I was working in a town that was similar to camp but also Salt Lake City. I looked out of the backseat window from the car and saw three guys skating. I thought that I should know them, and sure enough I recognized my friend Mamba. I shouted to him when he was close. He looked at me and I realized he wasn’t my friend Mamba Goo, but an older man of the same name that I didn’t know.
We were sitting on a roof top at night, having escaped the post-wedding venemous snakes by stomping them to death. My friend Liz lit a firework that was in a soda can and pointed it behind her. It shot out and straight into a telephone pole behind us. The firework was spectacular but the telephone pole had now caught in fire and we had to scram so as not to get in trouble.