh lord, is this poison?!" Britan sputtered once he took his first bite.

"I wouldn't be surprised," I said.

"WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE THIS FOOD IS POISON!" Mr. Purple Hair or Jason screamed to all who dared listen.

"Jason Ivory! One more statement like that—"

"And I'll be decapitated, that's too bad," he replied. I couldn't help but snigger.

"Unfortunately, we do not have a guillotine or meschetti (sp?) on grounds. You'll just have to do laundry and have," he paused for dramatic effect, "homework."

Everyone gasped, they were allowed to do that? The camp was bad enough already; we didn't need to have to do that cursed thing that they call homework.

Once inside the room where they held all the computers we were taught how to turn one on and off. Then we were told what all the programs would do. After that lecture we were turned loose with the Internet. Okay, so only I was turned loose because I wasn't going to the two sites that we were allowed to go to.

I went to www.lemonysnicket.com, where I listened to the Count Olaf song (each computer had a set of headphones next to them). I loved the song. It said all you needed to know about the Count.

"Draco, is that one of the two sites you're allowed to be on?" O.J asked. I had a smart aleck comeback in mind, but didn't use it because then I would really have to fear ice picks.

"No, sir," I said.

"Then why are you on it?" he asked.

"Because I'm a fan of the author," my voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Draco, I'm afraid I think you just landed here for winter vacation, unless you can straighten up. You have laundry tonight, with Jason and Barry Ivory."

I had laundry on the worst night to have such a duty, Friday! Normally I love Fridays, but this one was going to be quite a pain in the butt.

"What are the two sites we are allowed to be on?" I asked.

"You are allowed to log onto the following two URLs: www.darkwizardswithmugglenovelstutorial.com or www.theessenceofmugglenovels.com." Both the websites were boring ramblings about how it was so sad to see the child of a death eater with a muggle novel. I also signed the guestbook of both the sites telling them just how stupid they were and how good certain muggle novels are. I hope they get a kick out of that one considering the fact that I signed it "The Telltale Malfoy."

The laundry was again long and horrendous. I met a girl named Heather, who was from a different group of us and had to do the laundry of each group once to serve as punishment for sneaking out to a theme park while she was here.

"Um . . . I have to watch over another group. If you don't do the laundry I will force-feed burnt nacho cheese to all four of you!" That was enough to get us to work . . . very quickly.

We finished within an hour, but then we sat down for a game of truth or dare. I heard three terms that I didn't know about that game: chicken, electric chair (where the person picks for you), spice (a dare that you have to do).

"Draco," said Mr. Purple Hair, who was going first. "Truth, Dare, Chicken, Electric Chair or Spice?"

"I'll take truth," I replied.

"Okay, um . . ." Heather leaned up against his ear, as if she knew what to ask. "I'll think of something, so don't try to help me."

"Why don't you just ask him something stupid because it appears as if you can't think of anything else," said Barry.

"Okay, who do you have a crush on at this camp?"

"I've got a halo, I cannot tell!" I said.

"Oh, that means we get to decide!" Heather shouted.

From what I am told, at this point in the game I turned modern-day Michael Jackson pale, meaning that it seemed as if all the pigment drained out of my skin. You could also say that I looked like death with silver-blond hair.

"Okay, in that case I shall tell the truth: no one, zip, zero, nada . . ." I rambled all the synonyms for nothing.

"That's nice," Heather said.

"Now it's your turn to ask someone," Barry informed me.

"Okay, umm . . ." I thought for a moment, "for the sake of revenge, Jason."

"Well, considering the fact that no one can ever trust me to tell the truth, I can't choose that, so I'll have to go with dare."

"Umm . . ." For some reason I thought about Jason's hair dye and was immediately inspired, "I dare you to wash your hair with dirt and water."

"Okay . . ." he said in a tone that said (very obviously) he was freaked out. Maybe I should take up that muggle tradition and dress up as Norman Bates (not when he's about ready to murder someone) for Halloween.

"Who's going to write the note telling him that we're finished?" Barry asked.

A sadistic grin spread across my face. "I will!" I said

"Orville-

"We finished the laundry and have since fled to do something known as having "fun." Fun is what the Merriam-Webster's Dictionary calls "something that causes amusement." It is also synonymous with "entertainment."

Draco, Barry, Jason, Heather

PS: THIS CAMP SUCKS!" I read aloud.

"So, is that good?" I asked.

"Yes!" All three said at once.

With that we left towards the lake. Once there Jason lowered himself to the water level and shuddered. "IT'S TOO FREAKING COLD!!" he shouted.

"Okay, then how about instead of dirt you have to use Heather's shampoo, which doesn't appear to work very well," I said.

"You got a deal," he said.

With that Heather took off. I saw that Jason had found a book and was looking at it.

"What's the book about?" I asked.

"What muggles call cars," he said.

Quickly Barry, Jason, and I found ourselves enjoying reading about these so-called "cars." My favorite had to be the Shelby, small, quick, and everything that I could ever hope for in a broom.

Then Heather just had to blow our bubble by returning. Though the result of her returning was something that I would laugh about for a long while to come. It had something to do with the fact that Jason seemed really chicken about this and the fact that when he was finished the reason to why his hair was brown was questionable.

"Heather, why don't you ask someone?" Jason asked.

"Sure," she replied. "Barry truth, dare, you know the deal?"

"How about dare," he said.

"I dare you to dance like Michael Jackson."

"Wait . . . that just isn't right."

"Would you prefer to dance like an early Elvis?"

Barry paused for a minute. "In that case Michael Jackson rocks!" With that he started doing this weird wave walking-backwards thing . . . until he ran into a tree.

I noticed that my elbow itched, so I reached up a hand to scratch it and felt something smoother and harder than my skin. I looked down and saw it was a tick. "EWW!!" I said, removing it from my skin and proceeding to stomp on it. "YOU STUPID LOW-DOWN BLOODSUCKER! WHY DON'T YOU JUST SPLIT IN TWO NOW?!" Oddly enough after I requested it to split in two it did.

The game continued, but I don't want to describe it; let's just say it was very hectic and I fell into the lake. I know, I'm graceful as a turtle.

Once it was time to fall asleep I burst out into laughter at the game of truth or dare and continued to do so until dawn. I managed to wake Britan and keep Barry and Jason up in the process. When I finally stopped everyone raised their hands to the sky like a priest or a religious freak and said, "he finally shut up!"

Author's Note: Yes, I do like Jason. I think he's cool! Britan's also fun to write about, though I still haven't decided what his last name should be. All the sites besides www.lemonysnicket.com, which belongs to Lemony Snicket mentioned do not really exist (to my knowledge). The Shelby belongs to someone in the car-making business, which does not include me. Oh, and Michael Jackson belongs to himself, but (I'll let you in on a secret) I wouldn't say he was mine if you paid me. He scares me worse than any horror novel.