A True Story: Five Tenderfoot Scouts. One summer hike. And a medical emergency they’ll never forget, or speak of again.

The noon sun beats down on the dusty trail like the merciless fireball that it is. Their shirts are soaked through with sweat, mixing scents of sweat, summer camp BO, bug spray and “Sexy Tropical Nights” scented sun screen.

Deep in the heart of summer camp, a quintet of first-year Tenderfoot scouts trudge along a back field aptly named The Vortex. If they crank out this five miler, they get one more item checked off for their merit badge and rank advancement. Sounds easy enough. So far, the only wildlife they’d seen are mosquitoes, horseflies and squirrels with curious twitches looking for scraps of dropped trail mix.

Robbie, Sawyer, Alex, Adam and Arnaub were thrown together in a patrol because they didn’t belong anywhere else. But this odd mix still worked.

Robbie, their patrol leader stops to check the map and have a drink of water. As he checks their position he spots a small clump of low bushes just off the trail.

“Piss break,” he announces to the group.

“Any excuse to let loose the trouser trout,” Sawyer, the troop’s resident wiseass, immediately calls out proudly.

Arnaub, the brains of the operation, mutters something about hydration science no one heard. Alex, slightly limping from an ankle injury from spring soccer, leans on his hiking pole like an old man. And Adam, the smallest, shyest of the bunch, follows the others through the tall grass off the trail to the bushes.

The boys fan out, disappearing behind thickets of blackberry bushes for a much-needed pit stop.

“Release the Kraken!” Sawyer yells as he unzips his pants.

“Shut the hell up.” Alex admonishes him laughing.

Sawyer eggs it on as the group starts to pee.

“Distance contest!” he announces trying to send his pee in a high arc for distance.

“Stop!” Robbie laughs.

“Check this out,” Alex volleys back, “Sawyer, someone wrote your mom’s name in the sand,” pissing in perfect cursive.

“Yeah, but it’s in your dad’s handwriting! “Sawyer volleys back.

At that moment a shriek so high and so panicked ripped though the field. Adam, the smallest and quietest of the group hopped out from behind the bush hopping from one foot to the other. Pants still around his knees hands covering his junk. Pure panic covers flaming red face.

“What the hell?” Arnaub laughs pointing at his friend.

Sawyer emerges from the bushes, zipping up his fly with a mischievous grin. He sees Adam grabbing his junk. “Is it time for Adam to have “The Talk? Sorry buddy that’s not a mosquito bite. That’s your new best friend.”

“NO! I’ve got a problem.” Adam stammers, his eyes wide. He points a trembling finger down there. The other boys, Arnaub, Alex, and Robbie, converge, their faces a mixture of confusion and morbid curiosity.

“What? Tell us,” Robbie says in a calming tone trying to get control of the situation.”

” Guys I need your help. But you have top promise not to laugh. I need the first aid kit.”

“Did you get your dick caught in your zipper?” Sayer asks. I hate when that happens. It’s a by product of… you know.. it being a blessing and a curse.”

“No. worse.” Adam whimpers. The silence broken only by the chirping of crickets and Adam’s faint, whimpering gasps. As he slowly pulls his hands away, losing all his dignity and will to live he reveals the problem.

“Oh, sweet Mother of Mercy,” Sawyer whispers, his usual bravado gone, replaced by a look of sheer awe. “That’s not a mosquito bite, that’s a tick. And it’s not on his stick, it’s on his… oh my God.”

Arnaub, ever the cerebral one, pushes his glasses up his nose. “Alright, everyone remain calm. This is a medical situation. We need to follow protocol.”

“PROTOCOL?!” Sawyer yells. “Dude, it’s a tick on his nut! What’s the protocol for that? Do we use a lighter? Just flick it off? I’ve got some duct tape. We can use that to grab it.”

“You’re not putting duct tape on my balls!” Adam yells

“Sawyer, no,” Robbie says, his leadership instincts kicking in. “Arnaub, what do we do?”

Arnaub clears his throat, taking on the tone of a high school science teacher.

“According to the Scout Handbook, a tick must be removed with fine-tipped tweezers. Grab the tick as close to the skin’s surface as possible. Pull upward with a steady, even pressure. Do not jerk or twist. And most importantly, you must get the head out. “You never just yank a tick off. The head can break off under the skin, causing infection.”

“Translation,” Sawyer adds, “you don’t want Adam mutating and growing a second penis. But God knows he could use it.”

“I am not letting you use tweezers on me!” Adam wails, burying his face in his hands.

“Relax, dude, we’re Boy Scouts,” Sawyer says, his mind already spinning. “How badly can we fuck this up?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Adam yells!

Alex, being a trainer on his school’s soccer team takes charge.

“We’ll set up a make shift treatment space.”

Robbie lays down his field jacket as a makeshift operating table. Alex pulls out a magnifying glass and a pair of splinter tweezers from his first aid kit, looking like a tiny, determined surgeon. Arnaub is relegated to lookout duty, though he mostly just stands, wincing sympathetically. They converge around the patient laying on the ground, on a jacket, pants dropped around his knees. Their faces squirm into a mixture of confusion and morbid curiosity.

“Okay, Adam,” Robbie says, trying to sound professional while holding back a laugh. “It’s going to be okay. So,” Robbie looks up at the group. “Whose going to do it?” He holds out the tweezers looking for a volunteer

“I’m not touching that thing!” Sawyer protests!

“Don’t look at me!” Alex backs away

“Not it!” Arnaub yells touching his nose.

“Robbie,” Sawyer speaks up. “As our Patrol Leader, I think this responsibility falls on you.” He starts laughing. “It’s in the Scout handbook, the Patrol Leader is responsible for pulling ticks of his patrol’s left nut.”

Robbie stares at Sawyer. “I will get you back for this.” Robbie sighs, crouching down. “Okay, Adam, breathe. Try not to, you know, flinch. I need to.. you know.. get in close and grab it, the tick.”

Arnaub leans in with his magnifying glass.

“Wait!” Adam yells. “Watch it with that magnifying glass. In this sun you better not burn me.

Just as Robbie was getting ready to go in, Sawyer adds to the tension by adding his own color commentary.

“And here we see the rare woodland nut parasite… clinging valiantly to its host…the hunter silently stalks in on his prey..”

“Stop!” The group laughingly yell at Sawyer.

Adam lay flat, staring at the sky like he was about to meet his maker. Robbie holds his hand for moral support. Sawyer provides the running jokes no one wants.

Arnaub directs Robbie with precise, urgent commands. “A little to the left… yes, perfect angle! Now, the tweezers! Steady hands, Robbie, steady hands! We must not leave the head!”

“That’s what she said!” the boys laugh in unison.

Robbie tries to keep his hand from trembling. Adam squeezes his eyes shut.

Prick!

“AHHHHHH!!” Adam screams. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Sorry!” Robbie apologizes. “I missed. The tweezers grabbed skin but missed the bug.”

All of the boys instantly wince an cross their legs. They can feel Adam’s pain.

“Let’s try again.” Robbie says. “I’ll go super slow and careful.”

Silence fills the field. One smooth pull. Out comes the tick, wiggling like a tiny, evil raisin.

Robbie holds up the tweezers triumphantly, a grotesque, six-legged trophy clutched in its jaws. The tick is alive, still wiggling its legs. Robbie drops it into an empty Gatorade cap. Sawyer immediately stomps it flat with his boot.

“We did it! Mission accomplished!” Arnaub cheers.

“You got it, Robbie!” Alex says leaning on one leg.

Adam, completely spent, just lets out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. Sawyer tosses Adam a sterile wet wipe from the first aid kit.

Adam sits up, pulling his shorts back up, eyes wide with relief. “Am I gonna live?”

Robbie nodds. “Yeah. Put the antiseptic on it. You’ll be fine.”

Sawyer slaps him on the back. “Congrats, man. You’re officially the bravest Tenderfoot in troop history. Most of us just earn the Firem’n Chit. You went straight for ‘Bug on Balls Merit Badge.’”

As they pack up and hike on, the boys know one thing for sure: they have a story that they will never forget. But promised to never tell anyone…ever.