Mikey Writes Home From Camp


Dear Mom and Dad,   
Our scoutmaster told us to write to you in case you saw the flood on TV and were worried.  Don’t worry.  We’re all  OK. Only one of our tents and two sleeping bags got washed away, but no one was in them.  Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Chad when it happened.
Oh yes and please call Chad’s mother and tell her he is OK.  He just can’t write right now because of the cast.   And the leg is healing nicely, too.
But I got to ride in one of the search and rescue jeeps. It was neat. We never would have found him in the dark if it wasn’t for the lightning.   Nature is cool

Scoutmaster Walt got mad at Chad for going on a hike alone without telling anyone. Chad said he did tell him, but it was during the fire so he probably didn’t hear him.
Did you know that if you put gas on a fire, the gas can will blow up? The wet wood didn’t burn, but one of the tents did. Also some of our clothes. John is going to look weird until his hair grows back.  That one burn on his shoulder will make a cool scar.  I’m laying odds it’ll look a lot like the shape of Idaho once it heals.

We’ll be home on Saturday if Scoutmaster Walt gets the car fixed.   It wasn’t his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked OK when we left.   Scoutmaster Walt said that a car that old you have to expect something to break down; that’s probably why he can’t get insurance.   He said he tried getting it, but was turned down by an insurance company he calls “Mutual of Mother Fuckers”.  Do you and dad use these same people?   They sound kinda mean. 

Anyway, we think it’s a neat car.  Scoutmaster Walt doesn’t care if we get it dirty, and if it’s hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the fenders. It gets pretty hot with 10 people in a car. He let us take turns riding in the trailer until the highway patrolman stopped and talked to us.
Scoutmaster Walt is a neat guy. Don’t worry, he is a good driver. In  fact, he’s teaching Geoff how to drive on the mountain roads where there isn’t any traffic. All we ever see up here is logging trucks.  We sometimes stop and talk to the drivers.  They’re called Teamsters.   I guess because they all play on one team, maybe?   They sure talk funny.  They have a language all their own— a lot like Grandpa.    And they have girlfriends with them and they’re part of a club I guess called “hookers”.  Is that because they like to fish???
This morning, all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out in the lake. Scoutmaster Walt wouldn’t let me because I can’t swim, and Chad was afraid he would sink because of his cast, so he let us take the canoe across the lake. It was great. You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood.   We poked at a few really fat, funny smelling mannequins floating in the water.   Odd, they looked and were dressed just like those hookers!!   
Scoutmaster Walt isn’t crabby like some scoutmasters. He didn’t even get mad about the life jackets. He has to spend a lot of the time working on the car so we are trying not to cause him any trouble.
Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When Dave dove in the lake and cut his arm, we got to see how a tourniquet works.  Wade and I threw u at the sight of all that blood, but Scoutmaster Walt said it probably was just food poisoning from the leftover chicken he found on that picnic table .  He said they sometimes got sick that way with food they ate in prison.
I’m so glad he got out and became our scoutmaster. He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing time in prison.
By the way, what’s a pedophile?
I have to go now. We’re going in to town to mail our letters, get food and buy bullets and condoms.   I’m thinking big water balloon fight, especially when Scoutmaster Walt says we’re going to have a big “end of camp” party tonight and by this time tomorrow, I’ll know who my Daddy is.

I told him I already knew.   He just smiled at me and licked his lips.  Oh and one more thing:  can I get a merit badge for participating in something called “pederasty”?   Does that have anything to do with animal care?

Well, don’t worry about anything. We’re fine.   See you soon. 
Love from your son, 

P. S.   How long has it been since I had a tetanus shot?  


  1. I think this is funny and I was a scout myself. I was still at it in my junior year of high school. I saw that first comment. I’m sorry she didn’t see what you were doing. Just so you know . . . I got it.


    Of course you got it. You have a sense of humor.

    There are those who will laugh at the most vicious jokes until they feel it affects them personally. Then suddenly, they seem to ride atop the highest of horses.

    This post was pure parody and satire. ANYONE could and should have seen that. That this person chose to look at it in any other way and that she chose to leave the comment regarding my “insulting ignorance”, shows her selective myopia. I am embarrased for her and to be honest, that’s why I deleted her comment.

    People never cease to amaze me. When it comes to the ridiculous world of bloggers, self righteousness and indignation are ubiquitous. And audacious. And beyond that, it’s a world rife with ego and narcissism. I would never initiate a battle royale by attacking or belittling someone in a comment in a public forum just because I didn’t agree with the post. If I knew the author–even remotely through blogging and I disagreed vehemently with what he or she had written, I’d send an email stating my case. To duke it out so publically is only asking for trouble. But no, let’s go for the soft underbelly. So many of these poseurs take themselves way too seriously. As if their opinions alone could affect NATO troop movement in The Azores.

    Her comment, like so many others I’ve encountered in this stupid, world of literary chicanery was nothing but discordant noise in text form. Babble and drivel. I’m so sick of these people. In fact, I’m done with the whole goddamn thing.

  2. That’s the funniest thing I’ve read in a long, long time! I’m sending it to boy scout son to read. I promise you he will think it’s a hoot.

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