The Baku Boy Scouts

“Okay, scouts! Gather ‘round!” he shouted. “Let’s get started.” The boys ignored him. “Hey! Hey!” he shouted again. “I said, let’s get started. We’ve got a real treat for you tonight.” The boys still ignored him. “Dr. Snider is going to teach you all how to kill somebody!” All activity ceased. The boy’s looked at each other with can-it-be-true? looks on their faces and rushed over to where Mr. Ingersoll stood. “Dr. Snider is going to teach us all about first aid tonight, so I want you all to…” “Who do we get to kill?” interrupted Henk, one of the Vogelaar twins, sons of Dutch oil workers. “Either you or your brother,” suggested Brad, the patrol leader. “There’s too many of you as it is.” “You wish there was too many of us,” said Geret Vogelaar. “Fellas! Fellas!” said Mr. Ingersoll. “Nobody’s going to kill anybody. I misspoke. Dr. Snider is going to show us how to save people.” “After he kills them?” asked Henk. The group broke into chatter. “Quiet!” shouted Mr. Ingersoll. “Patrol leader, get control of your people!” “Shaddap! All o’ ya!” shouted Brad. Silence momentarily reigned. “Okay, then,” continued Mr. Ingersoll. “Let’s get started. Who’s going to lead off with the prayer?” “One-two-three. Not it!” shouted the boys in unison. “Swaim! How about you? You’re the patrol chaplain this month.” “I don’t want to do the prayer.” “Come on. It gets you leadership points. And somebody has to do it.” “Well…all right,” said Swaim and he assumed the position of prayer, hands folded in front and his head bowed. “Dear Lord…shut up!” “Don’t tell the Lord to shut up!” said Brad. “I didn’t. I was telling Daven to shut up. He’s still talking.” “You wish I was still talking!” “Okay, okay,” said Wade. “Knock it off!” Then to Mr. Ingersoll and Dr. Snider: “Any time you two want to slap my kids around a bit, you’re more than welcome.” Swaim started over. “Dear Lord. Please let us have a good meeting tonight for a change. Thank you for bringing Mr. – I mean Doctor, uh, what’s-his-name – to teach us all about first aid. And please don’t let anybody get killed like last time. Amen.” Not being a religious man, Dr. Snider didn’t usually listen in when others are conversing with the Almighty, but that last sentence caught his attention. He decided to ask about it at first opportunity. First opportunity didn’t arise until after the obligatory recitation of the Scout Oath, the Scout Motto, the Scout Slogan and finally, the Scout Law. “A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful…” Snider remembered the Scout Law from his youth. He always wondered why it didn’t include really important things like intelligent, pleasant, quiet…” “…brave, clean and reverent.” “Okay, scouts. Dr. Snider is a brain surgeon, so he should have a lot of interesting things to teach you,” said Mr. Ingersoll. “They’re all yours, Dr. Snider.” Snider stepped forward into the Circle of Death. “All right. Before we get started, I’d like to know…” “What would happen if you transplanted somebody’s brain?” interrupted Swaim. “Then you wouldn’t be as dumb as you are,” said Daven. “You wish I was as dumb as I am! Wait a minute. That didn’t come out right…” “What was that about somebody getting killed last time?” Snider asked. “Oh, Steve tried to give Old Man Crabtree the Heimlich maneuver at the last merit badge fair and killed him,” explained Brad. “I didn’t kill him. He was dying anyway,” said the scout who was apparently Steve. “Nuh-uh! He said he wasn’t choking!” said Brad. “He was lying. Just to get out of the Heimlich maneuver.” “Wait a minute,” said Snider. “Somebody explain what happened. From the beginning.” “Well, at the last merit badge fair, this really, really old dude, Mr. Crabtree. He’s, like, about three hundred,” said Brad. “He was drinking some of the lemonade we were selling and started to cough.” “That’s ‘cause he saw Steve’s dog drinking out of the pitcher,” explained Daven. “Wooger’s a very clean dog…” “And Steve thought he needed the Heimlich maneuver, so he asked him if he was choking.” “He was! Anybody could see that!” said Steve. “But Mr. Crabtree said he was okay…” “He was lying! He’s always making things up…” “Not anymore,” said Swaim. “He’s six feet under.” “So like I was saying,” continued Brad. “He tried to tell Steve he was okay, but Steve grabbed him from behind and squeezed him so hard he puked!” “He was faking!” “So Steve tried to clear his airway with his Swiss Army knife…” “It has a spoon attachment on it. I thought it was the spoon…” “That’s when Wooger thought Mr. Crabtree was attacking Steve, so the dog bit Mr. Crabtree in the crotch,” added Daven. “And he swallowed Steve’s knife!” said Swaim. “I never got it back, neither…” “Anyway, to make a long story short…” said Brad. “Too late,” said Swaim. “To make a long story shorter, the ambulance came and got him, but he didn’t survive. Like I said, he was born in, like, 1776. Probably knew George Washington…” “Okay, I got the picture,” said Dr. Snider. “Let’s start with CPR…”