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A person describes their experience at a summer camp in 1968. They mention someone smelling bad and the camp being the worst they've been to. They talk about using a shovel for protection and opening security doors with codes. They mention selling goods at the company and hearing strange sounds. Their flashlight didn't work properly in a certain area. We got into the swing of things in the past few days. That's what Rich keeps saying. He smells like a rancid tuna can. Worst summer camp I've ever been on. Date is August 27th, 1968. We make sure someone always has a shovel for bashing anything that moves. We will always put someone on camera duty so they can open these big security doors with letters and numbers. Ask Desmond, the wizard, how that works. I think he just types in the code that's on the door. That's it. We sold some goods at the company today at 70% value. I got my nerves chilled listening to the fucking psychotic sounds behind the counter. No one else gave any. Can't ignore that. My flashlight didn't even go back there. The beams just went dark.