Cool Campers by Mike Knudson Read Free Book Online

too.”
    â€œCount me in,” BB added. He adjusted his glasses. “I always stand by my bugs and my friends.”
    â€œWe need to think of something good,” Graham said, rubbing his hands together.
    As we sat there planning our attack, there was a commotion at the table next to ours. A kid was standing on his seat to make an announcement.
    â€œAnd now the moment you’ve all been waiting for! The Amazing Mark Herron will eat whatever we mix on his tray. Gather around, Grizzlies.”
    We got up and squeezed into the crowd that had already formed. A kid who must have been the Amazing Mark Herron was sitting at the table with a tray in front of him. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and a necklace made of what looked like little seashells.
    â€œAll right, dudes,” Mark announced, “bring on the spaghetti.” The first kid dumped a pile of spaghetti onto the tray. “Right on, dude,” Mark said. “Now the applesauce.” His friend scooped some applesauce on top of the spaghetti and stirred it in. A low “ooooh” came from the crowd. “Dude, bring on the salad.” Salad was then mixed into the pile. Finally, the disgusting mixture was complete.
    â€œWhat’s with all the ‘dude’ talk?” I whispered to Graham.
    â€œWhat do you mean? Cool guys like that guy always say dude,” Graham answered. “Everyone knows that.”
    Mark lifted a spoonful of the nauseating concoction into the air and took a whiff. “It’s Herron’s Heap!” he said. “Any of you dudes care for a sample?” There were no takers. Then, without plugging his nose or making a face at all, he put the spoon in his mouth. He let out a big “Mmm” as he pulled the clean spoon from his lips. Everyone cheered. Mark stood up and took a bow. “We’ll see you dudes next time for another exciting episode of Herron’s Heap.”

    Even after the crowd broke up and everyone returned to their tables, the whole room was still talking about the Amazing Mark Herron.
    â€œI can’t believe he ate that!” I said. “He didn’t even flinch. That was disgusting.”
    Graham agreed. “Yeah, that guy is so cool.”
    After dinner all the patrols gathered in front of the lodge. Fuzzy led us through a few songs, and the staff performed some more funny skits. Then, one at a time, each patrol presented its new name and cheer. Fuzzy said the patrol that showed the most spirit would get an award at the ceremony on Friday night.
    We listened as each patrol performed. They all had cool names like the Fighting Eagles, Super Snakes, Roaring Lions, and stuff like that. Graham looked at me. “For some reason our name and cheer don’t seem as cool now as they did earlier today.”
    â€œYeah, I’m not sure they’re going to help much with our popularity,” I said.
    Finally, it was our turn. Toad hopped up in front of us. I was already embarrassed. “One, two, three,” he called out. Then we all screamed, “We are the Toad Claws!” and hopped around cheering, “Har! Toad Claws!” The other patrols were either laughing or looking at us like we were nuts. No one laughed harder than Flex’s team.
    â€œJust what I would expect from a Toad,” Flex called over to us. I could hear in his voice that he didn’t mean it in a good way. Toad seemed to hear the comment but ignored him.
    Flex’s patrol was called the Muscular Monsters, and for their cheer they did four push-ups while yelling “One, two, three, four. Muscles are the best for sure!” Then they jumped up and flexed their muscles. I thought they looked stupid, but a lot of people cheered for them and thought they were cool. For some strange reason the crowd thought muscular monsters were cooler than pirate toads.

7
    Campfire Chat
    AFTER EVERYONE FINISHED their cheers, we sang a final song and lowered the flag. Our patrol