And so it was that after a long hike in which we had only to deal with a twelve-foot boa constrictor and a giant guinea pig that tried to steal Joe's lunch, our victoriously party came striding into the village of the lost Boy Scouts in the evening. Hold. I do stretch the facts a might to our glorification. If one were actually to have observed us, one might contend that our "striding" more closely resembled "stumbling" and that there was actually not a soul to meet us (they had all retired for the eve ere are arrival and seemed to regard our lives with what I can only properly call "apathy"). It was somewhat anticlimactic and I found it most certainly to be a great deal of an annoyance.
We were, however, sufficiently fatigued not to really feel full of livelyhood and good spirit as to waken them. We all collapsed on the terra firma and proceeded to get 40, if not more, winks. Which is to say we fell to peaceful slumber. The night passed without event.
When I awoke, I found the Quartermaster's pet guinea pig drooling blissfuly on my boot. The village was a veritable ant-hill of activity and all the amiable inhabitants of that fine establishment were up about their daily chores and payed very little actual attention to us.
I extracated my foot from drooling-range of the guinea pig and raised myself from where I had lain throughout the dark hours. Directly, I had it in my mind to pay a cordial visit to the Senior Patrol Leader.
"Well, Mr. Coxmartin." Said Jack Zachary when I had come before him. "Nice to see you. What can I do for you?"
"We are victorious!" I declared.
Mr.Zachary looked at me and I looked at Mr.Zachary. Finally, Mr.Zachary nodded amiably.
"That's nice." He said.
It seemed to me he needed a bit of illucidation, so I provided it.
"We have conquered the rebels and retrieved my offspring from their filthy hands."
"I know." Said the SPL. "I said it was nice."
"That's it?" Said I.
"Well," Said he. "What do you want me to say about it?"
There was a moment of silence. Mr.Zachary started widdling at a stick with his pocket knife and was quite occupied with the activity.
"There is an issue at hand." I said.
"Yes?" Said the SPL, looking up startled as if he had thought the conversation already at its close.
"I fully intend to mow this lawn, Mr.Zachary." I said. "Naturally, now that civization has found you, you and your people wish to return to it. My sherpa and I will leadst you back as soon as you are ready. After which, I will either bull-doze The Lawn or burn it to the ground."
"I'm sorry." Said Jack Zachary politely. "But you can't do that. You see, we don't feel like going back."
"We don't feel like going back. This is our home now and our way of life. We wouldn't really fit in with civilization. We're so behind the times it'd be a shock."
"Surely," I said. "Surely some of your fine people wish to return."
"Oh, yes." Said the SPL. "Several. But there are still some who want to stay. So, you can't mow The Lawn."
"You will all move and I will mow The Lawn." I said, my dander up.
Mr.Zachary snapped his fingers and we were surrounded by spears.
"Change your mind or you never leave this village." He said. I took him to be quite serious.
So it was that a deal was struck between our two parties. The Boy Scouts were to continue to live in The Lawn, half of which was to remain untouched. On their side of the bargain, they would be employed to take care of The Lawn and keep the mowed side mowed. Over the years, the arrangement has worked well. Moreover, I have made a veritable fortune by a rather lucrative entrepeneurial venture: the selling of Bitter Root Beer as insect repellent and, in its stronger form, poison.
That night was held in the village a festive event of some magnitude to which my family and I as well as my sherpa were invited. We all wrestled alligators, tried to drink BRB, and made sure to steer clear of the Quartermaster's Guinea Pig who had developed the flu and was hacking unpleasant bits on everyone's shoes. Basically, we all had a good time.
Thus ends the incredible narrative of my adventures in The Lawn. I regained my beloved son. I layed the ground-works for The Lawns mowing (in part). My sherpa and I both learned valuable moral lessons, though we have yet to figure out what they were. Here ends The Mowing Of The Lawn.
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