Cecil was slow, mentally speaking, but the guys always looked after him, unlike the bullies who always taunted him for their perverse pleasure. When caught, one of the good teens would provide some immediate street justice with a swift kick to the offender's buttocks and an admonishment to leave the 13-year-old alone.
They were the Flaming Arrow Patrol. Proud. They didn't always live up to their vow of honor, however. But that was life: nobody was perfect, whatever their vow may be.
Camped in the woods of the Sycamore Forest in San Diego County, the teens made their perimeter safe. They set up a trip line to warn them of any advancement into their area of operation. Cans would rattle together when the fishing line was tripped, loud and capable of even waking dead voters a mile away.
Cecil wanted to set an actual rusty bear trap. He could be extreme. Maybe his thoughts came from a soul that was bullied so often.
On a short hike a few kilometers away, the boys ran across a Girl Scout encampment. There had to be hundreds of sweet babes!
Jason, the Boy Scout patrol leader, introduced himself and the other six scouts to a girl of around 15. She was collecting firewood.
"Hi, darling! I'm Jason. This is Kent, Tommy, Cecil, James, Julio and Bong Bong. We're the Flaming Arrow Patrol of Troop 399."
"Sandy, glad to meet you guys. Where are you all camped?"
"In a secret location that is boobytrapped!" Cecil volunteered.
"So what are you guys doing far away from your campsite?" Sandy inquired.
"Looking for dried Mesquite leaves to make some tea," Bong Bong replied.
"And hunting good looking chicks!" Kent eagerly added.
She blushed, spun on her heels, and headed back towards her tent, the boys giving her a second and third look. "See you around again, maybe?" she stated, looking back.
The guys just grinned.
Back at the camp, Tommy offered a plan for later that night. "What say we ditch the camp, take all of our stuff, and pitch our tents where the Girl Scouts are?"
"Dude, you're a genius!" Kent exclaimed, licking his chops. He was a true hound dog.
"Well," Jason began, "we'll likely be punished..."
The teens frowned while he was speaking.
"...but as your leader I say no..."
They frowned deeper.
"...no way we're going to pass up the opportunity!" Jason finished.
They began to cheer quietly and pack as dusk arrived.
When the Scout troop settled into their tents at the 9 p.m. curfew, the Flaming Arrow teens waited until everyone was fast asleep, then headed down a dark trail between towering sycamore trees, Jason leading the way with a powerful flashlight. Owls hooted, Cecil was scared. Crickets chirped.
They crept into the Girl Scout campsite like seasoned Indian scouts of the High Plains, pitching their tents at random.
"Who's there?" a voice cried, penetrating the still night.
"Hey, it's Jason and the Flaming Arrow Patrol. Know where Sandy's tent is?"
"Jason? Flaming what? Oh! Well, Sandy is two tents over. You know her?"
"Yeah, Kent lied, "we go way back..."
"Back to earlier today," Cecil said in a hush before Bong Bong covered his gaping maw.
The boys and girls talked for hours, giggling and sharing ghost stories until they passed out at past 3 a.m.
Jason awoke at 7 a.m. to the sound of clattering pots and pans, screaming Girl Scouts and a bugle call. 'Wake up, you slouches! We missed out and didn't go back to the campsite on time!"
"In for an ounce, in for a pound," Tommy said. "I say we count our blessings and hang out while we can. We're going to be in trouble anyway."
The guys all agreed and stayed until 10:25 a.m. That gave them plenty of time to get back to their camp until the Boy Scout troop left at noon.
They attempted to sneak back in at 11:40, and were met with a stern stare from Head Scoutmaster Davis. He didn't have any kids of his own, and many scouts wondered about his motives, especially since he seemed a little too "friendly" at times.
"Where in the H were you?! We've been looking all over for you!"
"Exploring," Tommy offered.
"We're busted," Jason sighed.
"Yeah? Well, we'll be telling your parents and exploring further punishment options, wise guys," the Scoutmaster advised.
"Eat a peach," Bong Bong blurted.
The Scoutmaster turned abruptly on the toes of his boots. "You know what, just for that, you're all kicked out of the troop effectively immediately. I'll call your parents and have them pick you hoodlums up. I will not tolerate scouts going AWOL. Now, I hope you have learned your lesson," he added with finality.
"We did, sir," Kent responded.
"Yeah, and what lesson was that?"
"Always get the phone numbers of as many chicks as you can!" Cecil shouted.
