Breaking down the Chunk

Once we all received our assignments, Jeff and Michael turned to me and in unison said, "No kicking Chunk out of a window!" Why not, I asked. "Remember, 'No lasting physical harm' was the only request Chunk's father made." Since when has anyone getting kicked out of a window suffered 'lasting physical harm'? I've kicked Henri Petit out of dozens of windows, and all he does is grunts, sighs and gets right back to whatever horrible activity he was engaged in. "Regardless", they said. "Don't do it."

Whatever.

I went to meet with Chunk, with no real idea of what I was going to say to this kid to get him back on track. I don't know what makes kids tick! I found him in his cabin, ripping the tags off of everyone's mattresses.

"Hey Chunk. Come here. I want to talk to you."
"Okay."
"Do you know why you're here?"
"Kinda. My parents want you to teach me not to be a menace."
"Yes, that's right."
"But here's the thing; I don't know about the other two, but I did all that stuff so I would get sent here!"
"Oh. Really?"
"Yeah, I even rigged the hat draw so that you would pick my name!"
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I want you to teach me how to kick people out of windows."
"Oh. Oh my. That's... that's great."
"Dude. Are you crying?"
"No! But come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"Over to Henri Petit's house. You're going to be just fine, Chunk." 

Reigning In The Cowboys

Last week it was Camp Unbelievable where all the kids had the times of their lives.

They learned life skills, valuable lessons and they were taught the in and out "essentials" which, going forward, they will be glad to have been witness to later in life.

And then? There's these guys:
 

From left to right they are Phil, Spazz and Chunk, the three holy terrors.
 
Look familiar? That's because you've seen them in the commercial below:


>
They're not actors. They're real kids. Well, originally they were actors ... until the popularity of the Volkswagen commercial went to their heads and they decided they could get away with whatever the hell they wanted.
By chance their parents heard about The Unbelievables one fine day and wondered - regardless of the fact we're a non-government affiliated, multi-jurisdictional, not-for-profit crime & injustice fighting organization - if we might be able to reign these hooligans in a bit.

We decided to accept the challenge.

Each of us randomly picked names out of a hat to see which kid each was assigned to. I got Phil.

We decided the best way to deal with these little tornadoes of energy was to use any means necessary at our disposal to whip them into shape, which suited us just fine.

"No lasting physical harm" was the only request from Chunk's dad (he may have been joking around, we're still not sure) and we promised to abide by that. (Mostly.)

I drew Phil. Jeff got Spazz, Clark wound up with Chunk.

Phil was a pretty easy case to control. I subjected him to game after game after game of volleyball against a team of Unbelieva-Babes. He got tired pretty quickly ... but a handy, dandy cattle prod aided my efforts. Honestly, once he saw what it could do, it appeared more intimidating than anything, especially after that initial jolt. (Relax ... I modified it to apply only a slight shock as opposed to a full-force zapping. A bit cruel, perhaps, but effective.)

Sadistic? No. We're talking little monsters here so all was fair in love and war. And, really, I had to employ the thing a mere handful of times. By the end of the day, Phil was putty in my hands and (how should I put this?) "open to the suggestion" of cooling his jets and "acting proper." The results I expected were just as I'd planned with nary a side step.

Jeff and Clark? Jeff got Spazz ...

... Clark wound up with Chunk ...

 
My partners had other challenging hills to climb with their charges. I'll let them tell their tales ...