Wise to the Ways of S'mores Making | Teen Ink

Wise to the Ways of S'mores Making

June 3, 2010
By kread18 DIAMOND, Berkeley, California
kread18 DIAMOND, Berkeley, California
65 articles 0 photos 33 comments

The moon was full and bright, its streaks of white light cutting through the cold, crisp mountain air as the Boy Scout troop finally lit their campfire. Somehow, the ability to rub two sticks together and achieve this expected result was amazing for them, and they began to prepare s’mores in celebration. One eight year old boy missing a couple of teeth and a couple of brain cells tore through the cooler, snatching out a bag of jet-puffed marshmallows and ripping it open. The disgusting balls of chemicals and sugar went flying in all directions. One such insignificant marshmallow opened its eyes, smiled, and bounced over to Graham, who had just been released from his packaging by one of the troop leaders.

Bouncing up and down, laughing and not taking any breaths between her excited words, Squishy spoke to Graham enthusiastically, trying to keep the lonely cracker company. “I’m so excited!” Squishy screamed. “I love s’mores! This is going to be great!”

“You don’t understand, do you?” moaned Graham in a low voice, closing his eyes. “You don’t get dessert, you are dessert.”

Still bouncing up and down, Squishy was hardly paying attention. “You’re boring,” she declared, bouncing away towards the flames.

Chip, who had seen the whole ordeal, waddled his way over to Graham. The chocolate bar had been in that cooler for three days, and was very wise to the ways of s’mores-making. Understanding that Graham was ultimately right, he did his best to comfort him in the face of their departure from this earth. “Everything dies some day. It’s the way of the world, and it must be done. At least in our final minutes we know we serve some purpose. Those Boy Scouts will never eat a better melted marshmallow sandwiched between two Graham crackers with two squares of Hershey’s.”

“I know you’re right,” replied Graham. “But part of me wishes I had more time. I could have done so much more with my life.”

Together, Graham and Chip watched the beaming, bouncing Squishy get grabbed up by chubby Cub Scout fingers. They watched him become speared by a straightened coat hanger. Still giggling and shouting “Weeee,” Squishy was plunged into the dancing red-hot flames. As the flesh slowly melted away from his face, Graham and Chip leaned their heads together and looked up at the stars, suddenly feeling very small in the vast, unknown universe.

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