“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry, Colin?”
“Try thirty or forty more, and maybe we’ll come close.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to make us late for the opening.”
“No, you just decided to light Cabin Three on fire, and I foolishly had to help you put it out before it burned down.”
“I did not light Cabin Three on fire. Cabin Three just happened to be too close to the fire that I did light.”
“Same difference. Now we’re late for opening. Really nice thing for staff, being late for opening.”
“Sorry, Colin.”
“What was that noise?”
“Me saying ‘sorry’?”
“No, listen... there it is again.”
“Sounds like... gunfire?”
“Don’t be silly, Derek. It’s probably just thunder or something.”
“Without a single cloud in the sky, eh, Brian?”
“Shh... I think Derek’s right. Listen... coming from the parade field... Dad, do you know anything about guns being used in the opening ceremony?”
“Can’t say as I do, Matt.”
“Seems to be quiet now... I wonder what’s going on?”
“Try thirty or forty more, and maybe we’ll come close.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to make us late for the opening.”
“No, you just decided to light Cabin Three on fire, and I foolishly had to help you put it out before it burned down.”
“I did not light Cabin Three on fire. Cabin Three just happened to be too close to the fire that I did light.”
“Same difference. Now we’re late for opening. Really nice thing for staff, being late for opening.”
“Sorry, Colin.”
“What was that noise?”
“Me saying ‘sorry’?”
“No, listen... there it is again.”
“Sounds like... gunfire?”
“Don’t be silly, Derek. It’s probably just thunder or something.”
“Without a single cloud in the sky, eh, Brian?”
“Shh... I think Derek’s right. Listen... coming from the parade field... Dad, do you know anything about guns being used in the opening ceremony?”
“Can’t say as I do, Matt.”
“Seems to be quiet now... I wonder what’s going on?”
part 20:
Due South
by Matthew Atanian
based on a story idea by
Aaron Abdowmassy
©2001 by Matthew Atanian and Aaron Abdowmassy
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
Due South
by Matthew Atanian
based on a story idea by
Aaron Abdowmassy
©2001 by Matthew Atanian and Aaron Abdowmassy
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
“This stinks,” Gelinas commented. “I can see cleaning up after our patrol, but why do we have to clean up after everyone else, too?”
“Maybe Justy’s still pissed about Abu Dhabi,” Mike suggested.
“Or maybe he’s just an ass,” Swett suggested.
“Think maybe both,” Perry fumed. “Perry definitely kill him, too.”
Matt shrugged as he dried off a dish. “One thing’s for sure, Justy definitely has it out for you guys.” He pointed to the messiest dish, one that could only have been the result of special effort. It had been Justy’s.
“Why’d you stay, Matt?” Hughes asked. “You could have gone to the opening.”
“Hey, I stick with the Garden Snakes,” Matt responded.
“Thank you, Mr. Atanian,” Kenny said.
“Well,” Mike said, “let’s get this over with. We were going to actually try and win some events, after all.”
“Only one more patrol to go,” Aaron said. “Two, if you count Justy’s dish.”
Swett looked over at the mess that Justy had left. “Dude, Justy’s dish is worth two patrols by itself.”
Off in the distance, a sound vaguely reminiscent of thunder was heard.
Hughes looked skyward, concerned. “Funny... I don’t see any clouds. It’s supposed to be a dry weekend, right?”
“That’s what the weather report said,” Gelinas responded. “Dry as a bone.”
“Until the campfire tonight,” Swett said, grinning. “Then, Matt Gets Wet!”
Perry his scratched his head. “Maybe is heat lightning,” Perry suggested.
Kenny shook his head. “The current atmospheric conditions do not suggest that explanation, either,” he quietly rebutted.
“Ah, well, let’s finish up,” Mike said. “We don’t want to miss too much of the camporee.”
They finished cleaning up the last patrol’s dishes, and then buried Justy’s dish under his tent.
“Garden Snake Patrol, ready to go?” Mike asked.
The others mumbled assorted semi-affirmative responses.
The Garden Snakes were on their way, leaving behind only Shmuler who was unconscious at the base of a tree.
A very short time into their walk, they passed close by the Aquatics Lodge, just in time to see a rowboat land on the shore.
“Hi, guys,” Mark Abert cheerfully said in greeting.
“Hi, Mark,” Matt said. He and Matt Abert then greeted each other by simultaneously saying, “Hi, Matt,” in a way that sounded as if this hadn’t been the first, second, or even eighty-ninth occurrence of such a greeting.
“Clean up duty?” Provost asked.
“You guessed it.” Mike said.
“Us, too,” Brian chimed in.
“Hey, did you guys hear that noise earlier?” Matt Abert asked.
“What noise?” Aaron asked.
“Do you mean that thunder?” Hughes asked.
“Sounded more like gunshots to us,” Provost insisted.
“Gunfire? That’s ridiculous,” Gelinas said. “This is Moses. There’s no gunfire at Moses.”
“Except for the Rifle Range,” Brian said.
“Ah, yes... the, er, rifle range. But other then that...”
“And the Shotgun Range,” Aaron mentioned.
“Um, yes, well... Ahem... other then the Rifle Range and the Shotgun Range, both of which are only used during Summer Camp I remind you, there’s absolutely, positively, no gunfire at Moses. And,” Gelinas reminded everyone, “this is Moses.”
“Are you finished, Bill?” Mike asked.
“Um... yes,” Gelinas said.
“Sounded like it came from the Parade Field,” Mark said. “Perhaps we should be on our way, and we’ll find out what it was.”
“Jolly good idea,” Matt said, and they were off.
When they got to the road, they met Dan and Colin. There followed another entire discussion as to the nature of the noise, and more admonishing from Gelinas as to the lack of gunfire at Moses and that they were, indeed, at Moses, just in case anyone had any doubt.
They didn’t.
Therefore, everyone decided that it might just possibly be a good idea if they were to say, “SHUT UP, BILL!!!” and so they did.
“So why weren’t you two at opening?” Aaron asked. “You’re staff, aren’t you?”
“Well, I kind of had a bit of a...” Dan began.
“Don’t ask,” Colin curtly interrupted.
“Help!” a girl called out in the distance.
Hughes glanced at Perry, just to make sure that the amazon hadn’t left their group.
“Hey,” he then said, “did you guys hear that?”
“WHAT!?!?” Becker responded.
“Help!”
There it was again.
“Was not Perry,” Perry said, as if reading Hughes’s mind.
Matt listened carefully. “It’s coming from ahead,” he said.
The group picked up their pace and turned a slight bend in the road. They saw a lone Girl Scout running towards them. It was Sherry Birkin, a girl from Troop 42. She came to a stop as she met them, catching her breath as she tried to speak to them.
“Canadians... guns... cap... captured everyone... hostages...”
“What?” someone other then Becker said.
Sherry paused and took a few deep breaths.
“Canadians came in and captured everyone. They’re being held hostage. They have guns.”
“Canadians with guns are holding everyone hostage?” Swett asked, an eyebrow raised in a quizzical expression.
“Dear God! We have to rescue them!” Matt proclaimed.
“Um... why?” Gelinas asked.
“He’s right,” Mark said. “We can’t just sit here. We have to do something.”
“They have Kirstin!” Aaron exclaimed. Kenny nodded emphatically.
“And Sarah!” Matt said.
“And Nicole!” Hughes said.
“Hello?” Gelinas said. “Is anyone listening to me?”
“What about mom and Michelle?” Brian asked, referring to the female members of the Abert clan.
“And everyone in 180?” Provost asked.
“And everyone in 192!” Mike exclaimed.
“Guys? Hello? Reality check?” Gelinas continued to no effect.
“And everyone else!” Colin said.
“Yeah!” Dan said. “We have to do something!”
“Taking hostage is no honorable,” Perry said. “Perry want help stop Canadians.”
“GUYS!!!!!!” Gelinas shouted at the top of his lungs.
Mike turned to him. “Did you have something you’d like to add to the discussion, Bill?” he asked.
“Are you guys insane!? These are terrorists. With guns. We’re just a group of Boy Scouts. We can’t stop them! We should get someone who can!”
“Let me see if I understand you. You’re suggesting that it might not be a good idea going up against a group of armed terrorists with hostages using nothing but our wits and whatever we have at hand, which is quite dangerous, futile, and possibly fatal, and instead you think we should sneak off camp and alert the authorities so they can come in with proper training and equipment for such a situation and handle it properly?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think.” Gelinas turned to the two non-Swett Matts and Mark, hoping for some support for his reasonable idea from the adult leaders present.
“Hmm... I don’t know...” Mark said. “I really think it would be best to handle this ourselves. The Boy Scouts have been getting a lot of negative press lately, and they don’t need any more of it.” Matt Abert nodded in agreement.
“Is that really the best excuse you can come up with?” Bill asked in sheer disbelief.
“Sounds pretty reasonable to me,” Matt Atanian said. Everyone else nodded and murmured agreement.
“Pretty reasonable?!” Bill shouted. He was well beyond the point of reason. “Reasonable? Is that really the best you can come up with? They are terrorists! We are Boy Scouts! THESE THINGS DON’T HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE!”
“SHUT UP, BILL!!!!” everyone else said so loudly that it echoed throughout the heavens and was heard as far away as Reykjavík.
Sarah moved nervously along as the lot of them were marched towards the Dining Hall.
“What’s going to happen to us?” Kirstin asked.
“I don’t know,” Sarah told her sister. “Just stay calm and do what they say, for now.”
“Eh, shut yer yaps and move along,” one of the armed men said to Sarah as he took a swig of Molson.
“So what’s your angle?” Nicole asked the man. “What do you want to get out of this?”
“What d'ya mean, eh?”
“Why take us hostage?”
“Well, you see, we want people to take Canada seriously, and not as a big joke. They sure will after this, eh?”
“Oh, come on, is that all you want?” Nicole responded. “I mean, there is an enormous potential for profit in a situation such as this. For a small percentage, I could...”
“Nicole Sakura Porter!” Sarah said harshly.
“Um... never mind.”
“Well, Doug, that’s the last of ‘em, eh.”
“Good work, Bob. We’ll show those Americans, now. So what’s our status, eh?”
“Well, we got most as many into the Dining Hall as we could, eh, and we’ve got another bunch under guard in the Training Lodge. They’re still, eh, pretty tight, so we’re working on securing the Duplex. Also, we can hold some in the Nunes Building.”
“Very good, Bob.” Doug smiled. “I knew I could trust my brother, eh?”
Bob grabbed a Molson and popped it open. “We Mackenzie have to stick together.” He passed the beer to Doug and grabbed one for himself.
Doug took a swig and turned to one of the others present. “How’d it go at the Ranger’s house, Cecelia?”
“They were still asleep,” the woman responded, “so we rolled in a canister of sleeping gas to make sure they stayed that way and, eh, also to get the dogs out of the way. We secured the house, tied him and his wife up, and I recovered a few rifles that we can use. The Ranger’s sons were not at home, apparently they are attending this camporee so we have them as hostages.”
“This day just keeps getting brighter and brighter, eh?” Doug said. Bob tossed Cecelia a Molson as Doug took yet another swig from his. “And the front gate... is it secure, Flambé?”
“Oui,” Flambé responded. “La porte est bloquée. “Porc Américain ne viendra pas du fait la voie, je peut vous assurer!”
“So, what’s the plan?” Provost asked, turning towards Mark and the two Matts whose last names began with “A.”
“Well,” Matt Abert, pausing from his favourite snack of spray cheese in a can, said, “Scouting is supposed to be a youth run organization.”
“Yes, definitely,” Mark Abert agreed.
“Mike’s the Patrol Leader,” Matt Atanian said. “What do you say, Mike?”
Mike laughed lightly. “Figures, the one time I wouldn’t mind passing this off to someone else, I get three of the only adult leaders who believe in that
principle of Scouting that says it is ‘youth run.’ Normally, I can’t run things without seventeen adults springing from the woodwork and insisting on doing
things their way.”
“Really?” Mark said. “How do you do things in 192?”
“You don’t want to know,” Mike said. He then stood in contemplation for a moment before announcing, “Actually, I do have an idea, but it is something I must take care of on my own.”
“What is it, Mike?” Aaron asked.
“Well... it’s something I can’t really talk about. I promised someone, you see. I think it could be a great help, though, so I have to go. Swett, you’re the Assistant Patrol Leader, so I leave the rest up to you.”
Mike waved an excited good bye and disappeared into the woods.
Swett stood there, a slight look of shock on his face.
“You know,” Gelinas said, “seems Mike found a way to pass it off to someone else, after all.”
Brian returned from having brought Sherry to hide out at the floating campsite. “What’s going on, guys?” he asked.
Swett stood there, a slight look of shock on his face.
“So... um... well...” Swett stammered.
“May I make a suggestion?” Kenny quietly asked.
“Sure, what is it, Kenny?”
“Well... before we take any action, it may be best just to find out as much information about the terrorists as we can. How many there are, what their capabilities are, where they are, where the hostages are, et cetera.”
“And how do you suggest we go about this information gathering?” Swett asked.
Aaron and the Bills all looked at each other and smiled. “Leave that to us,” Aaron said.
Flambé marched back and forth across the main gate of the camp, a flame-thrower slung over his shoulder. As he marched, he sung jubilantly to himself.
“Alouette, gentille Alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai. Je te plumerai la tete, Je te plumerai la tete, Et la tete, et la tete, Alouette...”
“Quack.”
Flambé turned and saw a duck looking at him.
Flambé looked at the duck.
“Alouette?”
“What’s that commotion outside?” Nicole asked.
“I don’t know,” Sarah responded, concerned for her sister’s safety. “Come on, now, don’t get yourself into any more trouble for now.”
Kirstin glanced out of the window and saw their guards shooing away a very familiar looking dog.
“Meow.”
“Heh heh, here kitty,” Bob said. “Cootchy cootchy coo!”
Bob walked up the ramp of the Nunes building and opened the door. He walked in, followed by the kitty.
“Hey, Doug, how everything going, eh?”
“All’s well, Bob. What’s with the cat?”
“Well, it just sort of followed me. I figured no harm. Eh?”
“Eh.”
“So, everyone secure in this building?”
“Yeah. We’ve got some, eh, some hostages downstairs, and this here upstairs seems like a good place for an operations center.”
A shout from the floor below suddenly interrupted the brothers. “I demand to see whoever is in charge at once!”
“What’s going on down there, eh?” Doug shouted down.
“I’m sorry, sir, but, eh, one of the hostages is causing a bit of ruckus.”
“Bring ‘im up,” Doug ordered.
One of the terrorists ascended the stairs, leading two Boy Scouts up by gunpoint.
“You peon!” one of the Boy Scouts shouted to the terrorist. “How dare you treat me like this! Don’t you have any idea who I am?!” he demanded to know, spittle flying with nearly every word he shouted.
“You look like a hostage to me, eh.” Doug said.
Justy turned sharply to look at Doug. “Are you the one in charge here?”
Doug nodded. “And who would you be, eh?”
“Proctor!” Justy said sharply.
“Yes, Captain?”
Justy whapped Proctor sharply with his baton.
“Oh! Yes, Captain!” Proctor took a step forward. “I present to you, his Royal Highness, Senior Patrol Leader of Troop 192 and future leader of the known world, his majesty, Lord God Yung.” He turned to Justy. “How was that, Captain? I was practicing in front of a mirror and everything.”
“It will do,” Justy said, stepping past Proctor and brushing him aside. He looked to Doug. “And who am I speaking with?”
“I am Doug Mackenzie, leader and co-founder of the Canadian People’s Army. This is my brother, Bob, the other co-founder.”
“How do you do, eh?” Bob asked, tossing Justy and Proctor each a Molson.
“I do quite fine,” Justy said, snatching Proctor’s Molson.
“Now, Mr. Yung,” Doug asked. “What can we do for you, eh?”
“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Mackenzie. I have a little proposition for you.”
“What kind of proposition, eh?”
“One that could be mutually beneficial to both of us. An alliance between you... and me.”
Justy cracked open his Molson and downed it all in one great swig. He then did the same with Proctor’s. Then he laughed, and he kept on laughing, until he stopped just long enough to prepare to laugh some more. Then... he hiccupped.
Aaron and the Bills returned and each gave a detailed report. Kenny jotted everything down in his notebook and quickly prepared a summery of the results.
“It seems that they are holding the majority of the hostages at the Dining Hall, the Training Lodge, and the Duplex,” Kenny said, “along with a small group at the Nunes Building, which is also their base of operations. They also have a guard at the main gate, and a guard at the Ranger’s house, where Mr. and Mrs. Anderson have been gassed into unconsciousness and tied up.”
“Right,” Dan said, “the path is clear.”
“Is it?” Gelinas asked.
“Yes. We must first destabilize the enemy and then wipe them out in a massive strike.”
“Seems reasonable to me.”
“What if,” Matt said, “we split up into teams? Some of us will break off and distract the smaller groups at places other then the Nunes Building. Meanwhile, another group of us will stay and make preparations for the final assault, which I suggest should be aimed at Nunes Building, via the Parade Field.”
“Excellent plan.”
“The goal of the smaller groups should be to try and free as many of the hostages as we can,” Aaron suggested, “so they’re not endangered by the final assault.”
“I think this is an excellent plan,” Swett said. “We should do this!” He looked around a bit. “Um... so... I’ll lead the group that stays behind and prepares for the final assault. Who else is with me?”
Kenny raised a hand. “I might have some ideas,” he quietly mentioned.
Mark smiled. “I think we can help with that,” he said.
“I need to do some work on the Pioneering Merit Badge,” Brain added. “This could be as good a time as any.”
“The rest of us should be two person teams,” Matt suggested.
“Perry go with Matt,” Perry said.
Matt immediately got a rather worried expression.
“Promise no try to kill,” Perry said.
“Thank god,” Matt responded.
“Until this over, that is,” Perry added.
Matt smiled weakly.
Dan and Colin glanced at each other. They were an obvious team.
“What do you say, Bill?” Aaron asked.
“I still think this is a stupid idea,” Gelinas said, “but if there’s no talking you out of it, I may as well go along.”
“How about you and me, Becker?” Hughes asked.
“WHAT!?!?”
“Guess that leaves us, right?” Provost asked Matt Abert.
“A-yup,” Matt responded.
“Well, then, shall we get started?” Matt Swett asked.
Everyone nodded.
“Colin, we need to stop by Cabin Three,” Dan said.
“What now?” Colin asked, slightly worried.
“Don’t worry, I just need to pick up some equipment.”
“Good luck, everyone,” Mark said as the various groups dispersed.
Cecelia and another rather nice looking female terrorist were pacing back and fourth before the Duplex, rifles slung over their shoulders.
There was a rustling from the trees. Cecelia stopped and looked, her rifle pointed. Likewise did the other terrorist.
The rustling stopped.
The two terrorists crept slowly towards the trees, trying to discern the cause of the disturbance.
“PRETTY LADIES!!!” Provost bellowed as he catapulted himself from the forest and latched himself securely onto Cecelia’s chest.
Cecelia screamed and shivered in horror.
“Mon Dieu! Get it off of me! Get it off!”
“What is it?” her companion asked, terrified.
Provost leapt from Cecelia and latched onto the other terrorist, a broad and happy grin on his face. “Pretty ladies!” he repeated.
The other terrorist yelped and tried to brush Provost off, but his grip was more secure then Fort Knox.
Suddenly and without warning, Provost let go, laughed delightedly, and scampered back off into the forest. “I’m the Leprechaun,” he announced in a rather silly voice as he disappeared into the trees. “You’ll never catch me!”
“After him!” Cecelia declared as she took off chasing the unseen Provost. Her companion followed.
They dashed off down a path, their pursuit made possible by the noise of snapping twigs and rustling of branches as Provost ran.
Cecelia raised her rifle and pointed it in the direction of the noise. She tried to steady her aim as best as she could without stopping her pursuit. She began to pull the trigger when...
“Naughty spawn, face my mighty Squeeze Cheese of Justice!”
Matt Abert rose from the underbrush, a can of spray cheese gripped in each hand. Deftly he immediately aimed at the faces of each terrorist and fired.
Kenny sighed.
“What’s wrong, Kenny?” Mark asked.
“This would be so much easier with access to my stuff at home,” he responded.
“We’ve got plenty of stuff here!” Mark enthusiastically told Kenny. “We have rope, we have wood, what more do you need?”
“Some knots and lashings and we can put together anything,” Brian assured Kenny.
“Hmm... I would still feel better with access to my own equipment... but yes!” Kenny suddenly seemed excited and began sketching furiously in his notebook. “This could work!”
Two terrorists were sitting on the front steps of the Training Lodge, drinking Molsons. They dropped the cans of beer and rose quickly to their feet when they heard voices coming from around the side of the building.
“Are you sure this will work?”
“Matty trust Perfume. Will work.”
“Why’d you bring these things with you on a Boy Scout camping trip, anyway?”
“Never know when need.”
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
The two terrorists turned the corner, their guns pointed forward.
“Who goes there, eh!?” one of them demanded.
Then the two of them saw who went there, and they stopped dead in their tracks.
They gawked at what they saw, which was two women, a red head and an Asian, both wearing rather nice, short cut Chinese dresses.
“Um... what are you doing here, eh?” one of the terrorists asked.
The red head smiled sweetly. “Your boss sent us over. He said you two big guys were doing such a good job that you deserved a reward.”
“But... um... Doug already sent over a case of Molson.”
“You do extra special job,” the Asian woman said, stepping forward and draping her arm over one of the men’s shoulder, “you get extra special reward.”
“And we’re it,” the red head added, draping her arm over the other man’s shoulder.
“Gosh... well, eh?” one of them said.
The women smiled.
They then swiftly conked the two men’s heads together, and they dropped to the ground, unconscious.
“Gosh,” the two women said.
“Well,” Matty added.
“Eh?” Perfume concluded.
Mark finished sawing off the last large round slab and began to bore a hole through the center. Brian and Matt Swett finished lashing together the main platform, while Kenny inspected various odds and ends.
“It’s all coming together nicely,” Mark commented as he consulted Kenny’s sketched plans.
Kenny nodded. Then he frowned. “Oh no,” he quietly said.
“What is it, Kenny?” Mark asked.
“The main arm will need to be somewhat pliable, so we’ll need live wood.”
“Well, normally it’s not good to cut a living tree, but in this case it can’t be helped, Kenny,” Mark responded.
“Yo,” Swett shouted from where he was, “I’m ready to start on the turret.”
“Be right there!” Kenny responded. He looked at Mark, and Mark nodded. He picked up the saw again and went off in search of the necessary wood.
Dan and Colin crept quietly towards the main gate.
“Looks like there’s only one here,” Colin said. “I’ll dash across the road, and we’ll sneak up behind the trees on either side. When you hear my signal, we’ll simultaneously rush out and take him by surprise.”
“No,” Dan said, “look.”
Colin looked. “Uh oh,” he said, seeing the terrorist’s armament.
“You stay here.” Dan grinned. “This one’s mine alone.”
Dan rose from his hiding place and strode purposefully towards Flambé, his flame-thrower slung over his shoulder as he walked. Flambé saw him and smiled.
“Mon ami, il semble que vous êtes venus pour me défier,” Flambé said. “Heureusement, car vous semblez être l'un Américain qui est un digne opponant, je reçois.”
Flambé and Dan stood only a few feet apart and saluted. They then each simultaneously pivoted 180° and began to pace. They each counted off with each step.
“Un, deux, trois,” Flambé said.
“Four, five, six,” Dan said.
“Sept...”
“Eight...”
“Neuf ...”
“Ten!”
They turned and aimed their flame-throwers, but Dan was faster. He pulled the trigger and flames engulfed his opponent.
“Well, Kenny, construction is about complete,” Mark said. “Matt and Brian can finish up the rest. Have you given any thought to an armament?”
“Well...” Kenny was quieter then usual. Mark had to kneel down in order to hear him properly. “I do have an idea, but I’m not sure if it’s ethically sound.”
“Ethically sound?” Mark asked.
“Well, Mr. Abert, it may... it may constitute biological warfare. Oh, if only I had access to my equipment at home! I could come up with a safe alternative!”
“Biological warfare!? Kenny, what is it?”
Kenny told him.
Mark was shocked into silence for a moment, but in the end he told Kenny that he didn’t see much of a choice. They had no other options.
Hughes crept quietly towards the Anderson house. “There’s only one guard here... I’ll sneak around that way, and you slip up and...”
“Wait,” Becker said, gripping Hughes’s arm to prevent his advance. “I have a better idea.”
Becker stepped out from the trees and boldly walked up to the terrorist.
“You! Stop, eh!”
Becker extended his arm. In his hand were his headphones. The ear pads were turned outwards, aimed at the terrorist.
“What are you doing, eh?”
Becker smiled very slightly. “Heh.”
“Answer me!” the terrorist insisted.
Becker hit “play.”
Both the terrorist and Hughes screamed and fell to their knees, clutching their ears as they were assaulted by Bulgarian Opera at a decibel level of epic proportions.
“No! Make it stop! Make the pain go away!” the terrorist cried.
Then, as if in response to the man’s plea, Becker’s batteries died.
The terrorist rose, smiled, and pointed his gun at the Boy Scouts.
“I think the appropriate remark at this point would be,” Hughes suggested, “’Oh, shit.’”
The terrorist began to squeeze the trigger.
The ground shook slightly. A deep growl was heard from within the Ranger’s house, quietly at first but quickly rising in volume until it even approached the level of Becker’s CD player.
The terrorist turned in... well... in terror to look at the house he was guarding.
“You don’t think...” Hughes began.
“We woke the Ranger?” Becker finished.
“I think the appropriate remark at this point would be,” Hughes suggested, “’Oh, shit.’”
“Let’s get the hell out here!” Becker exclaimed.
Becker and Hughes ran off, leaving the poor terrorist behind to face the wrath of Gary Anderson.
Mark and Kenny regarded the large number of canteens before them on the ground. “That should do it, they’re all loaded. We just need some way to detonate them on impact,” Kenny said.
“Did I hear the word ‘detonate’?” Dan asked as he and Colin approached.
“Detonate what?” Colin asked.
“Well... these canteens,” Mark said.
“What’s in them?” Dan asked.
Kenny quietly told them.
“My God! Can we do that?” Colin asked.
“Do we have a choice?” Mark responded.
“That’s a bit extreme, even for my tastes,” Dan said. “But... if it’s the only option...” He plopped his backpack down before the canteens and sat beside it. He the unzipped it and began to rummage inside. “Detonate on impact... No problem... a small charge, wire up the casing and make it pressure sensitive... not too sensitive so that the launch doesn’t set it off...”
“You know,” Mark commented observing this, “he really worries me sometimes.”
“I am just glad he’s on our side,” Colin responded, “for which I am eternally grateful every day.”
“I know what you mean. It’s hazardous enough knowing him while on the same side.” Mark bowed his head. “I’m starting to feel really bad for these poor terrorists.”
“Well... we have to do what we have to do.”
“That we do, Colin. That we do.”
Matt Abert and Derek stopped by the Trading Post to get something to drink.
“Driving off terrorists sure works up a thirst,” Matt said. He squeezed the last of his cheese down his throat and deposited three quarters into the Coca-Cola vending machine. The coins rattled around inside the machine and Matt punched the button for a root beer. The machine made some buzzing noises, supposedly locating the proper beverage.
From behind him, Derek remarked, "I heard they might've finally fixed this thing."
There was a clang of metal on metal, and a heavily beat up can of Kiwi/Mocha Fruit Juice fell out of the slot.
"Or not," Matt said.
Derek saw this, screamed in inhuman horror, and ran away.
“Derek! Wait!” Matt ran off after him.
As this occurred, a terrorist dashed across the Parade Field in fear for his life. In pursuit on horseback was Gary Anderson. Following Gary was one of his dogs, Bosco.
“Get back here!” Gary demanded. “Bosco needs a snack!”
“Cecelia, come in, eh?” Doug shook his walkie-talkie a bit and tried again. “Cecelia, you there, eh?”
“I’m not getting any response from the Training Lodge or the Ranger’s house, either, Doug,” Bob said.
“It’s the Garden Snake Patrol, it must be,” Justy said spitefully. “They’re always out to foil me at whatever I do.”
“Garden Snake Patrol? Who’s that then, eh?” Doug asked.
“My life long rivals, a patrol from my troop who will stop at nothing to see my plans for world domination thwarted!”
“Captain, don’t you think that sounds a bit...”
“Shut up, Proctor!”
“Yes, Captain.”
“This explains why the Garden Snakes weren’t at opening... They must have known that you were going to be staging this takeover of the Camporee, and they would have also known that you would allay yourselves with my greatness...”
“Remember, Canada is the capitol when you take over the world, eh?” Doug asked.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Justy responded.
“Are you sure the Garden Snakes didn’t just miss opening because you made them stay behind and do all of the...”
“Shut up, Proctor!”
“Yes, Captain.”
“So, Mr. Yung,” Doug asked, “if you know these Garden Snakes, then how would you suggest we stop them, eh?”
“I’m glad you asked. I know just what to do.”
And so Justy laughed.
Matty and Perfume were on their way back to meet up with Kenny and Mark’s group when they found something rather disturbing.
They found Taylor Kuntz.
“My red haired Goddess! It is the beast! And fair Juliet’s such fun!”
“Good god, do you never give up?”
“Thank goodness you’re safe! I shall keep you so from these vile Canadians!”
“Who this?” Perfume asked.
“The bane of my existence,” Matty told her. She turned to Kuntz. “Why aren’t you a hostage?”
“I escaped, fighting off ten or twenty of them as I did so!”
“You sure you didn’t just run away at the first sight of trouble?” Matty said.
“No!” Kuntz insisted rather weakly. “No, I am sure it was I escaped, fighting off twenty or thirty of them single handedly as I did so! Cry hammock, and let sleeping dogs of war lie!”
“If you say so.”
“So what say you, fair Juliet? Shall I protect you from harm? We can go oft into yonder woods and yea, hence enjoy some private timest togetherest!”
“Kuntz, how many times must I say that I am not interested?”
“You don’t have another guy, do you?”
“Of course not,” Matty responded without thinking. “Why would I have a guy?”
“That’s right, I’m all the man you need!” Kuntz grabbed Matty’s arm and began to try and drag her off. Matty slapped his arm away.
“Don’t you understand that ‘no’ means no?” Matty shouted.
“Oh, come on!” Kuntz rebuffed. “You simply cannot show your true feelings for me!”
“My true...?” For some reason, a scene towards the beginning of The Empire Strikes Back drifted through Matty’s mind. Unfortunately, there was only one person other then Kuntz present... but Matty supposed she’d have to do.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Matty grabbed Perfume and kissed her full on the lips.
Kuntz did a very good impression of Edvard Munch’s famous painting, The Scream.
Perfume, meanwhile, was quite surprised.
“Muh... muh... muh...” Kuntz muttered incoherently.
Perfume continued to be quite surprised.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MY GODDESS!?!?” Kuntz asked in a rather uncalm manor.
Perfume remained in a quite surprised state.
Kuntz backed away, making funny noises. Finely, he turned and ran, saying as he went, “When sorrows come, they come not apple pies but in half gallons!”
As Matty pulled away from Perfume at last, Perfume looked at Matty with a quite surprised expression.
“Um... thanks for being ‘Luke’,” Matty said.
Perfume sighed languidly. “Not know Matty feel so for Perfume,” she whispered.
Matty gulped. “No! It’s not like that.”
“What it like, then? Was not Kiss of Death, was it?”
“No, I don’t want to kill you, Perfume.”
“Is only one other kind of kiss for Amazon warrior. Matty propose to Perfume?”
“WHAT!?” Matty exclaimed.
“Perfume not know what to say... Would like better as Matt, but if Matty into such things...”
“Perfume, I don’t want to marry you! I was just trying to get rid of that guy! I can’t stand him!”
“Matty no want to marry Perfume?”
“No... I love Sarah. Um... sorry?”
“Matty just toying with Perfume’s heart?” There was a dangerous pause before the Amazon shouted, “Perfume kill Matty!”
Perfume took an aggressive stance and Matty backed away slightly. “Woah, hold on. I thought we had a truce until this was all over. Remember? Stop the Canadians?”
Perfume snapped her fingers and backed down, disappointed. “Kill you later.”
“You were going to anyways, weren’t you?”
Perfume nodded.
“So has anything really changed?”
Perfume shrugged.
Matty shrugged. “Oh well, let’s go stop the Canadians, then.”
“So, you see, you could make a mint by making outrageous demands and offering the release of a single hostage as each demand is met. Sure, you probably won’t get half of the demands... but that’s why you make more then what you actually need.”
“I see... I see...” The terrorist was excitedly taking notes.
“Nicole?” Kirstin asked. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“And you know what is an excellent way to make sure that you get your demands?”
“What’s that, eh?”
“Show the negotiators that you can be reasonable.”
“And how do you do that, eh?”
“You release female hostages first.”
“Like you?” the terrorist asked.
Nicole looked at herself and gave off a rather convincing performance of surprise. “Huh... what d’ya know! I wasn’t even thinking about that!”
“Nicole!” Sarah shouted from where she was sitting. “What did I tell you?”
“Um... not to cause any more trouble for now?”
“So get your butt back over here and sit down!”
Nicole sighed and, followed by Kirstin, returned to sitting with Sarah.
A moment later, they were approached by the terrorists.
Hughes and Becker were headed back to meet up with everyone else when someone tapped Becker lightly on the shoulder. Becker, and thus Hughes, quickly turned, alarmed, expecting to find they had been discovered by the terrorists.
They had not.
“Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to Tokyo?”
“This is it. The Dining Hall. They’re keeping a majority of the hostages here.”
“I still think we should get the proper author...”
“Bill?” Aaron said in warning.
“Okay, okay...”
“Look... what’s that?”
“What?”
“There! Two of the guards are leaving... looks like they have some hostages with them, but I can’t see who it is.”
“You don’t think they’re gonna... gonna...?”
“I doubt it. What’s the point? Probably just moving them somewhere else. Works out good for us. Less guards to take out.”
“I suppose so.”
“Got the water?”
“Right here.”
The next moment, one of the remaining guards was attacked by the dog he’d shooed away earlier as the other one was set upon by a most foul fowl.
“Eh? Now I can’t reach the Dining Hall, Doug.”
“Call anyone you can reach back here to Nunes, Bob. Looks like showdown time, eh?”
That it does, gentlemen.” Justy laughed. “And I can’t wait to play our ace in the hole.”
“Maybe Justy’s still pissed about Abu Dhabi,” Mike suggested.
“Or maybe he’s just an ass,” Swett suggested.
“Think maybe both,” Perry fumed. “Perry definitely kill him, too.”
Matt shrugged as he dried off a dish. “One thing’s for sure, Justy definitely has it out for you guys.” He pointed to the messiest dish, one that could only have been the result of special effort. It had been Justy’s.
“Why’d you stay, Matt?” Hughes asked. “You could have gone to the opening.”
“Hey, I stick with the Garden Snakes,” Matt responded.
“Thank you, Mr. Atanian,” Kenny said.
“Well,” Mike said, “let’s get this over with. We were going to actually try and win some events, after all.”
“Only one more patrol to go,” Aaron said. “Two, if you count Justy’s dish.”
Swett looked over at the mess that Justy had left. “Dude, Justy’s dish is worth two patrols by itself.”
Off in the distance, a sound vaguely reminiscent of thunder was heard.
Hughes looked skyward, concerned. “Funny... I don’t see any clouds. It’s supposed to be a dry weekend, right?”
“That’s what the weather report said,” Gelinas responded. “Dry as a bone.”
“Until the campfire tonight,” Swett said, grinning. “Then, Matt Gets Wet!”
Perry his scratched his head. “Maybe is heat lightning,” Perry suggested.
Kenny shook his head. “The current atmospheric conditions do not suggest that explanation, either,” he quietly rebutted.
“Ah, well, let’s finish up,” Mike said. “We don’t want to miss too much of the camporee.”
They finished cleaning up the last patrol’s dishes, and then buried Justy’s dish under his tent.
“Garden Snake Patrol, ready to go?” Mike asked.
The others mumbled assorted semi-affirmative responses.
The Garden Snakes were on their way, leaving behind only Shmuler who was unconscious at the base of a tree.
A very short time into their walk, they passed close by the Aquatics Lodge, just in time to see a rowboat land on the shore.
“Hi, guys,” Mark Abert cheerfully said in greeting.
“Hi, Mark,” Matt said. He and Matt Abert then greeted each other by simultaneously saying, “Hi, Matt,” in a way that sounded as if this hadn’t been the first, second, or even eighty-ninth occurrence of such a greeting.
“Clean up duty?” Provost asked.
“You guessed it.” Mike said.
“Us, too,” Brian chimed in.
“Hey, did you guys hear that noise earlier?” Matt Abert asked.
“What noise?” Aaron asked.
“Do you mean that thunder?” Hughes asked.
“Sounded more like gunshots to us,” Provost insisted.
“Gunfire? That’s ridiculous,” Gelinas said. “This is Moses. There’s no gunfire at Moses.”
“Except for the Rifle Range,” Brian said.
“Ah, yes... the, er, rifle range. But other then that...”
“And the Shotgun Range,” Aaron mentioned.
“Um, yes, well... Ahem... other then the Rifle Range and the Shotgun Range, both of which are only used during Summer Camp I remind you, there’s absolutely, positively, no gunfire at Moses. And,” Gelinas reminded everyone, “this is Moses.”
“Are you finished, Bill?” Mike asked.
“Um... yes,” Gelinas said.
“Sounded like it came from the Parade Field,” Mark said. “Perhaps we should be on our way, and we’ll find out what it was.”
“Jolly good idea,” Matt said, and they were off.
When they got to the road, they met Dan and Colin. There followed another entire discussion as to the nature of the noise, and more admonishing from Gelinas as to the lack of gunfire at Moses and that they were, indeed, at Moses, just in case anyone had any doubt.
They didn’t.
Therefore, everyone decided that it might just possibly be a good idea if they were to say, “SHUT UP, BILL!!!” and so they did.
“So why weren’t you two at opening?” Aaron asked. “You’re staff, aren’t you?”
“Well, I kind of had a bit of a...” Dan began.
“Don’t ask,” Colin curtly interrupted.
“Help!” a girl called out in the distance.
Hughes glanced at Perry, just to make sure that the amazon hadn’t left their group.
“Hey,” he then said, “did you guys hear that?”
“WHAT!?!?” Becker responded.
“Help!”
There it was again.
“Was not Perry,” Perry said, as if reading Hughes’s mind.
Matt listened carefully. “It’s coming from ahead,” he said.
The group picked up their pace and turned a slight bend in the road. They saw a lone Girl Scout running towards them. It was Sherry Birkin, a girl from Troop 42. She came to a stop as she met them, catching her breath as she tried to speak to them.
“Canadians... guns... cap... captured everyone... hostages...”
“What?” someone other then Becker said.
Sherry paused and took a few deep breaths.
“Canadians came in and captured everyone. They’re being held hostage. They have guns.”
“Canadians with guns are holding everyone hostage?” Swett asked, an eyebrow raised in a quizzical expression.
“Dear God! We have to rescue them!” Matt proclaimed.
“Um... why?” Gelinas asked.
“He’s right,” Mark said. “We can’t just sit here. We have to do something.”
“They have Kirstin!” Aaron exclaimed. Kenny nodded emphatically.
“And Sarah!” Matt said.
“And Nicole!” Hughes said.
“Hello?” Gelinas said. “Is anyone listening to me?”
“What about mom and Michelle?” Brian asked, referring to the female members of the Abert clan.
“And everyone in 180?” Provost asked.
“And everyone in 192!” Mike exclaimed.
“Guys? Hello? Reality check?” Gelinas continued to no effect.
“And everyone else!” Colin said.
“Yeah!” Dan said. “We have to do something!”
“Taking hostage is no honorable,” Perry said. “Perry want help stop Canadians.”
“GUYS!!!!!!” Gelinas shouted at the top of his lungs.
Mike turned to him. “Did you have something you’d like to add to the discussion, Bill?” he asked.
“Are you guys insane!? These are terrorists. With guns. We’re just a group of Boy Scouts. We can’t stop them! We should get someone who can!”
“Let me see if I understand you. You’re suggesting that it might not be a good idea going up against a group of armed terrorists with hostages using nothing but our wits and whatever we have at hand, which is quite dangerous, futile, and possibly fatal, and instead you think we should sneak off camp and alert the authorities so they can come in with proper training and equipment for such a situation and handle it properly?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think.” Gelinas turned to the two non-Swett Matts and Mark, hoping for some support for his reasonable idea from the adult leaders present.
“Hmm... I don’t know...” Mark said. “I really think it would be best to handle this ourselves. The Boy Scouts have been getting a lot of negative press lately, and they don’t need any more of it.” Matt Abert nodded in agreement.
“Is that really the best excuse you can come up with?” Bill asked in sheer disbelief.
“Sounds pretty reasonable to me,” Matt Atanian said. Everyone else nodded and murmured agreement.
“Pretty reasonable?!” Bill shouted. He was well beyond the point of reason. “Reasonable? Is that really the best you can come up with? They are terrorists! We are Boy Scouts! THESE THINGS DON’T HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE!”
“SHUT UP, BILL!!!!” everyone else said so loudly that it echoed throughout the heavens and was heard as far away as Reykjavík.
Sarah moved nervously along as the lot of them were marched towards the Dining Hall.
“What’s going to happen to us?” Kirstin asked.
“I don’t know,” Sarah told her sister. “Just stay calm and do what they say, for now.”
“Eh, shut yer yaps and move along,” one of the armed men said to Sarah as he took a swig of Molson.
“So what’s your angle?” Nicole asked the man. “What do you want to get out of this?”
“What d'ya mean, eh?”
“Why take us hostage?”
“Well, you see, we want people to take Canada seriously, and not as a big joke. They sure will after this, eh?”
“Oh, come on, is that all you want?” Nicole responded. “I mean, there is an enormous potential for profit in a situation such as this. For a small percentage, I could...”
“Nicole Sakura Porter!” Sarah said harshly.
“Um... never mind.”
“Well, Doug, that’s the last of ‘em, eh.”
“Good work, Bob. We’ll show those Americans, now. So what’s our status, eh?”
“Well, we got most as many into the Dining Hall as we could, eh, and we’ve got another bunch under guard in the Training Lodge. They’re still, eh, pretty tight, so we’re working on securing the Duplex. Also, we can hold some in the Nunes Building.”
“Very good, Bob.” Doug smiled. “I knew I could trust my brother, eh?”
Bob grabbed a Molson and popped it open. “We Mackenzie have to stick together.” He passed the beer to Doug and grabbed one for himself.
Doug took a swig and turned to one of the others present. “How’d it go at the Ranger’s house, Cecelia?”
“They were still asleep,” the woman responded, “so we rolled in a canister of sleeping gas to make sure they stayed that way and, eh, also to get the dogs out of the way. We secured the house, tied him and his wife up, and I recovered a few rifles that we can use. The Ranger’s sons were not at home, apparently they are attending this camporee so we have them as hostages.”
“This day just keeps getting brighter and brighter, eh?” Doug said. Bob tossed Cecelia a Molson as Doug took yet another swig from his. “And the front gate... is it secure, Flambé?”
“Oui,” Flambé responded. “La porte est bloquée. “Porc Américain ne viendra pas du fait la voie, je peut vous assurer!”
“So, what’s the plan?” Provost asked, turning towards Mark and the two Matts whose last names began with “A.”
“Well,” Matt Abert, pausing from his favourite snack of spray cheese in a can, said, “Scouting is supposed to be a youth run organization.”
“Yes, definitely,” Mark Abert agreed.
“Mike’s the Patrol Leader,” Matt Atanian said. “What do you say, Mike?”
Mike laughed lightly. “Figures, the one time I wouldn’t mind passing this off to someone else, I get three of the only adult leaders who believe in that
principle of Scouting that says it is ‘youth run.’ Normally, I can’t run things without seventeen adults springing from the woodwork and insisting on doing
things their way.”
“Really?” Mark said. “How do you do things in 192?”
“You don’t want to know,” Mike said. He then stood in contemplation for a moment before announcing, “Actually, I do have an idea, but it is something I must take care of on my own.”
“What is it, Mike?” Aaron asked.
“Well... it’s something I can’t really talk about. I promised someone, you see. I think it could be a great help, though, so I have to go. Swett, you’re the Assistant Patrol Leader, so I leave the rest up to you.”
Mike waved an excited good bye and disappeared into the woods.
Swett stood there, a slight look of shock on his face.
“You know,” Gelinas said, “seems Mike found a way to pass it off to someone else, after all.”
Brian returned from having brought Sherry to hide out at the floating campsite. “What’s going on, guys?” he asked.
Swett stood there, a slight look of shock on his face.
“So... um... well...” Swett stammered.
“May I make a suggestion?” Kenny quietly asked.
“Sure, what is it, Kenny?”
“Well... before we take any action, it may be best just to find out as much information about the terrorists as we can. How many there are, what their capabilities are, where they are, where the hostages are, et cetera.”
“And how do you suggest we go about this information gathering?” Swett asked.
Aaron and the Bills all looked at each other and smiled. “Leave that to us,” Aaron said.
Flambé marched back and forth across the main gate of the camp, a flame-thrower slung over his shoulder. As he marched, he sung jubilantly to himself.
“Alouette, gentille Alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai. Je te plumerai la tete, Je te plumerai la tete, Et la tete, et la tete, Alouette...”
“Quack.”
Flambé turned and saw a duck looking at him.
Flambé looked at the duck.
“Alouette?”
“What’s that commotion outside?” Nicole asked.
“I don’t know,” Sarah responded, concerned for her sister’s safety. “Come on, now, don’t get yourself into any more trouble for now.”
Kirstin glanced out of the window and saw their guards shooing away a very familiar looking dog.
“Meow.”
“Heh heh, here kitty,” Bob said. “Cootchy cootchy coo!”
Bob walked up the ramp of the Nunes building and opened the door. He walked in, followed by the kitty.
“Hey, Doug, how everything going, eh?”
“All’s well, Bob. What’s with the cat?”
“Well, it just sort of followed me. I figured no harm. Eh?”
“Eh.”
“So, everyone secure in this building?”
“Yeah. We’ve got some, eh, some hostages downstairs, and this here upstairs seems like a good place for an operations center.”
A shout from the floor below suddenly interrupted the brothers. “I demand to see whoever is in charge at once!”
“What’s going on down there, eh?” Doug shouted down.
“I’m sorry, sir, but, eh, one of the hostages is causing a bit of ruckus.”
“Bring ‘im up,” Doug ordered.
One of the terrorists ascended the stairs, leading two Boy Scouts up by gunpoint.
“You peon!” one of the Boy Scouts shouted to the terrorist. “How dare you treat me like this! Don’t you have any idea who I am?!” he demanded to know, spittle flying with nearly every word he shouted.
“You look like a hostage to me, eh.” Doug said.
Justy turned sharply to look at Doug. “Are you the one in charge here?”
Doug nodded. “And who would you be, eh?”
“Proctor!” Justy said sharply.
“Yes, Captain?”
Justy whapped Proctor sharply with his baton.
“Oh! Yes, Captain!” Proctor took a step forward. “I present to you, his Royal Highness, Senior Patrol Leader of Troop 192 and future leader of the known world, his majesty, Lord God Yung.” He turned to Justy. “How was that, Captain? I was practicing in front of a mirror and everything.”
“It will do,” Justy said, stepping past Proctor and brushing him aside. He looked to Doug. “And who am I speaking with?”
“I am Doug Mackenzie, leader and co-founder of the Canadian People’s Army. This is my brother, Bob, the other co-founder.”
“How do you do, eh?” Bob asked, tossing Justy and Proctor each a Molson.
“I do quite fine,” Justy said, snatching Proctor’s Molson.
“Now, Mr. Yung,” Doug asked. “What can we do for you, eh?”
“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Mackenzie. I have a little proposition for you.”
“What kind of proposition, eh?”
“One that could be mutually beneficial to both of us. An alliance between you... and me.”
Justy cracked open his Molson and downed it all in one great swig. He then did the same with Proctor’s. Then he laughed, and he kept on laughing, until he stopped just long enough to prepare to laugh some more. Then... he hiccupped.
Aaron and the Bills returned and each gave a detailed report. Kenny jotted everything down in his notebook and quickly prepared a summery of the results.
“It seems that they are holding the majority of the hostages at the Dining Hall, the Training Lodge, and the Duplex,” Kenny said, “along with a small group at the Nunes Building, which is also their base of operations. They also have a guard at the main gate, and a guard at the Ranger’s house, where Mr. and Mrs. Anderson have been gassed into unconsciousness and tied up.”
“Right,” Dan said, “the path is clear.”
“Is it?” Gelinas asked.
“Yes. We must first destabilize the enemy and then wipe them out in a massive strike.”
“Seems reasonable to me.”
“What if,” Matt said, “we split up into teams? Some of us will break off and distract the smaller groups at places other then the Nunes Building. Meanwhile, another group of us will stay and make preparations for the final assault, which I suggest should be aimed at Nunes Building, via the Parade Field.”
“Excellent plan.”
“The goal of the smaller groups should be to try and free as many of the hostages as we can,” Aaron suggested, “so they’re not endangered by the final assault.”
“I think this is an excellent plan,” Swett said. “We should do this!” He looked around a bit. “Um... so... I’ll lead the group that stays behind and prepares for the final assault. Who else is with me?”
Kenny raised a hand. “I might have some ideas,” he quietly mentioned.
Mark smiled. “I think we can help with that,” he said.
“I need to do some work on the Pioneering Merit Badge,” Brain added. “This could be as good a time as any.”
“The rest of us should be two person teams,” Matt suggested.
“Perry go with Matt,” Perry said.
Matt immediately got a rather worried expression.
“Promise no try to kill,” Perry said.
“Thank god,” Matt responded.
“Until this over, that is,” Perry added.
Matt smiled weakly.
Dan and Colin glanced at each other. They were an obvious team.
“What do you say, Bill?” Aaron asked.
“I still think this is a stupid idea,” Gelinas said, “but if there’s no talking you out of it, I may as well go along.”
“How about you and me, Becker?” Hughes asked.
“WHAT!?!?”
“Guess that leaves us, right?” Provost asked Matt Abert.
“A-yup,” Matt responded.
“Well, then, shall we get started?” Matt Swett asked.
Everyone nodded.
“Colin, we need to stop by Cabin Three,” Dan said.
“What now?” Colin asked, slightly worried.
“Don’t worry, I just need to pick up some equipment.”
“Good luck, everyone,” Mark said as the various groups dispersed.
Cecelia and another rather nice looking female terrorist were pacing back and fourth before the Duplex, rifles slung over their shoulders.
There was a rustling from the trees. Cecelia stopped and looked, her rifle pointed. Likewise did the other terrorist.
The rustling stopped.
The two terrorists crept slowly towards the trees, trying to discern the cause of the disturbance.
“PRETTY LADIES!!!” Provost bellowed as he catapulted himself from the forest and latched himself securely onto Cecelia’s chest.
Cecelia screamed and shivered in horror.
“Mon Dieu! Get it off of me! Get it off!”
“What is it?” her companion asked, terrified.
Provost leapt from Cecelia and latched onto the other terrorist, a broad and happy grin on his face. “Pretty ladies!” he repeated.
The other terrorist yelped and tried to brush Provost off, but his grip was more secure then Fort Knox.
Suddenly and without warning, Provost let go, laughed delightedly, and scampered back off into the forest. “I’m the Leprechaun,” he announced in a rather silly voice as he disappeared into the trees. “You’ll never catch me!”
“After him!” Cecelia declared as she took off chasing the unseen Provost. Her companion followed.
They dashed off down a path, their pursuit made possible by the noise of snapping twigs and rustling of branches as Provost ran.
Cecelia raised her rifle and pointed it in the direction of the noise. She tried to steady her aim as best as she could without stopping her pursuit. She began to pull the trigger when...
“Naughty spawn, face my mighty Squeeze Cheese of Justice!”
Matt Abert rose from the underbrush, a can of spray cheese gripped in each hand. Deftly he immediately aimed at the faces of each terrorist and fired.
Kenny sighed.
“What’s wrong, Kenny?” Mark asked.
“This would be so much easier with access to my stuff at home,” he responded.
“We’ve got plenty of stuff here!” Mark enthusiastically told Kenny. “We have rope, we have wood, what more do you need?”
“Some knots and lashings and we can put together anything,” Brian assured Kenny.
“Hmm... I would still feel better with access to my own equipment... but yes!” Kenny suddenly seemed excited and began sketching furiously in his notebook. “This could work!”
Two terrorists were sitting on the front steps of the Training Lodge, drinking Molsons. They dropped the cans of beer and rose quickly to their feet when they heard voices coming from around the side of the building.
“Are you sure this will work?”
“Matty trust Perfume. Will work.”
“Why’d you bring these things with you on a Boy Scout camping trip, anyway?”
“Never know when need.”
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
The two terrorists turned the corner, their guns pointed forward.
“Who goes there, eh!?” one of them demanded.
Then the two of them saw who went there, and they stopped dead in their tracks.
They gawked at what they saw, which was two women, a red head and an Asian, both wearing rather nice, short cut Chinese dresses.
“Um... what are you doing here, eh?” one of the terrorists asked.
The red head smiled sweetly. “Your boss sent us over. He said you two big guys were doing such a good job that you deserved a reward.”
“But... um... Doug already sent over a case of Molson.”
“You do extra special job,” the Asian woman said, stepping forward and draping her arm over one of the men’s shoulder, “you get extra special reward.”
“And we’re it,” the red head added, draping her arm over the other man’s shoulder.
“Gosh... well, eh?” one of them said.
The women smiled.
They then swiftly conked the two men’s heads together, and they dropped to the ground, unconscious.
“Gosh,” the two women said.
“Well,” Matty added.
“Eh?” Perfume concluded.
Mark finished sawing off the last large round slab and began to bore a hole through the center. Brian and Matt Swett finished lashing together the main platform, while Kenny inspected various odds and ends.
“It’s all coming together nicely,” Mark commented as he consulted Kenny’s sketched plans.
Kenny nodded. Then he frowned. “Oh no,” he quietly said.
“What is it, Kenny?” Mark asked.
“The main arm will need to be somewhat pliable, so we’ll need live wood.”
“Well, normally it’s not good to cut a living tree, but in this case it can’t be helped, Kenny,” Mark responded.
“Yo,” Swett shouted from where he was, “I’m ready to start on the turret.”
“Be right there!” Kenny responded. He looked at Mark, and Mark nodded. He picked up the saw again and went off in search of the necessary wood.
Dan and Colin crept quietly towards the main gate.
“Looks like there’s only one here,” Colin said. “I’ll dash across the road, and we’ll sneak up behind the trees on either side. When you hear my signal, we’ll simultaneously rush out and take him by surprise.”
“No,” Dan said, “look.”
Colin looked. “Uh oh,” he said, seeing the terrorist’s armament.
“You stay here.” Dan grinned. “This one’s mine alone.”
Dan rose from his hiding place and strode purposefully towards Flambé, his flame-thrower slung over his shoulder as he walked. Flambé saw him and smiled.
“Mon ami, il semble que vous êtes venus pour me défier,” Flambé said. “Heureusement, car vous semblez être l'un Américain qui est un digne opponant, je reçois.”
Flambé and Dan stood only a few feet apart and saluted. They then each simultaneously pivoted 180° and began to pace. They each counted off with each step.
“Un, deux, trois,” Flambé said.
“Four, five, six,” Dan said.
“Sept...”
“Eight...”
“Neuf ...”
“Ten!”
They turned and aimed their flame-throwers, but Dan was faster. He pulled the trigger and flames engulfed his opponent.
“Well, Kenny, construction is about complete,” Mark said. “Matt and Brian can finish up the rest. Have you given any thought to an armament?”
“Well...” Kenny was quieter then usual. Mark had to kneel down in order to hear him properly. “I do have an idea, but I’m not sure if it’s ethically sound.”
“Ethically sound?” Mark asked.
“Well, Mr. Abert, it may... it may constitute biological warfare. Oh, if only I had access to my equipment at home! I could come up with a safe alternative!”
“Biological warfare!? Kenny, what is it?”
Kenny told him.
Mark was shocked into silence for a moment, but in the end he told Kenny that he didn’t see much of a choice. They had no other options.
Hughes crept quietly towards the Anderson house. “There’s only one guard here... I’ll sneak around that way, and you slip up and...”
“Wait,” Becker said, gripping Hughes’s arm to prevent his advance. “I have a better idea.”
Becker stepped out from the trees and boldly walked up to the terrorist.
“You! Stop, eh!”
Becker extended his arm. In his hand were his headphones. The ear pads were turned outwards, aimed at the terrorist.
“What are you doing, eh?”
Becker smiled very slightly. “Heh.”
“Answer me!” the terrorist insisted.
Becker hit “play.”
Both the terrorist and Hughes screamed and fell to their knees, clutching their ears as they were assaulted by Bulgarian Opera at a decibel level of epic proportions.
“No! Make it stop! Make the pain go away!” the terrorist cried.
Then, as if in response to the man’s plea, Becker’s batteries died.
The terrorist rose, smiled, and pointed his gun at the Boy Scouts.
“I think the appropriate remark at this point would be,” Hughes suggested, “’Oh, shit.’”
The terrorist began to squeeze the trigger.
The ground shook slightly. A deep growl was heard from within the Ranger’s house, quietly at first but quickly rising in volume until it even approached the level of Becker’s CD player.
The terrorist turned in... well... in terror to look at the house he was guarding.
“You don’t think...” Hughes began.
“We woke the Ranger?” Becker finished.
“I think the appropriate remark at this point would be,” Hughes suggested, “’Oh, shit.’”
“Let’s get the hell out here!” Becker exclaimed.
Becker and Hughes ran off, leaving the poor terrorist behind to face the wrath of Gary Anderson.
Mark and Kenny regarded the large number of canteens before them on the ground. “That should do it, they’re all loaded. We just need some way to detonate them on impact,” Kenny said.
“Did I hear the word ‘detonate’?” Dan asked as he and Colin approached.
“Detonate what?” Colin asked.
“Well... these canteens,” Mark said.
“What’s in them?” Dan asked.
Kenny quietly told them.
“My God! Can we do that?” Colin asked.
“Do we have a choice?” Mark responded.
“That’s a bit extreme, even for my tastes,” Dan said. “But... if it’s the only option...” He plopped his backpack down before the canteens and sat beside it. He the unzipped it and began to rummage inside. “Detonate on impact... No problem... a small charge, wire up the casing and make it pressure sensitive... not too sensitive so that the launch doesn’t set it off...”
“You know,” Mark commented observing this, “he really worries me sometimes.”
“I am just glad he’s on our side,” Colin responded, “for which I am eternally grateful every day.”
“I know what you mean. It’s hazardous enough knowing him while on the same side.” Mark bowed his head. “I’m starting to feel really bad for these poor terrorists.”
“Well... we have to do what we have to do.”
“That we do, Colin. That we do.”
Matt Abert and Derek stopped by the Trading Post to get something to drink.
“Driving off terrorists sure works up a thirst,” Matt said. He squeezed the last of his cheese down his throat and deposited three quarters into the Coca-Cola vending machine. The coins rattled around inside the machine and Matt punched the button for a root beer. The machine made some buzzing noises, supposedly locating the proper beverage.
From behind him, Derek remarked, "I heard they might've finally fixed this thing."
There was a clang of metal on metal, and a heavily beat up can of Kiwi/Mocha Fruit Juice fell out of the slot.
"Or not," Matt said.
Derek saw this, screamed in inhuman horror, and ran away.
“Derek! Wait!” Matt ran off after him.
As this occurred, a terrorist dashed across the Parade Field in fear for his life. In pursuit on horseback was Gary Anderson. Following Gary was one of his dogs, Bosco.
“Get back here!” Gary demanded. “Bosco needs a snack!”
“Cecelia, come in, eh?” Doug shook his walkie-talkie a bit and tried again. “Cecelia, you there, eh?”
“I’m not getting any response from the Training Lodge or the Ranger’s house, either, Doug,” Bob said.
“It’s the Garden Snake Patrol, it must be,” Justy said spitefully. “They’re always out to foil me at whatever I do.”
“Garden Snake Patrol? Who’s that then, eh?” Doug asked.
“My life long rivals, a patrol from my troop who will stop at nothing to see my plans for world domination thwarted!”
“Captain, don’t you think that sounds a bit...”
“Shut up, Proctor!”
“Yes, Captain.”
“This explains why the Garden Snakes weren’t at opening... They must have known that you were going to be staging this takeover of the Camporee, and they would have also known that you would allay yourselves with my greatness...”
“Remember, Canada is the capitol when you take over the world, eh?” Doug asked.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Justy responded.
“Are you sure the Garden Snakes didn’t just miss opening because you made them stay behind and do all of the...”
“Shut up, Proctor!”
“Yes, Captain.”
“So, Mr. Yung,” Doug asked, “if you know these Garden Snakes, then how would you suggest we stop them, eh?”
“I’m glad you asked. I know just what to do.”
And so Justy laughed.
Matty and Perfume were on their way back to meet up with Kenny and Mark’s group when they found something rather disturbing.
They found Taylor Kuntz.
“My red haired Goddess! It is the beast! And fair Juliet’s such fun!”
“Good god, do you never give up?”
“Thank goodness you’re safe! I shall keep you so from these vile Canadians!”
“Who this?” Perfume asked.
“The bane of my existence,” Matty told her. She turned to Kuntz. “Why aren’t you a hostage?”
“I escaped, fighting off ten or twenty of them as I did so!”
“You sure you didn’t just run away at the first sight of trouble?” Matty said.
“No!” Kuntz insisted rather weakly. “No, I am sure it was I escaped, fighting off twenty or thirty of them single handedly as I did so! Cry hammock, and let sleeping dogs of war lie!”
“If you say so.”
“So what say you, fair Juliet? Shall I protect you from harm? We can go oft into yonder woods and yea, hence enjoy some private timest togetherest!”
“Kuntz, how many times must I say that I am not interested?”
“You don’t have another guy, do you?”
“Of course not,” Matty responded without thinking. “Why would I have a guy?”
“That’s right, I’m all the man you need!” Kuntz grabbed Matty’s arm and began to try and drag her off. Matty slapped his arm away.
“Don’t you understand that ‘no’ means no?” Matty shouted.
“Oh, come on!” Kuntz rebuffed. “You simply cannot show your true feelings for me!”
“My true...?” For some reason, a scene towards the beginning of The Empire Strikes Back drifted through Matty’s mind. Unfortunately, there was only one person other then Kuntz present... but Matty supposed she’d have to do.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Matty grabbed Perfume and kissed her full on the lips.
Kuntz did a very good impression of Edvard Munch’s famous painting, The Scream.
Perfume, meanwhile, was quite surprised.
“Muh... muh... muh...” Kuntz muttered incoherently.
Perfume continued to be quite surprised.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MY GODDESS!?!?” Kuntz asked in a rather uncalm manor.
Perfume remained in a quite surprised state.
Kuntz backed away, making funny noises. Finely, he turned and ran, saying as he went, “When sorrows come, they come not apple pies but in half gallons!”
As Matty pulled away from Perfume at last, Perfume looked at Matty with a quite surprised expression.
“Um... thanks for being ‘Luke’,” Matty said.
Perfume sighed languidly. “Not know Matty feel so for Perfume,” she whispered.
Matty gulped. “No! It’s not like that.”
“What it like, then? Was not Kiss of Death, was it?”
“No, I don’t want to kill you, Perfume.”
“Is only one other kind of kiss for Amazon warrior. Matty propose to Perfume?”
“WHAT!?” Matty exclaimed.
“Perfume not know what to say... Would like better as Matt, but if Matty into such things...”
“Perfume, I don’t want to marry you! I was just trying to get rid of that guy! I can’t stand him!”
“Matty no want to marry Perfume?”
“No... I love Sarah. Um... sorry?”
“Matty just toying with Perfume’s heart?” There was a dangerous pause before the Amazon shouted, “Perfume kill Matty!”
Perfume took an aggressive stance and Matty backed away slightly. “Woah, hold on. I thought we had a truce until this was all over. Remember? Stop the Canadians?”
Perfume snapped her fingers and backed down, disappointed. “Kill you later.”
“You were going to anyways, weren’t you?”
Perfume nodded.
“So has anything really changed?”
Perfume shrugged.
Matty shrugged. “Oh well, let’s go stop the Canadians, then.”
“So, you see, you could make a mint by making outrageous demands and offering the release of a single hostage as each demand is met. Sure, you probably won’t get half of the demands... but that’s why you make more then what you actually need.”
“I see... I see...” The terrorist was excitedly taking notes.
“Nicole?” Kirstin asked. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“And you know what is an excellent way to make sure that you get your demands?”
“What’s that, eh?”
“Show the negotiators that you can be reasonable.”
“And how do you do that, eh?”
“You release female hostages first.”
“Like you?” the terrorist asked.
Nicole looked at herself and gave off a rather convincing performance of surprise. “Huh... what d’ya know! I wasn’t even thinking about that!”
“Nicole!” Sarah shouted from where she was sitting. “What did I tell you?”
“Um... not to cause any more trouble for now?”
“So get your butt back over here and sit down!”
Nicole sighed and, followed by Kirstin, returned to sitting with Sarah.
A moment later, they were approached by the terrorists.
Hughes and Becker were headed back to meet up with everyone else when someone tapped Becker lightly on the shoulder. Becker, and thus Hughes, quickly turned, alarmed, expecting to find they had been discovered by the terrorists.
They had not.
“Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to Tokyo?”
“This is it. The Dining Hall. They’re keeping a majority of the hostages here.”
“I still think we should get the proper author...”
“Bill?” Aaron said in warning.
“Okay, okay...”
“Look... what’s that?”
“What?”
“There! Two of the guards are leaving... looks like they have some hostages with them, but I can’t see who it is.”
“You don’t think they’re gonna... gonna...?”
“I doubt it. What’s the point? Probably just moving them somewhere else. Works out good for us. Less guards to take out.”
“I suppose so.”
“Got the water?”
“Right here.”
The next moment, one of the remaining guards was attacked by the dog he’d shooed away earlier as the other one was set upon by a most foul fowl.
“Eh? Now I can’t reach the Dining Hall, Doug.”
“Call anyone you can reach back here to Nunes, Bob. Looks like showdown time, eh?”
That it does, gentlemen.” Justy laughed. “And I can’t wait to play our ace in the hole.”
...to be continued
Disclaimer and Notes
Hi, everybody!
Well, first off you may notice that this is not the end of this story line. This is despite previous plans that this would only be a two-parter.
Well... I seem to have a habit when writing to set up a lot in the first half, meaning I have quite a lot to resolve in the second half. An extreme example can be seen in the rather short part 15, followed by the lengthy part 16. Rather then have a enormous part 20 (it’s already slightly longer then most stories, although not longer then 16), and keeping you waiting even longer to read it, I decided it might be a good idea just to leave things off here and conclude it in a third part.
Second... I have nothing against Canadians. In fact, I am part French Canadian myself, from my mother’s side. (I’m also Polish on my mother’s side, as well as Icelandic and Armenian on my father’s side, just in case anyone was wondering.) Now, I don’t claim to be a comic genius the likes of Mel Brooks... but if he can make fun of Jews, I can make fun of Canadians. (I’ve noticed in Comedy that if you are to make fun of an ethnic group, the best way to go about it is to make fun of all groups equally or make fun of a group which you personally are a part of. Anything else just seems like bigotry, which isn’t nice.)
It occurred to me as I wrote this story that the first episode of the Sci-Fi Channel’s series The Invisible Man featured a few Canadian terrorists... but I assure you it is purely coincidence. While I wrote this after seeing the show, I had the idea before seeing the show.
Why Canadian terrorists? Well, when Aaron originally came up with this idea, he had thought of using a more traditional group of terrorists. However, I quickly noted that such a thing would be out of place in a comedy series. Either the story would have to be written as a serious one (which was probably Aaron’s intent, although I am only guessing) or the story would have been nothing more then a piece of tripe filled with derogatory middle-eastern stereotypes. Now, a serious story of that type would have been out of place within Boy Scouts ½, and I certainly did not want to have a story that would reinforce negative stereotypes against middle-eastern folk. (There are quite a lot of nice ones, I assure you. Just as in any society, the not nice ones are a minority.) Therefore, I had to find a group that would be funny as terrorists. Hence, Canadians.
Thanks to Danny Mashia’s book, My Favorite Campfire Songs for the lyrics to Alouette. Other French translation was done with the aid of AltaVista’s
Babel Fish program. (So if it’s inaccurate, blame them!)
Jusenkyo curses and the character of Ryoga are borrowed from Rumiko Takahashi’s Ranma ½. (Derek’s cry of “Pretty ladies!” is also reminiscent of the Ranma ½ character Happosai, but it fits Derek’s character quite well.) Also, this story is not endorsed in any way by either the Boy Scouts of America or the Girl Scouts of America.
Bob and Doug Mackenzie are named after the SCTV characters played by Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas. (They are not the same characters, however, they only happen to be two other fanatical Canadians by those names.)
Educational notes: Norwegian artist Edavrd Munch (1863-1944) is most famous for his representation of human suffering and loneliness in The Scream (1893). The distorted figure's scream dominates the canvas in oscillating curves and heavy lines. The extreme slant of the perspective, the bold outlines, and the harsh colours contribute to a mood of anxiety and anguish. Munch was not associated with a specific group of artists, but he can be classified under Proto-Expressionism because he so directly influenced the advent of expressionism. Munch's work generated much controversy in his time, and many artists followed his expressive style despite the risk of rejection from public exhibitions. So now you know, and knowing is half the battle.
See you next time!
Well, first off you may notice that this is not the end of this story line. This is despite previous plans that this would only be a two-parter.
Well... I seem to have a habit when writing to set up a lot in the first half, meaning I have quite a lot to resolve in the second half. An extreme example can be seen in the rather short part 15, followed by the lengthy part 16. Rather then have a enormous part 20 (it’s already slightly longer then most stories, although not longer then 16), and keeping you waiting even longer to read it, I decided it might be a good idea just to leave things off here and conclude it in a third part.
Second... I have nothing against Canadians. In fact, I am part French Canadian myself, from my mother’s side. (I’m also Polish on my mother’s side, as well as Icelandic and Armenian on my father’s side, just in case anyone was wondering.) Now, I don’t claim to be a comic genius the likes of Mel Brooks... but if he can make fun of Jews, I can make fun of Canadians. (I’ve noticed in Comedy that if you are to make fun of an ethnic group, the best way to go about it is to make fun of all groups equally or make fun of a group which you personally are a part of. Anything else just seems like bigotry, which isn’t nice.)
It occurred to me as I wrote this story that the first episode of the Sci-Fi Channel’s series The Invisible Man featured a few Canadian terrorists... but I assure you it is purely coincidence. While I wrote this after seeing the show, I had the idea before seeing the show.
Why Canadian terrorists? Well, when Aaron originally came up with this idea, he had thought of using a more traditional group of terrorists. However, I quickly noted that such a thing would be out of place in a comedy series. Either the story would have to be written as a serious one (which was probably Aaron’s intent, although I am only guessing) or the story would have been nothing more then a piece of tripe filled with derogatory middle-eastern stereotypes. Now, a serious story of that type would have been out of place within Boy Scouts ½, and I certainly did not want to have a story that would reinforce negative stereotypes against middle-eastern folk. (There are quite a lot of nice ones, I assure you. Just as in any society, the not nice ones are a minority.) Therefore, I had to find a group that would be funny as terrorists. Hence, Canadians.
Thanks to Danny Mashia’s book, My Favorite Campfire Songs for the lyrics to Alouette. Other French translation was done with the aid of AltaVista’s
Babel Fish program. (So if it’s inaccurate, blame them!)
Jusenkyo curses and the character of Ryoga are borrowed from Rumiko Takahashi’s Ranma ½. (Derek’s cry of “Pretty ladies!” is also reminiscent of the Ranma ½ character Happosai, but it fits Derek’s character quite well.) Also, this story is not endorsed in any way by either the Boy Scouts of America or the Girl Scouts of America.
Bob and Doug Mackenzie are named after the SCTV characters played by Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas. (They are not the same characters, however, they only happen to be two other fanatical Canadians by those names.)
Educational notes: Norwegian artist Edavrd Munch (1863-1944) is most famous for his representation of human suffering and loneliness in The Scream (1893). The distorted figure's scream dominates the canvas in oscillating curves and heavy lines. The extreme slant of the perspective, the bold outlines, and the harsh colours contribute to a mood of anxiety and anguish. Munch was not associated with a specific group of artists, but he can be classified under Proto-Expressionism because he so directly influenced the advent of expressionism. Munch's work generated much controversy in his time, and many artists followed his expressive style despite the risk of rejection from public exhibitions. So now you know, and knowing is half the battle.
See you next time!