``To whomever stole the water pitcher from the seventh floor coffee
machine, please return it!'' read the e-mail.  It was just another
thorn in the side from a week that went like dancing in a rose bush.
No good deed will go unpunished, they say, so no doubt I will be
punished for taking the water pitcher, no matter how noble the cause.

Things have continued to be difficult for the scouts.  While the
support has started to come, they were in such a state of disarray
that it will be a while before the damage is undone.  Without money to
fund their scout activities, they've resorted to simply sitting around
and eating the girl scout cookies.  It wasn't until they'd each eaten
several boxes each that they realized their predicament. Incapacitated
by upset stomachs, they were unable to go fetch drinks.  By the time I
stumbled upon them the troop looked like refugees from some horrific
``Got Milk?'' commercial gone awry.  

I ran as quickly as my legs could take me into the building and
carried down a five gallon bottle of spring water from one of the
water coolers.  I immediately left them and went inside to search for
another cooler to raid.  When I arrived back on the scene, one of the
scouts was trapped underneath the bottle.  It had taken several of
them, in their debilitated state, to raise the bottle, but when one of
the scouts lost her balance the bottle rolled over on the littlest of
the group.  She was nearly bruised by the incident but quickly
recovered once I had lifted the bottle.  Clearly I had to do something
more.  I did some fairly rough biological halflife calculations for
the various girl scout cookies consumed and decided that if these
girls didn't have more water, they'd almost certainly glue their
insides together with caramel and guar gum.  I cut off the top of one
of the massive water bottles so they could drink more easily, but when
one of them became faint (one of the first signs of caramel poisoning)
I realized that we needed a way for them to drink without having to
move the large bottles.  That's when I took the water pitcher from the
seventh floor.

I'm happy to report that everyone survived the incident, this time,
but I'll never forget the look of those dehydrated scouts nearly
buried in glassine wrappers and brightly colored cookie boxes.  After
witnessing such near-tragedy, things can never be the same again.

So yes, I took the water pitcher from the seventh floor and I'd do it
again in a heartbeat.  Come discuss these and other issues concerning
today's troubled youth at this week's:


G I R L   S C O U T   B E N E F I T
7ai. See you there.