As nighttime set in, Dirty and I returned to camp and sat around a small fire that we had made for ourselves away from the main troop. Two other associates of ours, Kmart Cowboy and Fire Crotch, joined us. Dirty had been good friends with Kmart Cowboy for several years; they were neighbors and had been in trouble together long before I became acquainted with Dirty. I had not directly interacted with Kmart Cowboy prior to Scout camp, as I had only heard stories about him from Dirty concerning their former exploits together. Given his previous criminal history with Dirty, however, I trusted Kmart Cowboy by proxy. Fire Crotch, on the other hand, the second young man who joined us around our nocturnal blaze, was largely unknown to me. His long-haired, stoner appearance suggested that he was mischievous but he did not have much of a reputation for being a troublemaker.
“Have you guys ever smoked grass?” Kmart Cowboy asked, as the four of us were all intently staring into the flames of the campfire, entranced by the beauty of the burning wood.
“Dude, I don’t do any of that drug shit,” I haughtily replied. “Drugs are for fuckbags who try to feel better about their worthless lives. You think I’m some type of loser or something?”
“No, man, he means grass as in real grass,” Dirty clarified.
“Like lawn grass?”
“Like this kind of grass,” Kmart Cowboy said, pulling up a lengthy reed from the ground near his tent. He placed the grass stalk into the fire and let it start to burn. Kmart Cowboy then removed the stalk from the blaze, blew out the flame, and placed the other end to his lips. He inhaled the gray smoke through the semi-hollow stalk. The end of the grass stalk smoldered and grew a deep red color as Kmart Cowboy forcefully sucked air through it. He immediately began to cough.
“What the hell?” I asked in amazement.
Dirty snatched up the grass stalk from Kmart Cowboy and took a toke, followed by a gasp of air. He then joined his friend in coughing.
“You guys are fucked up,” I said. “Why the hell are you smoking grass? You can’t get high off a damn reed.”
“Yeah, but it feels good!” Kmart Cowboy claimed while clearing his lungs.
“It sort of tickles,” Dirty added.
Fire Crotch suspiciously remained silent throughout this affair.
“You want some?” Kmart Cowboy asked the silent Scout, offering Fire Crotch a fresh grass stalk.
“Have you tried smoking a barky?” Fire Crotch dismissively retorted, his eyes remaining fixed upon the fire.
“What the hell is a barky?” I inquired.
“Shit yeah, I’ve smoked a barky before!” Kmart Cowboy replied, neglecting my question.
“No, I mean a real barky,” Fire Crotch stated.
“Is there such thing as a fake barky?” Dirty rhetorically asked.
“Is someone going to tell me what a barky is?” I demanded to know.
“You know, a barky!” Kmart Cowboy stated, looking at me. “You roll up some dried grass, leaves, and tree bark into some paper towels like a big cigar and smoke that shit!”
“Are you serious?” I probed.
“That’s not a real barky,” Fire Crotch stated in a monotone.
“Then what’s a real barky?” Dirty asked, quickly becoming impatient. “Tell us.”
“I’ll show you,” Fire Crotch replied, standing up from the campfire. He began walking off into the darkness. “I’ll be right back.” Moments later, Fire Crotch returned to us, carrying with him a roll of toilet paper that was mostly diminished. He proceeded to unroll the remaining sheets of wipe from off the tube and then stuffed them inside the cardboard cylinder. Fire Crotch then searched the ground and selected from it various items, subsequently stuffing them into the hollow cylinder as well. He gathered up small clumps of dry weeds, wood shavings, and pieces of horse feces that he found along a nearby trail. After having all of the ingredients stuffed inside the cardboard tube, Fire Crotch placed one end of it near the campfire. It quickly ignited. He retrieved the cylindrical object from the fire and blew out the end that had caught aflame. Once it began to smolder, he wrapped his lips around the opposite end of the cardboard tube and inhaled deeply. The contents of the toilet paper roll burned slowly, much like an oversized cigar, with the exception being that the tube contained Utah horseshit rather than fine Cuban tobacco.
We all stared at Fire Crotch in amazement as he sucked in a couple of long drags on the toilet paper roll. “Now that’s a barky,” he hoarsely stated, pulling the tube away from his mouth so that he could talk.
“Fuckin’ hell, man!” Dirty exclaimed.
“I’ll be damned!” Kmart Cowboy said.
“You’re smoking horse shit,” I stated blandly. “Horse shit.”
“Yeah,” Fire Crotch replied. “It adds flavor. You all want some?”
“I don’t know,” Kmart Cowboy stated. “Here, Dirty, you try it.” Kmart Cowboy grabbed the barky and passed it over to Dirty. Without hesitation, Dirty snatched up the barky and tugged on the far end, deeply inhaling the smoke from the smoldering equine feces. I shook my head in disgust. Abstaining from usage of the illicit feces, I soon after retired to my tent to allow my three comrades to smoke the remainder of the barky in peace.
The following morning, Dirty advised me that our troop was scheduled to take part in a zip-line activity. He convinced me to attend this event with him, together with the rest of our troop. I agreed, thereby suspending my insect collecting for the morning. While walking toward Scout Lake, the large, onsite reservoir at Camp Maple Dell, Dirty explained to me exactly what a zip-line was.
“I’m telling you, man, you’re going to love this,” Dirty commented.
“You keep telling me that, but you never explained exactly what this shit is all about,” I said. “And it better be good because I’m missing some primetime bugging right now.”
“It’s fun, you’ll like it.”
“What the hell is it?”
“Alright, look,” Dirty explained. “You know that big ass lake they have down the hill?”
“Yeah.”
“They have a cable wire that goes all the way across it. They have a pulley system with handle grips attached to the cable. You start on the high end over by those trees.” Dirty pointed toward a wooden platform constructed near a thick tree line. “When it’s your turn, you grab hold of the handle grips and jump off the platform.”
“Are you nuts?”
“No, man, just listen,” Dirty continued. “Your weight will carry you down across the cable, clear across the lake to the other side.”
“No way…”
“Yeah, it’s damn fun. You’ll like it.”
“How the hell do I get off