Life's Like This, And You Fall And You Crawl And You Break And You Take, What You Get And You Turn It Into Honesty
--"Complicated", Avril Lavigne
I was talking to my new roomie Amber the other day and she was discussing how even she had to learn to dig holes for her time in Iraq. I told her about how in my time with the Boy Scouts we used to have dig holes large enough for an individual to be buried in them. While we never actually tested the dimensions with a live body, I do remember creating some damn large excavations in my years there. I don’t know if it’s a particularly useful skill, but it is a skill I know nonetheless. Preferably, like any skill taught to you by a fine organization like the Boy Scouts, digging is supposed to serve a important function. In the case of scouting, we had to dig holes to bury our biodegradable trash, to put out ashes that may or may not still be lingering, and, of course, to serve as latrines. But, like many skill sets I learned growing up, digging also came to be corrupted for nefarious purposes.
It all started rather innocently. Having not much to do between chow time and other sanctioned activities, we invented a lot of events to pass the time. Thus were born such crowd favorites like “Drink a six pack of Jolt Cola and go chasing after cars down the highway” and “Let’s throw the boomerang around and go chasing after it when it inevitably failed to come back.” It was also during this time that we started digging holes for purposes of recreation. At first, it was merely to pretend they were foxholes. In these hideaways we would scurry in a more realistic simulation of playing soldier. In this capacity as well, we began to use them as places to go to hideaway or relax when being surrounded by the same ragtag group of dirty, familiar faces began to become too much. However, it wasn’t too many camping expeditions later that another purpose began to take shape.
We began to dig holes to see if we could catch some sort of wild animal in them. I think it started in Cherry Valley when we saw wild boars running around and thought it would be cool if we were able to actually somehow trap one of them. That’s when we started to excavate these giant pits, often with three to five guys working on the same hole for a couple of hours, until we thought they were big enough to catch them. Over this we would lay twigs and small branches. Over that we would place leaves. And over that we would place some loose dirt. All of this would produce the desired effect of making a hole three or four feet deep and about six to eight feet in diameter unnoticeable to the naked eye. We became so proficient at creating these traps that there may be some holes we failed to fill back in at a few campgrounds where we stayed. I don’t think we ever caught any beast in them, but I do believe we came mightily close a few times as we would find some holes caved in and definitive claw marks where the animals must have climbed their way up and out.
Naturally, this led us to the next logical step, trapping creatures of the human variety. I don’t know about you, but I think walking along and falling into a crevasse deep enough to swallow you whole is probably the biggest surprise one can encounter. And, as every good practical joker knows, making people fall is pretty darn funny. We started small, making holes intending to injure and not completely trap our prey. Having been on both the giving and receiving end of a big, black hole, I can tell you from experience the basic set-up worked to a tee. We became so adept at insuring the hole blended into its surroundings that we literally had to draw maps to remember how many and where we had paced the damned things. Fairly soon, the outer edges of our camp sites became reminiscent of a mine field with all the various craters in their assorted development process. For eight to ten hours a day we would be out creating new holes to catch somebody unawares when we weren’t out falling into holes ourselves. Granted, it wasn’t the most productive use of our time, but it was still an entertaining type of battle nonetheless. It reminded me much of the Spy vs. Spy matches, except in our case we knew the surprise was coming, but we still fell for it anyway.
Our troubles came to a end, though, when we pulled off possibly the greatest trick involving a hole ever. After exhausting the possibilities of exploring various sizes and shapes (including originating the diabolical “hole that dumps you into another hole” trick), we were stagnating on new ways to humiliate and impress our troopmates. In fact, people started becoming extra careful when stepping out into No-Man’s Land where everyone knew the majority of the holes were laid. It wasn’t too soon after that that people just stopped being caught unaware. In short, it was becoming less fun wasting our time digging up the countryside. That’s when one of us—I forget who—hit upon the idea to lay a trap in a place sure to get a lot of foot traffic.
Dig a hole by the latrine.
We planned it our perfectly. We dug a five foot hole in a horseshoe shape around the whole northern edge of the latrine. Not only did we implement the usual twigs topped with leaves topped with dirt blueprint, we also went to the extra step of stepping lightly on top of the dirt to create the effect that someone had recently tread across its surface without falling in. You see, it became a tell-tale sign there was a hole lurking when the surface of one was devoid of any tracks or vegetation. Next, we made a big deal about how we had just gotten back from digging a hole out in the boonies where somebody out for hike was sure to fall in, so far it was from where the concentration of traps set. We hoped this would throw off suspicion from the fact that our snare was set so close to where camp was set. We couldn’t have succeeded more if we had tried. Not only did the hole succeed in catching our victim by surprise—he had managed to scream very loudly when taking a step into the abyss—but our hole had resulted in a result we couldn’t have imagined in our wildest dreams. Our prey, who turned out to be the Troop Leader’s younger brother, did not just fall. He had managed to fall not in the hole….
He had managed to fall into the latrine.
Needless to say, a ban on all hole-digging for purposes of practical joking was instituted.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
I was talking to my new roomie Amber the other day and she was discussing how even she had to learn to dig holes for her time in Iraq. I told her about how in my time with the Boy Scouts we used to have dig holes large enough for an individual to be buried in them. While we never actually tested the dimensions with a live body, I do remember creating some damn large excavations in my years there. I don’t know if it’s a particularly useful skill, but it is a skill I know nonetheless. Preferably, like any skill taught to you by a fine organization like the Boy Scouts, digging is supposed to serve a important function. In the case of scouting, we had to dig holes to bury our biodegradable trash, to put out ashes that may or may not still be lingering, and, of course, to serve as latrines. But, like many skill sets I learned growing up, digging also came to be corrupted for nefarious purposes.It all started rather innocently. Having not much to do between chow time and other sanctioned activities, we invented a lot of events to pass the time. Thus were born such crowd favorites like “Drink a six pack of Jolt Cola and go chasing after cars down the highway” and “Let’s throw the boomerang around and go chasing after it when it inevitably failed to come back.” It was also during this time that we started digging holes for purposes of recreation. At first, it was merely to pretend they were foxholes. In these hideaways we would scurry in a more realistic simulation of playing soldier. In this capacity as well, we began to use them as places to go to hideaway or relax when being surrounded by the same ragtag group of dirty, familiar faces began to become too much. However, it wasn’t too many camping expeditions later that another purpose began to take shape.
We began to dig holes to see if we could catch some sort of wild animal in them. I think it started in Cherry Valley when we saw wild boars running around and thought it would be cool if we were able to actually somehow trap one of them. That’s when we started to excavate these giant pits, often with three to five guys working on the same hole for a couple of hours, until we thought they were big enough to catch them. Over this we would lay twigs and small branches. Over that we would place leaves. And over that we would place some loose dirt. All of this would produce the desired effect of making a hole three or four feet deep and about six to eight feet in diameter unnoticeable to the naked eye. We became so proficient at creating these traps that there may be some holes we failed to fill back in at a few campgrounds where we stayed. I don’t think we ever caught any beast in them, but I do believe we came mightily close a few times as we would find some holes caved in and definitive claw marks where the animals must have climbed their way up and out.
Naturally, this led us to the next logical step, trapping creatures of the human variety. I don’t know about you, but I think walking along and falling into a crevasse deep enough to swallow you whole is probably the biggest surprise one can encounter. And, as every good practical joker knows, making people fall is pretty darn funny. We started small, making holes intending to injure and not completely trap our prey. Having been on both the giving and receiving end of a big, black hole, I can tell you from experience the basic set-up worked to a tee. We became so adept at insuring the hole blended into its surroundings that we literally had to draw maps to remember how many and where we had paced the damned things. Fairly soon, the outer edges of our camp sites became reminiscent of a mine field with all the various craters in their assorted development process. For eight to ten hours a day we would be out creating new holes to catch somebody unawares when we weren’t out falling into holes ourselves. Granted, it wasn’t the most productive use of our time, but it was still an entertaining type of battle nonetheless. It reminded me much of the Spy vs. Spy matches, except in our case we knew the surprise was coming, but we still fell for it anyway.
Our troubles came to a end, though, when we pulled off possibly the greatest trick involving a hole ever. After exhausting the possibilities of exploring various sizes and shapes (including originating the diabolical “hole that dumps you into another hole” trick), we were stagnating on new ways to humiliate and impress our troopmates. In fact, people started becoming extra careful when stepping out into No-Man’s Land where everyone knew the majority of the holes were laid. It wasn’t too soon after that that people just stopped being caught unaware. In short, it was becoming less fun wasting our time digging up the countryside. That’s when one of us—I forget who—hit upon the idea to lay a trap in a place sure to get a lot of foot traffic.
Dig a hole by the latrine.
We planned it our perfectly. We dug a five foot hole in a horseshoe shape around the whole northern edge of the latrine. Not only did we implement the usual twigs topped with leaves topped with dirt blueprint, we also went to the extra step of stepping lightly on top of the dirt to create the effect that someone had recently tread across its surface without falling in. You see, it became a tell-tale sign there was a hole lurking when the surface of one was devoid of any tracks or vegetation. Next, we made a big deal about how we had just gotten back from digging a hole out in the boonies where somebody out for hike was sure to fall in, so far it was from where the concentration of traps set. We hoped this would throw off suspicion from the fact that our snare was set so close to where camp was set. We couldn’t have succeeded more if we had tried. Not only did the hole succeed in catching our victim by surprise—he had managed to scream very loudly when taking a step into the abyss—but our hole had resulted in a result we couldn’t have imagined in our wildest dreams. Our prey, who turned out to be the Troop Leader’s younger brother, did not just fall. He had managed to fall not in the hole….
He had managed to fall into the latrine.
Needless to say, a ban on all hole-digging for purposes of practical joking was instituted.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
posted by mojo shivers @ 6:50 PM
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