Whoo! Sorry for the wait. Anyway, just the epilogue to go!

Diclaimer: I don't own any of this, so there.

It was quiet. And in a place like this, it never stayed that way. Two speeding bullets, barely recognizable as Bakura and Joey sped recklessly through the forest, while two more identified as Valon and Ryou went the other way towards the cabins. Valon glanced at his list and read it aloud as he ran:

-A rubber duck

-A four leaf clover

-A blue paint

-A sesame street related object

-A postage stamp

-A white rock

-A marshmallow

It was signed in a pink crayon with a smiley sticker. Typical. Valon decided to start with the easiest and work his way down. "Ryou, didn't you say you had a rubber duck?" "Yeah, Mr. Squeakers…. Are Disco Ducks allowed?" "Disco Ducks?" The dumbfounded expression on his face proved he had know I idea what the heck the white-haired boy was talking about. "You've never heard of a Disco Duck?", huffed Ryou as he ducked (Ha! I made a joke!) into the showers. After pausing a moment, he found an oddly colored duck that Valon assumed was the rumored Disco Duck. Ryou rapped it sharply against a sink and it began colorfully blinking. "Ah. I see."

Continuing on, they scraped a bit of paint off a cabin, stole a marshmallow from the kitchen, took the stamp from Valon's package and halted in front of Ryou's "pad" as he liked to refer to it. "There is something you need to know about me." The biker's eyes were blank until his face lit up. "You have a horrible obsession with undead monkeys, don't you?" "No. Worse." He pulled his suitcase out of the corner and showed it to his partner. Apparently, he had failed to notice that it was, in fact, an Elmo suitcase. Had it not been that Valon's freedom rode upon this very contest, he would have proceeded to sob uncontrollably while violently banging his head against the wall. He, however, shrugged and urged the other to "Take the darn thing and go."

And so they were off to the lake. Yes, the same lake that had the only white rocks within a 50 mile radius lying at the bottom of it. (Note that I said, "the bottom of it." The bottom. Of the lake. Which is dark. And deep. And scary. I think you got the idea now. Yeah. Ok. I'm good.) Valon proceeded to recover on of these said stones while Ryou elected himself the official Clover-Finder. After they both found what they were looking for, they rushed back to the finish line…….

Joey scanned the list and sighed. Perhaps it was because he had no idea where to find any of the said items, or maybe it was just that he had been cruelly deprived of sleep since he was too afraid to close his eyes. Compliments of his new phobia of hyper women. Tea was not even this bad. "JOEY!" The blonde snapped back to reality. "Go grab one of those rocks, will you?" After retrieving their rock, Bakura held up a three-leaf-clover. "What good will that do?" The tombrobber gently ripped one of the leaves in half. "Duh." Then a furry blue leg that happened to be sticking helplessly out of a canoe caught Joey's eye. "Mr. Fuzzles!" he screeched as he scooped up the- thing into his arms. Upon further inspection, Bakura found it to be none other than a stuffed Grover plushie. "What?" "Uh… Nothing." , squeaked the spirit, fearing for the sanity of both himself and his accomplice.

After a short sprint to the cabins, they did almost exactly the same as the other two campers, except in a different order. The only thing that changed was the whole duck situation. Now, neither Bakura nor Joey had a rubber duck, but they knew who probably did. The person in question, however, was not the infamous Milleh. It was in fact, the old hermit, Steve, who lived alone in a hut on a hill. The area, however was very flat, so how he could possibly live on a hill was questionable. After borrowing (ok, stealing) his lovely yellow duck, Phyllis, they too, dashed to the finish line.

Milly was not happy. And when she wasn't happy, bad things happened to those who got in her way. Very violent, bad things. Right now, there were two tied teams in her way. "It's not supposed to be this way!" she shrieked. "One of you was supposed to win and theeeeeeeen, I was going to not let you go home! EVAR!" With this, she fell to the ground in a tantrum, similar to the one thrown by a four-year old. Amid all the fury, they ran away. Far, far away. And then it hit. The fine line dividing sanity and insanity shattered. The ensuing look upon her face could have been compared to that of the killer in The Shining. Except worse. Much, much worse. It was then that she set out to kill. No more happy, happy.

They huddled behind Bakura's cabin, in the woodbox, hoping to all hopes they would live. Joey frantically dialed 911 and let out a sigh of relieve when someone pickled up. "Hello, this is 911." "Hi, this is Joey Wheeler. I'm here with my three friends at this weird camp in the middle of nowhere. Our camp councilor is trying to kill us. And I swear, this isn't a joke." The person on the other end understood and said "Stay where you are. I can trace your call and have the police there soon. Just hang on." So that is what they did. They say there for what seemed like hours until they heard footsteps. Maniacal footsteps. Just as the lid was thrust off their hiding spot, knife poised to kill, they heard sirens, then "Freeze!" They were saved. The dread Milly was dragged off in a straitjacket. The ordeal was over.

Yay!