“Patrick, you shuffle cards like you have Parkinsons,” Dante said, playfully.

Frosty chuckled, and Patrick continued his shuffle as he made a documentary of his surroundings in his mind.

Beautiful forest, low mountains, and a two story longhouse of a boys lodge. Another smaller one for the girls. A pool and a dirty pond. That is Albatross Summer Camp. Albatross. Sounds like a concentration camp, he thought. He had been here for a week, but the scenery never ceased to amaze him. Still shuffling, he began to think of how amazing classic comedies were to him. Even though plays like The Imaginary Invalid are old like the scenery, they never cease to entertain the common man...

“Deal the cards. already, Patrick,” said Dante. Frosty smiled. Patrick started to deal the cards, but stopped halfway.

“You know, we are a really motley looking crew. Dante, the long haired, brown Italian, Matthew--sorry, Frosty--, the Swiss boy who’s always shivering, and Patrick, the German who--”

“Who is always getting side tracked! Deal the damn cards, man!” Dante said, with his hand on his forehead.
They all laughed. Dante laughed a normal laugh, not too loud, not too quiet. Patrick’s laugh was that of an evil king, and Frosty squeaked like a timid mouse. Patrick began to deal cards for a game of Texas holdem, a game only this motley crew played at camp. Patrick made another approach to dealing the cards.

“Why do you think we’re the only one’s that know Holdem?” asked Frosty.

Patrick, who found the campers unsavorily robotic, stopped dealing, looked Frosty dead eye and said, “The rest are too prim. Their too ‘upright’ to live. Their folks raise them to only know how to work, work, and work. And for what? To be some scholar no one will ever remember?”

Frosty’s face lost its calm look. Dante put up one hand. “Their not that bad, Patrick.”

Patrick, having forgotten entirely about holdem, ranted, “They called me boring because--Frosty, you look like you just saw the devil’s fat grandma do yoga naked. Anyway, I’m apparently boring because I didn’t get one of their Margaret-Thatcher jokes,”

Dante was about to defend the other campers again when Patrick, with his hands on the back of his head, improvised a lecture to change the subject:

“Do you guys know about the French card deck? The suits in cards all represent something. The clubs represent peasants, the spades nobles, the hearts clergy, and the diamonds merchants.”
Dante slammed the table. “How hard is it to deal cards for a game of holdem?”

Music began to play from the pool. The three only needed to exchange glances to know how they would settle their playful conflict.

They all chorussed, “Dance battle.”