This particular week's featured goodie, aside from the requisite crackers and cheese, was chicken wings. The wings were brought out for us to sample by Sherri, one of the cooks who had a good repoire with the staff members. Since she was a friend of ours, we had to devour them in her presence and pass judgment for future weeks. The wings turned out to be incredibly tasty, but held a dark secret. About five minutes after chowing down on awing, an intense fire would build in one's mouth. It built slowly into an inferno whose fires could not be quenched, no matter how hard we tried.

Each person at the crackerbarrel had no more than one wing before retiring from the battle, so hot were the wings. As a result, a nearly untouched plate of wings remained. Bob and I decided that we really needed to inflict share these goodies with our fellow (unsuspecting) staff members. We took a large plate of wings back to the staff area and headed from tent to tent passing them out. We had to move quickly, however, since the heat would cause a ruckus when it started and then the game would be up.

Few questioned our motives as we worked our way through the staff area. We hit most of the senior staff's tents when we were grabbed and told to meet at the Camp Director's Cabin. Bob and I, guilty semiconsciousness flaring, suspected that word of our "good deed" had gotten back to the top and that our boss was waiting to "congratulate" us.

We were surprised to learn that we'd ben tapped to go on a search & rescue team to find a missing camper. We suited up and mustered with the rest of our fellow staff elders, most of whom were still consuming vast quantities of fluid in a vain attempt to quench the fires burning their palates.

We all headed out to the final staging area while our boss talked to the missing camper's leader. Just about the time he heads back, the fluids begin passing through to everyone's bladder, and their is a short intermission as everyone takes turns hitting the latrine before we head out. Most of us had consumed quarts of water at this point, however, and had to stop several times during the search to water a bush (thereby proving the missing child wasn't in there, of course). We found the kid in short order, and miraculously no one peed on him in the process.

We never did hear anything about our "generosity". This was a pretty pank-filled place, however, and it wasn't like we'd moved anybody's car into the middle of the river, or anything. Attendance at the next week's crackerbarrel was considerably higher, however, and the long-held practice of asking atendees to "bring me back something" was seldom seen thereafter.