My journey was long. My search was tedious. It took me to strange lands. Okay, the strange lands were all contained in a bizarre boat ride at Disneyland but that's as strange as any place can get.
My research led me from Smokey Bear, who knew nothing about Girl Scouts, was grumpy when I mistakenly asked if "he was smarter than the average bear", and sent me away with burnt britches, to the location where I was now, a Smoky Bar. This was progress?
I entered the "Gee, I Can't Believe It's A Turtle" bar. The smoke inside was more than just cigarettes and tobacco. The place smelled like it had recently seen fire.
This is where the Mother Scout was? Why would she hang out in a place like this? All my clues led to this place however. Hopefully this was the end of the line in my hunt for the Supreme Girl Scout.
I approached the bar. I waved over the female bartender. She looked to be in her early 30s so she was beyond the age of Girl Scouts but the faded green outfit she wore spoke familiarity to my eyes. The sash was gone but the sight of this bartender told me this must be the right place.
"I want to see the Mother Scout," I told her.
"No man sees the Mother Scout," she dismissed as if that was the end of our conversation.
"I have a thesaurus."
She laughed. "A thesaurus may be adequate for our most inexperienced young Girl Scouts but for Mother Scout you damn better have an Encyclopedia Britannica or..."
"Do they still print that?" I spouted.
"Or..." she said perturbed at my interruption as she wiped my spout off her face "...a hardcopy of all of Wikipedia. Maybe if you start with that it may allow you to see her shadow."
I was getting no where. I needed some nookie this year. I grumbled and then mumbled, "Frank McCoy."
The grown girl scout overheard. "Frank McCoy? Did you say Frank McCoy. Is this about him?"
With her sudden change into a keen interest in me, I did what anyone would do, I told a lie. "Yes. I have a message from Frank McCoy."
"What?"
"I can only tell the Mother Scout."
I was escorted into a backroom. The swirling smoke was even thicker here.
"Your great Nookiness," my escort said. "He brings news about McCoy"
"You're the Mother Scout?" I said in disbelief.
The nun didn't look up from the billiard table. She simply smacked ball after ball into the pockets. When all that was left was the 8-ball she looked at me. She looked like Al Pacino in drag. The main difference was the nun spoke with a deeper voice.
"Is there a problem?" she intoned after knocking the ash off her cigar into the tray on the edge of the pool table.
"I'd like you to off Frank McCoy. It's bad for your P.R. to have Girl Scout nookie exclusivity to one customer."
She laughed, "You want us to kill McCoy?"
It was incredibly eerie to hear such a deep laugh come out of this nun.
"Well...not so much kill." I said backing away from my statement. "I just think make a nice vacation to Antarctica to check out the Girl Scout penguins would be nice."
"Mr. McCoy is more than just our best customer. Mr. McCoy is especially in touch with his feminine side since almost every Girl Scout he leaves pregnant gives birth to a baby girl. Frank McCoy is the factory floor for the next generation of Girl Scouts. The Girl Scouts are going to expand throughout the world and I don't just mean their bellies."
Was this more than I realized it was? Was McCoy with his ability to impregnate little Girl Scouts an unwitting dupe of this organization's quest for world domination.
"I knew a new year of Girl Scout nookies would draw you back from your hiatus, Mr. Four," Mother Scout said.
"That's Mr. Guy," I corrected.
"You have some new stories on Stories Online as just-this-guy. Interesting how a couple of them on SOL are re-edited stories originally on ASSM under another name. You had success on your return from self-imposed exile with your story 'First Cake' but it just made you crave the true sweet stuff. You couldn't stay away from the nookies, could you?"
I hung my head in shame. Mother Scout knew me better than I knew my self
"Tell you what," the gravelly nun said. "Since you had the skill and guts to find me, I'll put the 8-ball in the middle on the table. Hit the cue from anywhere behind the scratch line and if you knock the 8-ball in the hole, I will send you a Girl Scout nookie box to have for a night absolutely free and complimentary. You do know how to put it in a hole, don't you?"
The nun smoothed her hand sensually in front of one of the pockets. No, 'sensually' is the wrong word to use for Mother Scout.
"Yeah, yeah," I said excitedly. My armpits began to sweat. I should have worn the SPF-35 deodorant.
The nun placed the 8-ball dead center in the table. She handed me the cue ball and a stick.
"Here you go, Mr...um...Guy."
That eerie rumbly laugh of hers freaked me out again.
I wiped my hands on my pants. Where did all this sweat come from?
I placed the cue in the center area. Stupid! Bad angle! I moved the ball over and re-eyed the trajectory. A solid hit and the eight would go straight into the hole. I slightly adjusted the line of the shot and took a breath. I backed away and took a deeper breath. I needed to calm my nerves. This was a tremendous opportunity and it wasn't even that hard. I could do this!
I scratched the table.
The stick went under the cue ball.
The ball popped up into the air, smacked the Mother Scout in the forehead and clanked down on the table.
Mother Scout looked briefly dazed and then anger flared in her eyes. I immediately had my arms locked behind me by two Girl Scouts of proper age but they were dressed in the same Mother Scout habit.
"Do you know what we are going to do to a guy like you?" growled Mother Scout. She pointed her cigar menacingly at me.
I stayed silent.
"The worse thing we can do to a man."
"Oh, no!" I screamed. "Not a Hoisington Contract."
"Your shipments will arrive in a couple of days. We look forward to your payments."
© just-this-guy 2006
