To This Tale There Is No More

‘To This Tale There Is No More’

Noel Laflin

 12-3-14

September 1978

There was the usual pre-grumbling as staff quarter assignments were about to be announced.  Since the summer season was now officially over and the last of the campers and staff had departed for all points down the hill, it was time to house those staying over for the winter. The old ranger was prepared for the haranguing he’d be in for and was ready to compromise when necessary. It had been going on for years now.  It was always a tough job keeping this lot happy. But here he was – one more time.

“If I can have your attention please,” the man in the khaki shorts, red jacket, long green socks, dark leather boots and brown Smokey-the-Bear hat shouted - trying to be heard over the racket in the old tin-roofed mess hall.

“Bible folks, you’ll be sharing staff cabins one, two and three again this year.  Adam, Eve, Sampson and Delilah – cabin one.  Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego are in cabin two. Daniel, Satan, Noah and Salome – cabin three.”

“Oh, hell,” moaned Satan, just once I’d like a place of my own.”

“Quit being such a whiner,” replied the old man, “or you’re bunking with the lions.  Can we please get on with things now?”

Satan sulked a bit, but held his tongue.  Noah and Daniel were not known to be big partiers, but that dancing girl might liven things up a bit, he thought.

“OK, in cabin four I’ve got Sam McGee, Fabersham, the sleeping farm boy and John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.”

“I can sleep on a windy night,” the farmer boy interjected, smiling sheepishly.”

“Yeah, but we won’t,” responded the frozen 49’er from Lake Labarge,” You snore something awful.”

“Hey, maybe McGee could swap with the ark builder,” Satan suggested.  I can keep those fires going that he’s been missing so much – it’ll be just like your old barge.  What say you, you old cold stiff?”

“Sam, Noah - you want to make the swap?” the man with the clipboard asked.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Sam. “I ain’t been warm since I left my home in Plumtree, Tennessee!”

“I’ve got quite a menagerie I’ll be bringing along with me, if that’s okay with you,” said Noah.

“Fine, fine,” said the man in charge.  “Moving along now, we’ve got Mazooki, Gorum, Motorcycle Bill and Johnny Verbeck in cabin five.”

“I prefer my cave, if it’s all the same to you,” hissed Mazooki.”

“And, I’d be more comfortable up on Gorgonio,” said the giant.”

“I’d kinda like the cook’s trailer back,” the drunken biker slurred.

“Well, that’s just tough,” said the old man.  “You’re all staying close in case of an impromptu campfire some weekend.  What kind of an emcee would I be if your story came up and you were nowhere to be found, huh?  And, Bill, the bike and Lloyds' back bar are off limits.  Comprendo?”

The old dead cook got to unsteady feet and headed for the kitchen.  He’d hidden a bottle back there somewhere in ’69 and he was going to track it down one way or another.

“I miss my cave,” Mazooki lamented.  “Got me some tender young bones buried back there.”

“I’ll make you some fine sausages, my friend,” said the old Dutchman, trying to calm things down.  “Soon as the wife gets back we'll give that old crank a yank.”

Mazooki nodded his assent and the meeting moved on.

“Okay, I’ve got the football player, cook, sports announcer and Little Red staying in cabin six,” the man in the mess hall announced.  We good there, TV folks?”

There was no response from the group as they had already made the move and were busily installing a new antenna on cabin six.

“Right.  Well, that leaves cabin seven.”  The old ranger flipped a page and found what he was looking for.

“So, in cabin seven we’ve got the keen-and-bright paddling guy, an Indian maiden, Auki-Aukie Oomba, and the walrus.”

“I am the walrus,” crooned the fat mass in the corner hording a large bowl of stinky fish - flipping several into his mouth and hoping for a laugh.

 

“But seriously,” the big guy with the giant whiskers continued, “tell Auki to leave the spear outside this year, OK? And quit aiming that gun at me all the time too, Ranger Rick.  It gets on my nerves.”

“Deal,” said the Eskimo boy.  But the kayak stays.”

The man in charge hefted an imaginary blunderbuss, crouched into position and aimed it at the walrus.  The big guy in the corner gave him the flipper. The camp director smiled and resumed to the business at hand.

“Alright, if that’s settled, let’s move on, shall we?”

“In cabin nine – I’ve got Luigi, Crazy U-kum-ber Conductor, Old Mother Leary and the drunk deacon.”

“First dibs on a bottom bunk,” shouted Luigi. “And maybe somebody can lend me a hand or two with the move?” he added.

“That crazy kraut has got to promise not to conduct at night,” insisted Old Mother Leary.

“Ya, dat fine,” responded the German.  “But tell dat old voman to turn off dat cursed lantern and take dat blasted cow outside too den!”

The deacon had no comment whatsoever as he’d already headed down to cabin nine’s cellar to pray.  As he’d taken his jug with him, he was expected to stay all day.

“Well, okie-dokie then,” said the ranger.  That concludes staff hill bunk assignments.  Any questions?”

Satan raised his hand.

“I haven’t seen Mr. ‘Rise and Shine’ Jesus for a while, boss.  What’s up with him anyway?  He’s been awfully closed-lipped lately - acting like he knows something that we don’t. Parading around like he owns the place or something.”

The old ranger said he didn’t know, but not to worry about it.

“He’ll show up again, I’m sure.”