Fort Unlimited

This is a true story of something that happened to me last weekend. I decided it was time for me to do a fun post, so this is a story illustrated with various shitty drawings by yours truly, the tabletless author of this blog, on Microsoft Paint. If you like this style of blog, check out Hyperbole and a Half- it’s my favorite blog, though its updates are sparse- but it’s hilarious.

Being a Girl Scout has always been a subject of resentment for me. Not because I was forced to stay with it until I earn the highest award, and not because the award will be a big ticket to getting into college. No, the biggest resentment I have related to Girl Scouts of America is the institution of COOKIE SELLING.

The selling of Girl Scout cookies is a yearly event that takes up a lot of time and effort, mostly for the manipulation of young girls to advertise the organization as well as their own innocent CUTENESS. Anyway, that’s an entirely different rant. The point is, it’s difficult to get me off my ass to haul a wagon of cookie boxes around my neighborhood to raise money for something I am in no control of. But alas, I still have to. So this year, I did it on a chilly Saturday afternoon. And by chilly, I mean absolutely freezing cold. In preparation for my trek around the street, I geared up in various LAYERS OF CLOTHING.

I do have to say, though, that there is a point during preparation to sell where I give up feeling resentful and decide to just get the ordeal over with. At this particular point, I sprint out the door with wild abandon like an orangutan on steroids. The whole neighborhood shudders with anticipation and fear.

This time, however, it was a bit more of a hassle, because my parents and brother were all out, so I had to turn on the house’s alarm and make sure all of the doors were locked. I didn’t have my key, though, so I just closed the garage door from the inside and ran out from under it 007-style, mostly because the outside keypad was broken. And so, I set out on my journey to get rid of the pile of cookie boxes laying in my house, thereby gifting all of my lovely neighbors with instant gratification and extended regret. It was a fruitful adventure- I was selling those cookies like crazy.

And no, those are not floating macaronis.

As I continued on, I started to get tired and cold, since my adrenaline was slowly subsiding, and I remembered that it was close to freezing outside. I was nearing a reasonable point to take a break from selling for the day, and I started seriously jonesing for some hot chocolate. The more I thought about it, the closer I came to the decision that I’d just bring some cookies to school, and they’d disappear in half a day. And so, I turned my wagon around, and I started going home. Of course, I was remembering how fun it was to run under the closing garage door like I used to when I was a kid. I felt like such a badass.

And then I realized something.

I didn’t have my key, which is pretty irrelevant, considering I can just open the garage door from the outside. But remember how I said that the outside keypad was broken? That was why I had to run out from under the closing garage door. And I had been home alone the whole time.

And for the first time, ladies and gentlemen, I was locked out of my house. On possibly the coldest day I could have chosen. My parents were at least an hour away, and my brother couldn’t be bothered to come back and let me in. So, after circling my house a few times and failing to find some way to get in without breaking anything, I decided to do the only other thing I could think of. I sat down in my front yard, and I waited.

And it was very cold.

There’s not much more I can say about the waiting. It was pretty much exactly what it looks like in that picture, only drawn out for about an hour and a half. Although, I did call Toasty because I was bored, and I also called to see when someone would be home to let me in. Bored bored bored. Boredtown boredy boredson. But if you think that sucks, just wait and see what happened next.

There was a funny feeling inside my stomach, one I try to appease before it inevitably overtakes my entire being. It was the same feeling I used to blame for putting me into spurts of delusion, followed by angst and frustration, the one that was capable of making a monster out of a small girl.

I was hungry. And it was a problem. There was no way to get into my house without my parents’ eventual wrath. I kept having flashes of that damn hot chocolate that I wanted so badly. But what was I going to do?

And there were the cookies I had left, just sitting there, unattended. I could pay for them once I got back inside. It was going to be a while until anyone was home. But I knew it would be a big waste of four dollars, and it would not be very satisfying. And so, I descended into a dilemma in which wild fantasies ensued.

I was getting hungrier, and the cookies were all I could think of. Breakfast had been so distant and small, and I was losing sight of my next meal since I couldn’t get into the house anyway. And for anyone who has never had Girl Scout cookies, you have to understand that they are extremely tempting and delicious, yet probably the worst thing you could put in your body.

BUT THEY WERE JUST SITTING THERE.

I had no clue when anyone would be home. I might as well, right? Just one cookie. Just one box. I was so hungry. I was so fucking cold.

And then, for my very anticlimactic ending, I heard the familiar sounds of my mom’s car coming down the street. I was saved! In a fleeting moment, the mechanics of my garage door sparked to life. I sprang up without thinking and found myself, like a heat-seeking missile, in the house, and under the warmest blanket I could find in a matter of moments.

And so, kiddies, always remember your key. Especially when it is freezing cold outside. I guess that’s not much of a moral. Forget morals.

<3