anything up to Bill was a bad idea. Including starting the
campfire."Come on... come
on... D'oh, why can't I start a fire?" Bill laid the sticks
aside and hung his head in shame at his own stupidity."Dang, man, talkin'..
try usin' dang ol' matches, man," Boomhauer advised."That's a good idea.
Say, toss me that matchbook on the log beside you, Boomhauer."The matchbook sailed
through the air in a perfect arc, and Bill backed up a couple of
steps to catch it.Thus tripping over the
edge of the fire pit and falling backwords into the wood."Ow! Splinters!"
Bill ran circles around the fire pit a few times in a blind panic,
before slipping and falling back into the pile of wood. Weakly he
held up the matchbook. "Found 'em."Bobby and Joseph sat on
the log adjascent to Boomhauer's, bearing witness to this without
even a slight stirring of amusement. They'd become immune to Bill's
Bobby complained."Yeah, me too,"
Joseph added."Tell you what, man,
tell ya 'bout, talkin', tale of the golden arm.""I never heard that
one before," Bobby said, nudging Joseph. "Have you?""No. Tell us."Boomhauer cleared his
throat, which wasn't all that necessary, since the boys only
understood about half of his incoherent mumbling anyway."Tell you what, 's
like this. Was this man, was lookin' for this treasure. Looked,
talkin', maybe twenty years."Then he looked in
this ol' dark cave one night, t...