I DON'T REMEMBER WHOSE IDEA IT WAS FOR ME TO JOIN THE CUB SCOUTS, BUT I AM PRETTY SURE IT WASN'T MINE. I DO REMEMBER THAT RIGHT FROM THE BEGINNING, I WAS INTIMIDATED AND ANXIOUS ABOUT BEING A CUB SCOUT.

FOR ONE THING, I WAS A FAT KID. THIS MEANT THAT WHEN IT WAS TIME TO GET THE REQUISITE BLUE SCOUT UNIFORM, MY MOM AND I HAD TO GO TO JC PENNEY AND FIND ONE IN THE "HUSKY" DEPARTMENT. GEEZ! AND IT JUST GETS WORSE...

WE DID ARTS AND CRAFTS AT OUR CUB SCOUT MEETINGS. THAT PART WAS OKAY, I GUESS. ONE TIME ONE OF THE SCOUT MOMS GAVE US BOWLS OF DRIED SEEDS, LIKE PUMPKIN, WATERMELON AND SUNFLOWER SEEDS. WE GLUED THE SEEDS ONTO BOARDS TO MAKE MOSAIC PICTURES OF ANIMALS.

I MADE AN OWL, BUT MOSTLY I JUST SAT THERE AND ATE THE SEEDS. THE SCOUT MOM TOLD ME THE SEEDS WERE ROTTEN AND WOULD MAKE ME SICK. I THOUGHT I WOULD DIE FROM EATING THE TAINTED SEEDS. I DIDN'T DIE, THOUGH. I DIDN'T EVEN GET SICK. WHICH MEANT I STILL HAD TO BE A CUB SCOUT

ANOTHER TIME WE STAGED A "MOCK EMERGENCY." THIS WAS ALLEGEDLY TO HELP ONE OF THE LOCAL HOSPITALS STAY PREPARED FOR HANDLING LARGE NUMBERS OF CRITICALLY WOUNDED VICTIMS ALL AT ONCE. EACH OF THE SCOUTS DREW A PIECE OF PAPER FROM A HAT. THE PAPERS HAD THE NAMES OF INJURIES ON THEM. WHATEVER YOUR PAPER SAID, THAT'S WHAT YOU HAD. SOME PEOPLE HAD BROKEN ARMS. SOME HAD CONTUSIONS. SOME EVEN GOT TO BE "DOA" (DEAD ON ARRIVAL"). I DREW A PIECE OF PAPER THAT SAID "SUCKING CHEST WOUND." APPARENTLY THIS IS A TYPE OF WOUND THAT OCCURS WHEN A BOARD OR SPIKE PUNCTURES THE CHEST ALL THE WAY TO THE LUNGS.

VOLUNTEERS WERE SUPPOSED TO USE PUTTY AND OTHER ACCESSORIES TO SIMULATE OUR WOUNDS. MOSTLY THEY JUST DUMPED BUCKETS OF COLD FAKE BLOOD ALL OVER US, AND WE LAID ON THE GROUND IN ROWS AND AWAITED THE ARRIVAL OF THE AMBULANCES. WE GOT STOOD UP.

THERE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE EMERGENCY VEHICLES TO TAKE US TO A NEARBY HOSPITAL WHERE THE STAFF WOULD TREAT US LIKE REAL ACCIDENT VICTIMS. UNFORTUNATELY, THERE WERE SO MANY ACTUAL EMERGENCIES GOING ON A THE TIME THAT NO AMBULANCES EVER CAME. AFTER WE LAID IN THIS PARKING LOT COVERED IN FAKE BLOOD FOR WHAT SEEMED LIKE HOURS, A SCHOOL BUS FINALLY SHOWED UP TO TAKE US TO THE HOSPITAL. WE ALL GOT ON THE BUS. EVEN THE DOA'S HAD TO GET UP AND WALK. IT KIND OF SPOILED THE MOOD.

WE FINALLY ARRIVED AT THE HOSPITAL, ONLY TO FIND THAT THE EMERGENCY ROOM WAS TOO FULL. WE SAT ON THE HOT SCHOOL BUS FOR ANOTHER COUPLE OF HOURS (OR SO IT SEEMED) AND THEN WE LEFT. WE NEVER EVEN GOT OFF THE BUS. JUST WHEN I THOUGHT SCOUTING COULDN'T POSSIBLY GET ANY WORSE, MY EVIL, DRUNKEN FATHER SAVED THE DAY.

FOR SOME REASON, MY FATHER, AN INSANE DRUNK, BLEW UP AT THE SCOUTMASTER. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TRIGGERED THIS PARTICULAR OUTBURST- PROBABLY NOTHING AT ALL. DAD'S RAGE WAS PRETTY MUCH SPONTANEOUS.

FOR ONCE, IT SEEMED, MY FATHER'S ALCOHOL-INDUCED ANGER ACTUALLY HELPED MATTERS INSTEAD OF MAKING THEM WORSE. AFTER HE LOUDLY AND DRUNKENLY THREATENED BODILY HARM UPON THE SCOUTMASTER, I WAS, UH, DISCHARGED, FROM THE SCOUTS. WAY TO GO, DAD.