Years ago I got bamboozled into volunteering for the Girl Scouts. I can’t remember the details, but it involved my parish’s playhouse group. One of the key grips whom I assisted (I suppose I was ‘Best Boy’ or something) was a Girl Scout volunteer. I was just out of high school and, typical of my philosophical type, a loser outside of my small circle of associates. And so I hung out with “play people” outside of the realm of rehearsals. I preferred to be in my basement and to this day would rather be under ground than above it. (I often find myself being followed by morticians in the same manner fisherman attract cats.)
And so I found myself one day in a rec center in Hicksville rolling eggs with my nose and balancing water in a spoon as I dashed from folding chair to folding chair.
Everybody won; some more than others. There were ribbons and certificates, and speeches about things only girl scouts pretend to care about. I received an official Girl Scouts Volunteer badge. I was an Honorary Girl Scout that day. Maybe I still am. Like being an altar boy. Or a catholic.
But here’s the real kick in the groin. No friggin cookies! No Thin Mints, nor Tagalongs. Not even a pathetic spinsterish Shortbread!
What the fuck?
It was bullshit. And to this day I won’t buy a box of cookies. I just snoop around some poor saps desk and say something like, “Oh, hey, Girl Scout cookies…” And usually walk away with three or four in my greedy bitter paws.
Wednesday, February 19, 2003, 12:00:02 AM
cp2005 The Lantern Fishworks
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