What I took with me

In the time it took me to come up with another joke, I played a complete game of paintball in Taconite Country...or Taconite County. I always forget which.

Anyway, I played in a capture the flag game, and I was the lone man guarding my team's flag. It was an eight on eight game, and I began to suspect that things might be going badly for my team when I saw seven of my teammates trudge by looking like Frank Hibbing's statue on senior skip day.

That's when I took action. I leapt from hiding spot, loosed a vicious war cry, and charged forward, marker (paintball-ese for "gun") blazing on full-auto. When my marker jammed, I ripped off my hopper (ammo clip) and started hurling paintballs with my bare hands. When my arms were too tired to throw, I held the paintballs in my palm and mashed them into my opponents' chests.

When the dust settled, I had single handedly wiped out seven opponents (not all that impressive to a Downs boy, but I was pretty happy with myself). All that remained was the enemy flag, guarded by a single opponent. I crept forward, hoping to ambush him. Soon I was close enough to see inside his facemask, and to my horror, I saw that it was myself.

A ways off in the misty wood, a frog-like creature slowly shook his head.

Then I bought myself a Coke, because I figured I'd like that.