The Chief Joe Race

"The Chief Joe Race". These four simple words are all it takes to boil the blood of every noble young hero of the tribe of F-Dub. Long have we toiled in our misery and disgust over that injustice of a competition. Sacrifices have been made, blood has been spilt, Adrians have been hugged, and still nothing slakes our thirst for vengeance. How, you may ask, could the now chivalrous, penitent, and well-groomed men of Federal Way be vexed with such seething hatred? Well, I'll tell you

We were at Boy Scout camp in the summer of 2000 or 2001 at camp Hohobas. After several days or not coming dressed to morning muster, not treating our fellow camp members with respect, chasing said camp members, stringing said camp members up poles, mocking said camp members endlessly, and destroying said camp members everyday in water polo at the lake, every other scout at that camp trembled to think of the savages from troop 329. Our troop had, amongst its members, some of the finest and most amazing men of its age: The powerful Dan the Manly, the cunning Mark the Bold, the more impressive than he seems, Bobby, the Enigmatic Sir Charles, the Unflinching Eves Dog, the Zealous Fife Dog, and many others.

Even the camping Gods had seen in their wisdom to bless and fortify us against a plague that beset every other troop at camp. We watched in grim satisfaction as every troop but ours lost at least a few of its members to this sickness. Not even the dreaded bog beetle could stand before us. And we did rejoice.

For days we feasted and danced as we toasted with golden goblets, to our own glory. By and by, we became drunk on our own power and though ourselves nigh unto invincible, even in the face of so many who would oppose us. "Fools!', we thought as we further insulated ourselves against the idea that any could usurp our power from us. We were the most feared troop in all the land, and we reveled in it.

But the camping Gods were jealous then, even as they are now, and plotted to overthrow us. They felt that our power had begun to rival even their own and they felt they must stop us before it was too late.

As part of the camping tradition, there would be a test or race to determine which troop was the most powerful. We scoffed at the notion that we could ever lose but decided to honor this tradition and participate in these tests of strength, skill, and speed. Little did we know that, even on the eve of the race, the Gods, sitting in their lofty castles in the clouds, were plotting our doom. Yea, even the doom of us all.

The morning of the race broke clear and cold. We saw this as a sign of good luck and slaughtered fifty oxen in our rejoicing. We were unaware that this was done by the Gods, only to lull us into a false sense of hope. The camp elders counseled with all and told us of how the race would proceed. The nine most worthy and imposing men would be chosen from each troop to compete. There would be eight legs of a perilous journey that each man would complete a portion of, in turn, one after the next. A chalice of fire would be passed along from leg to leg of the journey, until the last man handed the flaming chalice to the camp elders at the end of the journey, far to the northeast.

The legs of the journey, and those chosen were as follows. Legs one and two: a great test of speed. A sprint through wind-swept plains and rocky outcroppings. Dan and Mark were chosen, both of them being fleet of foot, though Dan was the faster of the two. Leg 3: A perilous hike through the dark forest which was inhabited by all manner of demons who possessed the dark power to become one with the trees and vanish to the naked eye. Bobby was chosen for this part of the journey as he possessed the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox, or so his legend says. The fourth leg was by water as it required two men to take a sea faring vessel through an impassable bog, inhabited by pirates and scoundrels. The most able-bodied and experienced sailors in the group were Danny and Eves Dog, and thusly they were chosen. The fifth leg was across the open vastness of the sea; empty and mysterious. Fife dog was chosen to navigate this lonesome leg of the journey as he possessed the most mental fortitude. The last three legs were a series of final swims through choppy, beetle and plague infested waters that looked like Coke. As this was the least difficult part of the journey, the three youngest members of the troop were chosen, their names being: Dueck, little Eves (maybe) and Fej (also maybe).

And so the brave wayfarers took up their positions. The Gods also took up theirs, still determined to foil the great warrior's plans, and keep them from finishing, or, if possible, surviving.

The race began with the sounding of an hundred hundred trumpets and they shook the earth with their soundings. The mighty Dan took off too quickly for the Gods to respond and he raced away from their lightning bolts, as well as the men from the lesser tribes who raced as well. He completed his part of the journey with such great swiftness that it has become a legend of its own. But, by the time he passed the chalice to the brash and prideful, Mark the Bold, the Gods had recovered. And so, even as Mark ran with all his might and strength (he being a speedy man as to the speed of men), the Gods vexed him and set their will against his to stop him from taking even one more step. But the Gods underestimated Mark's stubbornness and he fought through their barriers but, alas, one of the lesser tribesman, being whisked by on a cloud from the Gods, had passed him.

And so, Mark, fighting ever on, reached Bobby who took the chalice only moments after the lesser tribe had passed on theirs. Bobby used all his cunning and physical faculties to slip by the demons of the dark forest and made his nimble way through the trees. The Gods, however, knowing of Bobby's great abilities and not wanting him to pass the lesser tribesman, put a spell on the demons that they attack and hunt none but Bobby. And so, Bobby, being ever mindful of the demons, was not able to catch the lesser tribesman, even though he had a much greater measure of skill and speed. Thanks to Bobby, however, and despite his marked disadvantage, he was able to make it to the harbor only a few steps behind.

He then handed the chalice to Danny and Eves Dog. It should be noted that Danny and Eves Dog were among the finest sailors in the land and were rivaled by none save, perhaps, Fife Dog. And so, will great zeal, these two met set off through the bog. They laughed as they sped through the narrow passes and navigated the dangerous currents, "Surely, these things would only vex lesser men", they said as they went. But the Gods had not given up, even though they were taken aback by the skill of the men of this troop. So, the Gods quickly devised a plan that they would unhinge the minds of the other sailors from the other troops and command them to attack Eves and Danny. The Gods ploy worked as legions of other sailors beset Danny and Eves and, despite Danny killing 47 of these scalawags, they were still grounded on the rocks. Two ships passed them as they wrestled themselves from the rocks and, again, made their way through the bog. Eventually, they were able to close the gap and passed the chalice to Fife with only 3 leagues between him and the other two ships.

Fife was a man of great strength and could, therefor, row with incredible speed. The Gods could not stop him with wind, rain, giant squids, or sirens, and Fife heroically rowed on through the sea. He rowed, all the while beset by a raging sea, for three days and three nights and was able to pass the two lesser ships, despite the Gods anger. Behold, the Gods rent their clothes and cursed the name of Fife Dog forever. But Fife was not fazed and passed the chalice to Dueck, who, upon touching it, was immediately struck blind by the Gods and fell straight into the water. He thrashed about and, thanks to his nautical training, did not die, but was able to pass the cup on to little Eves. Little Eves then avoided a shark, sent by the Gods to eat him, and gave the chalice, finally, to Fej, who then walked up to the Camp Elders.

But the Camp Elders, being sore afraid of the wrath of the Gods, would not take the chalice from Fej's hand. They refused his pleas and bribes and would not take the chalice from him and declare his troop the winner. The Gods laughed a horrible laugh as Fej wept, alone, on the edge of the sea. It was not until two of the lesser tribes handed their chalices to the Elders that Fej was finally able to force his into their hands, but it was too late.

The Chief Joe Race had been lost, and the brave, though prideful heroes of troop 329 still, to this day, only remember the shame, the scorn, the frustration, and the excruciating sorrow of coming so close to immortality, and being foiled.

And so, when you ask one of those heroes why they sometimes wake up in the night with a cold sweat on their brow, vengeance in their heart, and painful memories in their mind, you will know.

-Mark-