It all started with the badges. Those damn badges. Truth be told, it was hard work earning them. But still, the competition was ruthless and bloody.
It didn’t have to be bloody, at least if they’d stayed in the nice neighborhoods. But this troop, Troop 42, went rouge, naming themselves Three Fingers and expanded into the armpit of America. Detroit.
They knew their cookies were considered Crack in the snack industry. All they had to do was find more addicts. But the best move was to induct a streetwise intercity survivor, hopefully one who’d survived fourth grade. Her name was Regina, and she armed them with her street knowledge.
First they carried Swiss Army knives, like the Boy Scouts. But the Scouts threatened to sue, so Regina procured for them box cutters. So a new was badge issued, Cookie Cutter.
One day Regina brought a couple handguns. The day before, she’d had twenty boxes stolen from her. She found the thieves in a crack house and made them pay up. So a new badge was issued, Bite the Bullet.