Tag: survival skills

Women Who Run With

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(scene opens in tent in dead of night, distant-but-not-distant enough howling starts up)

Leader 1: That’s legit, right? That’s the real thing we’re hearing?

Me: (thoughtfully) As opposed to the dudebros we heard earlier? Yeah, I think so.

(Yipping and howling continues for a moment before going silent)

Leader 2: I think we’ll be okay. It sounds down in the valley and we’re higher up.

(Silence continues a bit longer. Then screaming carnage breaks out in a completely different spot from the first howling.)

Me: What the f– was that?

Leader 2: I think they caught something.

Leader 1: Are we concerned with our survival?

Me: (considers) Not yet.

Leader 1: Not yet?!

Me: (philosophically) Well, if they caught something, they’re not coming up here looking for something to eat.

Leader 2: And they’re further down in the valley now.

Leader 1: What time is it?

Me: (checks watch) Midnight. We have five-ish hours to sunrise.

Leader 1: This is going to be a long five hours.

Me: There’s a fun-patch for this, right?

(three leaders suppress hysterical late-night stress giggles, fade to black)

Collecting them all.

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(scene opens in early morning tent, three scout leaders contemplating life)

Me: (scratches stomach. Stops. Swears) Goddamnit. Where’s the first aid kit?

Leader 1: In my pack. Why?

Me: Tick.

Leader 1: Already? We’ve not even been here a whole day.

Me: (sighs) Yeah.

(flailing around tent, first aid kid found, tick removed)

Me: Goddamnit.

Leader 2: Now what?

Me: Lone Star Tick.

Leader 1: So?

Me: That’s the one that makes you allergic to red meat. Because F Texas in particular.

Leader 1: What?!

Leader 2: Man, Carrot. Having a rough week there. First rabies shots, then Shingles, and now maybe becoming allergic to red meat.

Me: (resignedly) If I get out of here never able to eat another steak, I might have to quit Girl Scouts. Just saying.

Lighter Fluid

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Husbandly Text: Did you guys get there okay?

My Text: Yeah. Girls setting up tents now.

My Text: By the way.

My Text: One match. You tell Scoutmaster “Do you need Girl Scout Water for that fire?” to suck it.

Husbandly text: Nice. Beta says “You used a match?”

My Text: Ms. C texted me earlier to say she’s looking for Teen Boy Lawn Care. Tell Mr. Sassomancer that his free time this weekend is now spoken for.

Setting mood and theme.

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(scene opens in small kitchen. Platters of frozen ingredients thawing: everything from meat to mulberries. Kitchen aid-mixer running.)

Me: (muttering to self) Bread going, where are the peppers?

(Carrot take down small red glass jar, holding five small red pepper. Carefully shakes one out, begins to de-seed. Crumbles to near dust in her hands.)

Me: Damnit, they’re too old. I can’t use these.

(Pepper flakes re-bottled, Carrot turns back to mixer, tests dough with finger.)

Me: Damnit, too watery and I’m out of flour.

(Carrot absently licks fingers. Freezes. Surprised look on her face.

Me: Oh. They’re not too old.

(Carrot claps hand over her mouth, begins hunting for coffee mug, downs it)

Alpha: (Watching. Points.) Ha. Ha.

Me: (blinks rapidly) Legit.

Wild Frontier

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(scene opens in dinning room, half recovered from Thanksgiving, Carrot at table still in bathrobe)

Gamma: Can I have bread?

Delta: Can I have cookies?

Beta: I’m just going to have another one of these sugared cranberries. Is that okay?

Alpha: Why is Gamma having bread? Did you say that was okay?

Me: (suffering, trying to write, hands over headphones that are clearly not loud enough) Oh. My. God. Please. Go. Eat. There is food everywhere. None of you are young enough that I have to be involved in the feeding of you. Scavenge. Forage. Whatever. I don’t care. There are no rules any more. It is a lawless time –

Alpha: (alarmed) No! Please! There have to be rules! Please make some rules!

Me: (stares, starts to laugh)

Alpha: (defensively) If you don’t make rules there will be chaos.

Carrot’s Inner Voice: I’m sorry, do I know you?

Me: (moar laughter, some tears)

Though she be but little…

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(scene opens in post holiday dining room)

(Husband and Carrot existing)

Gamma: (hotly) You know what mom? I want cranberry sauce. And I want it now!

Me: (sigh) Sure. Go ahead. Why are you so angry?

Gamma: (savagely) Because I like it!

Husband: (faint laughter) God help her first boyfriend.

Me: (resigned) It’ll probably be for the best.

Scale Appropriately

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(scene starts in bedroom, Carrot knee deep in girl toys)

Me: (sorting, cleaning, organized)

(off screen the shouts and yells of boys)

Me: (sighs, extracts self, goes downstairs)

(scene begins in kitchen, moderately clean)

Delta: (wailing in toddler)

Alpha: (throwing up hands) That’s it! I’m done! I’m done! No more!

Beta: (sees disapproving Carrot in the doorway) Delta gets upset because the show ends and he wants another one.

Alpha: (outraged) And he doesn’t tell me what he wants, he just cries for what he wants! We already showed him out to use the remote!

Me: (sighs, rubs forehead) He’s four, guys. He needs help using the remote for a smart TV. That’s a little above his pay grade.

Beta: (indignant) He can do lots of things above his pay grade. He should be able to use a smart remote!

Me: (with salt) Almost like how, as teenagers, you should be able to brush your teeth twice a day without me yelling at you, yet for some reason that seems to be way beyond your pay grade.

(camera cuts to three way stare down)

Alpha: (sighs, takes Delta’s hand, head to tv room) I’ll fix it for you, Delta.

Me: (silent and strategic retreat)

No Hope for Our Future

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(scene opens in moderately clean kitchen)

Me: (enters, sees two boys wrestling at the counter) What are you doing?

(they part to reveal a Chef Boyardee can, mangled by can opener)

Me: (stares at them, stares at can)
Them: (stare back)
Me: (cautiously approaches the can, lays a finger on the pull tab) Do you not know what this is?
Beta: No.
Me: (stares out the window, deep breath, pops tab, pulls back lid)
Them: (stare)
Me: (infinite gentleness) Alpha, did you not open yours this way?
Alpha: …No. (leaves room)
Beta: I apologize for my being an imbecile.
Me: (sadly) I love you.

Know a Thing

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(scene opens in cluttered basement)

Me: (standing amid several baskets of clean laundry, folding) Alpha, you remember you’re cooking dinner tonight for you merit badge?
Alpha: (On stairs) Yeah. I wish dad was here. To make sure I’m not going to blow up the house.
Me: (frowning) I know how to work the grill, son.
Alpha: (surprised) Really? You know how to grill?
Me: Of course. Believe it or not, I’m a fully actualized adult with an interesting back story and a wide range of useful skills.
Alpha: Do you know how to kill a cow?
Me: In theory. I haven’t had a chance to play test that.

Know your limitations

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(scene opens in tossed kitchen, two parents, dressed for cold, enter from two different doors)

Husband: (looks wife up and down in question)
Me: (towing smalls, removing coats) Parent Track meeting. Ended up being earlier than I thought.
Beta: (enter from third door, panicked, waving arms) Where have you been! No one was home! I was worried! (throws himself into mother’s arms)
Me: (amusedly perplexed) I’m sorry, honey. I would have left a note, but I didn’t think of it. I thought you’d come in, see no one was here and make yourself a snack and play video games.
Beta: (hotly) I didn’t know where anyone was! I had to be responsible!
Me: But you only had to look after yourself.
Beta: Exactly! I can’t take care of myself! You know this! How could you do this to me? (stomps off to the basement)

Survival Skills

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(scene opens in cluttered kitchen, close up on thermometer reads -30 outside, 50 inside)

Me: (in multiple laters, stocking cap, fingerless gloves, pouring coffee into thermal travel mug)
Gamma: Mom, can I have my water bottle?
Me: (concentrating on the hot) Sure, go ahead and get it.
Gamma: (puts it under dripping-to-prevent-freezing faucet)
Me: Here, let me help. (fills it)
Gamma: Not too much!
Me: (hands it back) Why not? Wait, what are you doing?
Gamma: (takes to ice maker, stuffs full of ice) I’m a master of surviving and preventing heat stroke. (said proudly)
Me: (sighs and nods approvingly) Good job.