part 30:
For Whom the Bell Tolls
by Matthew Atanian
©2006 by Matthew Atanian
For Whom the Bell Tolls
by Matthew Atanian
©2006 by Matthew Atanian
Someone yawned.
This was not typical of a campfire at the Horace A. Moses Scout Reservation. Usually they were boisterous or enthralling. This one, however, seemed boring and sleep-inducing. This was something of a pity, as it had had the promise of being one of the most memorable fires in many a year.
It had had this promise since a certain skit performed at the Spring Camporee. A skit that many people who were not even otherwise up at camp that week had come up this evening especially to see the sequel of.
These people were quite disappointed, however, when they discovered that Matt Gets Wet, part 3 was not on the evening’s program. In fact, nothing fun was on the program.
JC Penny’s skit? Removal of clothing. Gone.
Toilet paper skit? Possible reference to biological activities. Gone.
The Cat Came Back? Reference to horrific deaths. Gone.
The Song That Never Ends? Against the Geneva Convention. Gone.
In an effort to get rid of any of the so-called “grey areas” of anything that might be the least bit offensive, Camp Director Ann Balogna had purged the campfire of all joy.
Troop 86 had finished their assigned skit, “Accountancy.” And no, it didn’t feature the shanty. It was just a group of Boy Scouts pretending to be accountants. One of them had discovered an error in another’s work. They cooperated to fix it. They lived happily ever after. The end. Next skit.
Skit after skit like that for a good half hour now.
“That woman must die,” Hughes muttered.
“Maybe you can slay her with your newfound fashion sense,” Gelinas commented.
“Laugh all you want Bill, you know I look good.”
“You look like a pimp. All you need is a big floppy hat.”
“Shut up, Bill.”
Matt was a bit worried. They hadn’t seen Kenny since they had returned from the incident up at Cabin III.
“You sure you’re up to this?” Mike asked as if he could read Matt’s mind. “I mean, it won’t be as good, but the Clappy Song would still be a minor form of rebellion.”
“I have faith in Kenny,” Matt insisted, trying to convince himself.
“Thank you, Mr. Atanian,” Kenny quietly said.
“You’re… woah, where did you come from?” Matt asked.
“My TARDIS,” Kenny said.
“What?”
“I was joking. I came from Crown Point. You didn’t notice my approach as I was quiet and you were in conversation with Mr. Quadrozzi.”
“You? A joke?” Swett said, leaning over. “Congratulations, Kenny!”
Kenny, embarrassed, ignored Swett and sat next to Matt and Mike.
“So,” Matt asked, “what’s the plan?”
“Well,” Kenny said, “my first plan wasn’t working, as it would have taken too long to have the pills ready. I’ve still got them synthesizing in my Laboratory for future use should you need them, but they won’t be ready for some months. Then I started thinking of something more along the lines of some sort of sonic wave.”
“Sonic wave?” Mike asked.
Kenny held up a device. “This will emit a sound wave outside of the range of human hearing that might heat up the water and thus make it have no effect on you when you are in your natural form.”
“That won’t have any effect on, say, people?” Gelinas asked. “You know, with our bodies made up mostly of water? Like putting a puppy in a microwave?”
“Shut up, Bill,” Mike said.
“Yeah,” Aaron said. “That’s sick, Bill, just sick.”
“It is nothing like microwave technology,” Kenny assured them.
“Hold on, I think we’re missing something important,” Matt said. He turned to Kenny. “Did you say, ‘might heat up the water’?”
“Indeed. I am sorry, I didn’t get a chance to test it properly as I was rather in a rush to finish it. It might heat it up, or it might just alter it’s molecular structure, transmutating it into a cold, wet goo.”
“But still cold and wet?”
“Indeed.”
Then the evening’s MC stood between the twin fires blazing upon the stage and announced Kumbyah.
Mike stood. He approached the stage. Once upon it, he turned to face the audience.
He smiled.
He waved.
“Mike, you rock!” someone called out from the audience.
“Hello, everyone!” he called out. “As you may all be aware, we were originally planning to perform the skit Matt Gets Wet, part 3.”
From her seat in the front row, Mrs. Balogna was frantically trying to get Mike’s attention without being too obvious too the audience, and she was making various “shushing” gestures. Mike looked her in the eye and winked.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “Matt’s lawyers were unwilling to budge on a few key issues, and it was looking like we might have had to perform the song Kumbyah for you, instead.”
The audience booed like there was no tomorrow. “Matt Gets Wet rocks!” someone called out from the audience.
“However,” Mike continued, “I have successfully captured Matt’s lawyer, Hugh Louis Dewey of the law offices of Dewey, Cheetham, & Howe.”
Luke and Aaron came out of the woods carrying between them Justy, still unconscious and bound with rope. From her seat, Mrs. Balogna was positively bug eyed in silent fury.
“Now I have always been a great fan of Shakespeare,” Mike announced. “And I decided that the best way to resolve this legal matter would be to take a bit of advice from the bard.” From his pocket Mike pulled a fake (but realistic looking) gun, pointed it at Justy’s head, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang and a large cloud of smoke filled the stage. The audience yelped Mrs. Balogna shouted, “Stop this at once!”
The smoke quickly cleared, and Justy had vanished. Now obviously, Luke and Aaron had just tossed him back into the trees. However, it was quite the convincing theatrical effect.
“Now, do you people want to see Matt get wet?” Mike shouted out. “If you do, let me get a ‘Heck yeah!’”
“Heck yeah!” Everyone hollered. Many people began pulling out various things ranging from cups of water to canteens to water guns to a couple of people who had somehow smuggled in a fire hose.
Matt looked at Kenny. Kenny flicked a switch and gave him a thumbs up. Matt shrugged.
“Get up here, Matt!” Mike shouted.
“Matt! Matt! Matt!” the audience began chanting.
Matt gingerly approached the stage and then turned to face the audience. He waved. “Hi, everybody,” he said.
“Hi, Matt!” everyone shouted so loud that even the echo seemed deafening.
“Matt rocks!” someone shouted out.
“Well,” Matt said. “I guess this is it.”
Matt had come to the campfire in his very best uniform. Now, however, he unbuttoned his red wool jacket, carefully folded it up, and placed it into the arms of the waiting Bill Gelinas. He then removed his campaign hat and placed it atop his coat. Gelinas walked to the back of the amphitheater with them to keep them safe.
Matt then looked out at the audience, straightened his neckerchief and pulled up it’s slide. He took a breath.
“I am Matthew Atanian, Eagle Scout, Assistant Scoutmaster of Troop 192, Vigil Honor member of Allogagan Lodge #83 in the Order of the Arrow. And now… Now I get wet!”
There were massive cheers from the audience and Mrs. Balogna fainted with shock.
And then… then the water came.
“Nooooooooooooooooo!”
Something besides the water flew at Matt and got there first, knocking him back. Back behind the fires and down the small hill beyond them. He tumbled down and out of the reach of the wetness, and afterwards, he lay there panting in surprise.
Up in the amphitheater, the crowd, too, was surprised. They all stared at the soaked scout sitting crouched down on the center of the stage.
“How did I get here?” Becker turned to face everyone. In a confused voice he asked, “Why am I drippings with goo?”
There was a deadly silence. Then someone in the audience shouted out, “Cleveland rocks!”
“The Aristocrats!” Swett ended with a flourish.
The small fire that had been built back at Crown Point continued to crackle as it burned, illuminating the stunned looks on the faces of Matt, Mike, Hughes, Aaron, Gelinas, and Kenny as they all starred at Swett with glazed over expressions on their faces.
Becker was there, too. He had not heard a word that Swett had said, however. Since returning from the Camp Fire he had rediscovered the joy of headphones that he had apparently abandoned a few days earlier.
Crickets chirped and Swett looked at his fellows, anticipating a response.
“I don’t get it,” Kenny finally said.
“I am so glad,” Mike said, “that we didn’t let you tell that so-called joke in front of the entire camp.”
“Yeah, I suppose your idea was better,” Swett conceded. “But I’m saving this puppy for the next camporee.”
“The hell you are!” Aaron insisted. “Go to bed, Swett.”
Swett yawned. “Good idea,” he said.
The constant background noise from Becker’s headphones ceased suddenly. With an annoyed grunt, Becker thwacked his walkman. It had no effect. “Damn batteries.”
“What, no more?” Hughes asked. Although his garish mode of dress had not changed, his attitude had calmed down somewhat and he was acting more normal. Well, normal may have been the wrong word to describe him in the best of times, but at least he was no longer trying to eat small rodents, and had only brought out a small spray bottle containing everyone-else-didn’t-want-to-know-what once since returning to Crown Point.
“Oh, no, there’s more in my tent. Suppose I’ll head off to bed, too.”
Becker and Swett headed off to their respective tents. Moments later those who remained could faintly hear the music coming from Becker’s.
Gelinas leaned towards Mike. “I’ll have your hat then,” he quietly said.
“You what?”
“Your hat. I’ll have it.”
“How do you figure?”
Gelinas handed his small notebook over to Mike. Inside, Mike found a list. Every item on it was gleefully crossed out.
“Huh…” Mike read over it. “Doesn’t look good for me, now does it?”
“No, I can’t say that it does.”
“What’s this one here?” Mike asked. “Can’t make out the writing underneath the crossing out.”
Gelinas looked over and read. “The Porters will show up,” he said.
“But they didn’t.”
“Yes they did.”
“No. They didn’t.”
“Yes. They were at the camp fire for Matt Gets Wet. Weren’t they?”
“No. They were not.”
“No?” Gelinas whimpered.
“No,” Mike said firmly.
The fire continued to burn. Aaron added a stick to it.
“You’ll have the cards in the morning,” Gelinas muttered.
There was the snap of a twig then, and they all turned to see who approached. They were mildly surprised to see Perfume standing there, having taken her natural form but still clad in a boy scout uniform.
“Hello, Perfume,” Mike said. “Come to join the fire?” He motioned to a piece of log.
Perfume moved towards it and slowly, almost reluctantly, sat. She looked in turn at each of the others. She then spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why you save Perfume?” she asked.
“Because,” Mike said, “you’re a Garden Snake.”
“You’re a member of our patrol,” Hughes added.
“You’re one of us,” Aaron said.
“And we look out for each other,” Kenny said.
“Even if you’re always trying to kill us,” Gelinas finished.
The others looked at Gelinas with death in their eyes.
Perfume, however, just laughed softly. “Shut up, Bill,” she then said.
“There you go!” Gelinas said. “That’s the spirit.”
Perfume looked at Matt. “What of you?” she asked.
Matt shrugged. “They’re my friends,” he said of the others sitting there. “I suppose that makes you my friend, too. Like it or not.”
“Like or not,” Perfume repeated.
Aaron added another stick to the fire.
“You all save Perfume,” the Amazon said.
Matt shrugged. “A life for a life?” he asked.
Perfume thought about this for a moment. Then she said, “Life for life. Perfume no kill you all anymore.”
“Welcome to the patrol,” Mike told her.
This caused the faintest of smiles to grace the Amazon’s face.
“Well,” Matt said. “It’s been a hell of a year.”
“Hell of a year,” everyone agreed.
“Cursed springs,” Mike said.
“Crazy Amazons,” Hughes said.
“Kiss of death,” Perfume said.
“Porters,” Matt said.
“Porters,” Aaron agreed.
“Joining the troop,” Kenny said. “Making new friends.”
“Rigged elections,” Mike said.
“What ever did happen to Mr. Pruyne?” Gelinas asked.
“Shut up, Bill.”
“Shopping at Victoria’s Secret!” Matt said.
“Sweet Scully dreams,” Mike said.
“The second biggest candy canes ever,” Hughes said.
“I still want to know where any of you saw bigger!” Matt said with a frown.
“Mr. Tanner as Santa Clause!” Mike said.
“The Klondike,” Gelinas said.
“The winning sled,” Kenny said with a smile.
“That psycho Palmer,” Matt shuddered. “Whatever happened to him?”
“Romeo and Juliet,” Aaron said.
“Abu Dabi,” Mike grinned.
“Where exactly did you go with the Juniors?” Gelinas asked Kenny.
“A story for another time,” Kenny responded.
“Stage combat,” Perfume said.
“There is a difference between ‘stage combat’ and the real thing, you know,” Mike muttered.
Perfume just grinned at him.
“Canadian terrorists!” Aaron announced.
“Great team-up with 180,” Matt said.
“And Dan and Colin,” Hughes added.
“And that squirrel chick,” Gelinas said with a look at Mike.
“She, too, is a story for another time,” Mike replied.
“And a great team up with Perfume,” Matt added.
“Been one hell of a year,” they all chorused.
Aaron stopped adding fuel to the fire. The assembled scouts sat in silent fellowship, watching the flames together until they died down into embers. Then they watched the embers for a while. Then one of them softly began singing. The others soon joined in.
“Softly falls the light of day, as our campfire fades away. Silently each scout should ask, ‘Have I done my daily task? Have I kept my honor bright? Can I guiltless sleep tonight? Have I done and have I dared everything to be prepared?’”
And then in silence, they rose one by one, and silently made their separate ways to their tents, until only Matthew Atanian was left behind. He grabbed a bucket of water, poured it over the cooling embers to make sure they were completely out, and then went to sleep as well.
The next morning went by in a blur of breakfast and closing ceremonies and then everyone packed their stuff into their parent’s cars and headed back to civilization with its real toilets and working hot showers.
By a coincidence that even Gelinas chose not to comment on, he, Hughes, Mike, and Aaron were the last youth of Troop 192 waiting for their parents to arrive. Matt Atanian, too, was waiting for his father (he supposed he should get his driver’s license one of these days) and was waiting with his friends in Crown Point.
A few of the other adult leaders had stayed (what with that whole two-deep leadership thing) but they were currently down at the road watching for cars. Matt heard one of them shout up to them. Mrs. Abdowmassy had arrived in her large blue mini-van.
Aaron went to go grab his stuff. The others moved in to lend a hand. It was then that, with murderous intent, an old Chinese man leapt from the forest and attacked them.
This was not typical of a campfire at the Horace A. Moses Scout Reservation. Usually they were boisterous or enthralling. This one, however, seemed boring and sleep-inducing. This was something of a pity, as it had had the promise of being one of the most memorable fires in many a year.
It had had this promise since a certain skit performed at the Spring Camporee. A skit that many people who were not even otherwise up at camp that week had come up this evening especially to see the sequel of.
These people were quite disappointed, however, when they discovered that Matt Gets Wet, part 3 was not on the evening’s program. In fact, nothing fun was on the program.
JC Penny’s skit? Removal of clothing. Gone.
Toilet paper skit? Possible reference to biological activities. Gone.
The Cat Came Back? Reference to horrific deaths. Gone.
The Song That Never Ends? Against the Geneva Convention. Gone.
In an effort to get rid of any of the so-called “grey areas” of anything that might be the least bit offensive, Camp Director Ann Balogna had purged the campfire of all joy.
Troop 86 had finished their assigned skit, “Accountancy.” And no, it didn’t feature the shanty. It was just a group of Boy Scouts pretending to be accountants. One of them had discovered an error in another’s work. They cooperated to fix it. They lived happily ever after. The end. Next skit.
Skit after skit like that for a good half hour now.
“That woman must die,” Hughes muttered.
“Maybe you can slay her with your newfound fashion sense,” Gelinas commented.
“Laugh all you want Bill, you know I look good.”
“You look like a pimp. All you need is a big floppy hat.”
“Shut up, Bill.”
Matt was a bit worried. They hadn’t seen Kenny since they had returned from the incident up at Cabin III.
“You sure you’re up to this?” Mike asked as if he could read Matt’s mind. “I mean, it won’t be as good, but the Clappy Song would still be a minor form of rebellion.”
“I have faith in Kenny,” Matt insisted, trying to convince himself.
“Thank you, Mr. Atanian,” Kenny quietly said.
“You’re… woah, where did you come from?” Matt asked.
“My TARDIS,” Kenny said.
“What?”
“I was joking. I came from Crown Point. You didn’t notice my approach as I was quiet and you were in conversation with Mr. Quadrozzi.”
“You? A joke?” Swett said, leaning over. “Congratulations, Kenny!”
Kenny, embarrassed, ignored Swett and sat next to Matt and Mike.
“So,” Matt asked, “what’s the plan?”
“Well,” Kenny said, “my first plan wasn’t working, as it would have taken too long to have the pills ready. I’ve still got them synthesizing in my Laboratory for future use should you need them, but they won’t be ready for some months. Then I started thinking of something more along the lines of some sort of sonic wave.”
“Sonic wave?” Mike asked.
Kenny held up a device. “This will emit a sound wave outside of the range of human hearing that might heat up the water and thus make it have no effect on you when you are in your natural form.”
“That won’t have any effect on, say, people?” Gelinas asked. “You know, with our bodies made up mostly of water? Like putting a puppy in a microwave?”
“Shut up, Bill,” Mike said.
“Yeah,” Aaron said. “That’s sick, Bill, just sick.”
“It is nothing like microwave technology,” Kenny assured them.
“Hold on, I think we’re missing something important,” Matt said. He turned to Kenny. “Did you say, ‘might heat up the water’?”
“Indeed. I am sorry, I didn’t get a chance to test it properly as I was rather in a rush to finish it. It might heat it up, or it might just alter it’s molecular structure, transmutating it into a cold, wet goo.”
“But still cold and wet?”
“Indeed.”
Then the evening’s MC stood between the twin fires blazing upon the stage and announced Kumbyah.
Mike stood. He approached the stage. Once upon it, he turned to face the audience.
He smiled.
He waved.
“Mike, you rock!” someone called out from the audience.
“Hello, everyone!” he called out. “As you may all be aware, we were originally planning to perform the skit Matt Gets Wet, part 3.”
From her seat in the front row, Mrs. Balogna was frantically trying to get Mike’s attention without being too obvious too the audience, and she was making various “shushing” gestures. Mike looked her in the eye and winked.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “Matt’s lawyers were unwilling to budge on a few key issues, and it was looking like we might have had to perform the song Kumbyah for you, instead.”
The audience booed like there was no tomorrow. “Matt Gets Wet rocks!” someone called out from the audience.
“However,” Mike continued, “I have successfully captured Matt’s lawyer, Hugh Louis Dewey of the law offices of Dewey, Cheetham, & Howe.”
Luke and Aaron came out of the woods carrying between them Justy, still unconscious and bound with rope. From her seat, Mrs. Balogna was positively bug eyed in silent fury.
“Now I have always been a great fan of Shakespeare,” Mike announced. “And I decided that the best way to resolve this legal matter would be to take a bit of advice from the bard.” From his pocket Mike pulled a fake (but realistic looking) gun, pointed it at Justy’s head, and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang and a large cloud of smoke filled the stage. The audience yelped Mrs. Balogna shouted, “Stop this at once!”
The smoke quickly cleared, and Justy had vanished. Now obviously, Luke and Aaron had just tossed him back into the trees. However, it was quite the convincing theatrical effect.
“Now, do you people want to see Matt get wet?” Mike shouted out. “If you do, let me get a ‘Heck yeah!’”
“Heck yeah!” Everyone hollered. Many people began pulling out various things ranging from cups of water to canteens to water guns to a couple of people who had somehow smuggled in a fire hose.
Matt looked at Kenny. Kenny flicked a switch and gave him a thumbs up. Matt shrugged.
“Get up here, Matt!” Mike shouted.
“Matt! Matt! Matt!” the audience began chanting.
Matt gingerly approached the stage and then turned to face the audience. He waved. “Hi, everybody,” he said.
“Hi, Matt!” everyone shouted so loud that even the echo seemed deafening.
“Matt rocks!” someone shouted out.
“Well,” Matt said. “I guess this is it.”
Matt had come to the campfire in his very best uniform. Now, however, he unbuttoned his red wool jacket, carefully folded it up, and placed it into the arms of the waiting Bill Gelinas. He then removed his campaign hat and placed it atop his coat. Gelinas walked to the back of the amphitheater with them to keep them safe.
Matt then looked out at the audience, straightened his neckerchief and pulled up it’s slide. He took a breath.
“I am Matthew Atanian, Eagle Scout, Assistant Scoutmaster of Troop 192, Vigil Honor member of Allogagan Lodge #83 in the Order of the Arrow. And now… Now I get wet!”
There were massive cheers from the audience and Mrs. Balogna fainted with shock.
And then… then the water came.
“Nooooooooooooooooo!”
Something besides the water flew at Matt and got there first, knocking him back. Back behind the fires and down the small hill beyond them. He tumbled down and out of the reach of the wetness, and afterwards, he lay there panting in surprise.
Up in the amphitheater, the crowd, too, was surprised. They all stared at the soaked scout sitting crouched down on the center of the stage.
“How did I get here?” Becker turned to face everyone. In a confused voice he asked, “Why am I drippings with goo?”
There was a deadly silence. Then someone in the audience shouted out, “Cleveland rocks!”
“The Aristocrats!” Swett ended with a flourish.
The small fire that had been built back at Crown Point continued to crackle as it burned, illuminating the stunned looks on the faces of Matt, Mike, Hughes, Aaron, Gelinas, and Kenny as they all starred at Swett with glazed over expressions on their faces.
Becker was there, too. He had not heard a word that Swett had said, however. Since returning from the Camp Fire he had rediscovered the joy of headphones that he had apparently abandoned a few days earlier.
Crickets chirped and Swett looked at his fellows, anticipating a response.
“I don’t get it,” Kenny finally said.
“I am so glad,” Mike said, “that we didn’t let you tell that so-called joke in front of the entire camp.”
“Yeah, I suppose your idea was better,” Swett conceded. “But I’m saving this puppy for the next camporee.”
“The hell you are!” Aaron insisted. “Go to bed, Swett.”
Swett yawned. “Good idea,” he said.
The constant background noise from Becker’s headphones ceased suddenly. With an annoyed grunt, Becker thwacked his walkman. It had no effect. “Damn batteries.”
“What, no more?” Hughes asked. Although his garish mode of dress had not changed, his attitude had calmed down somewhat and he was acting more normal. Well, normal may have been the wrong word to describe him in the best of times, but at least he was no longer trying to eat small rodents, and had only brought out a small spray bottle containing everyone-else-didn’t-want-to-know-what once since returning to Crown Point.
“Oh, no, there’s more in my tent. Suppose I’ll head off to bed, too.”
Becker and Swett headed off to their respective tents. Moments later those who remained could faintly hear the music coming from Becker’s.
Gelinas leaned towards Mike. “I’ll have your hat then,” he quietly said.
“You what?”
“Your hat. I’ll have it.”
“How do you figure?”
Gelinas handed his small notebook over to Mike. Inside, Mike found a list. Every item on it was gleefully crossed out.
“Huh…” Mike read over it. “Doesn’t look good for me, now does it?”
“No, I can’t say that it does.”
“What’s this one here?” Mike asked. “Can’t make out the writing underneath the crossing out.”
Gelinas looked over and read. “The Porters will show up,” he said.
“But they didn’t.”
“Yes they did.”
“No. They didn’t.”
“Yes. They were at the camp fire for Matt Gets Wet. Weren’t they?”
“No. They were not.”
“No?” Gelinas whimpered.
“No,” Mike said firmly.
The fire continued to burn. Aaron added a stick to it.
“You’ll have the cards in the morning,” Gelinas muttered.
There was the snap of a twig then, and they all turned to see who approached. They were mildly surprised to see Perfume standing there, having taken her natural form but still clad in a boy scout uniform.
“Hello, Perfume,” Mike said. “Come to join the fire?” He motioned to a piece of log.
Perfume moved towards it and slowly, almost reluctantly, sat. She looked in turn at each of the others. She then spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why you save Perfume?” she asked.
“Because,” Mike said, “you’re a Garden Snake.”
“You’re a member of our patrol,” Hughes added.
“You’re one of us,” Aaron said.
“And we look out for each other,” Kenny said.
“Even if you’re always trying to kill us,” Gelinas finished.
The others looked at Gelinas with death in their eyes.
Perfume, however, just laughed softly. “Shut up, Bill,” she then said.
“There you go!” Gelinas said. “That’s the spirit.”
Perfume looked at Matt. “What of you?” she asked.
Matt shrugged. “They’re my friends,” he said of the others sitting there. “I suppose that makes you my friend, too. Like it or not.”
“Like or not,” Perfume repeated.
Aaron added another stick to the fire.
“You all save Perfume,” the Amazon said.
Matt shrugged. “A life for a life?” he asked.
Perfume thought about this for a moment. Then she said, “Life for life. Perfume no kill you all anymore.”
“Welcome to the patrol,” Mike told her.
This caused the faintest of smiles to grace the Amazon’s face.
“Well,” Matt said. “It’s been a hell of a year.”
“Hell of a year,” everyone agreed.
“Cursed springs,” Mike said.
“Crazy Amazons,” Hughes said.
“Kiss of death,” Perfume said.
“Porters,” Matt said.
“Porters,” Aaron agreed.
“Joining the troop,” Kenny said. “Making new friends.”
“Rigged elections,” Mike said.
“What ever did happen to Mr. Pruyne?” Gelinas asked.
“Shut up, Bill.”
“Shopping at Victoria’s Secret!” Matt said.
“Sweet Scully dreams,” Mike said.
“The second biggest candy canes ever,” Hughes said.
“I still want to know where any of you saw bigger!” Matt said with a frown.
“Mr. Tanner as Santa Clause!” Mike said.
“The Klondike,” Gelinas said.
“The winning sled,” Kenny said with a smile.
“That psycho Palmer,” Matt shuddered. “Whatever happened to him?”
“Romeo and Juliet,” Aaron said.
“Abu Dabi,” Mike grinned.
“Where exactly did you go with the Juniors?” Gelinas asked Kenny.
“A story for another time,” Kenny responded.
“Stage combat,” Perfume said.
“There is a difference between ‘stage combat’ and the real thing, you know,” Mike muttered.
Perfume just grinned at him.
“Canadian terrorists!” Aaron announced.
“Great team-up with 180,” Matt said.
“And Dan and Colin,” Hughes added.
“And that squirrel chick,” Gelinas said with a look at Mike.
“She, too, is a story for another time,” Mike replied.
“And a great team up with Perfume,” Matt added.
“Been one hell of a year,” they all chorused.
Aaron stopped adding fuel to the fire. The assembled scouts sat in silent fellowship, watching the flames together until they died down into embers. Then they watched the embers for a while. Then one of them softly began singing. The others soon joined in.
“Softly falls the light of day, as our campfire fades away. Silently each scout should ask, ‘Have I done my daily task? Have I kept my honor bright? Can I guiltless sleep tonight? Have I done and have I dared everything to be prepared?’”
And then in silence, they rose one by one, and silently made their separate ways to their tents, until only Matthew Atanian was left behind. He grabbed a bucket of water, poured it over the cooling embers to make sure they were completely out, and then went to sleep as well.
The next morning went by in a blur of breakfast and closing ceremonies and then everyone packed their stuff into their parent’s cars and headed back to civilization with its real toilets and working hot showers.
By a coincidence that even Gelinas chose not to comment on, he, Hughes, Mike, and Aaron were the last youth of Troop 192 waiting for their parents to arrive. Matt Atanian, too, was waiting for his father (he supposed he should get his driver’s license one of these days) and was waiting with his friends in Crown Point.
A few of the other adult leaders had stayed (what with that whole two-deep leadership thing) but they were currently down at the road watching for cars. Matt heard one of them shout up to them. Mrs. Abdowmassy had arrived in her large blue mini-van.
Aaron went to go grab his stuff. The others moved in to lend a hand. It was then that, with murderous intent, an old Chinese man leapt from the forest and attacked them.
Author's Notes & Disclaimers
Well, here we are. Almost a decade since this was started, and it has finally come to an end. Well, there’s a bit of an epilogue coming up, but then that’s it.
Put a fork in it, Boy Scouts ½ is done!
Jusenkyo curses are from Rumiko Takahashi’s Ranma ½, used without permission.
This story is not endorsed by or meant to reflect the values of the Boy Scouts of America.
I will not confirm or deny weather or not the character of Ann Balogna is based on a real person… But I will say that there was once a Program Director up at Moses who would not allow Mat Gets Wet, part 3 to take place. Sadly, in reality she won. But as Uhura said in Star Trek III, “This isn’t reality. This is fantasy.” Nice to know that somewhere, the good guys can come out on top.
(Although I imagine that if we had pulled this off in reality, there wouldn’t have been a concern over my being cursed, and I wouldn’t have needed a last minute save from Becket… er, Becker.)
Ah, yes. Another disclaimer: The character of Dr. Sam Beckett is from the show Quantum Leap, created by Donald P. Bellisario. I thought it would be interesting to see things completely from the point of view of everyone who wasn't a leaper.
Well, I shall stop here and let you get on to the epilogue. Talk to you again soon.
Put a fork in it, Boy Scouts ½ is done!
Jusenkyo curses are from Rumiko Takahashi’s Ranma ½, used without permission.
This story is not endorsed by or meant to reflect the values of the Boy Scouts of America.
I will not confirm or deny weather or not the character of Ann Balogna is based on a real person… But I will say that there was once a Program Director up at Moses who would not allow Mat Gets Wet, part 3 to take place. Sadly, in reality she won. But as Uhura said in Star Trek III, “This isn’t reality. This is fantasy.” Nice to know that somewhere, the good guys can come out on top.
(Although I imagine that if we had pulled this off in reality, there wouldn’t have been a concern over my being cursed, and I wouldn’t have needed a last minute save from Becket… er, Becker.)
Ah, yes. Another disclaimer: The character of Dr. Sam Beckett is from the show Quantum Leap, created by Donald P. Bellisario. I thought it would be interesting to see things completely from the point of view of everyone who wasn't a leaper.
Well, I shall stop here and let you get on to the epilogue. Talk to you again soon.