I Don’t Exist

Thursday I did 9:32 hours of schoolwork; that is a lot considering I do not exist. Yep, that’s right, according to the BSA database I, one of the most active supporters in my crew of “real” camping, am not registered as an active member of Venturing crew ____ . That’s nothing: last year as well did they ignore my existence and the existence of my nicely filled out membership form. (Though they may not have gotten my paperwork on time last year.)

My leader jokingly suggests that we have, with so many people in my family, hit the upper limit. But with my brother’s membership expiring this year it ought to fix it’s self. Alas, I fear it is worse. You see, last year, after futile attempts to fix my muffed records, I lost my patience and took matters into my own hands, sneaked into the chief scout executive’s office, and entered my name on his computer. Unfortunately, after crawling commando-style through the shrubbery, past the armed security guards surrounding scout headquarters, I was covered with dirt and clay and stained the scout executive’s favorite upholstered chair. His suspicions raised by the stains on his chair, the scout executive checked the secret security camera hidden in his pencil holder; I, of course knew not of this device. His suspicions confirmed, he checked his computer’s log and saw, the information which I, lacking common sense and foresight, had entered. Well, obviously he did not think my actions were *ahem* scout like, and decided to punish me by deleting my name forever from all BSA’s records (as well as notifying the FBI). So alas, now, in addition to being deleted from the BSA’s records, I am now a hunted criminal.

“ See! I confess! will you enter me into your database already?”

(My sincerest apologies to Roy Williams, the current chief scout executive.)

Yeah, but I do need to go do biology.