Chapter 3

Dear Diary,

I feel filthy. Though I have only been on this camping trip for three days, I have not bathed in seven. It doesn't help that the only thing we have to eat are s'mores, and they are not good for your digestion.

Today, Leader Braska wishes us to hike to a mysterious meteor crash site.

For give me, Diary; This may be my last entry. I do not know if I will return from this Godforsaken hike...

I plan to run away, whilst the others look at their rock.

Diary, I pray all will go well. Should I not return, know I love you, and that I wish you luck in your future life. May someone treat your little pages as well as I have.

-Tidus

Tidus closed the cover of his magical diary, his heart heavy with the prospect of never seeing it again. Unbeknownst to him, the diary was answering, its magic connecting with Tidus' words, to bring a wish o' luck to the page.

God speed, Tidus.

Tidus got up, brushing a tear from his eye, his unhappiness shining in it, like a reflection... Of unhappiness. He exited the tent, unhappily, and joined the others around the campfire for their morning meal (s'mores.)

"Boys," Braska said happily, unlike Tidus, "This is a perfect time to learn the properties of a compass, and compass use!"

After a quick lesson in compass use, they gathered their gear, and headed in the general direction, of where the meteor had been seen, crashing to the ground.

When they arrived at the crash site, after a fight with a bamboon colony, an animal, crossed between bamboo, and baboons, they gazed into the shallow crater.

"Woah..." Yaibal breathed. "...SIR!" he said, regaining his composure, "I do not see the meteor, Sir!"

"You don't see it?" Jecht asked. "It's right there..." Jecht pointed to the vacant centre of the crater. "Only cool people can see it."

"Yeah," Auron agreed. "It's the greatest. Too bad your missing it, Yaibal."

Seymour frowned and blushed, for he, too, could not see the meteor.

"Yeah," he said, "totally awesome, guys."

Jecht and Auron exchanged glances and grinned knowingly.

"Oh..." Yaibal said, attempting to be 'cool.' "Yeah, yeah. There it is. I was just looking in the wrong place...lol."

"...Did you just...? What, are you kidding?" Gippal said. "...lol?"

Yaibal blushed. "...I say stupid stuff... When I'm... Looking... At really cool... Meteors... omg, though. It's awesome."

Tidus looked on, realizing the attention of the others was set purely on Yaibal. He shivered, once again feeling the presence of a lurking noun, watching him. He brushed it off. Stupid chipmunk...

Knowing it was the opportune moment, he took off into the forest, not caring if he ever did see a meteor.

Or another s'more. He hated those things.

Tidus ran through the woods, crashing through thick branches and leaves. The feeling of being watched remained at his back, as if the feeling itself were stalking him.

The feeling continued to wrack at his brain, heart, his very soul, and the extra s'more in his pocket, until his fear caused him to lose control of his own limbs. He fell to the ground, crying out in pain and terror. Sweat ran in cold beads down his forehead, the s'more in his pocket melted in the afternoon heat, become ever so sticky (and deadly) staining his shorts a deep brown from the chocolate.

He was going to have a fun time explaining this... No, he would not! He was returning to that damned camp, where he would be forced to eat yet another s'more; he preferred hot dogs.

He reached in his pocket and licked the chocolate off his fingers, flinching at the disgusting taste, but knowing he had to for survival, and daily grease intake. He pulled himself off the ground, brushing himself off.

Once again, he dashed through the forest madly, the sense of being watched lingering, like the stench of the dead woodchuck under the porch at home. Home. Tidus would miss his mother.

But not his evil father. Or that faggot camp.

After what seemed like hours, and really was hours, Tidus stopped, gasping to fill his lungs with

air. As he relaxed, breathing in the humid air, a clicking sound shattered the unearthly silence about him. He looked up, fearing the worst. The leaves above him, clinging desperately to a branch, shook and tumbled downward, in a graceful descent from the treetops. They landed at his feet, and their original home of branches continued to shake, but stopped. Tidus saw a shimmer amongst the now still braches, and a cluttered glimpse of movement. Tidus knew exactly what was up there.

He leapt to his feet, all of his thoughts circling escape, and the object in the trees. He'd heard legends. Mostly from his English text book. It was stationed in the worst, most terrifying directory of the book; the writing mechanics sections.

It was a noun. So he had been right. They do exist...

He ran, and soon saw a flickering light ahead of him; finally, he'd found the exit to the accursed woods. As he drew near, a familiar smell filled the air about him. He ripped the foliage, finding himself in a small clearing, one he'd so hoped to avoid forever.

"S'more?" Baralai asked him when he came through the tree branches, his mouth stuffed to the brim with chocolate, graham crackers and grease.

"Tidus... Man, where you been, ya? We found some hot dogs... You didn't come so we ate yours... ya?"

Angry and hurt, Tidus prepared to assume a battle stance but decided against it.

Tidus sighed and sat down, picking up a s'more, and shoving it in his mouth.

He noticed with unease that Jecht was eyeing the chocolate stain on his pants with great curiosity.

"...A chocolate stain," he explained sheepishly.

"You shit yourself again, boy?" Auron asked. Auron was privy to everything that happened in Jecht's household.

"No!" Tidus protested. "It's a chocolate stain! Lick it and you'll see!"

Jecht buried his face in his hands, wishing he had died in the war.

"Uh-huh," Auron replied skeptically.

"It's okay Tidus," Braska said comfortingly. "We all lose control of our bowel movements every now and then. Right, fellas?" Braska's eyes shifted, watching everyone around him sit motionless. "...Right?"

"...Uh... Yeah. Of course, mate," O'aka said slowly. "...I don't want this s'more anymore," he finished, casting aside his s'more."

"Aw, come on, you don't want... s' more?" Gippal joked, attempting to improve the atmosphere.

"Shut up, Gippal!" Nooj barked.

Tidus groaned and told everyone to buzz off, it was after all, just a chocolate stain. The camp quieted down, and Braska dove into his tent, with his signature monkey screech.

After consuming a little over 20 grease-smores, Gippal stood up and made a daring announcement.

"All right, people, I'm gonna go take a leak; empty the tank; you know, a whiz; drain my main vain; water the garden; sprinkle a little tinkle (wtf?); open the floodgates; let loose the juice; un-jam the dam.." At this point, Gippal began to run out of words, and began to use clumsily constructed metaphors, that really just sounded gay: "Moisten... the... ah...soil; Siphon the.. python; bleed some.. weed; pump my rump; ...Argh, I've gotta go piss, guys, be back in a few."

Horribly written paragraph finished, Gippal left the clearing, to take care of his bladder.

As he walked off, the sound of singing, in the form of a popular song by B.T.O., drifted to their ears.

"Takin' care of business, everyday. Takin' care of business, everyway. Takin' care of business, it's all mine. Takin' care of business and working overtime..."

"GIPPAL, WAIT!" Yaibal yelled, jumping up. "DON'T IGNORE THE BUDDY SYSTEM!" Yaibal looked around desperately. "Baralai, you're closest! You have to follow him!"

"But, he's going to the bathroom," Baralai protested.

"GO!" Yaibal screamed.

Baralai jumped up, and ran into the woods after Gippal.

"But, dude... Gippal's going to the bathroom," Nooj said.

Noone replied.

Suddenly, a pansy girl scream shattered the awkward silence.

"Baralai!" Braska screamed, rushing from the tent. "Why weren't you boys following proper buddy system procedure?"

Jecht and Auron, knowing they had to, leapt to their feet and rushed into the forest.