Love and dodgeball
There are two things firedrill! writers love more than anything in the world. Two things that, I?ll admit, are really of no significant value or consequence on their own. But together, these two elements are as unstoppable a duo as alliterative action verbs and sports writing; as meant for each other as Mike Nelson and the b-movie industry.
Yes, that?s right. Elementary school playground games and violence.
The skyrocketing number of local foursquare fatalities and kickball casualties have been a small price to pay for the overwhelming success of the second recess revolution?a movement to bring high school and college students back to their grammar school roots; only this time armed with enough malicious competitiveness to turn friend against friend. Hooray! Let the games begin!
And so, last night?s relatively mild-mannered foursquare match took a turn for the worse-- that is, if you count games with an even higher probability of serious injury as ?worse,? and I sure don?t! When two of our own firedrill! contributors gathered up nine balls left behind on the tennis courts and started cruelly pegging each other with them, we suddenly had a delightfully dangerous dodgeball variation on our bloodstained hands. After a few guidelines were nailed down, the tournament began?2 contenders with 3 tennis balls each begin on opposite sides of a tennis court. 2 additional balls are placed on the left and right sides of the net, with the remaining ball placed at the net in the middle of the court. A two minute round commences, with no other rules except that the person who hits their enemy the most times will emerge victorious.
The competitors sprinted around the fenced-in area, clamoring for loose balls and mercilessly firing them at their opponent at point blank range. Shots to the head rendered several players unconscious long enough for their enemies to rack up 20 or 30 hits in the course of 60 seconds. Comrades who, together, had developed a ridiculous and confusing system for n-dimensional words just days before were now at each other?s throats in search of dodgeball glory. When it was all over, many players lay motionless around the court. Some tended to their wounds while others futilely attempted to catch their breath, but everyone who could still speak agreed that this game was a keeper.
And the survivors went to Denny?s for chicken fingers and hot fudge sundaes.
Katie B is all killer, no filler. Quite unlike this article.