Young at Heart - by Gordy Marshall

Watching Stuart “hang out” with his son Ben was really nice. They have a special relationship. They were great friends, and Stuart was not one to shy away from giving Ben a hard time when the opportunity presented itself.

One Saturday, many years ago, Ben and his friend and Dan decided to camp out on the island. Stuart thought it a good idea to give them a good scare. So Stuart, myself, and another friend, Rob, waited and then under the cover of darkness ventured forth to terrify his son. We moved slowly, stealth-like, through the brush, all our senses heightened (which is pretty good for middle age guys). We crept up to the tent and all was quiet, too quiet. Had our movements through the brush been detected? Were they waiting for us?

No, they just weren’t there. But where were they? How could they not be here? Then we remembered a group of college kids had gone out to the end of the island hours before. Most likely Ben and Dan had joined them. But Stuart, Rob and I reasoned, incorrectly, that they must be coming back soon, for those kids were in college and Ben and Dan were just high school age.

So, with their imminent return, we decided to hide and wait for them. And the tent seemed like the best place to launch our surprise. The three of us climbed into the two man tent and zipped up the flap behind us. The space seemed bigger from the outside. The air was still. Three guys in a tent: crouching, shuffling, and grunting. Little was said, for we expected Ben and Dan to show any minute. The seconds turned into minutes and the ridiculousness of the situation became clearer. Finally, Stuart, who is often the first to see reason and the practicality of things, suggested that perhaps it would be just as effective to surprise them from the bushes as it would be from the close quartered tent. It was pointed out that the effect of leaping from the bushes would be more terrifying than three guys huddled on their knees waving their arms and hands from a small tent opening. So, out we climbed, awkward but undeterred.

We waited and waited. Finally we heard someone coming. But something was wrong; the sound was coming from the wrong direction. They were approaching from the other way. We crouched low realizing that we were exposed from that approach. Delta Force we were not. It was too late to move. We remained crouching, half in the bushes, as several people came by (not Ben or Dan). They gave us a curious hello which we returned with silence hoping that if we were silent we would also be invisible.

After they passed we realized the jig was up. Those that had just passed would likely report to those at the end of the island, including Ben and Dan, that there were people skulking in the bushes. Perhaps that would keep everybody at the end of the island for the rest of the night, which really wasn’t our purpose. We realized the element of surprise had been lost; we walked back to the house, mission unaccomplished.

The next morning we confessed our dastardly plan to Ben. Ben laughed and said he had been wondering who it was when it was reported at the end of the island that “there were some “old guys” back in the bushes”.