part 24:
The Cage
by Matthew Atanian
©2005 by Matthew Atanian
The Cage
by Matthew Atanian
©2005 by Matthew Atanian
Kirstin awoke bright and early, as was her custom, to prepare breakfast for herself and her sisters. Also, since there was still a little bit to go before school was out for the summer, to make lunches for herself and Nicole.
This was her custom. However, after the better part of a week she was still not used to the fact that someone else was doing this for her.
Remembrance of this fact came to her just as she was about to open the door from her bedroom. Sure enough, when she did so she was greeted with the sight of Proctor in the kitchen. He was already wide awake, groomed, and dressed smartly in a Boy Scout uniform. (She had noticed on the first morning that the sleeve showed signs that a patch had recently been removed from it, but Proctor seemed not to have wanted to comment on that.) Lunches were made and waiting in neatly folded brown paper bags upon the kitchen counter, and he already had a good start on breakfast.
"Good morning, mistress Kirstin," he said upon noticing her entrance.
"Proctor," she said in to him, "I really wish you wouldn't go to all of this trouble."
"It's no trouble at all," he said to her.
"Still, it isn't necessary," she told him.
"But why, mistress?" he invariably asked at this point. This conversation had become practically routine over the last few mornings.
"Because you don't need to do all of this," Kirstin always replied. "Besides, I like doing this stuff myself."
"But if I didn't do this for you, how am I to serve you?" He then went back to work, and he would have nothing of it if Kirstin tried to help him or — god forbid — take over.
There was just no dissuading him. The most she had been able to accomplish along those lines was after the first time he had cooked, convincing him that they were on a budget as far as food was concerned and that it was not appropriate to cook a grand feast for every meal.
Still, Kirstin wished she could get him to stop. She really did like doing the cooking herself. There was also the fact, although one would never get her to admit it, that she was perhaps a little concerned (some might say jealous) that Proctor might just be a better cook then her.
Justy awoke later then he was accustom to. Where the hell was Proctor? Oh, yes. Proctor was gone. And good riddens.
So where the hell was Gamble?
"Gamble!" Justy bellowed.
Something stirred at the foot of the bed. Justy looked over the edge to see someone in a sleeping bag. The form was much too small to be that of the robustly framed Gamble.
"Who are you?" Justy bellowed.
A sleepy head poked itself out of the bag. As Justy suspected, it certainly was not Gamble. Justy did recognize the lad, however. It was... oh... what was his name?
"Peon #235," Justy said after a moment.
The small Tenderfoot scout was blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looked up at Justy.
"What are you doing here?"
"Well, Mr. Lord God Yung, sir," the lad, whose name was Joey, responded in his youthful voice, "Mr. Gamble said he was going to work with us on the Citizenship in the Community merit badge. And to earn it, we had to provide service to the two most important people in the community."
"The two most important?" Justy asked.
He had intended the question to be rhetorical, but the youth responded regardless. "Mr. Gamble, sir."
"I see," Justy slowly said. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this situation, but decided to deal with it as best as he could for the moment, until he could speak to Gamble.
"I should have been woken up almost an hour ago!" Justy snapped. "I am going to bathe now. Normally, I would have you draw the bath for me, but I shall suffer doing it for myself today. However, I expect to find my best uniform laid out for me when I am finished, and I expect breakfast to then be waiting on the table for me after I dress. Is this clear?"
The kid got out of his sleeping bag. He seemed enthusiastic about his duties, but still he didn't move as quickly as Justy would have liked.
“Well, snap to it!" Justy demanded.
"Yes, sir!" Joey responded as he went to his tasks.
No, still not quite as quick and enthusiastic as Justy would have preferred. Still, it was certainly more quick and enthusiastic then the youth would have been if he had known that noting he was doing covered any requirements of the Citizenship in the Community merit badge, or any other merit badge for that matter. And Justy knew that, as much a bunch of fools as they all were (especially that Atanian) none of the adult leaders would be foolish enough to sign off any requirements for the lad. So all he was doing was for naught.
Not that Justy was about to tell any of this to the poor kid. Indeed, as annoyed as he was with the situation he found himself in this morning, these thoughts were enough to ensure a good hearty laugh for Justy as he made his way to the bath.
That afternoon, Matt came home to find the answering machine blinking at him. He pushed the button, and the machine began playing its messages back. The first message was for his father from Harris Tanner. The second message was from an annoying telemarketer. The third was the most astonishing thing Matthew Atanian had ever herd.
"Huh," Matt said. He went and kicked off his sneakers, made a quick visit to the bathroom for reasons that shall not be elaborated upon here, and then headed to the kitchen to make a snack for himself.
He did all of this because his brain was quite simply not yet ready to process the contents of the aforementioned answering machine message, and thus all thoughts of it had been pushed from his conscious mind.
As Matt was spreading marshmallow Fluff onto a piece of bread, his brain decided to take a chance and see if he could handle it yet.
One of the penguins pushed a bit of knowledge back into the conscious parts of his brain. Matt stopped, butter knife paused in mid-swipe, and blinked for a moment.
Then he was gone, the bread left suspended a few inches above the countertop. It descended, doing a mid-air flip that was made doubly amazing when one considered the very short distance it had to travel, and landed on the counter sticky side down.
By the time the bread had accomplished all of this, Matt was already pressing the button on the answering machine once again. He fast forwarded through inquiries about what time to leave for the trade-o-ree this weekend. He fast forwarded though the offer of a free VCR if he was but willing to sit through a five hour seminar about an amazing real estate deal he could simply not afford to miss. He stopped at the third message, and listened to it again. This is what it said:
"This is Sarah Porter calling for Matthew Atanian. There are a few matters I wish to discuss with you. Come to my place tonight. I should be home any time after five o'clock. If you don't already know how to get here, you can get directions from Matty Hayes."
Matt stood completely still after the message stopped playing. It always took the penguins a few moments to get the jumper cables hooked up to his hypothalamus, what with their lack of opposable thumbs, and all. Then one of the penguins hopped into their car and turned the key in the ignition.
When nothing immediately happened, the penguin turned off the car and waited a moment before then trying again.
Matt blinked, shook his head a bit, and looked over at the clock. It was only about a quarter 'till four. Plenty of time for a snack before he went. He headed back for the kitchen to finish making his sandwich.
Not long after, the Atanian house was filled with a shout of, "Oh, bloody hell!"
An hour later, Matt stood before the dwelling of the Porter sisters. Nervously, he knocked upon the door. He heard from within a female shout of, "I can get it!" Whoever it was who had said this was unsuccessful as when the door was opened a second later, it was Proctor who stood on the other side.
"You are expected," he said. He stood aside, and announced, "Mr. Matthew Atanian to see Mistress Sarah."
"Thank you, Proctor," Sarah said. "That will be all."
"Do you require any refreshment for you or your guest?" Proctor asked Sarah.
Sarah frowned, a look Matt was only all too familiar with. "That will be all," she repeated.
Proctor bowed, and left the room. Since the only other options would be the bathroom or one of the bedrooms, Proctor left the room by going to stand just outside the front door while Sarah conducted her business with her visitor.
"Have a seat," Sarah said. She was sitting in the couch. Next to her was Nicole, seemingly reading the Wall Street Journal, but looking up from it as he entered the room. Kirstin was in the kitchen, taking the opportunity while Proctor was outside to make some snacks for everyone.
Matt took off his hat and sat in the blue comfy chair opposite the couch. As he did so, Nicole, the excellent judge of human nature she is, noted that while he certainly seemed uncomfortable with the situation (and who wouldn't, with her sister!) he did not seem uncomfortable with his surroundings. He wasn't looking around, taking everything in, as she would expect of someone when they first visited a new place.
Kirstin brought over a bowl of pretzels (left over from the previous weekend’s slumber party) and a fresh pitcher of lemonade. Nicole helped herself. Matt would have liked to, but didn’t think it prudent to make a move until Sarah had done so first. Sarah, for her part, just sat there.
Matt wanted to say something, but seeing as he didn’t even quite know why he was there he certainly didn’t know what he should say. He was still trying to think of something to say when Sarah at last saved him the trouble.
“I want him out of my house.”
For a moment, Matt feared she was talking about him, and that whatever she had asked him over for, upon seeing him she decided it was no longer worth it. Then he realized that she was, in fact, talking to him. Cautiously optimistic, he asked, “Proctor?”
Sarah nodded. “He’s in your troop. You must have an address for him.”
“Odd you should ask that,” Matt said. “I already checked into that, and the only address the troop has on file for him is the same as Justy’s.”
“Justy?” Sarah asked.
“Their Senior Patrol Leader,” Nicole offered. “A stupid little bugger who craves power, but has no idea what power really is.”
Sarah shrugged. “Whatever. Send Proctor there. I want him out of my house.”
“It was Justy who threw him out onto the street,” Kirstin mentioned.
“And he won’t take Proctor back unless he wants to,” Matt added. “And he doesn’t change his mind easily. That would be admitting he wasn’t infallible.”
“You know how that can be, don’t you, sis?” Nicole asked.
Sarah was not amused.
“Still,” Matt said, “I could be said to represent a group of people in whose best interests it would be to see the return of Proctor to Justy’s side.”
“Fine,” Sarah said. “So what do we do?”
“A very good question,” Matt responded. “I really don’t have any idea there. I suppose, though, that the first thing to do would be to get the two of them together in the same place.”
“No. Oh, no. I am not putting up with him for another week.”
“You don’t have to. The troop’s meeting tomorrow at the church to go on a camping trip. Could you bring him there around five?”
Sarah nodded. “I suppose I can deal with him for one more day.” She then lapsed into silence.
Matt blinked. Were they finished? Sarah looked as if she had more to say, but he couldn’t be sure. After some time passed, he finally asked her, “Was there anything else?”
“Hmm? What?” Sarah had been lost in thought. “No,” she then said. “That’s all. You can go.”
“Okay,” Matt said. He rose, putting his hat back on as he did so. “Until tomorrow, then?”
“Yes, tomorrow,” Sarah confirmed.
Matt said goodbye to the twins. When she looked up from her newspaper to respond in kind, Nicole saw something on Matt’s chin that she had never noticed before.
Then he was gone.
Proctor re-entered shortly thereafter. He noticed the snacks upon the table, and asked if he should clean them up.
“Not yet!” Nicole responded, returning from her room where she had gone to fetch a file folder. “I’m still working on them.”
Kirstin came over from the kitchen and sat on the couch beside her older sister. Nicole, meanwhile, had relocated to the comfy blue chair and was pouring herself a lemonade as she looked over some notes.
“I thought you were going to thank him,” Kirstin said.
Sarah got herself a lemonade and sipped from it. “I said I’d think about it,”
“You invited him over, and then you were very rude to him, sister.”
“I wasn’t rude,” Sarah insisted.
“Yes you were. Just as you always are to him.”
Sarah sat in silence for a bit more, staring at the glass of lemonade in her hands. Then she asked, “Am I always like that with him?”
Kirstin nodded.
Sarah sighed. “I’ll try harder next time, okay?”
Kirstin hugged Sarah. “Okay! Now, come on, we have to get going.”
“What?” Kirstin was pulling Sarah to her feet. “Where?”
“To the mall. We have to get a present. No arguing now!”
Sarah had little choice but to comply.
Friday, the twelfth of June had arrived, and shortly before five o’clock in the afternoon at the Church in the Acres in Wilbraham, Massachusetts, the members of Troop 192 were busy packing their gear into various vehicles for their trip to D.A.R. state forest, where they would be spending the weekend.
Or so they thought.
Mike Quadrozzi and Matt Atanian were organizing things. Justy had not arrived yet and, with the exception of Matt, all of the adults were up in the Church’s kitchen enjoying a nice cup of coffee.
“Hey, Matt?” Swett was approaching. “Are we bringing the patrol boxes?”
“Hmm, we’ll probably only need one for this trip.” Matt turned to Mike. “Which one was it that was missing the least stuff?”
“Box C.”
“Ah, yes.” He turned back to Swett. “Why don’t I give you a hand getting it into Mr. Hawley’s trailer?”
“Eh! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Gamble had arrived. “What do you mean?” Mike asked him.
“Why are you giving orders in my troop? You will respect my authority!”
“What authority? Swett asked him.
“My authority as ASPL!”
“I’m an Assistant Scoutmaster,” Matt pointed out. “You don’t have authority over me.”
“Nor me,” Mike said. “As a Patrol Leader, I report directly to the Senior Patrol Leader. The Assistant Senior Patrol Leader is only responsible for overseeing the non-leadership positions such as the troop’s Historian, Quartermaster, or Scribe.” Not the complete truth, Mike supposed, since in Justy’s absence Gamble did have the SPL’s authority, but what Gamble didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
Gamble looked hopefully at Swett.
Matt Swett just shrugged. “I’m too cool for you,” he simply said.
“That’s weak.” Gamble walked away from Matt, Mike, and Swett in search of someone he could boss around. “That’s totally weak.”
“GAMBLE!”
Justy had arrived and was approaching his assistant.
Gamble met him half-way. “Ah, hello, Justy! Fine day we’re having. What can I do for you?”
“You can explain,” Justy said, “this.” He pointed to the small person standing to his side. It was a small, recently crossed over lad who hadn’t even earned his Scout badge yet.
“Is he not doing a good job?” Gamble turned to the kid. “Hey! What did I tell you? You need to do everything Justy says if you ever want to see your Scout badge!”
“I find this unacceptable,” Justy said. “Yesterday I had Peon #235, and today I have Peon #291!”
“So you liked Joey better? Well, with the rotation I have scheduled, he should be back with you in about a week.”
“Rotation?”
“I know, it sucks monkey balls, doesn’t it? But if we kept one kid for to long or too often, the parents are bound to object.”
“What about you?” Justy asked.
“Justy, my friend, I’m in the same boat. New servant every day. It will take a while to break them all in! Tell you what. If Todd gave you a hard time today, I’ll make sure I get him in the next rotation so that I can whip him into shape for you.”
“I think,” Justy said, “that you have failed to understand your position.”
“Oh, and how so, Justy?”
“First of all, you do not call me Justy. I am at the very least to be called Mr. Yung or ‘sir.’ More appropriately, however, I am to be called Lord God Yung.”
“Weak…”
“Secondly, you do not get a servant.”
“Oh, no way! That is not cool.”
“Third, I am to have only one servant: you.”
“Oh… oh, that is so weak, that…”
“You are to leave your parents immediately and come live with me, where you will tend to my every whim and need.”
“Wait, hold on a second. This isn’t some kind of NAMBLA thing, is it?” Gamble asked.
“No,” Justy assured him. “I do not know this NAMBLA of which you speak.”
“Oh, man. That is such a relief. There was this one time…”
“SILENCE!” Justy commanded.
Gamble did not heed him. “What about my power?” he whined. “You promised me penultimate power!”
“And you shall receive it… as my servant.”
“Weak.”
“For it is I who am the most powerful one.”
“So weak…”
“And as my servant, only I shall be allowed to command you.”
“‘Greedo shooting first’ weak,” Gamble finished.
“Do you understand your position now?” Justy asked.
“Bet your ass I do!” Gamble hollered. “It’s back home with a big bowl of Cheezy Poofs! Screw you guys, I’m going home!”
And with that Gamble left, never to return, leaving Justy all alone once more. He stood by himself, pressure slowly building up within his psyche just looking for an outlet.
Everyone else continued getting gear ready for the trip. Mr. Shmuler arrived then, late as usual. His son immediately ran off and started trying to tunnel under the church with his nose. “Hello there, children!” Mr. Shmuler said as he made his way into the building to join the other adults in caffeinated bliss.
“TROOP!” Justy snapped a few minutes later. “You will fall in, upstairs in Walker Hall, now!”
Off where they were standing, Mike looked at Matt. “Better see what he wants,” Matt told him. “We were almost done here, so I can finish up while I wait for the Porters, and then I’ll join you upstairs.”
Mike nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
“Oh, and Mike?”
“Yes?”
“Good luck,” Matt told him. “I think you’ll need it.”
“It’s almost time to leave,” Sarah said to Kirstin. “Where’s Proctor?”
Kirstin frowned. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
The front door opened. The sisters turned, thinking it was Proctor, but it was only Nicole coming home.
“Sister?” Kirstin asked, shock in her voice.
“Hello to you, too,” Nicole responded.
“Your hair!”
Nicole grinned. “Yeah, I thought I might go for a change. Especially since you were talking about letting yours grow out. I thought I’d go in the opposite direction.”
Sarah shrugged. “Don’t think you took it a little too far, though?”
Aside from a few shoulder-length strands coming down in front of her ears, there was not a hair on Nicole’s head that was longer than two inches.
“You don’t like it?” Nicole asked. “I thought it’d be nice and cool for the summer.”
“Well,” Sarah said, “it’s your head.”
Nicole nodded. “That it is. So what do you think, Kirstin?”
“It looks… nice.” Kirstin took a long, hard look at her sister. “It will just take some getting used to,” she concluded.
“Tell me about it,” Nicole said. “I’m used to looking at you as if I was looking into a mirror.”
Kirstin nodded. “Oh!” she then said, suddenly remembering something. “While you were out, the mail arrived.”
“Did I get something?”
Kirstin handed Nicole a thick envelope. “I got one, too,” she said, “but I’ve been waiting until you came home so we could open them together.”
“Yes, but later!” Sarah interrupted. “We should get going!”
“Oh, can I come with?” Nicole asked. “Where is Proctor, anyway?”
The three sisters searched. It was Kirstin who found him, sitting alone in the small back yard and holding his teddy bear.
“Proctor? What’s wrong?”
He immediately got to his feet, dropping the teddy bear as he wiped at his face. “Can I do something for you, Mistress Kirstin?”
“No, Proctor, thank you.”
Hesitantly, Proctor sat back down. Kirstin joined him.
“I am a bother to you, Mistress, am I not?”
Kirstin began to protest this, but stopped herself. She took a deep breath and admitted that in fact he was.
“You are so kind to me, Mistress Kirstin. I, who am so undeserving of such kindness. I who am a bother to you.” He stood once more. “I will leave now.”
Kirstin stood and took his hand. He looked away from her, unable to meet her gaze.
“Yes, Proctor, you have been a bother,” Kirstin told him. “But a kinder, more noble bother I could not expect to meet. You should be rewarded. What would you ask of me? What do you want?”
A fresh tear rolled slowly down Proctor’s cheek. “All I have ever wanted,” he said, “is someone to serve. Someone who truly needs me.”
“Proctor?”
“Yes, Mistress?”
“Stop calling me Mistress.”
“But… Then what shall I call you?”
Kirstin gently took Proctor’s chin in her hand and turned his face so that she could look into his eyes. “Call me friend,” she told him.
Proctor couldn’t have been more stunned if Kirstin had asked him to stop breathing. “But Mistress!” he began to protest.
“Proctor!” Kirstin said warningly.
Proctor demurred slightly. “Okay… Kirstin,” he said.
“Good!” Kirstin said brightly. She picked up his teddy bear and dusted it off slightly. “Now come on, we’re late.”
“For what?” Proctor asked.
“Well, I cannot promise what will happen, but my sisters and I are going to try and reunite you with someone.”
“With the Captain?”
Kirstin nodded.
Proctor practically leapt with joy. “Oh, thank you, Mistress! I mean…” He smiled. “Kirstin.”
Kirstin smiled back. She offered the bear to him. “Now take Simon, and let us be on our way.”
The car of Sarah Porter arrived at the Church in the Acres. She exited the car, as did her sisters, as did Proctor. He had finally agreed to ride inside of the car.
The only person outside the church when they arrived was Matthew Atanian. He was just closing and locking the door to the church’s equipment storage area when they pulled in. The only other sign of life was some noise and the smell of coffee coming through the door at the top of the stairs up the outside of the storage area that lead up to the kitchen.
Matt saw them as they exited the car and he walked over to them. “Hey!” he said in greeting. “How’s it…” He paused. “Nicole?”
Nicole grinned. “Like it?”
“It’s… nice,” he said. While it certainly didn’t make her unattractive, since he enjoyed living he didn’t think it prudent to mention that he really did prefer long hair.
“Hello, Proctor,” Matt then said. “We’ve missed you these last few weeks.”
“You did?” Proctor was genuinely surprised.
“More then you will ever know.”
“But… I thought you were the Captain’s enemies!”
Matt smiled at this. “Proctor, just because Justy sees my friends and I as enemies, that does not mean I see him as such.”
“But you are always thwarting him!”
Matt stopped a moment to consider how best to proceed. Finally he said, “Tell me, Proctor. What would Moriarty be without Holmes? What would Kahn be without Kirk? What would The Master be without The Doctor?”
“Who?” Proctor asked, not having recognized the final pair.
Matt ignored him and continued. “To be truly great,” he explained, “one must have an adversary to struggle against. We are just doing our part to see to Justy’s greatness.”
Proctor’s eyes brightened. “I had no idea!” he said in awe. “You guys do so much for the Captain! You are all great in your own rights, too.”
“Thank you… I think,” Matt said. Then he continued. “So you see, Proctor, just because we are usually on opposite sides, that does not mean that we aren’t your friends. So on this occasion, the Garden Snakes and I want to help you out. It is only natural that you should be back at Justy’s side, after all.”
“Oh, thank you, sir!”
“And if we should ever find ourselves on opposing sides in the future,” Matt added, “I hope you will understand.”
“Understand?” Proctor asked. “Why, sir, it will be an honor!”
Matt led the way into the church, using the door by the playground. He held the door open for everyone else and as Nicole, the last through, passed him she commented, “Well played.”
As the door closed behind Matt, the door from the kitchen opened up and down the long staircase from the kitchen came all of the other adults. They saw the parking lot empty, and assumed that all of the kids were sitting in the cars, ready to go.
As each of them got into their car and saw that it was in fact empty, they each in turn thought to themselves that the kids must have all packed into the other cars. And so each of them drove away, and the error was not discovered until they all arrived at the state forest.
At that point dusk was approaching. They all shrugged. Mr. Hawley lit up a cigar as Mr. Martin set up one of the camp stoves and Mr. McGraw unpacked the coffee.
There followed one of the best weekends of their lives.
Our story is not concerned with them, however. It is concerned with the rest of Troop 192, who are about to have a weekend to which none of them would dare attach the adjective “best.”
Indeed, Matt was feeling far from his best when he got to the top of the stairs leading to Walker Hall and found the doors were locked. “That’s odd,” he said.
His far from best feeling was compounded when he turned around and walked into the kitchen to ask if anyone knew what was going on, only to find the kitchen was empty. The only sign of recent occupation was a small pile of Styrofoam cups lying in the trash bin.
Matt’s feeling of foreboding reached a peak when he then looked out of the kitchen’s window onto the parking lot below. The only car present was that belonging to Sarah Porter.
He turned to the Porters and Proctor. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
To truly understand the horror that was unfolding, however, one would have to go back to when Matt was still down in the parking lot and the rest of the troop was, at Justy’s orders, assembling in Walker Hall.
The members of the Garden Snake Patrol, along with the rest of Troop 192’s youth, assembled in Walker Hall as per Justy’s instructions.
“What’s going on?” Bill Gelinas pondered.
“WHAT?” Becker responded.
Billy sighed. “I said, what’s going… Oh, never mind.”
Aaron shrugged. “Justy’s sure got something big up his ass this time, that’s for sure.”
“And we’re just walking right into whatever he’s scheming?” Hughes pointed out.
“What other choice do we have?” Mike asked. “We’ll probably only be up here for a few minutes, anyway. The adults will probably want to be leaving soon.”
“Who ever thought we’d be counting on them to save us?” Aaron asked.
Justy walked in then. He closed the door behind himself and was fiddling with the knob when an audible “click” resounded through the hall.
“Did he just lock us in?” Mike asked.
There was a glint of light as Justy slipped something into his pocket.
“I think,” Aaron said, “he did.”
“Where he get key?” Perry asked.
“Does this mean we’re not going camping?” Kenny asked.
“Nah,” Mike insisted. “The adults will be ready to leave soon, and we’ll get out of here then.”
“Perry no think so,” the Amazonian patrol member said. He pointed to the windows on the side of the hall, through which they could see a fleet of cars making their way out of the parking lot.
“Oh, crud!” Gelinas exclaimed. “Leaving without us? That is so unrealistic!”
For once, the other members of the patrol could not find any way to disagree with Billy’s outburst. Yet they could also not ignore the evidence of their eyes.
“Are we trapped here the entire weekend, locked in the hall with Justy?” Aaron asked.
“Looks like it,” Mike responded.
“Locked in the hall by Justy… What could he be planning?” Hughes pondered.
“Maybe he’s going to gas us all,” Swett suggested.
“That’s not funny,” Hughes responded. “Besides which,” he reasoned, “he can’t do that if he’s locked in the room with us.”
“You credit Justy with having intelligence,” Hughes pointed out.
“I think he has enough, at least, to not kill himself.”
While they had been talking, Justy had assigned Slim and Homer each to guard the front and side exits respectively. Not that any one of the scouts could have gotten out through those doors without the key, but that didn’t stop Justy from being precautious. Slim and Homer took to their assignment with an uncharacteristic lack of spazzing.
Justy had tried with less such luck to assign Will Shmuler to guard the door at the rear of the stage. Shmuler’s response had been to do cartwheels around Justy while chanting, “You’re not Mike! I like Ike!”
It was a strange showing of loyalty, but it was a showing of loyalty nonetheless. Shmuler had been displaying this since the spring camporee, when they had included him in their plans to re-take Camp Moses.
He was still an annoying idiot, but he was their annoying idiot. For the first time, the other members of the Garden Snake Patrol really appreciated that fact.
Justy had found someone else to guard the door and then spent a short while walking around the hall and glaring at everyone, individually, one at a time. He lingered a little longer on each member of the Garden Snake Patrol as he did so.
Half way through his inspection, he was called over by Homer who wanted to tell him that someone was trying to come in through the side door. By the time Justy had gotten over to him, the rattling of the doorknob had stopped. Justy told Homer to let him know if it happened again, and then resumed his inspection.
“That had to be Matt,” Hughes theorized.
“Mr. Atanian would not abandon us,” Kenny said firmly.
“And the Porters are supposed to be coming up with Kenny,” Aaron reminded them.
Justy had finished his inspection and grabbed one of the folding chairs. He carried it up to the stage, sat upon it, and rested his baton across his lap.
Mike had had enough. He went up to the stage, looked Justy in the eyes, and asked of him, “How long do you intend to keep this up?”
Justy looked down at Mike with contempt. “Keep what up?”
“How long do you intend to keep us here?”
“For as long as it takes,” Justy responded, as if that was explanation enough.
It wasn’t. “As long as it takes for what?” Mike asked.
“For as long as it takes,” Justy said, “for every member of this troop to swear fealty to Lord God Yung and vow to do His command for the rest of their days.” His eyes narrowed. “And until this happens, none of you shall ever leave this place.”
He then spent a good half hour giving off the most ear-splitting laugh he could.
This was her custom. However, after the better part of a week she was still not used to the fact that someone else was doing this for her.
Remembrance of this fact came to her just as she was about to open the door from her bedroom. Sure enough, when she did so she was greeted with the sight of Proctor in the kitchen. He was already wide awake, groomed, and dressed smartly in a Boy Scout uniform. (She had noticed on the first morning that the sleeve showed signs that a patch had recently been removed from it, but Proctor seemed not to have wanted to comment on that.) Lunches were made and waiting in neatly folded brown paper bags upon the kitchen counter, and he already had a good start on breakfast.
"Good morning, mistress Kirstin," he said upon noticing her entrance.
"Proctor," she said in to him, "I really wish you wouldn't go to all of this trouble."
"It's no trouble at all," he said to her.
"Still, it isn't necessary," she told him.
"But why, mistress?" he invariably asked at this point. This conversation had become practically routine over the last few mornings.
"Because you don't need to do all of this," Kirstin always replied. "Besides, I like doing this stuff myself."
"But if I didn't do this for you, how am I to serve you?" He then went back to work, and he would have nothing of it if Kirstin tried to help him or — god forbid — take over.
There was just no dissuading him. The most she had been able to accomplish along those lines was after the first time he had cooked, convincing him that they were on a budget as far as food was concerned and that it was not appropriate to cook a grand feast for every meal.
Still, Kirstin wished she could get him to stop. She really did like doing the cooking herself. There was also the fact, although one would never get her to admit it, that she was perhaps a little concerned (some might say jealous) that Proctor might just be a better cook then her.
Justy awoke later then he was accustom to. Where the hell was Proctor? Oh, yes. Proctor was gone. And good riddens.
So where the hell was Gamble?
"Gamble!" Justy bellowed.
Something stirred at the foot of the bed. Justy looked over the edge to see someone in a sleeping bag. The form was much too small to be that of the robustly framed Gamble.
"Who are you?" Justy bellowed.
A sleepy head poked itself out of the bag. As Justy suspected, it certainly was not Gamble. Justy did recognize the lad, however. It was... oh... what was his name?
"Peon #235," Justy said after a moment.
The small Tenderfoot scout was blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looked up at Justy.
"What are you doing here?"
"Well, Mr. Lord God Yung, sir," the lad, whose name was Joey, responded in his youthful voice, "Mr. Gamble said he was going to work with us on the Citizenship in the Community merit badge. And to earn it, we had to provide service to the two most important people in the community."
"The two most important?" Justy asked.
He had intended the question to be rhetorical, but the youth responded regardless. "Mr. Gamble, sir."
"I see," Justy slowly said. He wasn't quite sure what to make of this situation, but decided to deal with it as best as he could for the moment, until he could speak to Gamble.
"I should have been woken up almost an hour ago!" Justy snapped. "I am going to bathe now. Normally, I would have you draw the bath for me, but I shall suffer doing it for myself today. However, I expect to find my best uniform laid out for me when I am finished, and I expect breakfast to then be waiting on the table for me after I dress. Is this clear?"
The kid got out of his sleeping bag. He seemed enthusiastic about his duties, but still he didn't move as quickly as Justy would have liked.
“Well, snap to it!" Justy demanded.
"Yes, sir!" Joey responded as he went to his tasks.
No, still not quite as quick and enthusiastic as Justy would have preferred. Still, it was certainly more quick and enthusiastic then the youth would have been if he had known that noting he was doing covered any requirements of the Citizenship in the Community merit badge, or any other merit badge for that matter. And Justy knew that, as much a bunch of fools as they all were (especially that Atanian) none of the adult leaders would be foolish enough to sign off any requirements for the lad. So all he was doing was for naught.
Not that Justy was about to tell any of this to the poor kid. Indeed, as annoyed as he was with the situation he found himself in this morning, these thoughts were enough to ensure a good hearty laugh for Justy as he made his way to the bath.
That afternoon, Matt came home to find the answering machine blinking at him. He pushed the button, and the machine began playing its messages back. The first message was for his father from Harris Tanner. The second message was from an annoying telemarketer. The third was the most astonishing thing Matthew Atanian had ever herd.
"Huh," Matt said. He went and kicked off his sneakers, made a quick visit to the bathroom for reasons that shall not be elaborated upon here, and then headed to the kitchen to make a snack for himself.
He did all of this because his brain was quite simply not yet ready to process the contents of the aforementioned answering machine message, and thus all thoughts of it had been pushed from his conscious mind.
As Matt was spreading marshmallow Fluff onto a piece of bread, his brain decided to take a chance and see if he could handle it yet.
One of the penguins pushed a bit of knowledge back into the conscious parts of his brain. Matt stopped, butter knife paused in mid-swipe, and blinked for a moment.
Then he was gone, the bread left suspended a few inches above the countertop. It descended, doing a mid-air flip that was made doubly amazing when one considered the very short distance it had to travel, and landed on the counter sticky side down.
By the time the bread had accomplished all of this, Matt was already pressing the button on the answering machine once again. He fast forwarded through inquiries about what time to leave for the trade-o-ree this weekend. He fast forwarded though the offer of a free VCR if he was but willing to sit through a five hour seminar about an amazing real estate deal he could simply not afford to miss. He stopped at the third message, and listened to it again. This is what it said:
"This is Sarah Porter calling for Matthew Atanian. There are a few matters I wish to discuss with you. Come to my place tonight. I should be home any time after five o'clock. If you don't already know how to get here, you can get directions from Matty Hayes."
Matt stood completely still after the message stopped playing. It always took the penguins a few moments to get the jumper cables hooked up to his hypothalamus, what with their lack of opposable thumbs, and all. Then one of the penguins hopped into their car and turned the key in the ignition.
When nothing immediately happened, the penguin turned off the car and waited a moment before then trying again.
Matt blinked, shook his head a bit, and looked over at the clock. It was only about a quarter 'till four. Plenty of time for a snack before he went. He headed back for the kitchen to finish making his sandwich.
Not long after, the Atanian house was filled with a shout of, "Oh, bloody hell!"
An hour later, Matt stood before the dwelling of the Porter sisters. Nervously, he knocked upon the door. He heard from within a female shout of, "I can get it!" Whoever it was who had said this was unsuccessful as when the door was opened a second later, it was Proctor who stood on the other side.
"You are expected," he said. He stood aside, and announced, "Mr. Matthew Atanian to see Mistress Sarah."
"Thank you, Proctor," Sarah said. "That will be all."
"Do you require any refreshment for you or your guest?" Proctor asked Sarah.
Sarah frowned, a look Matt was only all too familiar with. "That will be all," she repeated.
Proctor bowed, and left the room. Since the only other options would be the bathroom or one of the bedrooms, Proctor left the room by going to stand just outside the front door while Sarah conducted her business with her visitor.
"Have a seat," Sarah said. She was sitting in the couch. Next to her was Nicole, seemingly reading the Wall Street Journal, but looking up from it as he entered the room. Kirstin was in the kitchen, taking the opportunity while Proctor was outside to make some snacks for everyone.
Matt took off his hat and sat in the blue comfy chair opposite the couch. As he did so, Nicole, the excellent judge of human nature she is, noted that while he certainly seemed uncomfortable with the situation (and who wouldn't, with her sister!) he did not seem uncomfortable with his surroundings. He wasn't looking around, taking everything in, as she would expect of someone when they first visited a new place.
Kirstin brought over a bowl of pretzels (left over from the previous weekend’s slumber party) and a fresh pitcher of lemonade. Nicole helped herself. Matt would have liked to, but didn’t think it prudent to make a move until Sarah had done so first. Sarah, for her part, just sat there.
Matt wanted to say something, but seeing as he didn’t even quite know why he was there he certainly didn’t know what he should say. He was still trying to think of something to say when Sarah at last saved him the trouble.
“I want him out of my house.”
For a moment, Matt feared she was talking about him, and that whatever she had asked him over for, upon seeing him she decided it was no longer worth it. Then he realized that she was, in fact, talking to him. Cautiously optimistic, he asked, “Proctor?”
Sarah nodded. “He’s in your troop. You must have an address for him.”
“Odd you should ask that,” Matt said. “I already checked into that, and the only address the troop has on file for him is the same as Justy’s.”
“Justy?” Sarah asked.
“Their Senior Patrol Leader,” Nicole offered. “A stupid little bugger who craves power, but has no idea what power really is.”
Sarah shrugged. “Whatever. Send Proctor there. I want him out of my house.”
“It was Justy who threw him out onto the street,” Kirstin mentioned.
“And he won’t take Proctor back unless he wants to,” Matt added. “And he doesn’t change his mind easily. That would be admitting he wasn’t infallible.”
“You know how that can be, don’t you, sis?” Nicole asked.
Sarah was not amused.
“Still,” Matt said, “I could be said to represent a group of people in whose best interests it would be to see the return of Proctor to Justy’s side.”
“Fine,” Sarah said. “So what do we do?”
“A very good question,” Matt responded. “I really don’t have any idea there. I suppose, though, that the first thing to do would be to get the two of them together in the same place.”
“No. Oh, no. I am not putting up with him for another week.”
“You don’t have to. The troop’s meeting tomorrow at the church to go on a camping trip. Could you bring him there around five?”
Sarah nodded. “I suppose I can deal with him for one more day.” She then lapsed into silence.
Matt blinked. Were they finished? Sarah looked as if she had more to say, but he couldn’t be sure. After some time passed, he finally asked her, “Was there anything else?”
“Hmm? What?” Sarah had been lost in thought. “No,” she then said. “That’s all. You can go.”
“Okay,” Matt said. He rose, putting his hat back on as he did so. “Until tomorrow, then?”
“Yes, tomorrow,” Sarah confirmed.
Matt said goodbye to the twins. When she looked up from her newspaper to respond in kind, Nicole saw something on Matt’s chin that she had never noticed before.
Then he was gone.
Proctor re-entered shortly thereafter. He noticed the snacks upon the table, and asked if he should clean them up.
“Not yet!” Nicole responded, returning from her room where she had gone to fetch a file folder. “I’m still working on them.”
Kirstin came over from the kitchen and sat on the couch beside her older sister. Nicole, meanwhile, had relocated to the comfy blue chair and was pouring herself a lemonade as she looked over some notes.
“I thought you were going to thank him,” Kirstin said.
Sarah got herself a lemonade and sipped from it. “I said I’d think about it,”
“You invited him over, and then you were very rude to him, sister.”
“I wasn’t rude,” Sarah insisted.
“Yes you were. Just as you always are to him.”
Sarah sat in silence for a bit more, staring at the glass of lemonade in her hands. Then she asked, “Am I always like that with him?”
Kirstin nodded.
Sarah sighed. “I’ll try harder next time, okay?”
Kirstin hugged Sarah. “Okay! Now, come on, we have to get going.”
“What?” Kirstin was pulling Sarah to her feet. “Where?”
“To the mall. We have to get a present. No arguing now!”
Sarah had little choice but to comply.
Friday, the twelfth of June had arrived, and shortly before five o’clock in the afternoon at the Church in the Acres in Wilbraham, Massachusetts, the members of Troop 192 were busy packing their gear into various vehicles for their trip to D.A.R. state forest, where they would be spending the weekend.
Or so they thought.
Mike Quadrozzi and Matt Atanian were organizing things. Justy had not arrived yet and, with the exception of Matt, all of the adults were up in the Church’s kitchen enjoying a nice cup of coffee.
“Hey, Matt?” Swett was approaching. “Are we bringing the patrol boxes?”
“Hmm, we’ll probably only need one for this trip.” Matt turned to Mike. “Which one was it that was missing the least stuff?”
“Box C.”
“Ah, yes.” He turned back to Swett. “Why don’t I give you a hand getting it into Mr. Hawley’s trailer?”
“Eh! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Gamble had arrived. “What do you mean?” Mike asked him.
“Why are you giving orders in my troop? You will respect my authority!”
“What authority? Swett asked him.
“My authority as ASPL!”
“I’m an Assistant Scoutmaster,” Matt pointed out. “You don’t have authority over me.”
“Nor me,” Mike said. “As a Patrol Leader, I report directly to the Senior Patrol Leader. The Assistant Senior Patrol Leader is only responsible for overseeing the non-leadership positions such as the troop’s Historian, Quartermaster, or Scribe.” Not the complete truth, Mike supposed, since in Justy’s absence Gamble did have the SPL’s authority, but what Gamble didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
Gamble looked hopefully at Swett.
Matt Swett just shrugged. “I’m too cool for you,” he simply said.
“That’s weak.” Gamble walked away from Matt, Mike, and Swett in search of someone he could boss around. “That’s totally weak.”
“GAMBLE!”
Justy had arrived and was approaching his assistant.
Gamble met him half-way. “Ah, hello, Justy! Fine day we’re having. What can I do for you?”
“You can explain,” Justy said, “this.” He pointed to the small person standing to his side. It was a small, recently crossed over lad who hadn’t even earned his Scout badge yet.
“Is he not doing a good job?” Gamble turned to the kid. “Hey! What did I tell you? You need to do everything Justy says if you ever want to see your Scout badge!”
“I find this unacceptable,” Justy said. “Yesterday I had Peon #235, and today I have Peon #291!”
“So you liked Joey better? Well, with the rotation I have scheduled, he should be back with you in about a week.”
“Rotation?”
“I know, it sucks monkey balls, doesn’t it? But if we kept one kid for to long or too often, the parents are bound to object.”
“What about you?” Justy asked.
“Justy, my friend, I’m in the same boat. New servant every day. It will take a while to break them all in! Tell you what. If Todd gave you a hard time today, I’ll make sure I get him in the next rotation so that I can whip him into shape for you.”
“I think,” Justy said, “that you have failed to understand your position.”
“Oh, and how so, Justy?”
“First of all, you do not call me Justy. I am at the very least to be called Mr. Yung or ‘sir.’ More appropriately, however, I am to be called Lord God Yung.”
“Weak…”
“Secondly, you do not get a servant.”
“Oh, no way! That is not cool.”
“Third, I am to have only one servant: you.”
“Oh… oh, that is so weak, that…”
“You are to leave your parents immediately and come live with me, where you will tend to my every whim and need.”
“Wait, hold on a second. This isn’t some kind of NAMBLA thing, is it?” Gamble asked.
“No,” Justy assured him. “I do not know this NAMBLA of which you speak.”
“Oh, man. That is such a relief. There was this one time…”
“SILENCE!” Justy commanded.
Gamble did not heed him. “What about my power?” he whined. “You promised me penultimate power!”
“And you shall receive it… as my servant.”
“Weak.”
“For it is I who am the most powerful one.”
“So weak…”
“And as my servant, only I shall be allowed to command you.”
“‘Greedo shooting first’ weak,” Gamble finished.
“Do you understand your position now?” Justy asked.
“Bet your ass I do!” Gamble hollered. “It’s back home with a big bowl of Cheezy Poofs! Screw you guys, I’m going home!”
And with that Gamble left, never to return, leaving Justy all alone once more. He stood by himself, pressure slowly building up within his psyche just looking for an outlet.
Everyone else continued getting gear ready for the trip. Mr. Shmuler arrived then, late as usual. His son immediately ran off and started trying to tunnel under the church with his nose. “Hello there, children!” Mr. Shmuler said as he made his way into the building to join the other adults in caffeinated bliss.
“TROOP!” Justy snapped a few minutes later. “You will fall in, upstairs in Walker Hall, now!”
Off where they were standing, Mike looked at Matt. “Better see what he wants,” Matt told him. “We were almost done here, so I can finish up while I wait for the Porters, and then I’ll join you upstairs.”
Mike nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
“Oh, and Mike?”
“Yes?”
“Good luck,” Matt told him. “I think you’ll need it.”
“It’s almost time to leave,” Sarah said to Kirstin. “Where’s Proctor?”
Kirstin frowned. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
The front door opened. The sisters turned, thinking it was Proctor, but it was only Nicole coming home.
“Sister?” Kirstin asked, shock in her voice.
“Hello to you, too,” Nicole responded.
“Your hair!”
Nicole grinned. “Yeah, I thought I might go for a change. Especially since you were talking about letting yours grow out. I thought I’d go in the opposite direction.”
Sarah shrugged. “Don’t think you took it a little too far, though?”
Aside from a few shoulder-length strands coming down in front of her ears, there was not a hair on Nicole’s head that was longer than two inches.
“You don’t like it?” Nicole asked. “I thought it’d be nice and cool for the summer.”
“Well,” Sarah said, “it’s your head.”
Nicole nodded. “That it is. So what do you think, Kirstin?”
“It looks… nice.” Kirstin took a long, hard look at her sister. “It will just take some getting used to,” she concluded.
“Tell me about it,” Nicole said. “I’m used to looking at you as if I was looking into a mirror.”
Kirstin nodded. “Oh!” she then said, suddenly remembering something. “While you were out, the mail arrived.”
“Did I get something?”
Kirstin handed Nicole a thick envelope. “I got one, too,” she said, “but I’ve been waiting until you came home so we could open them together.”
“Yes, but later!” Sarah interrupted. “We should get going!”
“Oh, can I come with?” Nicole asked. “Where is Proctor, anyway?”
The three sisters searched. It was Kirstin who found him, sitting alone in the small back yard and holding his teddy bear.
“Proctor? What’s wrong?”
He immediately got to his feet, dropping the teddy bear as he wiped at his face. “Can I do something for you, Mistress Kirstin?”
“No, Proctor, thank you.”
Hesitantly, Proctor sat back down. Kirstin joined him.
“I am a bother to you, Mistress, am I not?”
Kirstin began to protest this, but stopped herself. She took a deep breath and admitted that in fact he was.
“You are so kind to me, Mistress Kirstin. I, who am so undeserving of such kindness. I who am a bother to you.” He stood once more. “I will leave now.”
Kirstin stood and took his hand. He looked away from her, unable to meet her gaze.
“Yes, Proctor, you have been a bother,” Kirstin told him. “But a kinder, more noble bother I could not expect to meet. You should be rewarded. What would you ask of me? What do you want?”
A fresh tear rolled slowly down Proctor’s cheek. “All I have ever wanted,” he said, “is someone to serve. Someone who truly needs me.”
“Proctor?”
“Yes, Mistress?”
“Stop calling me Mistress.”
“But… Then what shall I call you?”
Kirstin gently took Proctor’s chin in her hand and turned his face so that she could look into his eyes. “Call me friend,” she told him.
Proctor couldn’t have been more stunned if Kirstin had asked him to stop breathing. “But Mistress!” he began to protest.
“Proctor!” Kirstin said warningly.
Proctor demurred slightly. “Okay… Kirstin,” he said.
“Good!” Kirstin said brightly. She picked up his teddy bear and dusted it off slightly. “Now come on, we’re late.”
“For what?” Proctor asked.
“Well, I cannot promise what will happen, but my sisters and I are going to try and reunite you with someone.”
“With the Captain?”
Kirstin nodded.
Proctor practically leapt with joy. “Oh, thank you, Mistress! I mean…” He smiled. “Kirstin.”
Kirstin smiled back. She offered the bear to him. “Now take Simon, and let us be on our way.”
The car of Sarah Porter arrived at the Church in the Acres. She exited the car, as did her sisters, as did Proctor. He had finally agreed to ride inside of the car.
The only person outside the church when they arrived was Matthew Atanian. He was just closing and locking the door to the church’s equipment storage area when they pulled in. The only other sign of life was some noise and the smell of coffee coming through the door at the top of the stairs up the outside of the storage area that lead up to the kitchen.
Matt saw them as they exited the car and he walked over to them. “Hey!” he said in greeting. “How’s it…” He paused. “Nicole?”
Nicole grinned. “Like it?”
“It’s… nice,” he said. While it certainly didn’t make her unattractive, since he enjoyed living he didn’t think it prudent to mention that he really did prefer long hair.
“Hello, Proctor,” Matt then said. “We’ve missed you these last few weeks.”
“You did?” Proctor was genuinely surprised.
“More then you will ever know.”
“But… I thought you were the Captain’s enemies!”
Matt smiled at this. “Proctor, just because Justy sees my friends and I as enemies, that does not mean I see him as such.”
“But you are always thwarting him!”
Matt stopped a moment to consider how best to proceed. Finally he said, “Tell me, Proctor. What would Moriarty be without Holmes? What would Kahn be without Kirk? What would The Master be without The Doctor?”
“Who?” Proctor asked, not having recognized the final pair.
Matt ignored him and continued. “To be truly great,” he explained, “one must have an adversary to struggle against. We are just doing our part to see to Justy’s greatness.”
Proctor’s eyes brightened. “I had no idea!” he said in awe. “You guys do so much for the Captain! You are all great in your own rights, too.”
“Thank you… I think,” Matt said. Then he continued. “So you see, Proctor, just because we are usually on opposite sides, that does not mean that we aren’t your friends. So on this occasion, the Garden Snakes and I want to help you out. It is only natural that you should be back at Justy’s side, after all.”
“Oh, thank you, sir!”
“And if we should ever find ourselves on opposing sides in the future,” Matt added, “I hope you will understand.”
“Understand?” Proctor asked. “Why, sir, it will be an honor!”
Matt led the way into the church, using the door by the playground. He held the door open for everyone else and as Nicole, the last through, passed him she commented, “Well played.”
As the door closed behind Matt, the door from the kitchen opened up and down the long staircase from the kitchen came all of the other adults. They saw the parking lot empty, and assumed that all of the kids were sitting in the cars, ready to go.
As each of them got into their car and saw that it was in fact empty, they each in turn thought to themselves that the kids must have all packed into the other cars. And so each of them drove away, and the error was not discovered until they all arrived at the state forest.
At that point dusk was approaching. They all shrugged. Mr. Hawley lit up a cigar as Mr. Martin set up one of the camp stoves and Mr. McGraw unpacked the coffee.
There followed one of the best weekends of their lives.
Our story is not concerned with them, however. It is concerned with the rest of Troop 192, who are about to have a weekend to which none of them would dare attach the adjective “best.”
Indeed, Matt was feeling far from his best when he got to the top of the stairs leading to Walker Hall and found the doors were locked. “That’s odd,” he said.
His far from best feeling was compounded when he turned around and walked into the kitchen to ask if anyone knew what was going on, only to find the kitchen was empty. The only sign of recent occupation was a small pile of Styrofoam cups lying in the trash bin.
Matt’s feeling of foreboding reached a peak when he then looked out of the kitchen’s window onto the parking lot below. The only car present was that belonging to Sarah Porter.
He turned to the Porters and Proctor. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
To truly understand the horror that was unfolding, however, one would have to go back to when Matt was still down in the parking lot and the rest of the troop was, at Justy’s orders, assembling in Walker Hall.
The members of the Garden Snake Patrol, along with the rest of Troop 192’s youth, assembled in Walker Hall as per Justy’s instructions.
“What’s going on?” Bill Gelinas pondered.
“WHAT?” Becker responded.
Billy sighed. “I said, what’s going… Oh, never mind.”
Aaron shrugged. “Justy’s sure got something big up his ass this time, that’s for sure.”
“And we’re just walking right into whatever he’s scheming?” Hughes pointed out.
“What other choice do we have?” Mike asked. “We’ll probably only be up here for a few minutes, anyway. The adults will probably want to be leaving soon.”
“Who ever thought we’d be counting on them to save us?” Aaron asked.
Justy walked in then. He closed the door behind himself and was fiddling with the knob when an audible “click” resounded through the hall.
“Did he just lock us in?” Mike asked.
There was a glint of light as Justy slipped something into his pocket.
“I think,” Aaron said, “he did.”
“Where he get key?” Perry asked.
“Does this mean we’re not going camping?” Kenny asked.
“Nah,” Mike insisted. “The adults will be ready to leave soon, and we’ll get out of here then.”
“Perry no think so,” the Amazonian patrol member said. He pointed to the windows on the side of the hall, through which they could see a fleet of cars making their way out of the parking lot.
“Oh, crud!” Gelinas exclaimed. “Leaving without us? That is so unrealistic!”
For once, the other members of the patrol could not find any way to disagree with Billy’s outburst. Yet they could also not ignore the evidence of their eyes.
“Are we trapped here the entire weekend, locked in the hall with Justy?” Aaron asked.
“Looks like it,” Mike responded.
“Locked in the hall by Justy… What could he be planning?” Hughes pondered.
“Maybe he’s going to gas us all,” Swett suggested.
“That’s not funny,” Hughes responded. “Besides which,” he reasoned, “he can’t do that if he’s locked in the room with us.”
“You credit Justy with having intelligence,” Hughes pointed out.
“I think he has enough, at least, to not kill himself.”
While they had been talking, Justy had assigned Slim and Homer each to guard the front and side exits respectively. Not that any one of the scouts could have gotten out through those doors without the key, but that didn’t stop Justy from being precautious. Slim and Homer took to their assignment with an uncharacteristic lack of spazzing.
Justy had tried with less such luck to assign Will Shmuler to guard the door at the rear of the stage. Shmuler’s response had been to do cartwheels around Justy while chanting, “You’re not Mike! I like Ike!”
It was a strange showing of loyalty, but it was a showing of loyalty nonetheless. Shmuler had been displaying this since the spring camporee, when they had included him in their plans to re-take Camp Moses.
He was still an annoying idiot, but he was their annoying idiot. For the first time, the other members of the Garden Snake Patrol really appreciated that fact.
Justy had found someone else to guard the door and then spent a short while walking around the hall and glaring at everyone, individually, one at a time. He lingered a little longer on each member of the Garden Snake Patrol as he did so.
Half way through his inspection, he was called over by Homer who wanted to tell him that someone was trying to come in through the side door. By the time Justy had gotten over to him, the rattling of the doorknob had stopped. Justy told Homer to let him know if it happened again, and then resumed his inspection.
“That had to be Matt,” Hughes theorized.
“Mr. Atanian would not abandon us,” Kenny said firmly.
“And the Porters are supposed to be coming up with Kenny,” Aaron reminded them.
Justy had finished his inspection and grabbed one of the folding chairs. He carried it up to the stage, sat upon it, and rested his baton across his lap.
Mike had had enough. He went up to the stage, looked Justy in the eyes, and asked of him, “How long do you intend to keep this up?”
Justy looked down at Mike with contempt. “Keep what up?”
“How long do you intend to keep us here?”
“For as long as it takes,” Justy responded, as if that was explanation enough.
It wasn’t. “As long as it takes for what?” Mike asked.
“For as long as it takes,” Justy said, “for every member of this troop to swear fealty to Lord God Yung and vow to do His command for the rest of their days.” His eyes narrowed. “And until this happens, none of you shall ever leave this place.”
He then spent a good half hour giving off the most ear-splitting laugh he could.
Author's Notes & Disclaimers
Well, this was supposed to conclude the current story line, and the next one would bring us into the Summer Camp story line…
But it didn’t! So you’ll have to wait for the next story for that. I just kept writing for this story, and finally decided, “That’s it. I want to get something online, and this is a good breaking point, so I’m going to cut it here and continue it in the next story!”
Of course, that’s what I did last time, too. There was originally only supposed to be one more story to bring to conclusion the stories begun in part 22, and now there shall be three. Three is the number of stories, and the number of the stories shall be three. There shall not be four, nor shall there be two, excepting that thou then proceed to three.
Five is right out!
Hmm… So where were we? Ah, yes. I’m sure I need not mention where the character of Eric Gamble draws his inspiration, but for the two people out there who might not get it, he is based on the South Park character of Eric Cartman, given a last name change to facilitate the bad joke in the last story.
Now, I may be mistaken (I don’t feel like going back and double checking right this second) but I don’t think I actually used any of the curses this time around… Unless you stop and consider that Perfume is obviously in her cursed form throughout. So just to be safe, I will mention that certain story elements are inspired by Takahashi Rumiko’s Ranma ½.
Also, this story is not endorsed by nor meant to reflect the values of the Boy Scouts of America.
Well, I suppose that’s it for now. Hopefully I’ll be back soon. (Heck, I’m already off and running with the writing of the next one!) So long until then!
But it didn’t! So you’ll have to wait for the next story for that. I just kept writing for this story, and finally decided, “That’s it. I want to get something online, and this is a good breaking point, so I’m going to cut it here and continue it in the next story!”
Of course, that’s what I did last time, too. There was originally only supposed to be one more story to bring to conclusion the stories begun in part 22, and now there shall be three. Three is the number of stories, and the number of the stories shall be three. There shall not be four, nor shall there be two, excepting that thou then proceed to three.
Five is right out!
Hmm… So where were we? Ah, yes. I’m sure I need not mention where the character of Eric Gamble draws his inspiration, but for the two people out there who might not get it, he is based on the South Park character of Eric Cartman, given a last name change to facilitate the bad joke in the last story.
Now, I may be mistaken (I don’t feel like going back and double checking right this second) but I don’t think I actually used any of the curses this time around… Unless you stop and consider that Perfume is obviously in her cursed form throughout. So just to be safe, I will mention that certain story elements are inspired by Takahashi Rumiko’s Ranma ½.
Also, this story is not endorsed by nor meant to reflect the values of the Boy Scouts of America.
Well, I suppose that’s it for now. Hopefully I’ll be back soon. (Heck, I’m already off and running with the writing of the next one!) So long until then!