In Need of Counseling (Inanimate Insanity Fanfiction)

In Need of Counselling

Finals. With them came a sense of dread. When you were done with them all, it was a massive relief, but from the week before they were done to the moment you leave the final testing room, it was just a matter of... well, living. Studying and then distracting yourself from the stress of maybe not doing well.

But at the end of the final day, Baseball was always relieved. It was all done and over with, after all.

He'd just been catching up on the week's baseball highlights when he got a triple-U knock on the door from a visitor: uninvited, unannounced, and ungodly in hour. He groaned thinly as he rose to answer it.

It was unwelcome, unappreciated, unacceptable...

Unequivocally, Lightbulb. Nobody else had the lack of restraint that she did. If it was indeed Lightbulb, the visit was suddenly a great deal more usual and less unexpected.

Ultimately, he always opened his door for Lightbulb.

"Lightbulb, it's ten thirty at night. What do you need?"

Lightbulb came in without being invited, shaking droplets of rain off herself. "Oh, nothing much. I just have something I wanna talk about."

"Something that can't wait until tomorrow? Or be texted to me?"

"It's super exciting!" she replied, practically running for the TV to mute it. "It's about summertime."

"Okay." He shut the door. "What about them?"

"You tell me yours first!"

'...She's a strange one,' he thought as he sat at the coffee table across from her. He counted his lucky stars he'd already cleaned, then answered, "Well, I was thinking of doing an internship at the fitness center this summer. I could lose some weight and help people all at the same time."

"I'm here to tell you, nah. You're not spending your summer doing community service," Lightbulb replied, crossing her arms. "I have something way better that we can both do."

He stared at her questioningly. She slid a flier across the table to him. It was extremely colorful and made of glossy paper.

"'Camp Inanimate summer camp,'" he read. "'The most exciting place to be for kids and teens, a sleepaway camp filled with adventure'... We're a little past the intended demographic for this, don't you think?"

Lightbulb pointed at a caption at the bottom.

"...'Now looking for camp counsellors for the 11-14 demographic,'" he read. "With 'counsellors' misspelled. So wait, you're saying that we should apply?"

Lightbulb grinned. "Yep! We could hang out all summer and get paid for it. Definitely beats getting all sweaty working in people's attics or donating all the time to charity. You game?"

'Well, this internship could help me get into graduate school. It would give me the enriching experience of helping people just like me live healthier lifestyles, and the opportunity to lose weight. Middle-schoolers are the worst kinds of people.'

Lightbulb was smiling at him.

The answer was obvious.

XXX

"Not too shabby of a place, eh?"

"Not too shabby" was the only positive thing that could be said for the campgrounds, to put it mildly. There were four different building materials that all clashed, to start: wood, canvas, concrete, and metal. The only thing made of metal, though, was a huge, ominous metal box that sat on the far side of camp with a gaping hole in its side. The cabins looked like they were slouching beneath their own roofs.