Troop Leader Barrett sat up in his cot and stretched his arms. "It's great to be at scout camp!" He exclaimed without a hint of sarcasm.
Sunrise was still hours away, but Barrett had a lot of work to do to get everything prepared for his troop's first full day of camping, and he just couldn't fight the deep-seated urge to be prepared. After all, that was his motto now!
First thing was first, he lit a Kerosene lamp, grabbed a towel, and marched to the stony creek to wash up for the day. The real Barrett would have just coated himself in body spray and called it good enough for the outdoors, but a scout is clean, so Troop Leader Barrett made sure to thoroughly scrub every inch of himself from head to toe in the freezing water. His rustic bar of beef tallow soap lathered wonderfully and coated his hairless body in a slick sudsy film. When his feet were starting to go numb, he sat his naked rear down onto the smooth stony creek bed and pulled them out of the water one by one so he could take extra care to scrub deep between each toe.
The freezing water swelled up behind him where he sat, sending a bracing chill up his back and a numbing shock down his shrinking genitals. It was such an incredible thrill to be bathing in nature, just like Johnny Appleseed! He couldn't help but let his mind wander to thoughts of himself as the youthful folk hero, hiking every corner of the country in his bare feet, planting seeds wherever he went, making friends with animals, helping nature thrive, and feeding generations with his modest satchel of seeds. A broad smile spread across his face as he lost himself in the vivid daydream. "That was the way life was meant to be", he thought to himself. "Too many boys spend all their free time and pocket money reading Buck Bodger's comics and listening to noisy radio serials…" he thought as he took in the gentle sights and sounds of nature around him. It was such a shame… A boy's true and proper place was outdoors, being active, skinning knees, and employing the proper use of first-aid to heal them… He just hoped that the rest of his troop could see that, and that they weren't all too absorbed in those modern boyhood distractions.
After a thorough rinse, Barrett wrapped his green camp towel around his waist and sauntered back through the grass to his tent. He put on a clean pair of outdated undergarments and stood proudly in front of his small camp mirror for a quick self-inspection. Then he proceeded to brush his teeth and style his hair with a dab of pomade, combing a straight-edge part back into his ultra-traditional hair. Next he buttoned up his badge-encrusted scout shirt, pulled on his short navy-colored trousers and matching knee-high tube socks, and stepped into his stiff leather shoes, giving them a quick shine and polish. Finally, he looped his neckerchief around his throat and cinched it up tight. It was his troop's own unique color, a pale peachy shade of orange that helped them easily spot one another at congested jamborees. He couldn't be more satisfied by his spotless, angelic appearance. His childish grin spread from ear to ear. He very nearly put on his felt camping hat, just so he could see himself in full uniform, but it would have been a breach of protocol to wear a hat indoors, so he just had to imagine how sharp it would have looked.
Barrett spent the next hour starting a modest campfire inside a properly made stone fire pit. He tended the coals until they were ready for cooking and loaded the embers up with piles of cast iron cookware. Soon the campsite was flooded with the smells and sounds of sizzling bacon, eggs, pancakes, and hash browns. Barrett was extremely proud of the food he had made and couldn't wait for his scouts to tuck in. It was just the perfect treat to begin their lives of eternal camping! It was hard for him to contain his excitement. At any moment his boys were likely to emerge from their tents, stirred awake and drawn out into the open by the heavenly smells of breakfast, but that wouldn't live up to the perfect morning beginning he had in mind. For that he would need to be quick…
He rushed into his tent and grabbed his bugle, clipboard, and an American flag which was tightly folded into a triangle. He put on his troop leader hat and rushed over to the flag pole that the campsite had magically provided; then, after a brief moment of reverence, proudly blew Reveille as loud as his little lungs could manage.
"Cut it out!"
"SHUT UP!"
"Ugh… The fu-? It's six in the morning!"
"Moron.. What the hell?"
"GO BACK TO SLEEP!"