In article <169g16drr6tilglckcki2q9dv74ri70kfs@4ax.com>, NP-f31 wrote:
> Based on actual events and grumpy Boy Scouts.
>
> The Trouble With Carl
>
> Among the summer camps I attended each year were two weeks of Boy
> Scout Camp. This was real camping, in a tent, with sleeping bags, and
> as luck would have it, a grumpy tent mate named Carl. Most of the time
> Carl was nice, I liked him just fine. But for some reason, he was in a
> bad mood the whole week of camp, maybe he was homesick.
>
> Our Troop went to Camp Sinoquipee which was way out in the country in
> Virginia, I think. My patrol, the Elks, were camped out in a clearing
> surrounded by tall trees. Our tents were on platforms surrounding a
> campfire and half a dozen picnic tables. There were two boys to a tent
> and each tent had two army cots which served as both beds and sofas.
> Our campsite was unique in that it had a heavy rope swing with a big
> knot in the end that hung from the tallest oak tree I can remember
> seeing. Because the oak tree stood on the high ground at the edge of
> our campsite and had such a long rope, one could swing in a wide arc
> that covered nearly the entire clearing. As a result, our campsite was
> a center of activity during free time when we weren't working on merit
> badges, swimming or hiking. Boys from nearly every other patrol spent
> time at our campsite taking turns on the rope swing, this included Tim
> and JC, who were in the Panther Patrol.
>
> The tent that Carl and I shared was very close to the rope swing and
> so our tent became the hangout when the days were at their hottest.
> This was fun for me because I was surrounded by all of my friends, but
> not so much fun for Carl who was hating life all week long. Carl had
> wavy blonde hair that ended in clumps of curls. He had brown eyes that
> looked really large because he wore thick glasses. He needed those
> glasses to see, without them it was like looking at the world through
> a plastic bag. His mother must have threatened him not to break them
> before he left for camp, because several times a day he would remind
> us that his mother would kill him if anything happened to his glasses.
> Who knew it could be so dangerous to wear glasses? Another thing, Carl
> was a yeller. Whenever he began to get upset, which was every 20
> minutes that week, he would raise his voice louder and louder. During
> the course of the week it became my job to talk Carl down from the
> verge of homicide. I actually became quite good at it. But what
> happens when Carl gets mad at the one person who can calm him down?
> Insanity happens.
>
> The tipping point for Carl, the moment when he went from mere whiner
> to Pro Wrestler Roid Rage, began innocently enough in our tent. Tim,
> JC and I were sitting on the cots discussing a movie we were going to
> make when we got home from camp. The movie would be called
> 'Frankenstein Lives Again' which is exactly what happened in the real
> Frankenstein book, a dead guy was brought back to life with a new
> brain. But our movie was supposed to be a sequel, the monster would be
> brought back to life again. I was going to be the monster and Tim had
> a great idea for makeup. He was going to cover my face with layers of
> scotch tape with green finger paint applied to the bottom layer. It
> did look cool, we even had an eye that we cut out of a Halloween mask
> taped a little lower on one side. I ended up looking more like the
> Hunchback of Notre Dame, which was still scary.
>
> While we were imagining our cinematic masterpiece Carl came in the
> tent and he was grumbling. He was searching around the tent for
> something, though he didn't say what at first. Tim and JC were sitting
> on my cot and I was sitting on Carl's cot. As Carl's search continued,
> he became more and more frustrated and got angrier and angrier. I
> sensed it was time to calm him down a little and I asked, 'Whatcha
> looking for, Carl?' He was looking on the cot now, lifting up the edge
> of his sleeping bag.
>
> 'I'm looking for my socks!' he said angrily as he continued to search.
>
> I signaled to Tim and JC that this it might be a good idea to continue
> our discussion later. They left the tent and went outside to get in
> line for the rope swing. I watched Carl slowly working himself into a
> froth and I wanted to help. 'What do your socks look like, Carl?' I
> asked helpfully.
>
> 'They're black,' Carl snorted. I bent over to look underneath his cot,
> lifting my butt off the cot just a little. 'Get up!' he suddenly
> ordered. I stood and realized I'd been sitting on Carl's socks. Now
> here's the thing about Carl's socks: they were old man socks. They
> were black and thin, very lightweight nylon socks. The effect of my
> backside sitting on his socks for half an hour was not a good one for
> Carl's socks. They had been pressed thin by my butt. Just as a lump of
> coal, through years of intense heat and pressure, can be transformed
> into a diamond; Carl's socks were transformed into a couple of black
> sock pancakes. I laughed because I'd never seen socks do that before.
> 'What are you laughing at? Look what you did to my socks!' screamed
> Carl.
>
> 'They look funny, look at them Carl, they look like they've been run
> over by a bus.' I said, trying to get him to see the humor too.
>
> 'That's not funny!' he yelled louder, 'I have to wear these socks and
> you made them all flat.'
>
> At this point I could have saved the day by apologizing and offering
> Carl a pair of my clean socks to wear. But something about a kid who
> was losing his temper over a pair of pancaked socks struck me as very
> funny. So, despite myself, I kept laughing. It was the worst thing I
> cold have done because Carl thought I was laughing at him. I was
> indirectly, I guess, but I was trying really hard to laugh *with* him,
> he just didn't see the humor. 'Don't get mad, Carl. They're just
> socks.' I tried to explain.
>
> "I can't believe you think this is funny,' he hollered, taking the
> socks and shaking them at me. But it was funny, and Carl was
> threatening me with his squished socks, which made it even funnier. I
> knew I was making him angrier though, so I climbed out of the tent.
>
> 'Carl, I'm sorry I flattened your socks, but they do look funny.' I
> said as I left the tent, hoping that my retreat would end the
> argument.
>
> Carl was having none of it. His anger was up and this time someone
> would pay the price for his agitation. He stormed out the tent,
> yelling at me in such a way that everyone's head turned in his
> direction. 'Come back here! First you ruin my socks and now you're
> laughing at me. I can't believe you're laughing at me!' Carl had
> trouble believing a lot of things that day as he kept telling us.
>
> 'Carl, it's just socks.' I said trying to reason with him, but still
> giggling despite myself.
>
> 'Just socks?' he yelled. 'How would you like it if I went in there and
> ruined all of your clothes?' he yelled and pointed to the tent which
> was now behind him.
>
> I was laughing really hard now, the expression on Carl's face was one
> of red rage. 'Calm down, Carl. You're making a fool of yourself!' I
> laughed.
>
> 'Oh, now I'm a fool?' yelled Carl who now was aggressively threatening
> me. He had his chin thrust out and leaned in toward me.
>
> I now began to think about Carl getting ready to hit me. Did I really
> want to fight with my tent mate? Wouldn't that ruin the whole week?
> Would I get thrown out of Boy Scouts? I was bigger than Carl and it
> would have been no joy to beat him up. All of these things ran through
> my mind as I watched Carl rear back to hit me. I was actually
> preparing to let him hit me, maybe in the shoulder or something, so he
> would feel better and we could let the sock episode drop. It probably
> wouldn't hurt too much. Just as Carl swung, an unexpected thing
> happened. He went flying off to the left and landed on the ground with
> a thud. Tim, who was standing over Carl, released the rope swing
> nonchalantly. Tim had swung on the rope swing, just like Tarzan or
> Robin Hood, and knocked Carl to the ground. My hero!
>
> Carl was on the ground, apparently wondering what happened. He
> adjusted his glasses, which were askew on his face. Looking up at Tim,
> Carl's anger returned with a vengeance. "Why did you do that?" he
> screamed at Tim.
>
> "You were about to hit my friend," Tim replied. He gallantly extended
> his hand offering to help Carl off the ground.
>
> Carl angrily rebuffed Tim's proffered hand and scrambled to his feet.
> "I can't believe you knocked me down!" he shouted angrily. "You could
> have broken my glasses!"
>
> I know what is coming next, I thought to myself.
>
> "My Mom will kill me if anything happens to these glasses" Carl said
> right on cue.
>
> I started laughing again at Carl's predictability. Carl gave me a
> fierce glance. "Stop laughing at me!" he warned, "I'll deal with you
> next." Carl was really mad now and his anger was focused on Tim.
>
> "Calm down, Carl," said Tim.
>
> "Don't you tell me to calm down!" screamed Carl. "First he ruins my
> socks and laughs at me," Carl thrust an accusing finger in my
> direction, "and then YOU knocked me down for no reason!"
>
> "I had a great reason, you were going to hit my friend, and I stopped
> you. He would have done the same for me," Tim said prophetically.
>
> Now Carl came at Tim menacingly, they circled each other warily. I'm
> pretty sure that Tim didn't want to fight Carl either. But I'm also
> pretty sure he had a good idea of what was going to happen next. As
> Tim stopped so that he was facing the rope swing, I saw JC launch
> himself toward us, riding the tree swing rope in a graceful arc that
> ended with JC's feet aimed at Carl. Once again, just as Carl was about
> to hit Tim, history repeated itself; Carl was sent sprawling by a
> swinging Boy Scout. At least this time his glasses remained in place.
> This time as soon as Carl was on the ground Tim leapt on top of him,
> pinning him.
>
> Poor Carl, not only had he been humiliated three times, now he was
> also badly outnumbered. He looked around to try and figure out what
> happened this time. He saw JC standing next to Tim and me, grinning.
> "You!" he yelled in frustration. Then he seemed to realize that Tim
> was sitting on top of him. "Get off me, Tim!" he muttered and began to
> struggle. He quickly saw that he was helpless. This seemed to upset
> him even more.
>
> Tim had his hands on Carl's shoulders. "I'm not letting you up till
> you calm down and promise not hit anybody." he said calmly.
>
> "I can't believe you guys!" Carl gurgled with rage, "First you ruin my
> clothes, then you laugh at me, then you knock me down twice and you
> think I'm not going to hit you?"
>
> "We'll sit here until you calm down," said Tim matter-of-factly. "Do
> you want JC to sit on you too?"
>
> "You guys wait till I get up, I'll mangle you!" spat Carl. He yelled
> 'Get of me, get off me' over and over as he pushed, twisted, and
> bucked in an effort to dislodge Tim. As he struggled however, it
> became clear that he wouldn't be able to get Tim off his chest. He
> started to moan and I was sure he was about to cry. I felt sorry for
> him. He was pinned to the ground by Tim and JC was ready to jump on
> too, just like a tag team wrestler. It was time for me to be the
> peacemaker.
>
> I squatted down next to Carl's face. I saw the tears ready to come. I
> said, in my most sincere voice, "Carl, I'm really sorry that I
> flattened your socks. And Tim and JC are really sorry they had to
> knock you down, but they didn't want you to hit me." Carl looked at me
> defiantly and sniffed back some tears, but he didn't say anything.
> Still I saw that a further concession might make a difference. "If you
> promise not to hit us, we'll let you up. I'll tell you what, I've got
> some clean socks that you can wear."
>
> "I don't want your stinking socks!" growled Carl as he renewed his
> efforts to free himself.
>
> He wasn't going anywhere and Tim knew it. "You've got to promise,
> Carl. Then I'll let you get up," Tim said soothingly. Carl had a nasty
> look on his face.
>
> "Promise," JC added.
>
> "Promise," I repeated. Then the expression on Carl's face broke. It
> went from anger and frustration to one of resignation.
>
> "Okay, I won't hit you. Now just let me up!" he said brusquely. Tim
> cocked his head and gave Carl a questioning look. "I promise," Carl
> said adamantly.
>
> Tim hopped up immediately. JC and I grabbed his arms and helped him
> up. I started to brush the dirt and grass off Carl's back. He turned
> away angrily and hissed, "You guys get your hands off me! I'm going to
> go tell on you!" And he marched off toward the next campsite, his feet
> kicking up dust.
>
> I looked at my friends. "Thanks for rescuing me, that was awesome! I
> was going to let him hit me ...once," I explained.
>
> "We were watching him and I knew he was getting ready to hit you," Tim
> explained, "I told JC, 'Watch this' and aimed right for him.'
>
> "Yeah," JC chuckled, "you actually ran into him as he was swinging. I
> saw he was going to go for you too and so I waited till the right
> moment."
>
> "Tim, did you know JC was going to the same thing?" I asked. "Is that
> why you maneuvered Carl so his back was to JC?"
>
> Tim just grinned.
>
> Doc
> NP-f31
Good story. Good writing. I like it. Next?
Mover, the complimenter
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