On my honor, I will…

  • Treat all little critters of the wilderness with the utmost respect (since reading Kafka’s Metamorphosis, I have become a staunch advocate for bug rights and feelings).
  • Forgo bug spray. It is an abomination that desecrates the Holy Land (my legs) that mosquitoes thrive on. A true Scout understands that pain is temporary, but the blood bond between boy and bug is forever.
  • Insist we camp at the marshiest, dampest riverbank possible –– my troupe needs to learn through exposure therapy.
  • Avoid slurs such as “vermin”, “pest”, and “creepy-crawly”, which are highly offensive to the bug population and allies. Instead, I will refer to them with the scientific “insecta” or the affectionate “buglet”.
  • Bring an industrial-grade Swiss Army knife to the zipline excursion. Up in the trees is where we encounter the real forces of evil: insect-eating fowl. It is the duty –– nay, privilege –– of a bug-revering Scout to glide along the youth adventure park zipline with sharp metal outstretched, cutting down the nest-bearing branches of vicious predators to protect the virtuous critters below.
  • Work tirelessly to convince my fellow Scouts that humanity was created in the Lord’s image to be subservient to bugs. We must not forget: God gives his tastiest Boy Scouts to his most gluttonous insects.

— T. Li