"Alright, kids…let me tell you about the time that I took out a rabid lion in Somalia with nothing but my bare hands and a bucket of water."

"We've heard it." Vernon said in a monotone. All of the other campers nodded. How many times had they heard this one? Two? Three. Coach Oleander frowned. He furrowed his brow on the platform above the roaring fire in the reception area, a bright light in the dark Oregon night in Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp.

"Let's see…" The coach stroked his goatee in thought (that was the whole reason he grew it, actually-to do just that) "Ah…how about the time when I saved the entire country of Paraguay when I-"

"Yes, coach." A few of the children groaned in unison.

"How about the time when-"

"Yes, coach."

"What about-"

"We've heard them all a million times." Raz groaned.

"Hm…"the coach furrowed his brow again. "I've got it! Have I told any of you guys about my time serving in 'Nam?"

"I…" Dougan muttered after a long, awkward silence, "I don't think so."

"Really?" The coach donned a shocked look, which gradually turned into a smile. "I've got hundreds! Let's see…how would you kids like to hear about the time when I was stranded in the Vietnam jungle, being hunted by a tiger?" There was a half-awed silence. The coach took that as his cue to tell his tale. His eyes glazed over as he prepared to tell his epic…

"So…there I was, in a thicket of bamboo, hopelessly lost, unable to find the rest of the regiment." The coach looked around. All of the campers were silent. Vernon was taking notes. Oleander squatted down and continued. "I looked high and low for them, but didn't dare make a sound, knowing the enemy could be anywhere.

"Suddenly…it got quiet…too quiet. I heightened my guard and looked around. I backed out of the thicket, into a smaller thicket of reeds, where I spotted stripes of orange…"

All the campers were silent with anticipation.

"I quickly raised my trusty gun, but I didn't fire it, because it would make the beast attack me. Tigers usually don't hunt humans…but this one was pissed, as in no-food-for-three-days pissed. He lunged at me, but I dodged, just in time. He lunged for me again, and this time, he took a chunk out of my arm, blood, skin and all." He paused to roll up his sleeve to show the campers that he wasn't lying. The campers stared at him in awe, Sasha Nein with his head in his hand, seemingly unimpressed.

"What happened next?" Nils asked.

"Well," Oleander put his sleeve back down and acted out the motions as he told his epic, "I cringed for a moment, still holding my gun. I shot at the beast, and hit it, right in the side. But that didn't do me any good. It just made him madder. I shot the thing a few more times, with the same result. I used it then as a club of sorts, whacking the tiger. But then, whoosh! The thing knocked it right out of my hands!"

A collective gasp was heard from the campers.

"I was cornered. I couldn't do it. The tiger was half-dead, but in a second I would be all-dead. I was backing up from it. Suddenly, there was a bump against my spine, and I turned around, and saw the bamboo forest! I quickly snapped off a sturdy shoot, and whacked the tiger square between the eyes with it! It fell down, out cold. Relieved, I continued to search for the regiment. By nightfall, I had found it. And that…is the end of the story."

All of the campers were cheering and whistling, hooting and hollering at Coach Oleander's best war story yet.

"All right, children" Milla cooed, "it's time for you to head back to your cabins. It's far past bedtime!" she pointed out, as the sky had grown darker as the coach recounted his days in Vietnam. The children groaned and wearily headed back to their cabins. After all the campers had finally gone, the three elder Psychonauts sat on the stage, gazing at the dying embers of the campfire.

"Maurice…" Sasha finally sighed, "I have a question. Why on earth did you go to such great lengths to make up a story for the scar you got when you fell on a fence when you were drunk?"

"Sasha, one day, you'll have all sorts of scars and all sorts of people looking up to you as a role model and a storyteller." Oleander turned to Sasha. "You've gotta tell the public what they wanna hear!"

Sasha stared at Oleander for a few seconds before turning his gaze back to the flame.

"That certainly would explain all of those horrifically false war stories…"