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They physically forced him to put his hand in the slippery mess even though he resisted with all the might a nine-year old could muster. Blindfolded and spun around, Dexter couldn’t break free from his captors. They had grabbed his hand and told him worms and possibly snakes were waiting for him wherever and whatever he touched next. Dexter grimaced as the tears streamed down from under his blindfold. He may have even let out a scream once or twice.
And they were right.
The snakes and worms were just as yucky and gooey and slimy and nasty as they made it out to be. Could they hurt him? Could they bite and poison him? Would his captors let the snakes bite him? It was everything he could do to hold it together.
They laughed at him, making jokes even about the tears he was shedding. He just held his hand in the bowl, not moving an inch as they pressed his hand deeper into the bowl. He let the critters ooze all over his hand.
When the blindfold was finally removed, they showed him the bowl of snakes and worms he had his hand in. Just as he suspected, he told them, lukewarm and wet spaghetti. He knew it all along. Of course they didn’t believe him. Their wet blindfold proved it and his screams almost ruined the gag for the other Scouts who came after him.
That night after the initiation into Scout Troop 303, Dexter dreamt about those same snakes and worms, but this time they were crawling all over him throughout the night. Dexter squirmed in his sleep as much as if they were real.
“Dexter, are you even paying attention to me when I talk to you? Do you or don’t you want spaghetti for supper tonight?” Sarah Ann asked her husband.
Dexter snapped out of his thoughts.
“No, I don’t believe so. In fact, why don’t you just put that on the ‘Do Not Ever Cook’ list.”
“All right, if you say so. I don’t know what’s come over you. Sometimes I think you’re in another world altogether.”
“Mm hmm. Sometimes I am.”