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The Cohutta Massacre

Written by XP20Warrior
Last updated on 2007-03-19


This was a true story that took place in July 2000. Sorry if its a little mushy at the end, but this is what got me into soaking...

July 2000,
Cohutta Springs Summer Camp,
Cutshaw, GA.

I was thirteen years old, attending junior summer camp. On Wednesday's roll call just before lunch, Pastor John Fuller came up in front of all the campers to make a speech. "Today, you're going to get a surprise. You're going to get soaked."

All the kids were surprised. Guys snickered, girls gasped. But the mood changed instantly. "And you're on the receiving end. Campers vs. Counselors!!" Pastor Fuller bellowed. "And get ready to be saturated!" Shouted a black teenager counselor. Now that I think of it, he reminds me of Sgt. Banks from Halo. "I'm going to get, MY CPS 2700, and wet all of you! Especially camp Mohawk!'

Even though I had no weapon, and I didn't want to get soaked, I couldn't blame him. That was the sloppiest cabin in the entire retreat. Those guys were complete bums, talking gangster lingo and leaving the cabins at night to do stuff with girls.

But that wasn't the most important thing on my mind. I had a Super Soaker 100, but it was at home. I was defenseless. But I was determined to fight back, however I can. When we got back to our cabin to get ready to fight, I tried to get our teammates to rally together however I could. But it wasn't worth it, since the kids really didn't care, and that 'Big Ricky,' was the 'cool' guy of the cabin.

"No way am I having a stupid partner thing." A kid called Grayson snorted. "That thing only works in COPS. In a waterfight? Be serious. Every man for himself." "I'll help." H.W. had said. He was absolutely crazy about Star Wars, and had talked about a combined crossover about us in the Star Wars universe. "I have no blaster, but I'll help. Even if it comes down to cupping water in my hands..."

James, my bunkmate opposite me, was less optomistic. "I don't make alliances. I got a squirt pistol from the store, and I'm using it. But I can't guarantee that I can't hit you, guy from my cabin or not."

Nathan Doyle, probably my best friend from camp, was more kind. He was armed with a Super Soaker 30. "Stick close to me." He said. Nathan gave me a black poncho, and an empty 12 oz. plastic cup.

I also got Doug, a kid with a learning disability, to team up with us. He had a dollar-store water gun with exchangable tanks. All three of us came down from the loft. "Well what have we here?" Said a voice.

Complete silence fell over the entire room and Big Ricky walked out of the bathroom. He was sixteen years old, with dark blonde slicked hair and the whole 'look' that a girl would faint at.

He eyed Nathan, Doug, and I. "Sticky Bones, Western Guy, and Poncho Man." He said, pointing at each of us. "I'm so afraid."

"We're going to win." I said. "Are you going to help or not?"

"Are you crazy? Fighting alongside stupid younger kids like you? Absolutely not." He poked me hard in the stomach. "Stay out of my way. I'm going to make sure you're going to get it."

"Cut it out, Big Ricky. You're a big bully. I wish I had an Imperial Star Destroyer to explode you." H.W retorted.

"Yeah right."

Just then, Luis, our cabin counselor, told us to get to the flagpole for the waterfight. We started out the door when Nathan nudged me. "All four of us stick together."

I nodded in agreement.

A few moments later, we all stood by the flagpole on the slope next to the mess hall, in front of the flagpole. Nathan stood on my right, Doug on my left, with H.W. on Nathan's right.

"Let the best man win." Grayson snickered.

"We're going to win." I said. I held my 12 oz. cup of water tightly.

All the counselors lined up on the hill next to the mess hall. Most of the girls had retreated on the balcony above.

Pastor Fuller had come to the middle next to the flagpole. He had armed himself with the Storm Tsunami. Four giant bins of water were there, with two guys and a hose.

"Are you all ready for defeat?" He shouted.

All the kids mumbled. One kid thrust his fist in the air. "Oh yeah!"

I quickly realized him. He was the kid I met in the pool the other day. He was armed with a CPS 2000. He had let me fire it and told me how powerful it was.

Pastor Fuller looked at him surprised. "You think you can take on my army?" He motioned to the counselors, armed with a lot of CPS weaponry.

"Maybe he can't alone." I called out. "But he can with help."

"Yeah." Nathan added.

H.W. and Doug nodded in agreement.

Pastor Fuller made no further comment. "ATTACK!!" He screamed.

Every kid to the left of me tossed a water ballon at me. It was overwhelming. And they were the ones who were going to get it. While I recoiled from the hits, H.W. managed to pick up a couple of them and tossed them at Pastor Fuller.

Everything happened so fast. Campers where helplessly drenched as the counselors cut them down with their CPS blasters. Everybody was screaming and running in panic. Some of the people turned to the balcony and started shooting. People stumbled and fell over each other, trying to get into the cafeteria off the balcony. A couple of counselors grabbed my, taking my poncho off and saturating me with the hose.

I wasn't very happy. I tried to run when Big Ricky came towards me, pelting me with a water balloon. He was laughing very hard when there was a loud splat. Big Ricky gave a bloodcurling scream as I saw the kid with the CPS 2000 standing five feet behind him.

"Run!" He shouted, pointing the 2000 and firing at the guy who was holding me. The guy swore and let go as I broke into a run. About twenty seconds later, it ended, and I was glad for that. When we went back to the cabins, I just sat on my bunk, looking very glum.

"Hey," A voice said, kneeling down in front of me.

I looked to see Sam, a black kid about sixteen who slept in the other room with Big Ricky.

"I saw what happened today, man, & I feel sorry for you. I felt it man, I really did." He looked me straight in the eyes. "Whenever you can, get the biggest water gun you can get. Be the best. But most of all, have the good heart. Don't just turn out to be like the counselors, drenching unarmed people without mercy. Turn out to be something that'll shock everybody....."

April 19th, 2005, 11:32 PM.

Sam's words echo in my mind as I gaze at the CPS 3200, my most recent acquisition. It lay there on my bed, the light reflecting off it. Five years have passed now. I have 27 soakers total, more adding to the list. I have become a very fast runner, and a very good aim. A deadly combination. I have become a soaker elite.

I put the 3200 in my closet, then climbed into my bed. But before I pull up the covers, I rummaged in the bottom drawer of my nightstand, pulling out my album. I turn the pages slowly, glancing at each photograph until I come upon the one I'm looking for.

Cohutta Springs Camp, 2000.
Signed, Luis.

It was our group picture. I was in the front row, and many familiar faces were around me. But one stood out. Sam's, who was behind me, four persons to the right.

"I made you proud Sam," I whispered, putting back the album and turning off the light. As I lay in bed, I gaze at the stars outside in the sky, knowing that he may be looking at them, too.


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