Any Volunteers?

Obama calls for Universal Volunteer Service

A short, portly boy of about eleven years of age stands at a makeshift podium in the club house (his uncle’s barn). Several children of approximately the same age fidget on rough benches, waiting for the speaker to call the meeting to order. In lieu of a gavel, he uses an old hammer to get their attention.

“Ok, gang, I know you’re all wondering why I called this emergency meeting. Well, I’ve got an exciting announcement. President Obama has issued our club a commission in the National Volunteer Service Organization! (The audience erupts in cheers) And since we’re the first group of kids to receive a commission, we’ve been designated the O-Team! That’s right, gang: we’re now officially Obamateers! (More cheers and applause). The President also sent us personal membership cards. Here, hand these out, will you Buckwheat?

Buckwheat: Huh? Not me, ‘panky! Ya’ll seem to have missed the si’nificance of this ‘lection. Git one a’ these white kids to do the work for a change, o-tay?

Spanky: You’re absolutely right, Buckwheat! Here, Froggy, pass these out. Fellas, I hope you appreciate the opportunity we’ve been given to help build a progressive America, and that you’ll all pitch in and help President Obama.

Darla: I think he’s cute!

Spanky: Gang, there’s just this one thing. Since this is a volunteer effort, there’s no direct government funding. So I’m going to pass the hat and take up a collection to get us started (Spanky removes his beanie and begins to hand it around; after a few moments, he returns to the podium).

Spanky (takes a quick count): One dollar and seventy-five cents. We’re off to a great start! (he holds up the commission to another round of cheers).

Suddenly, a small stone zips through the air, punching a hole in the commission, right through the “O” in “Organization”.

Spanky ( scowling): Who did that?

Alfalfa: Dang! Look, everybody! Republicans!

Butch and “Woim”, having entered the barn quietly, come swaggering down the aisle, their newsboy hats pulled down low. Butch is carrying a slingshot in his hand.

Butch: Whadda you commies think you’re up to?

Woim: (in the echoing fashion of the unimaginative sidekick): Heh, heh! Yeh, whadda you commies think you’re up to?

Spanky: We’ve signed up with the National Volunteer Service Organization. We’re going to do our bit to make this a truly progressive nation.

Butch: Oh, yeah? Like what?

Woim: Heh, heh! Yeh, like what?

Spanky: The usual things progressives do: we’re going to recycle cans, sign petitions to prohibit drilling in ANWR and inform on our parents’ excessive carbon emissions to the government.

Butch: Well, ya ain’t gonna get much done with that dollar and seventy-five cents, so I’ll just relieve you of the getus. Me and the Woim figure to make a down payment on a pack of cigarettes.

Alfalfa (dressed in his junior plus-fours, his hair pomaded, the famous seven-inch cowlick standing straight up at the back of his head like a Sioux chief’s eagle feather, approaches Butch, shaking his fist): You can’t get away with this!

Butch: Oh, yeah? (he reloads his slingshot and fires a stone at Alfalfa’s head, neatly severing his cowlick)

Alfalfa ( reaching his hand up to feel the stump of his cowlick): Oh, no! My personality!

Mickey ([Ed. Note: Robert Blake] sidles up to Spanky and whispers): Listen, Spanky, there’s a gun in the glove compartment of my father’s Nash, and it’s parked just a few blocks from here outside an Italian restaurant. I could run and get it, come back here and plug these mugs, and we could pin the whole thing on the Bowery Boys.

Spanky: No, Mickey. We’re going to handle this the way President Obama would want us to. ( Spanky turns to Butch and Woim) Ok, Butch. We surrender.