Camp
My school had a Scout group attached to it, of which I was - for a while - a member.

Being a Scount involves camping. One evening, there was a group killing time in a tent. B - whom I've mentioned elsewhere - was playing with a lighter. Somehow, the Scout leader found out, and came storming across.
"You stupid boy!" he bellowed. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to burn down a tent?"
B looked peacably back at him. "It depends on how big the tent is, doesn't it?"

On another occasion (on the same trip, IIRC), a group was sat by a fire playing with penknives, as is the wont of teens. One of the group was D, who, if not exactly unpopular, was at least the butt of all the jokes. Having had enough one evening, he stood up from beside the fire, conspicuously pocketing his knife, and announced that he was going to go into the woods to slit his wrists.
There was a shocked silence. C, who had a sort-of-leadership position, looked worried for a moment.
"I suppose I'd better go after him. Just to make sure the stupid bastard does it properly."


Happy days.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 12:29, Reply)