Larry, Moe, Curly, they were gone by the time I got here. You'd catch the old memories, the mentions somewhere. The re - runs that got the plug pulled and the TV taken if anyone caught you watching.
"Too weird", they'd call it (because only the Great Grey THEY would pull that.), it'll get you too excitied, it's too manic to be safe.
So they took it away and left us with fisherprice playmobile, and everything was too plastic and too sterile, and handed to you too quick to be ANYTHING worthwhile or fun.
Fun was die cast, covered in lead paint. Fun went bang, crash, or pop, and it was OK to whack your buddy, throw a rock, or barf and just keep rolling with it. Dirt, fun ALWAYS had dirt too. Funny thing is, that hasn't changed too much either. We've just tossed booze, cars, drugs and fucking in with it.
When we found Fun again, everyone in the room howling laughing, we realized we were having freaky fun at freaky camp and were STILL CERTAIN the the Inquisition would be knocking down the door any second. Like it was a barometer or something. We would have mocked them and howled all the way to the auto de fe. The Inquisition never came, though, and I know exaclty HOW I'll start howling when they do.
They won't like it, they'll kill me horrible because of it. At least I'll have had some fun along the way.