part II:
Bang! Thwwpp! Boom!
by Mr. A
©2001 by Mark E. Abert and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
Bang! Thwwpp! Boom!
by Mr. A
©2001 by Mark E. Abert and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
The light was diffused by the smoke that was contained in the dimly lit room. The outsider strode toward the room, aware of its ominous appearance. The wisps of smoke failed to deter his approach, as he was confident in himself. Once inside, he scanned the group of faces that turned toward him upon his entrance. The four men seemed to be with purpose, although only they knew just what that purpose was. One of the five spoke up.
“Hi, Mark! Glad you could make it!” boomed Bob Martin, as Mark Abert looked around for a place to sit. He found none. The other three, Mr. William Shmuler, Mr. Tim Walker, and Mr. John Hawley, quietly added their greetings in their own fashion. Mark waved his hand about, as the smoke from John Hawley’s ever-present cigar began to bother him. Hawley didn’t take the hint, and continued to puff away.
“Here is our outline for the program for the shooting sports campout, as you requested,” stated Scoutmaster Shmuler, as he glanced in Hawley’s direction. Mark noticed a certain nervousness about the way Shmuler spoke, but he immediately dismissed it.
Tim Walker handed over a piece of paper with the written program neatly typed. “ We’re glad that you could get the time to do this for us,” he drawled. Mark began to read over the proposed schedule.
“I hope that having this meeting now isn’t interfering with any responsibilities you may have at your troop meeting,” he said, before making any comments on the schedule.
“No, not at all,” said John Hawley quietly. “Justy is in charge. He is doing a good job.”
The sound of laughter filtered into the smoke filled kitchen of the Church in the Acres. “Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”
“Sounds like the kids are having fun!” said Mark. “I’ve met Justy before. He is a rather pleasant young man.”
“We like the way Justy does his job,” Hawley said in the same quiet tone.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Bob Martin. “Does the program meet with your approval?”
“Sure, it looks fine,” answered Mark. “Norm Jacques will be with us to assist with the Shotgun part of the program, and I will have a group of boys from 180 with me to help out with the Rifle and Archery portions. We’ll have no problem running the Shotgun range in the morning, as outlined here, since Norm can’t stay for the entire weekend. After lunch we can run the other two ranges in whatever order that you choose. Just let me know what that order is. The evening looks good also: free time and a joint 192-180 campfire. I say let’s present this to the kids.”
“Excellent!” said John Hawley. “They are right through that door. You and our Scoutmaster go and discuss this with ‘the kids’. We have other items on our agenda that need our attention at this time.”
Mr. Abert and Mr. Shmuler then exited the kitchen. Mark was glad to get away from the cigar smoke. The two men entered the hall of the Church in the Acres to confront the Scouts of Troop 192. They stood at the entrance to the hall and watched for a few moments. Justy, the Senior Patrol Leader, seemed to be running some sort of physical fitness program with the troop. He kept loudly proclaiming to the members of the troop to “bow down”, as in some sort of calisthenics routine. Most of the Scouts ignored him.
“We should wait till Justy is finished with his program,” said Mr. Shmuler. “Feel free to look around.”
“I’ll do that!” said Mr. Abert, and he gravitated toward a group of faces that he found familiar. The members of the Garden Snake Patrol greeted him as he entered their corner of the hall. Matt Atanian had just arrived, and was removing his trademark trench coat and fedora.
“Hi, guys!” said Mark. “What’s up?”
“Hi, Mr. A” said several members of the Patrol. Matt Atanian was carrying with him his leather bound copy of “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” which prompted Mark to remark, “I see that you have your Bible with you.”
“It’s not a Bible,” responded Matt, who then sat down and invited Mark to do likewise. After standing in the smoke filled kitchen for a while, Mark gratefully accepted the invitation. He and Matt engaged in small talk for a few minutes. Gradually, he noticed a small young Scout in a perfectly put together uniform sitting a few seats away from them. Mark’s attention was immediately attracted to the large tome that the boy appeared to be studying. Its title was “Advanced Theories of Spatial-Temporal Mechanics.”
“Wow! I am impressed!” he said. “I’ve been meaning to pick up a copy of that book for quite some time now.”
The young Scout peered over the top of the massive book. “Hello,” he said timidly.
“Mr. Mark Abert, let me introduce you to Kenneth Pendrell,” said Matt.
“Pleased to meet you Mr. Abert,” responded Kenny. “Do you have an interest in the sciences?”
Mr. Abert explained to Kenny that he was employed as a teacher of the sciences at a local high school. “I’d love to be able to discuss some of this with you some time. Will you be at the upcoming campout?”
“I believe I will,” said Kenny. “I would like to …”
He was interrupted by Scoutmaster Shmuler. “Mark, it’s time to speak to the Troop about the campout.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Kenny,” said Mark, as he got up and walked to the front of the hall with the Scoutmaster. Mr. Shmuler spoke with Justy, who waved his hand dismissively, and got up and left the hall, accompanied by another Scout who made a great deal of opening the door for him.
“Boys,” Shmuler said, “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Abert. He has just been appointed as the Shooting Sports Director for summer camp. He’ll be running the shooting ranges for us on our upcoming campout at Moses. We’d like to present the program as we have outlined it to you, to see what you think.”
“Good evening, Troop 192!” said Mark with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
“Hi Mr. A!” said several members of the troop.
“Have we got a great weekend planned for you guys!” said Mark. He then described to the troop the details of the Shooting Sports Campout. The proposal was received with enthusiasm, with many of the Scouts eager to sign up to go. Sadly, not all were free that weekend, but enough were available as to make the event a go.
As luck would have it, the weather was perfect, with warm temperatures and clear skies forecast for the entire weekend. Troops 192 and 180 arrived at the Horace A. Moses Scout Reservation early on Friday evening. The two troops set up their tents on the parade field, just in front of the camp’s Trading Post, which was closed for that weekend. As there was no organized program for Friday evening, the members of the two troops were free to socialize. Many wandered off to various areas of the Reservation, while others chose to remain in site, mostly to play cards and converse.
“Did you bring a deck?” said Matt Atanian to Mark Abert, referring to Magic: the Gathering.
“Of course I did!” said Mark. “In fact, I’ve brought several. Choose your poison.”
Several members of both troops immediately joined the two. Jimmy Broder, Troop 180’s resident self-proclaimed Magic expert, brought out his latest creation and joined the game. His ever present buddy, Pete Greaves, sat nearby ready to provide comments on the game. Having nothing better to do, Mike Quadrozzi retrieved his deck from his pack and also joined in. Matt Abert seemed to be content to just observe while consuming his favorite camp snack, spray cheese. Kenny Pendrell was satisfied to sit within earshot and read his book; this time it was The Brothers Karamatzov.
“I’m just going to do some light reading,” he explained.
Becker sat within earshot, his ever-present headphones blaring out some sort of unidentifiable music. Brian Abert and Matt Fowler were also near, lashing together sundry “camp gadgets”. From an unfortunately too near distance, the high-pitched cackling of Troop 180’s first year patrol, the Magpies, could clearly be heard. All around, members of the two troops were milling about, some seemingly without a purpose. Camp was settling in normally.
The four way Magic game proceeded rather uneventfully, with the participants engaging mostly in small talk. Conversation eventually got around to the program for the following day.
“Norm should be just about finishing up on his range,” said Mark. “I hope that everyone enjoys themselves there. Unfortunately, we were only successful in obtaining two guns, so there will be some waiting.”
“I don’t think that waiting will be much of a problem,” said Mike. “Shotgun is popular enough in camp; I doubt if anyone will mind waiting.”
“Shotgun?” piped up Kenny, suddenly looking up from his book. “I don’t remember any mention of ‘shotgun’!” A look of almost panic crossed his young features.
“As I recall,” mused Matt, “you were ‘indisposed’ when that topic was discussed at the troop meeting. Is there a problem?”
“Not really, Mr. Atanian,” replied Kenny, closing his book. “It’s just that I would have liked to have done some preliminary preparations for that activity. I really should go and work on some calculations now.”
“Oh that shouldn’t be necessary, Kenny,” chuckled Mark. “Norm and I can help you out with any problems that you might have. There’s no need to treat this like a physics problem!”
“Kenny likes to put new meaning into the words, ‘Be Prepared,’” said Mike, as Kenny left the group for his tent.
“Ah, I activate my Pestilence for a total of eight points!” exclaimed Jimmy, totally oblivious to the conversation around him. “That kills off everyone’s creatures, and kills of all three of you guys except for me, thanks to my Ivory Tower! Honkin’, I win!”
“Honkin’ great, you won Jimmy!” exclaimed Pete.
“Yes, Jimmy, I guess you do,” said Mark.
“Anyone want to play again?” asked Jimmy.
Everyone did, and thus went most of the rest of the evening. Just before lights out, Mark met with Mr. Shmuler, Mr. Walker, and Norm Jacques to firm up the following day’s activities. Everything seemed all set to go, so they all turned in for the night.
The cackling of the Magpies lasted well into the wee hours of the morning, and thus very few were able to get a good night’s sleep. Breakfast was attended rather sporadically, as not all were able to climb out of their sleeping bags on schedule. Thus it was a groggy gang of Scouts that hit the trail toward the old Rifle Range, which was where Norm had set up his Shotgun Range. As usual, Norm did a good job of setting up this range, with proper safety perimeters, numerous sets of safety glasses and earmuffs available for all, and the clay thrower right in the center of the launching area. Billy Gelinas was first up.
Boom! Went the shotgun, as Billy skillfully blasted the “clay pigeon” from the sky. Boom! Boom! Bill successfully hit ten out of ten of the clays.
“I am very impressed!” remarked Norm, as Billy finished his turn.
“Thanks, Norm,” said Billy. Mark also added his congratulations to Billy’s fine performance.
Several other Scouts then had their turns, but none of them matched the excellence of Billy Gelinas. Finally it was Kenny Pendrell’s turn.
“I don’t know,” mused Norm. “You are kind of small. Do you think you can handle this?”
“I’d like to try, Sir,” replied Kenny.
“I’ll stand behind him, Norm,” said Mark.
“Well, okay,” said Norm, and he began to coach Kenny on how to hold the shotgun, how to fire it, and how to point it at the flying clay.
“Ready to try it?” asked Norm.
“Yes, sir,” replied Kenny, his previous concern seemingly forgotten.
“Good, let’s do it!” said Mark, standing behind Kenny.
“Pull, sir!” shouted Kenny.
The clay pigeon went flying. Boom! went the shotgun. “Oof!” went Mark, as Kenny went flying into his gut. Mark landed on his butt. “Ow!” said both Mark and Kenny simultaneously.
“Are you guys okay?” asked Norm.
“Yeah, I think so,” replied Mark.
“Yes, sir,” said Kenny, having taken little hurt beyond the initial shock, thanks to the cushioning effect of Mark’s gut.
Norm and the other Scouts helped the two to their feet, and it turned out that neither of them was really injured. Kenny began to mutter something about forgetting to factor in a resultant cosine as he and a few of the other Scouts began to wander back toward the campsite. The morning Shotgun session was just about finished anyway, so Mark and a few of his Troop 180 Scouts stayed behind to help Norm put away the Shotgun equipment, since Norm had to leave shortly.
As it was now close to noon, the Scouts decided to break for lunch. The next shooting event was Archery, which was to be held in the far corner of the field, right where it is normally run during Summer Camp. Lunch itself was rather simple and uneventful. At the conclusion of the rather simple and uneventful lunch, the Scouts strolled over to the nearby Archery Range.
Kenny performed quite well here, seemingly much better prepared, and being matched with a bow better suited to his diminutive stature. However, the real competition turned out to be between Billy Gelinas of Troop 192 and Jimmy Broder of Troop 180. Billy had always displayed a talent for the shooting sports, and his performance wasn’t a big surprise, but the members of Troop 180 were quite surprised at Jimmy’s seeming natural talent for this activity.
“Where did you learn how to shoot like that?” asked Mark, as Jimmy scored his eighth consecutive bullseye. Mark had originally taught Jimmy the basics of Archery the year before.
“I dunno,” said Jimmy, “I just like doing this. I think it’s real honkin.’”
“Yeah, real honkin,’” shouted Pete from the sidelines.
Thwwpp! Thwwpp! The arrows continued to hit the targets with surprisingly great accuracy. The majority of the Scouts still on the shooting line had settled into just shooting for fun, not paying much attention to their own scores. The Scouts on the sidelines had settled into an expectant hush. Even the Magpies were silent. All eyes were on the competition between Gelinas and Broder.
“Wow!” Mark thought to himself. “I had both of these guys in my Archery Merit Badge class just last year! I am amazed at how good these kids have gotten!”
The hot sun began to take its toll on the archers. There was very little shade on the Archery range, which was a problem that Mark had to contend with every day of Summer Camp. Whether it was due to the tension of the competition, or the sweat that began to form on the brows of the competitors, finally one of the Scouts scored a mere 9, rather than the score of 10 that resulted from a bullseye. Cheers went up from the spectators.
“Congratulations, Jimmy!” said Billy with all sincerity. “It was fun shooting against you!”
“Thanks, Billy,” said Jimmy. “You are a real honkin’ good shooter yourself!”
“Yeah, honkin’ good!” exclaimed Pete from the sidelines.
“You guys both should consider shooting competitively,” said Mark. “I know of a few places where you could join a league. Do you think you might be
interested?”
Both Billy and Jimmy said they were, and Mark said that he would get them the names and addresses of nearby shooting clubs that they could join. Mr. Shmuler approached and suggested that the Scouts be given a break after the very tense display that they just went through. Mark agreed that this would be a good idea, and all that were in attendance headed for the shade of the trees or their tents. With the exception of the incessant cackling of the Magpies and the blaring from Becker’s headphones, the camp became rather quiet for a while, since most had not gotten a much sleep the night before.
The evening dinner was the next item on the agenda, and as planned by the adult leaders, was a “pot-luck” meal, with each of the Troops bringing items to share. Troop 180 provided generous portions of Jambalaya and Brunswick Stew, prepared by the Scouts and overseen by their “master” chef, Matt Abert. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a drop of spray cheese in either recipe. Troop 192 had enough hot dogs and hamburgers for all. Everybody ate well, and no one went hungry except Matt Atanian, who is a notoriously picky eater anyway. Sharing the meal seemed to increase the bonds of fellowship between the two troops, and all in attendance stated that they looked forward to the upcoming Spring Camporee where they would camp together again.
After supper, all that could (some were “too full” and others – the Magpies – were “volunteered” to do clean up) hiked up to the Rifle Range. This was a very nice facility in camp, having its own wooden pavilion and numerous benches to shoot from. Mark served as rangemaster, and again a spontaneous competition developed. After an hour of continuous “Bang! Bang!” from the .22s, Billy Gelinas once again emerged with the best score, with Brian Abert and Matt Fowler running a close second and third place.
“Billy is rather good with a gun!” remarked Mr. Shmuler.
“He sure is,” agreed Mark. “I’m glad that he is on our side!”
“Yeah, he’s honkin’ good,” said Pete.
“Yeah, honkin’ good,” agreed Jimmy.
All the Scouts then pitched in to assist Mark in putting away the rifles and all the equipment. They then began the hike back to the Trading Post and their campsite. It was beginning to get dark. A bit too dark.
When they arrived back in camp, those that had stayed behind had built up a nice fire for all to sit around and relax after their busy day. The fire was built in a half-barrel, in accordance with the orders of the camp Ranger, for no ground fires could be built on the field.
“Hey Mr. A,” said Matt Fowler, “how about a story?”
“Well, I don’t know, Matt,” muttered Mark at the suggestion.
The other members of Troop180 joined in in urging Mark to entertain them with a story of some sort. The members of Troop 192 just sat in puzzled anticipation.
Finally, after a few moments of thought, Mark began: “The Story of Winnie the Pooh,” Mark announced.
The Scouts groaned. “That’s very un-honkin’,” exclaimed Jimmy.
“Yeah, very un-honkin’” agreed Pete.
“Guys, trust me,” assured Mark.
Grudgingly, the Scouts settled in, willing to put their trust temporarily in “Mr. A.”
“Once upon a time, there was a young boy whose name was Christopher Robin. Christopher Robin lived near a small patch of forest that was known as the Three Acre Wood. He had many friends. One day, one of his friends told him about a bear named Winnie the Pooh that lived in the Three Acre Wood. Christopher became very delighted at this news, as he had always loved bears.
“‘I will find him and make him my very special friend’ said Christopher one day.
“And so Christopher Robin entered the Three Acre Wood searching for Winnie the Pooh. And eventually he found him.
“‘Hi, Winnie the Pooh!’ exclaimed Christopher Robin.
“The bear immediately attacked and ate Christopher Robin, because bears are carnivorous animals and this one especially hated the name Winnie the Pooh. The end.”
The Scouts sitting around the fire were silent. Slowly, a few chuckles erupted, and finally the entire group broke into loud guffaws. The rest of the evening was spent in trading camp stories between the two troops, an occasional Monty Python song, and numerous jokes. Gradually, the tired members of Troops 192 and 180 drifted off to their tents, all being quite tired thanks to the Magpies, who were already in their tents gabbing and giggling away. Most of the others were too tired to care. It was rather dark out. A bit too dark, but nobody cared.
Soon the only sound that could be heard was the snoring of the adults and the cackling of the Magpies. But nobody cared. They were all very tired. And it was very dark out. A bit too dark.
Suddenly, a brilliant white light came stabbing downward from the sky, enveloping two of the tents. The tents containing the sleeping bodies of Jon Becker, Billy Gelinas, Brian Abert, and Matt Fowler slowly began to rise into the sky, breaking free of the stakes that ordinarily anchored them to the ground. Nobody noticed. The two tents disappeared into an iris-like opening. Nobody noticed. A second column of brilliant white light stabbed downward, and the same thing began to happen to the tents containing the Magpies. Halfway up their ascent, the Magpies tents reversed their direction and were returned to the ground. Nobody noticed. For a third time, the brilliant white light stabbed downward, this time lifting the tents containing Matt Atanian, Matt Abert, Jimmy Broder, and Pete Greaves into the iris-like opening. The opening then closed. Nobody noticed.
“Hi, Mark! Glad you could make it!” boomed Bob Martin, as Mark Abert looked around for a place to sit. He found none. The other three, Mr. William Shmuler, Mr. Tim Walker, and Mr. John Hawley, quietly added their greetings in their own fashion. Mark waved his hand about, as the smoke from John Hawley’s ever-present cigar began to bother him. Hawley didn’t take the hint, and continued to puff away.
“Here is our outline for the program for the shooting sports campout, as you requested,” stated Scoutmaster Shmuler, as he glanced in Hawley’s direction. Mark noticed a certain nervousness about the way Shmuler spoke, but he immediately dismissed it.
Tim Walker handed over a piece of paper with the written program neatly typed. “ We’re glad that you could get the time to do this for us,” he drawled. Mark began to read over the proposed schedule.
“I hope that having this meeting now isn’t interfering with any responsibilities you may have at your troop meeting,” he said, before making any comments on the schedule.
“No, not at all,” said John Hawley quietly. “Justy is in charge. He is doing a good job.”
The sound of laughter filtered into the smoke filled kitchen of the Church in the Acres. “Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”
“Sounds like the kids are having fun!” said Mark. “I’ve met Justy before. He is a rather pleasant young man.”
“We like the way Justy does his job,” Hawley said in the same quiet tone.
“Well, what do you think?” asked Bob Martin. “Does the program meet with your approval?”
“Sure, it looks fine,” answered Mark. “Norm Jacques will be with us to assist with the Shotgun part of the program, and I will have a group of boys from 180 with me to help out with the Rifle and Archery portions. We’ll have no problem running the Shotgun range in the morning, as outlined here, since Norm can’t stay for the entire weekend. After lunch we can run the other two ranges in whatever order that you choose. Just let me know what that order is. The evening looks good also: free time and a joint 192-180 campfire. I say let’s present this to the kids.”
“Excellent!” said John Hawley. “They are right through that door. You and our Scoutmaster go and discuss this with ‘the kids’. We have other items on our agenda that need our attention at this time.”
Mr. Abert and Mr. Shmuler then exited the kitchen. Mark was glad to get away from the cigar smoke. The two men entered the hall of the Church in the Acres to confront the Scouts of Troop 192. They stood at the entrance to the hall and watched for a few moments. Justy, the Senior Patrol Leader, seemed to be running some sort of physical fitness program with the troop. He kept loudly proclaiming to the members of the troop to “bow down”, as in some sort of calisthenics routine. Most of the Scouts ignored him.
“We should wait till Justy is finished with his program,” said Mr. Shmuler. “Feel free to look around.”
“I’ll do that!” said Mr. Abert, and he gravitated toward a group of faces that he found familiar. The members of the Garden Snake Patrol greeted him as he entered their corner of the hall. Matt Atanian had just arrived, and was removing his trademark trench coat and fedora.
“Hi, guys!” said Mark. “What’s up?”
“Hi, Mr. A” said several members of the Patrol. Matt Atanian was carrying with him his leather bound copy of “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” which prompted Mark to remark, “I see that you have your Bible with you.”
“It’s not a Bible,” responded Matt, who then sat down and invited Mark to do likewise. After standing in the smoke filled kitchen for a while, Mark gratefully accepted the invitation. He and Matt engaged in small talk for a few minutes. Gradually, he noticed a small young Scout in a perfectly put together uniform sitting a few seats away from them. Mark’s attention was immediately attracted to the large tome that the boy appeared to be studying. Its title was “Advanced Theories of Spatial-Temporal Mechanics.”
“Wow! I am impressed!” he said. “I’ve been meaning to pick up a copy of that book for quite some time now.”
The young Scout peered over the top of the massive book. “Hello,” he said timidly.
“Mr. Mark Abert, let me introduce you to Kenneth Pendrell,” said Matt.
“Pleased to meet you Mr. Abert,” responded Kenny. “Do you have an interest in the sciences?”
Mr. Abert explained to Kenny that he was employed as a teacher of the sciences at a local high school. “I’d love to be able to discuss some of this with you some time. Will you be at the upcoming campout?”
“I believe I will,” said Kenny. “I would like to …”
He was interrupted by Scoutmaster Shmuler. “Mark, it’s time to speak to the Troop about the campout.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Kenny,” said Mark, as he got up and walked to the front of the hall with the Scoutmaster. Mr. Shmuler spoke with Justy, who waved his hand dismissively, and got up and left the hall, accompanied by another Scout who made a great deal of opening the door for him.
“Boys,” Shmuler said, “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Abert. He has just been appointed as the Shooting Sports Director for summer camp. He’ll be running the shooting ranges for us on our upcoming campout at Moses. We’d like to present the program as we have outlined it to you, to see what you think.”
“Good evening, Troop 192!” said Mark with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
“Hi Mr. A!” said several members of the troop.
“Have we got a great weekend planned for you guys!” said Mark. He then described to the troop the details of the Shooting Sports Campout. The proposal was received with enthusiasm, with many of the Scouts eager to sign up to go. Sadly, not all were free that weekend, but enough were available as to make the event a go.
As luck would have it, the weather was perfect, with warm temperatures and clear skies forecast for the entire weekend. Troops 192 and 180 arrived at the Horace A. Moses Scout Reservation early on Friday evening. The two troops set up their tents on the parade field, just in front of the camp’s Trading Post, which was closed for that weekend. As there was no organized program for Friday evening, the members of the two troops were free to socialize. Many wandered off to various areas of the Reservation, while others chose to remain in site, mostly to play cards and converse.
“Did you bring a deck?” said Matt Atanian to Mark Abert, referring to Magic: the Gathering.
“Of course I did!” said Mark. “In fact, I’ve brought several. Choose your poison.”
Several members of both troops immediately joined the two. Jimmy Broder, Troop 180’s resident self-proclaimed Magic expert, brought out his latest creation and joined the game. His ever present buddy, Pete Greaves, sat nearby ready to provide comments on the game. Having nothing better to do, Mike Quadrozzi retrieved his deck from his pack and also joined in. Matt Abert seemed to be content to just observe while consuming his favorite camp snack, spray cheese. Kenny Pendrell was satisfied to sit within earshot and read his book; this time it was The Brothers Karamatzov.
“I’m just going to do some light reading,” he explained.
Becker sat within earshot, his ever-present headphones blaring out some sort of unidentifiable music. Brian Abert and Matt Fowler were also near, lashing together sundry “camp gadgets”. From an unfortunately too near distance, the high-pitched cackling of Troop 180’s first year patrol, the Magpies, could clearly be heard. All around, members of the two troops were milling about, some seemingly without a purpose. Camp was settling in normally.
The four way Magic game proceeded rather uneventfully, with the participants engaging mostly in small talk. Conversation eventually got around to the program for the following day.
“Norm should be just about finishing up on his range,” said Mark. “I hope that everyone enjoys themselves there. Unfortunately, we were only successful in obtaining two guns, so there will be some waiting.”
“I don’t think that waiting will be much of a problem,” said Mike. “Shotgun is popular enough in camp; I doubt if anyone will mind waiting.”
“Shotgun?” piped up Kenny, suddenly looking up from his book. “I don’t remember any mention of ‘shotgun’!” A look of almost panic crossed his young features.
“As I recall,” mused Matt, “you were ‘indisposed’ when that topic was discussed at the troop meeting. Is there a problem?”
“Not really, Mr. Atanian,” replied Kenny, closing his book. “It’s just that I would have liked to have done some preliminary preparations for that activity. I really should go and work on some calculations now.”
“Oh that shouldn’t be necessary, Kenny,” chuckled Mark. “Norm and I can help you out with any problems that you might have. There’s no need to treat this like a physics problem!”
“Kenny likes to put new meaning into the words, ‘Be Prepared,’” said Mike, as Kenny left the group for his tent.
“Ah, I activate my Pestilence for a total of eight points!” exclaimed Jimmy, totally oblivious to the conversation around him. “That kills off everyone’s creatures, and kills of all three of you guys except for me, thanks to my Ivory Tower! Honkin’, I win!”
“Honkin’ great, you won Jimmy!” exclaimed Pete.
“Yes, Jimmy, I guess you do,” said Mark.
“Anyone want to play again?” asked Jimmy.
Everyone did, and thus went most of the rest of the evening. Just before lights out, Mark met with Mr. Shmuler, Mr. Walker, and Norm Jacques to firm up the following day’s activities. Everything seemed all set to go, so they all turned in for the night.
The cackling of the Magpies lasted well into the wee hours of the morning, and thus very few were able to get a good night’s sleep. Breakfast was attended rather sporadically, as not all were able to climb out of their sleeping bags on schedule. Thus it was a groggy gang of Scouts that hit the trail toward the old Rifle Range, which was where Norm had set up his Shotgun Range. As usual, Norm did a good job of setting up this range, with proper safety perimeters, numerous sets of safety glasses and earmuffs available for all, and the clay thrower right in the center of the launching area. Billy Gelinas was first up.
Boom! Went the shotgun, as Billy skillfully blasted the “clay pigeon” from the sky. Boom! Boom! Bill successfully hit ten out of ten of the clays.
“I am very impressed!” remarked Norm, as Billy finished his turn.
“Thanks, Norm,” said Billy. Mark also added his congratulations to Billy’s fine performance.
Several other Scouts then had their turns, but none of them matched the excellence of Billy Gelinas. Finally it was Kenny Pendrell’s turn.
“I don’t know,” mused Norm. “You are kind of small. Do you think you can handle this?”
“I’d like to try, Sir,” replied Kenny.
“I’ll stand behind him, Norm,” said Mark.
“Well, okay,” said Norm, and he began to coach Kenny on how to hold the shotgun, how to fire it, and how to point it at the flying clay.
“Ready to try it?” asked Norm.
“Yes, sir,” replied Kenny, his previous concern seemingly forgotten.
“Good, let’s do it!” said Mark, standing behind Kenny.
“Pull, sir!” shouted Kenny.
The clay pigeon went flying. Boom! went the shotgun. “Oof!” went Mark, as Kenny went flying into his gut. Mark landed on his butt. “Ow!” said both Mark and Kenny simultaneously.
“Are you guys okay?” asked Norm.
“Yeah, I think so,” replied Mark.
“Yes, sir,” said Kenny, having taken little hurt beyond the initial shock, thanks to the cushioning effect of Mark’s gut.
Norm and the other Scouts helped the two to their feet, and it turned out that neither of them was really injured. Kenny began to mutter something about forgetting to factor in a resultant cosine as he and a few of the other Scouts began to wander back toward the campsite. The morning Shotgun session was just about finished anyway, so Mark and a few of his Troop 180 Scouts stayed behind to help Norm put away the Shotgun equipment, since Norm had to leave shortly.
As it was now close to noon, the Scouts decided to break for lunch. The next shooting event was Archery, which was to be held in the far corner of the field, right where it is normally run during Summer Camp. Lunch itself was rather simple and uneventful. At the conclusion of the rather simple and uneventful lunch, the Scouts strolled over to the nearby Archery Range.
Kenny performed quite well here, seemingly much better prepared, and being matched with a bow better suited to his diminutive stature. However, the real competition turned out to be between Billy Gelinas of Troop 192 and Jimmy Broder of Troop 180. Billy had always displayed a talent for the shooting sports, and his performance wasn’t a big surprise, but the members of Troop 180 were quite surprised at Jimmy’s seeming natural talent for this activity.
“Where did you learn how to shoot like that?” asked Mark, as Jimmy scored his eighth consecutive bullseye. Mark had originally taught Jimmy the basics of Archery the year before.
“I dunno,” said Jimmy, “I just like doing this. I think it’s real honkin.’”
“Yeah, real honkin,’” shouted Pete from the sidelines.
Thwwpp! Thwwpp! The arrows continued to hit the targets with surprisingly great accuracy. The majority of the Scouts still on the shooting line had settled into just shooting for fun, not paying much attention to their own scores. The Scouts on the sidelines had settled into an expectant hush. Even the Magpies were silent. All eyes were on the competition between Gelinas and Broder.
“Wow!” Mark thought to himself. “I had both of these guys in my Archery Merit Badge class just last year! I am amazed at how good these kids have gotten!”
The hot sun began to take its toll on the archers. There was very little shade on the Archery range, which was a problem that Mark had to contend with every day of Summer Camp. Whether it was due to the tension of the competition, or the sweat that began to form on the brows of the competitors, finally one of the Scouts scored a mere 9, rather than the score of 10 that resulted from a bullseye. Cheers went up from the spectators.
“Congratulations, Jimmy!” said Billy with all sincerity. “It was fun shooting against you!”
“Thanks, Billy,” said Jimmy. “You are a real honkin’ good shooter yourself!”
“Yeah, honkin’ good!” exclaimed Pete from the sidelines.
“You guys both should consider shooting competitively,” said Mark. “I know of a few places where you could join a league. Do you think you might be
interested?”
Both Billy and Jimmy said they were, and Mark said that he would get them the names and addresses of nearby shooting clubs that they could join. Mr. Shmuler approached and suggested that the Scouts be given a break after the very tense display that they just went through. Mark agreed that this would be a good idea, and all that were in attendance headed for the shade of the trees or their tents. With the exception of the incessant cackling of the Magpies and the blaring from Becker’s headphones, the camp became rather quiet for a while, since most had not gotten a much sleep the night before.
The evening dinner was the next item on the agenda, and as planned by the adult leaders, was a “pot-luck” meal, with each of the Troops bringing items to share. Troop 180 provided generous portions of Jambalaya and Brunswick Stew, prepared by the Scouts and overseen by their “master” chef, Matt Abert. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a drop of spray cheese in either recipe. Troop 192 had enough hot dogs and hamburgers for all. Everybody ate well, and no one went hungry except Matt Atanian, who is a notoriously picky eater anyway. Sharing the meal seemed to increase the bonds of fellowship between the two troops, and all in attendance stated that they looked forward to the upcoming Spring Camporee where they would camp together again.
After supper, all that could (some were “too full” and others – the Magpies – were “volunteered” to do clean up) hiked up to the Rifle Range. This was a very nice facility in camp, having its own wooden pavilion and numerous benches to shoot from. Mark served as rangemaster, and again a spontaneous competition developed. After an hour of continuous “Bang! Bang!” from the .22s, Billy Gelinas once again emerged with the best score, with Brian Abert and Matt Fowler running a close second and third place.
“Billy is rather good with a gun!” remarked Mr. Shmuler.
“He sure is,” agreed Mark. “I’m glad that he is on our side!”
“Yeah, he’s honkin’ good,” said Pete.
“Yeah, honkin’ good,” agreed Jimmy.
All the Scouts then pitched in to assist Mark in putting away the rifles and all the equipment. They then began the hike back to the Trading Post and their campsite. It was beginning to get dark. A bit too dark.
When they arrived back in camp, those that had stayed behind had built up a nice fire for all to sit around and relax after their busy day. The fire was built in a half-barrel, in accordance with the orders of the camp Ranger, for no ground fires could be built on the field.
“Hey Mr. A,” said Matt Fowler, “how about a story?”
“Well, I don’t know, Matt,” muttered Mark at the suggestion.
The other members of Troop180 joined in in urging Mark to entertain them with a story of some sort. The members of Troop 192 just sat in puzzled anticipation.
Finally, after a few moments of thought, Mark began: “The Story of Winnie the Pooh,” Mark announced.
The Scouts groaned. “That’s very un-honkin’,” exclaimed Jimmy.
“Yeah, very un-honkin’” agreed Pete.
“Guys, trust me,” assured Mark.
Grudgingly, the Scouts settled in, willing to put their trust temporarily in “Mr. A.”
“Once upon a time, there was a young boy whose name was Christopher Robin. Christopher Robin lived near a small patch of forest that was known as the Three Acre Wood. He had many friends. One day, one of his friends told him about a bear named Winnie the Pooh that lived in the Three Acre Wood. Christopher became very delighted at this news, as he had always loved bears.
“‘I will find him and make him my very special friend’ said Christopher one day.
“And so Christopher Robin entered the Three Acre Wood searching for Winnie the Pooh. And eventually he found him.
“‘Hi, Winnie the Pooh!’ exclaimed Christopher Robin.
“The bear immediately attacked and ate Christopher Robin, because bears are carnivorous animals and this one especially hated the name Winnie the Pooh. The end.”
The Scouts sitting around the fire were silent. Slowly, a few chuckles erupted, and finally the entire group broke into loud guffaws. The rest of the evening was spent in trading camp stories between the two troops, an occasional Monty Python song, and numerous jokes. Gradually, the tired members of Troops 192 and 180 drifted off to their tents, all being quite tired thanks to the Magpies, who were already in their tents gabbing and giggling away. Most of the others were too tired to care. It was rather dark out. A bit too dark, but nobody cared.
Soon the only sound that could be heard was the snoring of the adults and the cackling of the Magpies. But nobody cared. They were all very tired. And it was very dark out. A bit too dark.
Suddenly, a brilliant white light came stabbing downward from the sky, enveloping two of the tents. The tents containing the sleeping bodies of Jon Becker, Billy Gelinas, Brian Abert, and Matt Fowler slowly began to rise into the sky, breaking free of the stakes that ordinarily anchored them to the ground. Nobody noticed. The two tents disappeared into an iris-like opening. Nobody noticed. A second column of brilliant white light stabbed downward, and the same thing began to happen to the tents containing the Magpies. Halfway up their ascent, the Magpies tents reversed their direction and were returned to the ground. Nobody noticed. For a third time, the brilliant white light stabbed downward, this time lifting the tents containing Matt Atanian, Matt Abert, Jimmy Broder, and Pete Greaves into the iris-like opening. The opening then closed. Nobody noticed.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Author's Notes
Once again, this story is a result of a conversation between Matt Atanian and myself. Matt asked me to develop the idea of the “shooting sports campout,” and this is what I was able to come up with. Again, I hope it meets with the approval of the fine readership that frequents this website.
I had originally intended to finish this story a year ago, but numerous obligations (including having to buy a house and move into it) that come with being an old person kept interfering with its completion.
To the best of my knowledge, this story is entirely original and therefore I don’t have to do the disclaimer thing. Matt, feel free to comment and /or disclaim as you see fit.
I had originally intended to finish this story a year ago, but numerous obligations (including having to buy a house and move into it) that come with being an old person kept interfering with its completion.
To the best of my knowledge, this story is entirely original and therefore I don’t have to do the disclaimer thing. Matt, feel free to comment and /or disclaim as you see fit.
Matt's Notes
Well… what a strange, strange world we live in. This is “to be continued,” which could very likely mean that Boy Scouts ½ is soon to have a third spin-off! (Outlast isn’t really a spin-off in my mind… It’s more a special supplementary series. I suppose we should get the second Outlast written, huh?
Come to think of it, I need to get more Kenny’s Laboratory done, too! Oy!)
Well, very nice story all around. It is certainly interesting to see Boy Scout Troop 192 from the point of view of an outsider, someone who is not involved in Troop 192’s internal politics. (This story must take place before the ’98 Spring Camporee. Mark would probably no longer think of Justy as a “pleasent young man” after Justy tried to help out the terrorists. Of course, Kenny and Mark worked together during the Spring Camporee, as well, and their first meeting is depicted in this story.)
Well, nothing much to disclaim in this one. As Mark said, it is entirely original. (I suppose, if I wanted to be picky, I could mention that Winnie the Pooh [the non-carniverous version] is from the books written by A. A. Milne.)
Well, see you next story!
Come to think of it, I need to get more Kenny’s Laboratory done, too! Oy!)
Well, very nice story all around. It is certainly interesting to see Boy Scout Troop 192 from the point of view of an outsider, someone who is not involved in Troop 192’s internal politics. (This story must take place before the ’98 Spring Camporee. Mark would probably no longer think of Justy as a “pleasent young man” after Justy tried to help out the terrorists. Of course, Kenny and Mark worked together during the Spring Camporee, as well, and their first meeting is depicted in this story.)
Well, nothing much to disclaim in this one. As Mark said, it is entirely original. (I suppose, if I wanted to be picky, I could mention that Winnie the Pooh [the non-carniverous version] is from the books written by A. A. Milne.)
Well, see you next story!