On 15 Jun 2010 23:13:02 -0500, " +Grant. " <+Grant@grant.grant> wrote:
>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
>
>This is a *great* story! You wrote much better than anything I ever
>wrote. The competition is getting harder, if there is one. Actually, my
>next Stevie post really is "harder", in a different way. LOL
Hi Grant!
Thanks for the compliment. I really enjoy the Stevie stories. I am
intrigued by his endowment. He seems to be becoming more and more
aware of it. Eventually he will figure out what's up with it and his
letters to Carlos will be really interesting. Stevie has a very subtle
sense of humor that is also very sweet.
>#10 has a kid big named "Doc" giving good advice to Stevie. I already
>wrote the story, so I just changed his name.
LOL! Hopefully Doc is giving advice on what to do with that big member
Stevie has.
>There will be a student named "Kit Hacker" in his school. I thought it
>up just today. I would want to have him in #8 which I already wrote,
>but I want to show more of him than just sexy kindness, so he will be
>an older fellow student who Stevie has a boy-crush on.
>#9 has a bully in it, but you would not like the poster's name I think
>would fit, so it will be a made up name.
Maybe his name will be Abdul Mus.cled Kitten.
>There will be an artistic hockey fan named "Puck" in camp. The Pincher
>will be in the pool with Tommy and Paul will Dodge him?
You have a pincher in your pool too? Perhaps good old Earl had a
younger brother...
>LOL
>That's all I can think of so far. If you can think of a way to add more
>fort posters' names to the stories, please let me know.
Well, YOU should be in it, unless you're Stevie. If you ARE Stevie, I
want to hear about that Biz Kit you've got. LOL! Well, you ought to
put Cosmos in, maybe he can be the neighbor across the street who
always barges in on Stevie, hoping to get a glimpse of the monster. If
Stevie ever acquires a 'younger' love interest, it should be a cute
little fellow named Chad whom all the other boys fight over.
There is also Rikard, the foreign exchange student who has a habit of
repeating himself.
There's that young English Muffin named Victor, who is secretly a
crossdresser named Victoria!
There's that very nice and well meaning kid the others call 'Shake
Spear' who is always misquoting literature saying things like
'Forsooth!' and 'Prithee'.
>I almost forgot! There will be an English teacher who is often late,
>who will be called Mr. Bussman. If that's okay with you.
MTB called his bus driver Mr. Grumpybum.
>Another teacher will be Dr. Nox. Spencer will be a student.
>Wyman Knot teaches psychology?
>Duey teaches decimals? That would be too much of a reach?
>I keep thinking them up as I write this.
>Justin Mot? (Justamut)
>Jim Stone?
>What was the name Mephi was called that would work here? Mrs.
>something?
Mrs. Toffeekness, the kindly spinster who knows all about bringing up
boys 'by hand'.
>We need a literature teacher with an expensive chandelier,
>who doesn't mind sitting on fireworks. Just kidding. I think. LOL
>Maybe I could put a Ninja in somewhere. Not maybe, I will. It fits.
>I wish I had thought to put posters in the stories before. Somebody
>should have told me! LOL
Well, that ought to keep you busy.
HABD
Doc
NP-f31
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