Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or anything.  

The rusted out, black Jetta carrying Jim Halpert cruised down the highway, with the radio blaring to drown out the sound of the unhealthy carburator. Jim's fingers were tapping out the beat to an angsty Ramones tune on the cracked leather steering wheel. Although Jim had not been back to the camp for three summers, and had never driven here on his own before, he was still able to find it without a problem. He knew which exit to take off the Route 6, and he knew which side roads to turn on to, all from memory. In the distance a sign began to creep up on Jim's right. As it got larger, it revealed an aged brown wooden background, painted with tall green pine trees, and large white puffy clouds, and, written in peacock blue paint the words: Next Right - Whispering Pines Adventure Camp: Established 1927. Jim clicked on his signal even before the dirt road could be made out ahead. As he pulled off the paved road onto the dirt one, his mind began racing. What am I doing here? Why didn't I stay home? This is going to suck. Oh god I hope this doesn't suck..

His parents were married at this camp. They met there one summer when they were both counselors back in nineteen-seventy something, and Jim guessed they had always maintained some sort of special connection to the place. The burgeoning romantic side of Jim could appreciate that on some level, however unpleasant it was to think about his parents and love and romance. Jim guessed that it was that special connection that influenced his parents to send him to this camp every summer between the ages of 9 to 15. The summers after that were spent working on his uncle's farm; a routine he'd grown to like, especially because of the little bit of money it provided him so that he could fill his gas tank and buy the occasional case of beer.

In the years since he'd left it, he hadn't missed camp. Sure he'd made a few friends there, and created a few happy memories, but none that really stuck. But here he was anyway. With a twinge of guilt, he recalled the events of the last few days in his mind. A few weeks ago, Jim's parents went away to their camper trailer for the weekend, and Jim threw what he thought was going to be a small, contained party for a few friends. Unfortunately for Jim, the party turned into a huge event, with over a hundred people crashing it. The police were called, and as a result Mr. and Mrs. Halpert were forced to end their weekend getaway early.

Early the next morning, Jim found himself, still groggy and hung over, sitting at the breakfast table with his parents, faced with an ultimatum. Jim's parents were going away again the last week of August. Due to his "irresponsible and immature actions", Jim was not going to be allowed to stay at home alone that week. So Jim was told he could either come with his parents to the trailer camp for the week, (a fate worse than death for an eighteen year old boy) or he could spend the week counseling at Whispering Pines. Silently, Jim credited his parents for their ingenious planning. It was the perfect rock-and-a-hard-place scenario. And Jim was sure that his parents knew what he would pick. So, here he was, pulling up into the gravel parking lot of Camp Whispering Pines, a full three summers since he'd last been here. I hope there's at least some tail here, Jim thought at he stepped out of his car, into the warmth of the August afternoon.