I found young Scout Zack sitting with Scoutmaster Saint in the boy’s tent. Yet again, the young man was the last to pitch his tent, and yet again, he needed assistance from another Scoutmaster. It’s difficult not to feel disappointed when a Scoutboy turns out to be that helpless–particularly one whom you’ve championed, and, as it happens, one you’ve also got a bit of history with…

I’ll confess; it was a little difficult to watch him sitting there with Scoutmaster Saint who, if I’m honest, comes across as a bit of a sleaze ball. He’s a player and I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. So, I informed them that the rest of the guys were heading down to the waterfront. I’m not sure I expected them to immediately leap to their feet, but they gave no indication that they had the intention of even coming, which I found quite irritating.

But there wasn’t much else I could have said. I’m not gonna undermine a fellow Scoutmaster by telling him to move his lazy ass pronto, so I told them to follow us down there as soon as they could and sauntered away like a schmuck. Of course, the further I walked from the tent, the more angry I got. I guess I felt like Scout Zack and I had had a thing going, you know, and yeah, it was a one-off and all that, but I just didn’t like the idea of Scoutmaster Saint getting his claws into the boy.

Before I’d got my thoughts in any sort of order, I found myself creeping silently through the forest and back toward the tent. Predictably, they were both still sitting there, making no attempt whatsoever to get their shit together. I almost marched right over there to tell them to get a move on, but found myself hiding behind a tree instead and just watching.