The skirmish started innocently enough.
The three of us, Christine Larson, Sara Taylor and myself were perched on a sofa in their lovely home while Grig Larson was expounding on a conversational point. As he talked, Christine Larson kept trying to go for my shoestring in the hopes that she could untie it and prompt me to action. What action, I’ll never know, but I’m pretty certain that it was something dastardly – cause she was like that. Before long, I had to defend the honor of my tied shoelaces against the vicious onslaught of both her and Sara, while I also attempted to listen to what Grig was saying.
I forget exactly when sides were taken and weapons chosen.
In a flash, I rushed over to the dining room table and grabbed up a 62oz bottle of water, while Sara rushed into the kitchen to fill up her cup. I quickly sat back down on the sofa as she emerged from the arsenal (IE – the Larson’s Kitchen) and walked over to me. There was a palpable silence, and I swear to god I could hear winds blowing in from the west. A tumbleweed rolled its way shakily across the living room. Surprisingly, it didn’t catch on the carpet, which in itself was impressive.
Guns were drawn (figuratively speaking), and water tossed. Luckily I caught her full in the face, distracting her as the onslaught began. The shrieks and wails drowned out all thought as I fought furiously to remain in control of the battle.
The next few moments were reminiscent of Sam Peckinpah’s Salad Days as the water flew fast and furious. Soon, the three of us, the sofa, two endtables and the coffeetable were drenched as the rest of the room looked on in horror. The wails of the men and women as Rome burned (well, wettened) will remain etched forever in my memory. I vaguely remember going downstairs to fill up my container, having depleted my given ammunition, only to be waterbombed from above.
Oh the horror! The ignominy!
The retaliation? Needless to say, the Kitchen had a little ‘shower-ish’ attachment that I utilized to good advantage.
After all was said and done, there was only one casualty – a slip and slide in the Kitchen that was apparently cushioned by soft drinks. All good things must come to an end though, and as a wise man once said, “It’s all fun and games until somebody gets knocked on their ass by a waterslick in the kitchen” – and alas, the battle ended.
Cleanup was a sordid affair, and throughout there was much wailing, and gnashing of teeth.
Afterwards, a peace of sorts descended and a lovely game of Cranium resulted.
All in all, a splendid way to spend a sunday afternoon.