Buck Is Pissed Upon
Buck Is Pissed Upon
Wen I was still a Cub Scout, Buck was a Boy Scout. The Boy Scouts met in a room in the Congregational Church, a block from our house; the Cub Scout pack met in a different room in the church, also.
The church had a grand front entrance with sweeping stairs leading to giant oak doors. There was also a side entrance, which us the usual way of entrance if you were not going to a service. This side entrance was up a short flight of concrete stairs, and next to that stairway was a window well of considerable size, about 14 by 28 feet; the floor of the well was about five feet below ground level.
One evening, my Scout meeting had ended, but Buck’s ended a little later; I waited till he came out, along with a rowdy bunch of other boys. They started playing around, jumping down from the stairway into the window well, then clambering back up with the aid of the iron-bar fence that prevented unwary tots from falling in. I was not in the least of the rowdy sort, so I left, and walked the short distance home, leaving Buck behind.
I had been home only a few minutes, when Buck came running into the kitchen, crying his head off.
“What’s the matter, Buck?” asked my mother.
“Billy Press….Billy Press….He pissed on me!” sobbed Buck.
And indeed, his scout uniform was spattered with urine, as was his hair, his hands.
Mom got him to strip from those clothes rightt away, so she could throw them into the washing machine, and sent him upstairs to shower.
I was stunned and awed at the same time, with quite ambivalent feelings: On the one hand, it served Bucky right and was only what he deserved. On the other hand, I was shocked to learn the surprising fact that Buck was actually vulnerable!