Wednesday, March 15, 2006


From Apostropher, Bad News Hughes- We Will Be Good Penisheimers

In addition to making me laugh, that story stirred some memories. I was a Boy Scout. Troop 41 of the Gulf Coast Council, or Sun Coast Council, or somesuch. We did a camping trip every month or maybe every two months, and a popular place was the Withlacoochee State Forest. The best thing was that this one place in the Withlacoochee had caves. Not huge caves, but there were tunnels and intersecting passages and dark cave rooms and if you are 13 years old it's about the coolest thing in the whole world.

So were were there, Troop 41, and it was the last day of the camping trip. We were running around the caves, hiding, scaring each other, seeing who could get the farthest down this one weird sandy crevice. And I come running out of one part of the cave into a part where it's just a big hole in the ground, and there was my Senior Patrol Leader, smoking some crudely rolled cylinder of leaves, pine needles, and lord knows what else. Our Senior Patrol Leader! He was like GOD to us! And there he was, smoking... something!

He looked at me and said "Don't tell anyone." And since he would occasionally beat the hell out of us just because he could, I could only imagine what he would do to me if I actually gave him a reason. So I never told anyone. Until now.

The SPL's name was Sean McCollum. Sean, if you ever read this, get in touch with me so I can sue you. I am quite certain that my heavy smoking today is all your fault.

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