Sketchy

Last week, the Cub Scouts scouted for food. Which is pretty much what they do every week, based on an elaborate system of bribes and threats, but this was different because they were scouting for food for other people. Much to my surprise, we actually collected a lot of food, and I thought it would be a good idea to involve the boys in delivering the food to the food bank. Sadly, the food bank is only open in the mornings. Undaunted, and, more to the point, without any other ideas for activities this week, I called around and found the lady in charge of the food drive, who said we could drop the food at her house.

Great! Come on boys! Roadtrip!

After driving out of town for a bit, we came to the address posted on a pole next to a driveway. A LONG driveway. As we drove up to the house, I noticed that the house was made up mostly of a big garage, full of junk and the following people, who seemed to just be kind of hanging out in the garage for no reason:

A very disheveled, most likely intoxicated, overly friendly middle aged white man
A 13-ish year old white boy with some kind of neurological problem, not wearing a shirt even though it was 40 degrees and raining
A teenaged black girl with big hair, a midriff-baring shirt and high heels, playing a video game.

The man wanted to talk about our tires, (where did we get them? how long had we had them? did we want him to put air in them?). The girl kept yelling out how CUTE the scouts were. I just kept saying, "um, is Carmen here? We are bringing some food to Carmen?"

Eventually Carmen wandered out, seeming a bit dazed. She vaguely remembered something about the food, so the boys unloaded it into a corner of the garage and we started trying to make our exit. "Would you like me to jack up the car and check out your tires?" asked the man. (No, no thanks! That sure is a nice offer though!) "Would you like to take a walk down to see the lake?" (oh, gosh, no, we've got to get the boys back..) "I'm in the firewood business. Do you ladies need any firewood while you're here?" (Oh, no, no thanks, we don't have fireplaces) "Me neither!" beams the man, wanting to have a group hug of people who don't have fireplaces.

By this point, the boys have scattered like rats, swarming through the garage, the barn and the woods. "Boys, oh boys, come on now! It's time to go! Let's all get back in the car! No, we mean it! Get in the car!" We drove away with the man walking along next to the passenger window waving his hands excitedly about 4 inches from the glass.

Maybe the boys picked up on our excitement about escaping, cause they were so wild on the drive home that we canceled Dairy Queen and made them cry. So that's a good activity, wouldn't you say?