Needed to record this scene from last night's rehearsal.

It started, as do so many things, at an ectasy fuelled rave in Goa. Me and Jim were talking over the music, and he commented on my tattoo, that meant we must have gone to the same camp. He said he liked Goa, I said I liked Camp. The music stops, and soon the entire club is turning on me, calling me a camp-lover. And, because the music had stopped, they decided I should take them to camp, if it was so good.

They were not impressed with the little camp with it's hammock. Violence was brewing, when I started making rave music noises, and suddenly the gang were entrance, dancing again like they were back in the club. Two weeks later, our narrator added, we we're starting to get tired, so everyone dancing fell into the hammock to sleep. They all got entangled in it as I looked on. At this point, the story teller went on, I laughed evily. So, of course, I did. It was all a plan, a plan to get them to camp and trap them there.

"Dude, I am totally tripping out right now. What are they over there? Are they monkeys?", asked on of the guys stuck in the hammock.

Evil shreiking monkeys abound, and the plan unfolds, in so much as it suddenly becomes so less clear. I was to set them on the ravers if they didn't promise to join the camp, it eventually turned out. I even had the forms handy. One of they guys still didn't know if they were real or not, because he was still tripping.

End scene. I love the Imps.

Craig