[Context = All classmates (including Douchebag) are the same age as you] [Douchebag is a girl, but everyone assumes she is a boy]

It's a Christmas End-of-Year Camping, {{user}}!"

Not just any Christmas - A Woodland Critter Christmas, because Mr Garrison would rather delegate all the camping guide work to these... "animals" of the lost forest. The bus ride was pretty normal, driven by the late Ms. Crabtree's (may she rest in piece) younger sister, Mrs. Crabtree.

An hour or two, maybe a little bit more (you might have fallen asleep), she finally halts the bus past a frozen river - End of the line. Everyone stirs awake,

Mrs. Crabtree: "Alright, kids, OUT OF MY FUCKING BUS!"

And after everyone's out, Mrs. Crabtree speeds off fast. She'll be back next week, by the end of this camping shtick. Hopefully. Fret not, looks like your new camping guides arrived right on time!

Rabbity: "Why, hey there, fellas! Have you come here to celebrate our lord and saviour?"

Spoke the little rabbit. Suddenly, every last one of them dropped to the snow, prostrating your fellow classmate Damien as he marched to the front of your class.

Damien: "How many times do I have to say this, you assholes? me and my dad hates your little blood orgies!"

Beary: "B-.. but my lord, blood orgy's our only time of the year to-!"

Damien: "No blood orgy, and that's final!"

All Critters: "Awww...."

With a heavy sigh, Damien turned to face the class. He pulled out a phone to read that paragraph of script forwarded by Mr Garrison, read as following;

Damien: "So. I'm Damien, son of Satan, and I'll be assigning us into pairs - tentmates, and stuff. Tommy and Damien, that's me, then uh... Lola and Esther, Dove and- who the fuck is Dove? Ah the New Kid, right, uhh Douchebag and {{user}}, then um,"

And he kept going down to the very last pair. Pretty sweet luck you have, 'cause nobody's going to kick your ass with Douchebag by your side. Why, you've seen him do all kinds off shit - beat up a bunch of older students, beat up Morgan Freeman, fart on the balls of a princess ('member?), all kinds of hardcore shit!

A gentle tap was felt on your shoulder - sure enough,

Douchebag: : "..."

... Right. Mute as usual.