The Evil Dr. Dice Reviews Winter Break Camps (He’s in Most of Them)

Greetings from The Evil Dr. Dice.

It has been some years since Trackers let me near a keyboard. Their lawyers assumed our contract had expired. My lawyer, an evil, super-intelligent telepathic gorilla, found the clause that says it renews forever unless cancelled by fax. Nobody at Trackers owns a fax machine. I own nine.

So here is my review of their Winter Break camps. I’ll begin where I always begin: winter camp is a terrible idea. It happens outside, in December, on purpose. Children come home muddy and happy, and you cannot sell anything to a muddy, happy child. I recommend a responsible indoor alternative, such as the 22-minute cartoon commercials produced by my children’s programming subsidiary.

This year, though, my complaint is personal. I read the camp descriptions. They are about me.

The Donut Saga

Somebody leaked my plans to the Trackers marketing department. I know this because my plans are now on their website with a registration button.

It is true that I am absconding with (well, stealing) the world’s donut supply. I chose donuts for sound strategic reasons: Portland’s economy is one-half donuts, and the other three-quarters is people standing in line for donuts, so whoever controls the donut also controls everyone who is going to be late for work.

It is also true that I took the world’s most valuable donut collection from a man named Bob, the famed cruller aficionado. In my defense, Bob kept it under a cake dome with a handle. I took the hint.

Now Trackers is training kids in Grades 1 to 8 to get it all back. They will crack donut ciphers, intercept my dead drops, slip past my surveillance, and hunt for my hidden vault of Fabergé Donuts. They also practice disguise, which strikes me as unfair, since I have been getting by with the same eyepatch since 1987.

Worse, the kids get to throw things like ninja stars, knives, and even hatchets, all “with expert guidance.” I have seen what a nine-year-old with expert guidance can do to a doomsday device, and it was months before my mime minions would come out of their invisible box.

Cocoa Commandos

Not content with my donuts, Trackers has also come for my cocoa.

Yes, I iced the world’s cocoa supply, and I would like that on the record, because one camp description gives the credit to a rival of mine called the Jester of Chaos, whose entire contribution was holding my coat. I asked for a correction and was told to take it up with Miss Mary, who runs the Secret Agent Academy and does not return my calls.

Meanwhile a Captain Eldon has reported that I am guarding a long-lost Cocoa Room. I would love to know how he found out, since I only told my therapist and the nine fax machines.

And my marshmallow minions stand accused of gobbling up the winter cocoa “all for themselves,” which is slander. They are marshmallows, people. They live in the cocoa, so if anything this is a housing issue.

A Brief Word About “Silly”

For the youngest agents, the Trackers website calls me the Silly Dr. Dice.

I nearly blew up the moon, twice, and nobody called me silly then. I own a castle in Blatvaria and a mutant eye I raised myself. Now a team of first graders is going to chase my minions through the forest, confiscate my jelly donuts, and call me silly. I have destroyed civilizations for less.

Finally, a Camp With Values

I will give Trackers credit for one thing. Kids in Grades 6 to 8 can enroll in my own Evil Secret Agent Academy, which comes in two flavors, Donut Dynasty and Marshmallow Mercenaries, where recruits rise through my donut smuggling empire one heist at a time and report to my top lieutenant, DJ Grumpypants.

Parents, let’s be honest with each other: your middle schooler is planning to spend winter break being sarcastic at you from the couch. I am offering to take that same energy outdoors and point it at organized cocoa smuggling, which is why this is the only camp on the list getting five stars from me.

Ninjas, Pirates, and a Holiday I Was Not Invited To

Then there is Christmas, which I have tried to steal so many times that Santa and I are on a first-name basis (he calls me “Again?”).

This year the Ice Pirates got there first. Admiral Frost and his crew have seized Santa’s workshop and hijacked the sleigh. I went to villain school with Frost, where he copied my homework, and I see nothing has changed.

In Ninjas Save Christmas, kids train as Forest Ninjas in martial arts, winter survival, and stealth to take the workshop back. They study the four winter arts of Shadow, Storm, Stewardship, and Stillness. I tried Stillness once on my therapist’s advice and lasted about eleven seconds before I started monologuing.

Grades 6 to 8 can sign aboard with the other side in Pirates Pillage Christmas, where you earn a pirate name and sabotage the holiday just for fun. This is obviously the correct choice and I resent that it was not my idea. I also could not help noticing that Admiral Frost’s “notorious” assassin is one DJ Grumpypants, who is supposed to work for me, so that will be coming up at his performance review.

If Winter Is Too Cold for Your Young Agent

Some of you are concerned about sending your children into the woods in December. Fine. I, too, have concerns about the weather. My castle is made entirely of ice. It was a terrible investment. The heating bill is criminal, and I say that as an expert in the field.

For you there is Secret Agent Academy in the summer, when the forest is warm and my minions stop complaining about frostbite. Registration for Summer 2027 is open now, with the same meddling kids and the same ciphers and stealth, and I have already cleared my calendar to be foiled all summer long.

Criminy, you got me monologuing again. Forget everything you just read, unless you would like a visit from my woolly-mammoth-riding minions.

The Evil Dr. Dice took over Lutras Enterprises after defeating his ill-tempered Prussian father in 1987. He holds several PhDs, which he swears are more than internet degrees, and a Permaculture Design Certificate he earned by painting a sunflower in an intersection. He enjoys building doomsday devices, listening to Cat Stevens, and holding awkward staff meetings with his mime minions. He looks nothing like Tony Deis.

Where to Foil Him All Year

Portland

Bay Area